Anyone who has read Laura Esquivel’s sweeping novel Like Water for Chocolate, will understand its appeal to a choreographer of Christopher Wheeldon’s artistic sensibilities and his wish to create a full-length work for The Royal Ballet. A pair of star-cross’d lovers, Tita and Pedro, have been childhood sweethearts; now that their love has matured into romantic passion they are devastated to be prevented from marrying by Tita’s overbearing mother, Elena, who insists on enforcing the family tradition that the youngest daughter must remain single to care for her mother.
Elena, with extra cruelty, proposes to marry Pedro to Tita’s sister Rosaura. Pedro accepts so that he can remain close to Tita. Having grown up largely in the kitchen at the side of the family cook Nacha, Tita has a hidden power: she can transfer her emotions to her cooking. She cries into the mixing bowl while making Rosaura’s wedding cake, and everyone who consumes it becomes ill with digestive turmoil caused by the transference of Tita’s grief and longing.
She prepares a sauce for the quail at a family meal, including the petals from a rose given to her by Pedro; her passionate love for him, transferred to the sauce, causes her other sister, Gertrudis, to become consumed by uncontrollable lust, and she is swept off by fiery revolutionary leader, Juan Alejandrez, writhing with passion astride him on his horse. When Rosaura and Pedro struggle to feed their baby, Roberto, Tita finds that her virgin breasts can produce milk, the only sustenance that can nourish and calm him, resulting in tragedy when Elena sends him and his parents way to remove them from Tita’s presence.
Magical realism will always speak to our humanity, and this is a wonderfully touching story. The problem here is that there are no fewer than nine principal characters and eight secondary ones, and we simply can’t keep up with them all. It would be impossible to follow the action without programme notes. Ahead of the premiere in 2022 I diligently read the book and watched the film; the resulting reservoir of hints and clues elucidated the stage action for me, but in the intervals, the bars and public areas were humming with discussions along the lines of “who was the woman in the green dress” and so on. It was much the same at this revival, but if you put in the research ahead of your visit there is so much to enjoy here, from beautiful choreography to extraordinary performances.
Wheeldon’s ability to see the big theatrical picture leads him to collaborate with exceptional designers, musicians and stagers. Bob Crowley creates stunning sets redolent of hot Mexico summers, reflecting the passions that simmer beneath the plot, and enhanced by the sumptuous lighting by Natasha Katz. The final scene (no spoilers) must be one of the most gorgeous in any ballet. I can only think of the Goncharova backdrop for The Firebird to compare with it.
Joby Talbot’s score is absolutely integral to the success of this ballet and is truly one of the stars of the show. Tuneful, filled with changing moods, it underpins the meaningful story, the lovely staging and the world-class performances with filmic tunefulness and lush texture. One might expect excellent scoring for the brass section in a ballet set in Mexico, but in addition the work for percussion is marvellous, richly varied and complex, literally driving the action with its pulsating resonance.
There were several debuts on opening night. Fumi Kaneko’s Elena is a triumph; glittering with steely determination, she stalks the stage enforcing her wishes with complete detachment and entitlement. It is a true revelation when we see her in flashback as a warm, loving young girl with her lover José (Francisco Serrano). Isabella Gasparini as Rosaura is, as the injured party (or one of them) perhaps a little too submissive, but comes into her own when, facing her own impending death, she attempts to impose the family tradition on her own young daughter. Viola Pantuso, who is emerging as a future leading light of the company and whose dancing is always a pleasure to watch, cannot yet quite capture the abandonment of the choreography for Gertrudis’ lustful transformation, although technically she is not to be faulted.
Reprising their roles as Tita and Pedro, Francesca Hayward and Marcelino Sambé are, quite simply, perfect. Their individual sincere, deeply-felt approach to their roles becomes a shared commitment, as if their characters have somehow mingled and become one. Their connection reaches out to the furthest corners of the auditorium, and both are such versatile dancers that they achieve this in every role they dance together. Also excellent is the elegant Matthew Ball as Dr. John, releasing Tita from his own heartfelt love, understanding that she is only for Pedro. Jonathan Lo and the orchestra did Joby Talbot proud.
So much to love, but you must read the book first.
