Christian Spuck’s Sleeping Beauty, which he created for Ballett Zürich in October 2020, premiered in Oslo with Norwegian National Ballet, presenting an exceptional cast and a series of unexpected, clever twists that are surprisingly gratifying. And in spite of this, he hasn’t moved that far away from the fairy tale.
Tchaikovsky’s music is there, although there is some cutting, pasting and a bit of rearranging, but the main characters thrive, albeit in various reincarnations. Rotating sets by Rufus Didwiszus are spectacular and helpful with the storytelling and passage of time, as well as decorating the stage in an uncluttered way. Costumes by Buki Shiff are unconventional (not a tutu in sight) but tick so many boxes that I would happily barter at auction for Carabosse’s gorgeous, glittery suit. Lighting by Martin Gebhardt also contributes to the magic.
The most ingenious plot twist turned out to be an explanation at the start (in complete silence) as to why Carabosse (Douwe Dekkers) is so angry. Spoiler alert: all the fairies have babies in prams, perhaps at a fairy nursery or maternity ward. Carabosse’s offspring was surreptitiously swiped by the King and Queen in front of us all. Everything that followed on afterwards meant that I was firmly in Carabosse’s camp. And camp it was. But brilliantly entertaining and very funny.
Each of the fairies was portrayed by a male dancer with formidable technique and exceedingly imaginative and expressive interpretations. They sing (yes, really) as they collect their babies, and I’m not too old yet to recognise the familiar pop songs. Of the fairy variations, Riccardo Ambrogi was endearing and sparkly as the Green Fairy and they all indulged in glorious, exuberant performances with generous warmth, which provoked a gleeful reaction from the audience. There was a band of servants, a Governess, a Master of Ceremonies and an imperious, gracious King (Jonathan Oloffson) and Queen (Grete Sofie Borud Nybakken) and all engaged in vigorous ensemble and solo dances.
It felt like a long time before we were introduced to Aurora (the first half was 80 minutes) but when we did it was clear that Carabosse was keen to watch her grow up, instinctively recognising the fairy genes within her. Having initially cursed her because an invitation from the palace to celebrate her birth was not forthcoming, a parental bond transpires. They even have a duet together. There was a delightful episode of dancing butterflies and one could not miss the obvious attention to detail, complete with chrysalises hanging precariously, waiting to emerge.
The princes who vie for Aurora’s affections were as distinctive and comedic as the fairies. Martin Dauchez, Luca Curreli, Lucas Lima and Leonardo Basilio offered highly amusing stereotypes, but for all their posturing, this Aurora was not budging. Whitney Jensen, an exquisite ballerina, beautifully light and swift, was utterly beguiling as the young innocent. There was not a Rose Adage in any recognisable sense, but nevertheless, Jensen had to tackle difficult technical challenges which she delivered with effortless grace.
In the second half, the set again helped us to understand that we have moved into a different era. The walls were covered with graffiti: “Wake me up when I’m famous!” as well as various bits of pop art and Disney. I think if there is a caveat about the production's overall success, it is that while it takes a long time to meet Aurora, it takes even longer to meet a rather peripheral Prince (Ricardo Castellanos). He is a slightly insipid character (I’m not talking about the dancer here) and one has to question why Aurora plants her affections plainly in his garden (though his looks are persuasive). Physically elegant, with lovely lines, Castellanos partnered Jensen with care and looked the part but didn’t come across as a man of substance. However, his ardent kissing produced a ‘laugh out loud’ moment when Jensen finally awoke from her slumber. The final pas de deux lacked the grandeur of the traditional version but was nevertheless a fluid duet with memorable highlights.
Jensen and Castellanos gave exemplary accounts of their roles, but the performance was dominated by Douwe Dekkers’ riveting Carabosse. Spuck has created a many layered character that is a gift to any dancer, but Dekkers imbues the role with an exciting balance between terrifying anger and pathos. In other productions it is impossible to muster any kind of compassion towards the wicked fairy, but Spuck has found a way to reinvent our perceptions of her/him.
This production is closer to Matthew Bourne than Marius Petipa, yet maintains a highly individual choreographic voice, expertly portrayed and danced by the entire cast. The Norwegian National Opera Orchestra, under the baton of Robertas Šervenikas, was the final element confirming that this is a wonderful addition to NNB's repertoire and an absolute triumph.
Deborah's press trip was funded by Norwegian National Ballet.
