Matthew Bourne’s Swan Lake is now entering its 30th year. During that time it has probably done more than any other single production to encourage new audiences to engage with dance. Ironically, the dance itself is not the principal feature of many of Bourne’s productions: rather, it is his extraordinary conceptualisation and theatrical vision that contribute most to the success of his work. It is simply impossible to be in a theatre and watch his work without being thoroughly engaged and entertained.
Swan Lake was the basis of a sea-change in the status of Bourne’s company. Since its inception it has been seen all over the world, garnering rave reviews and sold-out houses everywhere it goes. As always, Bourne’s gentle but highly effective sense of humour shines through it, alongside his humanity and willingness to avoid sugar-coating threat or tragedy. It is often referred to as a “gay” ballet, but in reality it is much more universal than that: a sad Prince, with a distant mother and a not-one-of-us unsuitable girlfriend, aches for real love and a meaningful life.
He is not interested in the trappings of royalty or the suffocating protocol that comes with his position, and takes refuge in drink and a seedy nightclub, where he is, of course, papped by scandal-hungry newshounds. Having observed the girlfriend taking a bribe (she’s reluctant but forced to accept) he heads to the lake with the intention of committing suicide, but he meets the Swan and his life changes forever. His encounter with the human version of the Swan at the palace ball is devastating; he ends up vying with his mother for the charismatic stranger’s attention (great parenting skills, Mummy), and is treated with contempt by a roomful of bitchy courtiers. Carted off to a psychiatric hospital to be injected, pummelled and psychoanalysed, he’s discharged back to his princely bedroom where the white Swan reappears, and the ballet tumbles on to its heartrending ending.
All of the action is breathtakingly clear; Bourne is well-known for his aversion to work that depends on programme notes to be understood. He truly is a master storyteller, laying the narrative before us coherently and from the heart.
The lakeside scenes with their cohort of fourteen male dancers in their feathery plus-fours changed the general perception of dance forever. The choreography is sublimely musical as always with Bourne, and he cleverly shapes the dancers bodies to represent avian physiology and nature, with beak-like hands and sharp head movements. There’s an amusing pastiche of a Pavlova-era ballet, danced to the pas de trois music from Act I of the classical ballet, in a scene where the royals attend the Opera House and the unsuitable girlfriend behaves gauchely. Yes, a mobile phone is involved.
There were some outstanding performances. Among the corps I greatly liked the work of Eleanor McGrath, moving with a sumptuous fluidity through her whole body. Nicole Kabera as the Queen mother was commandingly icy but managed to convey the pathos of her inability to provide the warmth and love that her son needs. (Incidentally, her dresses! I wanted them all). As the girlfriend, Bryony Wood is perfect, flouncing around in her puffball skirt but letting us see glimpses of the richer character beneath. Harrison Dowzell is a muscular, charismatic Swan and a darkly sinister human equivalent. For me, one of the principal delights of the evening was provided by the lovely dancing of James Lovell as the Prince. His characterisation is heartbreakingly naive, soulfully yearning, up there with the greatest of interpretations, but it’s underpinned by technical skill that gleams through every movement, highlighted by his elegant legs and feet. This is a remarkable performance by a true artist.
The ballet could be fifteen minutes shorter with some judicious editing. The first lakeside scene is too long; so is the the ballroom scene. For knowledgeable dance goers, the choreography isn’t richly textured enough to intrigue us for 75 minutes before the interval. However, during the interval I chatted with audience members new to dance, and all were gripped and thrilled by what they were seeing, and therein lies the proof of the pudding. What a legacy Bourne has already created. This piece and so many others will remain relevant for generations to come.
