Shakespeare’s The Winter’s Tale, notorious for being problematic to stage, seemed in 2014 when Christopher Wheeldon produced it for the Royal Ballet to be a highly daunting undertaking for a choreographer, but Wheeldon’s ballet is a true modern classic and will be the central pillar of his impressive legacy. The narrative is clear, the choreography is interesting. It has been revived several times since its creation, and this tenth anniversary revival looks as fresh as on the original opening night.
An essential talent for a choreographer is a strong theatrical vision and good taste in bringing together collaborators who can immerse themselves in that vision to bring it to life, and The Winter’s Tale exemplifies that melding of the elements of any artistically successful production. Bob Crowley’s sets are spare but not sparse: a pair of monumental rectangular arches move around to provide various interiors, statues tell us we are in the gardens. Between Acts 1 and 3 in the Sicilian palace we have a joyous Act 2 in Bohemia with a huge tree, decorated for the festival celebrations, and the dancers in colourful, stage-dressing costumes (by Natasha Katz). All of this works with Joby Talbot’s brilliant score and Wheeldon’s richly textured choreography to provide a feast for all the senses.
Opening night brought us a memorably magnificent debut by Cesar Corrales as Leontes. Created on the febrile Edward Watson, Wheeldon’s moulding of the role allows for other dancers to make their own interpretations independently, and Corrales has constructed a powerful, naturally commanding man whose bitter, twisted jealousy overrides his humanity, fuelling his vicious treatment of Hermione. He visibly shrivels before our eyes as the devastating effects of his actions begin to unfold.
A particularly effective device is the fluttering fingers, crawling over his body as jealousy crawls through his vital organs. Corrales is, of course, also a magnificent dancer and his wonderful performance makes a huge impact as we follow his roller-coaster ride to a kind of forgiveness: not an entirely happy ending but at least a feeling of release. Lauren Cuthbertson, the original Hermione, imbues her choreography with desperation, the long lines driving through the air or curving protectively around her pregnancy bump. She too, is a fine actress.
As Perdita and Florizel one could hardly ask for a more charming pair than Francesca Hayward and Marcelino Sambé. These two superb dancers have a bond that is palpable on stage; the partnership will be remembered down the decades. Gary Avis, the original Father Shepherd, dances up a storm and creates a natural, paternalistic presence as he presides over Act 2. Calvin Richardson, debuting as Polixenes, has true potential in the role, but seemed a little tentative at first. We need to see how Leontes has undermined Polixenes’ own sense of humanity too. I am confident that Richardson will bring this out increasingly with each performance. The role of Paulina is a difficult one in ballet; her quality of immovable, indestructible morality that forms the rock on which the Royal household is founded is hard to convey via dance, but Melissa Hamilton is superb in this role and we do sense her importance. Hamilton, a unique dancer with supreme flexibility, has a niche in the Royal Ballet that is integral to the repertoire.
There was another debut on this opening night that portends future magnificence: that of Marco Masciari as Brother Clown. His technical wizardry and beautiful lines serve an innate artistry that enables him to draw the eye and keep it, even at the back of the corps; here he brought fun, infectious enthusiasm, and pure vitality to Brother’s intellectually rewarding choreography. Watch out for his progress – it’s going to be a magnificent ride.
