Shortly after his performance in Don Quixote, Vadim Muntagirov (Basilio) took to Instagram, claiming he had been nervous to have the honour of opening the 23/24 season for The Royal Ballet. This might have come as a surprise to anyone who saw this three hour masterclass in virtuoso dancing, as he and his Kitri, Marianela Nuñez, delivered a crowd pleasing romp from beginning to end, nerves or otherwise.
Don Quixote is a really silly ballet. There is a plot, but its significance is minor; the beautiful Kitri wishes to marry the charming Basilio, but Kitri’s father, Lorenzo (Gary Avis) wishes for her to marry a rather absurd rich nobleman, Gamache (Thomas Whitehead). The action is loosely tied together by Don Quixote, an eccentric nobleman, fixated on a quest to serve an imaginary Lady, Dulcinea. In doing so he meets a young couple and other curiosities along the way. It’s all chaotic, slapstick comedy, Spanish ruffled dresses and white stone houses.
For opening night, what was evident was the quality in the ranks. Corps de ballet and starry principals coming together to make something pacy and memorable. The three substantial acts zip by. The whole cast is foot perfect, a rare performance without a single notable wobble.
Nuñez and Muntagirov led the opening night cast just as they did in a pre-COVID run in 2019 and are no less breathtaking four years later. They swell with confidence in what must be one of the most technical and demanding works in the repertoire, but moreover it’s their chemistry that leaves a mark. There’s a sweet familiarity to their dancing, their trust and enjoyment is visible in the way they watch each other in the numerous showy solos. They glow, shining most brightly when brought together, boasting beautifully synchronised side-by-side dancing with sharp Spanish lines, fish dive lifts, extended balances and explosive jumps.
They are provided with able support from Ryoichi Hirano (Espada), smooth, charismatic and perhaps just a little smug in the macho matador role and Mayara Magri (Mercedes) who is light and musical. But the roles feel too thin for these two worthy principals, happily Magri will get a crack at the plum role later in this run.
Ballet purists will enjoy the section in the secret garden, Tim Hatley’s vibrant designs transporting the ballet from Spain to Don Quixote’s brightly coloured fever dream. It’s here he finally encounters the ethereal Dulcinea he saw in his earlier vision. Sae Maeda tackled the fiendish Cupid variation with brightness and precision. I have high hopes for the future.
There’s a brief return to the more ludicrous when later, before our leading couple are allowed to marry (as if it could end any other way), Muntagirov is required to do a high camp slapstick routine. He must pretend to stab himself and he even carries this off with a wry sense of humour, spritely jumping up from the table like a court jester.
Above all, Carlos Acosta’s dazzling production stands out for its lack of filler moments, there are no slow crowd scenes to set up the story, instead there is flat out dancing less than ten minutes in and it barely relents from there; gypsy dances, fandango couples, duelling butchers and a mechanical horse, they’re all here. You just might not remember the story.
