Kenneth MacMillan’s ballets are counter-intuitive to people’s expectations of the artform. Instead of lightness and joy his dramatic choreography explores the darker side of the human condition and Mayerling is at the apex of his complex expressionism. It is violent, feral, tortured dance that provides a stark contrast to the structured yet false formality of the Imperial Austro-Hungarian Court, portraying the squalid, horrible history of the heir apparent, Crown Prince Rudolf and his syphilitic, drug-filled descent into madness, murder and suicide.
Mayerling, which MacMillan created for The Royal Ballet in 1978, is rightly regarded as a rite of passage for leading male dancers since Rudolf is a role that may be the most demanding in the repertory, presenting huge physical and mental challenges. Matthew Ball is developing an outstanding command of the many nuances of Rudolf’s tragedy, excelling in his portrayal of the psychological drama as well as the physical challenges, not least in several pas de deux with all the women that surround him. His portrayal of Rudolf’s depravity provides little room for sympathy, with the uncomfortably violent sexual abuse of his new wife, Stephanie (a trusting and timid performance by Meaghan Grace Hinkis) and demonically evidencing Rudolf’s obsession with guns, skulls and drugs.
It’s not a ballet that portrays women in a good light. By coincidence, I was in Vienna on the day prior to this performance and – judging by the tourist paraphernalia at the airport – Empress Sissi seems to be regarded as one of Austria’s greatest assets. Her face is everywhere, from chocolate boxes to fridge magnets. In MacMillan’s Mayerling, she is Rudolf’s cold and distant mother who only seems to come alive in the arms of her practical-joker lover, Bay Middleton (Giacomo Rovero). Kristen McNally portrayed the Empress Elisabeth with icy detachment from her son and husband contrasted with a juvenile attraction to her lover. Her concern about the desperate state of her son’s suicidal condition only flares up in her late confrontation with her niece and Rudolf’s former mistress and procuress, Marie Larisch.
Mayara Magri brought out the many complexities of Larisch, a woman who used her position in the Habsburg court to become Rudolf’s confidante and the agent for introducing him to her friend, Mary Vetsera, played by Melissa Hamilton who first appears in the opening scene as an excited nine-year-old guest with her mother (the ever-elegant Elizabeth McGorian) at Rudolf’s marriage to Stephanie.
Hamilton reappears as a 17-year-old when Larisch falsifies a fortune-telling to convince Vetsera that her destiny lies with Rudolf (much to the chagrin of her mother) and she becomes Rudolf’s desperate co-conspirator in their erotic assignation with death. Hamilton captured the range of these emotions, from youthful enthusiastic ambition through to her tragic absorption of Rudolf’s suicidal intentions, and her incredible flexibility brought even greater emphasis to the intense physicality of the duets with Ball.
This is a ballet with around 25 named roles and there were many excellent performances in this cast. Luca Acri’s cameos as Rudolf’s general factotum, Bratfisch, were outstanding flashes of expressiveness; his solo to distract the lovers from enacting their doomsday at the hunting lodge from which the ballet takes its name was danced to perfection, both technically and in portraying his desperate pathos. Mariko Sasaki was excellent as the bordello Madame, Mitzi Caspar, another of Rudolf’s former mistresses but one who was happy to betray his pro-Hungarian sympathies to the sinister politico, Count Taafe (menacingly portrayed by Bennet Gartside).
The performance was dedicated to Ben Stevenson who had died on the previous day, and it was a poignant emphasis that the role of the autocratic, flawed Emperor Franz Josef was performed by Stevenson’s nephew, Christopher Saunders.
There were some uncertain moments where dancers seemed to be anticipating their next movement rather than expressing the narrative. The duets occasionally lacked seamless flow with caution replacing flair in their approach or stuttering through moments where feet had to be repositioned for the next step or lift.
Nicholas Georgiadis’ designs bring the sumptuous splendour of the late 19th-century Austro-Hungarian court into vivid realism and John Lanchbery’s arrangement of Liszt’s music into a coherent score provides an evocative Viennese flavour, while also emphasising the key points of the tragedy.
The seamless integration of design, music and choreography have created a narrative masterpiece, unquestionably one of The Royal Ballet’s crown jewels that will always have a special place in the hearts and minds of balletomanes. However, its appeal to the public is a ballet equivalent to Marmite, the downside indicated by empty seats on this opening night. There is still “Good Availability” for all the future performances in this run, including some much-anticipated debuts. Is it price or subject that is the deterrent? With the world in a pickle, I suspect resistance to the lure of a ballet that deals in such political and personal tragedy. It’s salient to recall that the antics of the Habsburgs led in no small measure to the conflagration of World War 1.
