“Russ” (Ruß) translates as “soot”, the title of Bridget Breiner’s retelling of Cinderella. However, it’s the role of Livia, the spirited Stepsister who must navigate family trauma and high pressure relationships whose perspective is the focus in this more authentic take. Certainly don’t come expecting magic pumpkins, sparkling seasons and opulent ball gowns. Breiner’s version of this traditional story is gritty, examines multiple character dynamics and has no clear winner at its conclusion. It’s all well executed but it left me feeling a little bleak.
Originally created for the Ballett im Revier and premiering in 2013, Ruß, sees an initially vulnerable Stepmother and two Stepsisters (Livia and Sophia) after the loss of their husband/father, who find solace in a coal mining district and its community. Although the characters are more finely drawn than in the fairytale, the Stepmother (Simone Messmer) is the closest thing to caricature. She’s a manipulator from the off who sees opportunity for a future with Cinderella’s Dad (Kauan Soares), a boss at the mine. His daughter (who goes by Clara rather than Cinders) is much loved by all the coworkers with her plucky attitude and coal smeared face. She’s charming and fearless, but it’s not until Act 2, and we see things more clearly through Livia’s eyes, that we find Clara rather irritating at how easily she meets her happy ending.
Ruß is furnished with a new score that flicks from contemporary to classical excerpts. Prokofiev’s thumping ball music is missed of course, but the additions from Hazel Dickens and Woody Guthrie are effective at evoking the industrial setting. There’s a lot of mournful accordion too, with pieces from Franck Angelis and new arrangements of music from Strauss to fit the mood. Jürgen Kirner’s set and costuming are predictably understated with the girls in muted colours, and an initially dimly lit stage until the ball scene is bathed in a modest candlelight glow.
If you can navigate through this rather more sombre reimagining then there is some slick storytelling and enjoyable individual performances. The whole work is well paced, without much filler and the action moves along smoothly enough for the audience to invest in these characters, especially the three key female roles.
Nami Ito’s Clara is sweet and youthful, displaying childlike enthusiasm for what little she has, she floats above the heads of the coal miners who throw her and lift her with warmth and ease. There’s a purity to her, she can’t understand why her Stepsisters don’t seem to like her very much, and with her flexed feet and awkward moves, she’s a little goofy and likeable in these early scenes.
Livia offers the greatest complexity for a dancer and Chiara Scarrone (formerly of Semperoper Ballett) is compelling as the anguished sister, especially in the more agile second act. Livia isn’t a one note character, she is self aware, anxious, ambitious and much more besides. In a successful twist, the alluring Prince (Lucas Erni) falls for her first and she experiences genuine elation at this, sharing a delicate pas de deux with her suitor, as if worried he will disappear. Mother is naturally delighted, pushing her to be more forthcoming.
The ball scene is minimalist-elegant, the ladies in silky midnight blues that touch the floor. Five couples waltz extravagantly between the main action. Clara eventually makes it to the ball in a soot stained white gown, before fleeing and leaving behind her clompy black workman’s boot. It raises the only laugh of the evening.
As our Prince furiously tries to find Clara in the shoe-fitting scene, Livia is passed a knife by her mother, so desperate is she for the shoe to fit, as she attempts to hack away at this ugly boot. It’s the kind of brutal image Breiner uses to reiterate the intensity of the mother-daughter relationship.
The happy couple are reunited and skip away, Livia is left in solitude, mourning her loss. She rekindles a brief earlier romance she had with another miner, their connection much more unpretentious and soft as she is lifted gently across his back. The earlier noticeable tension in her angular body is gone, suggesting relief tinged with sadness. The final image of her sitting alone, holding Clara’s boot to her chest, releasing a hysterical laugh indicates she perhaps knows she is better off alone.
“Ruß” won an award for Best Choreography when it first premiered over ten years ago. Breiner certainly succeeds at packing a lot in and highlighting the deviations from the more familiar story. Her female characters are deeply layered, while the men are more functional which makes the drama very watchable, but Livia’s story feels unfinished, or it may just be that she needs an ending that is a little more uplifting than what we get in Ruß.
