The quintessential 19th-century story ballet, Swan Lake, has returned to the National Ballet of Canada in the first revival of its 2022 production. It represented a significant departure from James Kudelka’s controversial staging that dominated seasons from 1999 through 2017. Citing her desire to return to a more romantic conception, then artistic director Karen Kain spearheaded a new production based on the Erik Bruhn version she herself danced with the National Ballet. It, in turn, draws on Lev Ivanov and Marius Petipa’s traditional choreography with additions by company artistic associates Christopher Stowell and Robert Binet.
Any new production of Swan Lake will face some degree of scrutiny, but this one experienced more than most as the subject of the 2023 documentary film and mini-series, Swan Song. It didn’t shy away from backstage tensions between Kain and principal dancer Jurgita Dronina nor the fact that neither she nor Binet had ever staged such a complex production.
Much has been made of this being a feminist interpretation in which the swans are manipulated and abused women. While a good soundbite, this concept fails to take hold. Perhaps this is because the “white” acts in which the swans dominate are staged in such a traditional manner. Nothing wrong with that, but other than trying to block Prince Siegfried with some “stop” hand signals in the final act, the swan corps are not given the agency that was perhaps intended by the dramaturgy.
This is not to take away from the powerful contribution of the corps. As the swans, its women mesmerized with their constantly moving, swirling patterns. In act one, the corp’s part is more like a series of short solos, duos and trios, allowing its members to show off strong jumps and turns. First soloist Donald Thom as Benno and second soloists Brenna Flaherty and Miyoko Koyasu as Siegfried’s sisters added a lot of visual flair and variety with their significant solos.
We meet Siegfried as he faces big life changes, feeling pressure from the Queen (Stephanie Hutchison) to marry. As the Prince, principal Ben Rudisin certainly cuts a tall, dashing figure. Albeit in a gloomy funk, he could have done more to project the character’s sadness, and indeed, his amorous awakening and tragic loss in subsequent acts. Rudisin danced efficiently but experienced some problems with his turns and tour en l’air landings in Act 3. His Prince is still a work in progress.
As Odette/Odile, principal Genevieve Penn Nabity confirmed the promise she exhibited in 2022 when dancing the role for the first time. As documented in Swan Song, this was the ballet that launched her promotion to principal status. Technically, Penn Nabity was astounding with incredibly high attitudes and flawless execution of the famous 32 fouettés in Act 3. She communicated fear as Odette when first encountering the Prince in Act 2, and then triumph as Odile in Act 3 upon assuring his betrayal of her alter ego. This is already a very mature portrayal that will no doubt deepen as she continues to dance the role.
Act 3’s character dances were well-taken by various soloists. Calley Skalnik perfectly captured the Russian dance’s hauteur. Noah Parets and David Preciado matched Emerson Dayton’s sauciness in the Neapolitan dance. The Spanish dance was performed with requisite southern elan by Selene Guerrero-Trujillo, Arielle Miralles, Isabelle Bratt, Trygve Cumpston and Larkin Miller.
Central to this conception is the role of Rothbart, the evil sorcerer who captures the human Odette in the short (very darkly lit) prologue. Second soloist Peng-Fei Jiang managed to project menace despite a costume, though striking with its huge wingspan of knife-like feathers, doesn’t leave the dancer much room for physical expression.
Which leads us to the visual elements of this Swan Lake. The lake scenes are quite straightforward with their painted and moonlit wintry forest backdrop. The surrounding acts have an entirely different, eclectic aesthetic. For the prince’s ballroom, set and costume designer Gabriela Týlešová seems to channel Disney’s Beauty and the Beast with over the top anthropomorphic headdresses and a gown for the Queen that resembles a parade float. In this revival, it appeared some dancers were allowed to remove masks that must have made movement incredibly difficult. The haphazard, overly ornate sensibility of the design elements is distracting. Bejewelled cameo frames, chandeliers, bubble lights and kitschy rose motifs compete for our attention. There is little sense of visual cohesion towards a defined concept.
Regardless, this is a crowd-pleasing, well-danced production that will no doubt serve the company well for seasons to come. And, it is notably the last big, traditional ballet the Toronto ballet public will see for some time. The recently announced 2025-26 season consists entirely of 20th and 21st-century works (barring Nutcracker), a bold, risky move on the part of artistic director Hope Muir.
