The Greek Gods of yore, unlike the stern God of the monotheist religions, enjoyed very human emotions. John Neumeier in his interpretation of the tale of Sylvia returns to the ancient myth and explores this range including the related human strengths and weaknesses. The result is a beautiful ballet full of complexity. Sylvia, written for the Paris Opera Ballet in 1997, makes a welcome return to the Hamburg stage with a wish-list cast.
Neumeier takes Léo Delibes’ score from 1876 and skilfully draws out its humanity removing sentimentality, drawing attention to the finer detail, harnessing the power and focusing Delibes’ memorable melodies to enrich the drama. Don’t expect an easy ‘happily ever after’ end but do expect to be moved beyond words.
The eponymous heroine, Sylvia, (Madoka Sugai) is the most devoted acolyte of the goddess Diana (Anna Laudere). Unlike traditional ballerina roles, these Amazons are a fiery cohort. Baring their legs and outleaping the men, they demonstrate their skills in a stylish piece of visual stagecraft, as arrows fly and hit the bullseye.
Sylvia is an adolescent at her most vulnerable and torn between devotion to the chaste Diana and her attraction to the shepherd Aminta (Alexandr Trusch). Eros, the pesky God of Love disguised in red dungarees naturally plays a part in her story, in fact many parts, including shepherd Thyrsis and also seducer Orion. Christopher Evans in addition to his fine dancing, relishes the comedy inherent in Eros’ meddling and exudes charismatic charm as Orion who introduces Sylvia to a world of hedonistic pleasure.
It is Sylvia whose story is the focus of the ballet. Sugai, a dancer with a powerful jump and finely honed technique has the ability to open her heart to the audience. Trusch, the ardent lover, is besotted with the nymph and waylays her in the Sacred Grove. Despite her struggles he persists and convinces her of his devotion. She finally allows an embrace just as Diana and the huntresses return. Sugai’s conflict is vivid and real. She fiercely repeats the Amazon dance routine to prove her worth but is rejected by Diana then, in desperation she slaps poor Aminta, who is devastated.
A further surprise awaits as Diana, left alone on stage, reveals her secret passion. She loves Endymion who is condemned by the gods to eternal sleep. Jacopo Bellussi, in the tragicomic role spends a lot of time languidly mooching around the stage. Their pas de deux is one of Neumeier’s most unusual and inventive as Diana’s ardour is countered by his passivity. Laudere, a fierce and beautiful Diana, is true goddess material, censuring Sylvia for her love of a mortal while indulging her own guilty passion. Eros observing all, decides to educate Sylvia in the ways of the world. She is again not easy to convince but eventually leaves with him.
Neumeier’s choice of Yannis Kokkos as designer was inspirational. His palette of strong, unusual colours creates a setting that is truthful without needing exactness. For the sacred grove his sky is teal green, the trees are silhouettes in deep blue and the door in the backdrop opens to reveal a golden light. In Act 2, the realm of the senses, the set is brilliant white dominated by a larger-than-life torso of Eros, so dramatic, that it earned a spontaneous round of applause.
Sylvia arrives in a glamorous gown of red velvet still carrying the golden bow, which Orion, now a sophisticated man about town in evening dress, manages to release from her grasp. The young men, led by Orion raise the temperature in a sensual dance bordering on tribal ritual. With little persuasion Sylvia succumbs and relishes being swept aloft by a cohort of young bucks. However, the adoration and desires later pall. Diana arrives first in male evening suit then returns in a black evening gown. Sylvia’s senses are awakened but she still cannot decide or commit.
The final duet defies all traditions of the grand pas de deux. Years pass and the lovers return to the Sacred Grove, the trees now a ghostly white. Aminta arrives to dance a pensive solo against a backdrop of dancing couples. Sylvia arrives, smartly suited and carrying a suitcase. They confront each other, their trembling hands almost but not quite connecting as the hesitancy of Delibes’ staccato strings in his Pizzicato Polka, matches their inner turmoil. The depth of their feelings swells with the violin solo as they almost relate but their emotions are mistimed and never quite on the same page. Neumeier encapsulates their emotions in movements honest and right, flooded with memories but pierced by the knowledge that the moment has passed.
It’s a ballet that, like Greek theatre, speaks for all time and is a joy to watch.
