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A fairy tale comes to life Paris
Opéra Bastille
03/08/2025 - & March 11, 13, 14, 22, 23, 28*, 31, April 2, 3, 5, 7, 8, 10, 11, 18, 21, 23, June 27, 29, 30, July 1, 3, 4, 6, 7, 9, 10, 12, 14, 2025
The Sleeping Beauty
Rudolf Nureyev (Choreography, after Marius Petipa), Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky (music)
Amandine Albisson/Bleuenn Battistoni/Héloïse Bourdon/Léonore Baulac/Valentine Colasante/Dorothée Gilbert/Hohyun Kang/Inès McIntosh/Clara Mousseigne/Hannah O’Neill/Sae Eun Park* (Aurore), Guillaume Diop/Thomas Docquir/Lorenzo Lelli*/Germain Louvet/Paul Marque/Marc Moreau (Le prince Désiré), Camille de Bellefon/Fanny Gorse/Emilie Hasboun* (La fée des lilas), Sarah Kora Dayanova/Fanny Gorse*/Katherine Higgins/Sofia Rosolini (Carabosse), Yann Chailloux (Le Roi Florestan), Sofia Rosolini (La Reine), Manuel Garrido (Le maître de cérémonie Catalabutte), Arthus Raveau (Le Duc), Sarah Kora Dayanova (La Comtesse), Eléonore Guérineau (La Chatte blanche), Isaac Lopes Gomes (Le Chat botté), Marine Ganio (Princesse Florine), Antoine Kirscher (L’Oiseau bleu), Ballet de de l’Opéra national de Paris
Orchestre de l’Opéra national de Paris, Vello Pähn*/Sora Elisabeth Lee (Conductor)
Ezio Frigerio (Sets), Franca Squarciapino (Costumes), Vincio Cheli (Lighting)
(© Agathe Poupeney/Opéra national de Paris)
The Sleeping Beauty (1890), the second of Tchaikovsky’s three ballets, is much less frequently performed than Swan Lake (1877) and The Nutcracker (1892). It’s also the most “French” of the three; the other two take place in Germany and The Nutcracker is based on Nussknacker und Mausekönig (1816), a tale by German writer E.T.A. Hoffmann (1766‑1822).
Prince Ivan Alexandrovitch Vsevolojsky (1835-1909), Director of the Imperial Theatres and an ardent Francophile, is said to have specifically chosen the story of Sleeping Beauty by Charles Perrault (1628‑1703), itself based on traditional French fairy tales. Other than his love of France, Vsevolojsky had another agenda: to pay homage to King Louis XIV (1638‑1715), “Le Roi Soleil,” most absolute of absolute monarchs, in a period of counter‑reformation by Tsar Alexander III (1845‑1894), who was reversing his predecessor’s liberal reforms.
Given this clin d’œil to King Louis XIV, The Sleeping Beauty involves the most luxurious – almost Rococo – sets of the major ballets. The expense of mounting such ornate sets and costumes for The Sleeping Beauty is the reason for its infrequent performance. This production boasted the majestic sets and lavish costumes of the Ezio Frigerio and Franca Squarciapino team. Although dazzling, the pastel colours of the costumes of the courtiers, especially in Act III, were too bright and didn’t coordinate well (yellow, pink, pistache and turquoise).
Legendary dancer-choreographer Rudolf Nureyev (1938‑1993) considered The Sleeping Beauty the “ballet of ballets.” When he conceived this production in 1989, he infused it with some consequential elements: he insisted its considerable length be respected; he directed Franca Squarciapino to refashion costumes he considered too cumbersome; and (as was his wont), he amended the choreography to favour the male dancers, especially that of Prince Desiré. Italian Lorenzo Lelli easily achieved the required virtuosity of this more elaborate choreography, especially in Act III where he utterly dazzled with his high jumps.
The part of Princess Aurore is not as significant as that of Giselle or Odette/Odille in Swan Lake. In part, this is because Aurore is a baby in the Prologue and in deep sleep in much of Act II (though the good Lilac Fairy makes her appear as a vision to Prince Désiré). Grace and elegance characterise the part more than bravura, and here, South Korean Sae Eun Park was a paragon of delicacy. Moreover, her chemistry with Lelli was joyous to behold. They positively dazzled in Act III’s impeccably-executed pas de deux.
When Francophile Prince Vsevolojsky had suggested the story to Tchaikovsky and Marius Petipa, he insisted on including various characters from Perrault’s tales: Puss in Boots, Bluebeard, Tom Thumb and Cinderella. In his 1989 choreography, Nureyev did away with most, save Puss in Boots, danced in this performance by Isaac Lopes Gomes and his female feline partner, la Chatte blanche, Eléonore Guérineau. Their steps may not have been the most difficult, but their costumes were magnificent and they provided rare moments of humour in this rather serious ballet.
The contrasting costumes of the King and Queen were remarkable, as were those of other courtiers, especially the Duke and Countess, danced by Arthus Raveau and Sarah Kora Dayanova, who made an indelible impression, despite the brevity of their appearance. One wished they’d reappear.
The actions of the good Lilac Fairy and the evil fairy, Carabosse (interpreted respectively by Emilie Hasboun and Fanny Gorse) will forever remain in the audience’s memory. Firstly, Carabosse is annoyed at not having been invited to Princess Aurore’s christening, therefore casting an evil spell on the infant, to die on her sixteenth birthday, pricked by a spindle. The Lilac Fairy counters the spell but cannot reverse it; Aurore falls into a deep slumber for a hundred years, until awakened by the kiss of a handsome prince. Secondly, the costumes for the two, especially Carabosse, were remarkable. Both she and her attendant horned familiars (spirits) were demonically scary. The pantomime between the two, often a source of comic relief, was less pronounced here.
Comic relief was abundantly provided through the character of Catalabutte, the Court’s Master of Ceremonies, who forgot to invite Carabosse, thus causing further rage and malevolence. Though not a technically demanding role, Manuel Garrido made the most of it, favouring the effeminate over the pedantic attributes of the role.
The most memorable part, one who wasn’t an essential character to the plot, was l’Oiseau bleu (the Blue Bird), whose dance in Act III is one of the ballet’s most memorable. Danced exquisitely by Antoine Kirscher, this Blue Bird seemed to fly. There is a famous account by Bronislava Nijinska (1891‑1972) of her brother Vaslav Nijinsky (1890‑1950) managing to have the costume modified to allow him to have freer arm movements that enabled him to jump higher and more freely, giving the illusion of flight. By removing the restricting wing contraption sewn into his costume, he was able to achieve the right balance in his movements, using his arm as well as his leg muscles. With free arms, the balance is achieved and Blue Bird truly flies. Marine Ganio, Blue Bird’s acolyte, also dressed in striking blue, impressed in her supporting role. Actually, she is a guest at the christening, Princess Florine, accompanied by her beau, both exotically disguised as birds.
Estonia’s Vello Pähn led l’Orchestre de l’Opéra national de Paris with panache and elegance. It was Nurevev who first invited him to Paris in 1988, collaborating to the end; no wonder this production showed such love for detail and uncompromising authenticity. Pähn’s attention to the music’s lyricism enhanced the beauty of the performance, especially in the pas de deux between Aurore and Désiré and during Blue Bird’s pyrotechnics. Pähn has an obvious feel for ballet, providing musical support of the highest calibre. Even for those indifferent to ballet as an art form, this performance would have been a delight: a first‑rate orchestra performing one of Tchaikovsky’s finest scores.
I’m delighted to have finally seen Nureyev’s choreography for The Sleeping Beauty, thus completing his Tchaikovsky trilogy of ballets in a mere nine months, after Swan Lake in Vienna last June and The Nutcracker in Milan in January. I can’t decide which of the three I enjoyed most; all were magnificent. The elegance and grandeur of the present production is unparalleled. Most impressively, this ballet is presented 29 times by the Paris Opera, selling out every seat of the 2,745-seat Opéra Bastille, signifying that roughly 80,000 ballet lovers will have the immense privilege of experiencing Nureyev’s sumptuous choreography for one of the most stunningly exquisite ballets of all time.
Ossama el Naggar
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