|
Back
Siegfried’s Ballet Idyll Vienna
Staatsoper
06/06/2024 - & June 11, 14, 20, 23*, September 16, 19, 20, 27, October 5, 8, 10, 14, 2024
Swan Lake
Rudolf Nureyev, after Marius Petipa & Lev Ivanov (choreography), Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky (music)
Timoor Afshar (Prince Siegfried), Olga Esina (Odette/Odile), Andrey Teterin (Von Rothbart), Katharina Miffek (The Queen), Natalya Butchko, Alice Firenze, Giorgio Fourrés, Duccio Tarriello (The Prince’s companions), Calogero Failla (The Prince’s tutor), Igor Milos (The Steward), Wiener Staatsballett
Orchester der Wiener Staatsoper, Paul Connelly (Conductor)
Luisa Spinatelli (sets & costumes), Marion Hewlett (lighting)
(© Ashley Taylor)
At age seven, I saw my first ballet, Chopin’s Les Sylphides (1909), in my native Cairo. I was mesmerized. When I subsequently saw Adam’s Giselle (1841) on television, I was smitten, and wouldn’t stop asking my parents to see more ballet. A few years later, when the Cairo Ballet performed Swan Lake (1877), I was irrevocably spellbound. Together with Giselle, Swan Lake today remains my favourite. Both works are desperately romantic and have wonderful scores that can be enjoyed without experiencing the visual aspect.
While the work is based on German and Russian folktales, the German names of the ballet’s characters were off‑putting for the audience at its 1877 Moscow premiere. Given his leanings, compared to the nationalist group of five (Balakirev, Borodin, Cuí, Mussorgsky and Rimsky‑Korsakov), it was unsurprising that Tchaikovsky chose a Western setting as well as names for his ballet. Moreover, he was fascinated by fellow homosexual King Ludwig II (1845‑1886) whose insignia was the swan, and who may have been the inspiration for the role of Prince Siegfried. It was only after its 1895 St. Petersburg production at the Mariinsky Theater that Swan Lake became an essential part of the ballet repertoire. It’s invariably that theater’s choreography (by Marius Petipa and Lev Ivanov) that’s used by most ballet companies to this day, including the present production.
Tchaikovsky rejected the established form of ballet music of his time, namely elegant, lightweight decorative music by specialist ballet composers of average talent, such as Italy’s Cesare Pugni (1802‑1870) and Austria’s Ludwig Minkus (1826‑1917). In a marked departure, Tchaikovsky chose to model his ballet after Adam’s Giselle with its frequent use of leitmotif.
This Vienna event, generating much excitement, had American Timoor Afshar’s prise de role as Prince Siegfried in Vienna. He had immense charisma, impressive athleticism and elegant landings. Nureyev’s choreography is highly flattering to the character of Siegfried, and Afshar did not disappoint with his exceptional virtuosity, especially in his solos.
I expected more of Russian ballerina Olga Esina, who nonetheless was technically flawless. I was hoping for more contrast between her Odette and Odile. At times she seemed cold, even as the white swan Odette, but happily she was expressive and effective, especially in the final act.
Some accused Nureyev of having reduced von Rothbart’s role so as to have no competition. Such lazy conjecture reveals a lack of knowledge of how competitive people think. The evil magician is an older man and is in no position to be a rival to the dancer performing Siegfried. Luisa Spinatelli’s imaginative costume for von Rothbart was appropriately aviary. He was a hybrid of vulture and owl, and quite terrifying when he snatched Odette in the final act.
Act III’s folkloric dances, of Polish, Hungarian, Spanish, Neapolitan and Russian origin, were impressive not only for their flawless technique, but also for their creative stylization. Doubtlessly deliberate, the decision to render the Neapolitan dancers as commedia dell’arte characters had its effect. Spinatelli’s costumes for the various nationalities were a paragon of elegance and sobriety. The most exuberant of the dances was the Hungarian one. Paul Connelly’s conducting was so rhythmically vigorous that I was reminded how amazing it is to see great ballet accompanied by possibly the world’s best orchestra.
Few ballets have had as many alternate endings. At its Moscow premiere, the evil magician von Rothbart was Odette’s wicked stepmother. In the more recent Mariinsky version, von Rothbart’s curse is broken; Siegfried and Odette live happily ever after. In the present production, von Rothbart abducts Odette and creates a storm and a flood that drowns Siegfried. This is an unappealing end that lacks balance, as Odette survives in perpetual captivity and only one of the lovers dies tragically. In fact, there are several Nureyev-bashers who reproach him this end as well as making Siegfried the star of the ballet rather than Odette.
This is an interesting polemic, as ballet was once premier danseur-centered until the mid‑nineteenth century. Think Louis XIV baroque dance extravaganzas. Only with La Sylphide and Giselle did the prima ballerina acquire her ethereal attributes. Marie Taglioni (1804‑1884), creator of La Sylphide, was the first ballerina to dance an entire ballet en pointe. Her moves were meant to favour Taglioni’s particular physique: long arms and legs, short stature and unusual athletic capacity to jump with fluidity and elegance (élévation). This new dancing style for a female dancer, giving a much admired ethereal quality, was the one adopted by Carlotta Grisi (1819‑1899), creator of Giselle. Nureyev, arguably the greatest dancer of modern times, was certainly aware of his prowess and not shy to flaunt it. This is akin to reproaching Maria Callas for her amazing technique while denigrating her for taking too much space.
Other choreographers explore further, modifying Swan Lake’s story, notably Peter Martin’s 2006 version for the New York City Ballet, where Odette is condemned to remain a swan forever, and heartbroken Siegfried remains miserable and alone. The most provocative version was Matthew Bourne’s 1995 adaptation for London’s Sadler’s Wells Theatre, in which swans were male dancers and Siegfried a sexually-confused prince, perhaps appropriate given the previously mentioned King Ludwig II conn.
My favourite ending is found in several versions. It’s where Odette, realizing she’ll forever remain a swan due to Siegfried’s unknowing betrayal, prefers to die. The grief‑stricken prince then drowns himself. This breaks von Rothbart’s spell, freeing the enchanted swans. In an apotheosis, Odette and Siegfried rise skyward, together forever. This is balanced, Wagnerian and adheres to Greek mythology. After all, the swans, white versus black, could be construed as a Tannhäuser-like conflict between noble and sensual love.
I spoke to three young dancers at intermission. Two were turned off by what they considered a stale museum piece. The third was more nuanced. Indeed, it’s a provocative question, whether venerable theatres like La Scala, the Paris Opéra and the Wiener Staatsoper, that enjoyed the opportunity to present choreography by the greatest dancer in living memory ought to keep his productions, as some consider them dated relics. Many believe creativity only occurs through change. Given how marvelous this production is, and despite some minor glitches, I unhesitatingly argue it should be kept for posterity. It’s a precious contribution to our culture. Recently relished Nureyev productions of La Bayadère at La Scala and Don Quixote in Vienna prove this. Other theatres should innovate, while the big three Western theatres ought to continue being the guardians of such delightful “relics”.
Ossama el Naggar
|
