Nogoat

Perhaps it's just KOH catering to our varied tastes when it comes to dancers? I can just hear him saying, in his best Groucho voice, “these are my principals. If you don’t like them, well, I have others”. 🤔

Francesco Gabriele Frola

On reflecting on last night's performance on the long journey home (during the Tube bit, not the driving-through-dense-fog bit!), I ended up wondering if Manon is the 3-act MacMillan ballet (or, indeed, that of any choreographer) that offers not only the greatest number of different characters, major and minor, but also the most flexibility for the dancers to provide their own interpretations as they move the complex story forward. (On reflecting on that reflection, Mayerling might disagree!) From the titular Manon all the way through to - as I think someone has previously mentioned - the poor servant who has to field the coat Mon GM throws at her, each interaction - some rehearsed, some seemingly ad-libbed as the stage-dynamics ebb and flow - provides a brushstroke to the masterpiece that is painted before our eyes and wordlessly works its way inside our hearts and souls. Admittedly I've only seen three performances in this run (two Osipova/Clarke and one Kaneko/Muntagirov), but I've seen many before these - on stage and on DVD/YouTube - but I think it would be difficult to find two with the same overall 'tone', even with the same casts. The above is a bit of a prelude/excuse (delete as appropriate) to the following observations about the two casts I've seen this run. Seeing only two makes that easy, but the risk is that these are seen as 'comparisons' in terms of which is 'better' - that is not the intent. As a ballet, I think Manon is so flexible it is difficult to 'break'; you might end up with a different overall 'shape' to the ballet, and different emphases as the narrative spins towards the tragic conclusion, but given the differing sensitivities and preferences of individual ballet lovers, and their tendency (when casting is available!) to self-select casts that are likely to meet those expectations, then it is little wonder that performances are so enthusiastically attended and received. Manon: This will be difficult, even given the above 'disclaimer', as feelings run deep (and who'd want it any other way? After all, ballet, like any other art form, is about how you feel), so let's deal with it first... On the technique-acting spectrum, Fumi sits more towards the technique end than Osipova. I loved Fumi's mastery of technique last night - it was beautiful to behold - but this meant there was less emphasis on acting while dancing (note it's a matter of degree here, not absence). Having said that, when she wasn't dancing I thought she did a fabulous job of propelling the story; for example, her indecision and internal conflict between Mon GM's material wealth and Des Grieux's love was very clearly expressed in the brothel scene in Act 2. I also thought she really managed to project a sense of her own agency in the 'bracelet' scene at the end of Act 2. Also, her reaction during the Gaoler's assault in Act 3 was harrowing - those flailing arms told a story we didn't want to hear (though I was really hoping she'd then show her contempt for the Gaoler by spitting at his dead body). But, for me, the final Act 3 PDD would have had a greater impact if it had been 'uglier'. The point is, it all still worked for me and it would have pushed all the right buttons for many in the audience; conversely, Osipova pushed all the right buttons for me, but would not have done for everyone there. Des Grieux: DG may be the focus of the title of the original book, but in the ballet he seems to be the main character that (at least initially) is the simplest and, therefore, the most tightly constrained - a bookish, idealistic, fairly naïve young man. Perhaps it is the physical stature of Clarke that makes him more immediately noticeable as he moves around the stage in Act 1. And perhaps it is Muntagirov's experience that allows him to be somewhat more expressive in his solos (though Clarke was certainly much more expressive in his second outing). When Clarke, in his Act 2 attempt to woo back Manon, falls to the floor and looks up at her with all his exposed vulnerability, I distinctly remember thinking how much he reminded me of the pure, noble, innocent persona Muntagirov is so good at adopting; and when Muntagirov did exactly the same last night, I thought how much he looked like Clarke! Overall, I got the impression (from a very limited sample) that Clarke was the physically stronger of the two DGs, but that physicality - coupled with differences in stature between Clarke's Des Grieux and Campbell's Lescault - seemed to make the submission of the former by the latter at the end of Act 1 less convincing for some on the forum. Again, you pay your money and you make your choice - both 'work' and variety really is the spice of life. Lescault: Lescault may be the most complex character on stage, if measured by all the other characters he has to deal with and the number of sub-plots he instigates to drive the narrative forward, in their increasing recklessness and impact. His main interaction, dance-wise, is through his 'drunk' solo and duet with his mistress. My first Lescaut of this run was Campbell, and I wrote that I preferred Sambe's more exuberant performance from the previous run. However, the cinema broadcast contained an interview about Morera's role in guiding the MacMillan legacy, and I now think that Campbell was deliberately emphasising the more pathetic aspects of drunkenness mentioned. Last night, Sissens was more Sambe than Campbell. I went to the ROH prepared to be a bit disappointed, as reviews of Sissens in his first outing were a bit subdued. However, given that I know just how good Fumi and Muntagirov are, my astonishment at the bravura performance of Sissens yesterday almost allowed him to steal the show. In fact, in the brothel scene in Act 2 I did find myself looking at his antics at the expense of the main characters, as he seemed to remain drunk in everything he did. When Manon enters in that incredible gown adorned with 200 bows and greets him, Sissens' Lescaut managed to dislodge one and it fell on the stage. After she walked away he noticed it on the floor and, still acting the drunk, slowly tried to zero in on it to pick it up. With much effort he managed to do so, then he stared at it and tried to stick it on his lapel. A wonderful bit of ad-lib acting/stage cleaning! (I'm also sure that, at the start of the fight scene, Manon's black wrap became attached to Sissens as he ran around - resistentialism again?) Like Sambe in the last run, Sissens really attacked his solo with gusto - an extroverted, happy drunk. We all have different expectations and criteria, and the more reflective, maudlin approach of Campbell is neither 'better' nor 'worse' than that or Sissens or Sambe. A quick search on YouTube for 'Lescaut drunk solo' shows just how much room for interpretation there is in this iconic piece. Gaoler: If there can be a definitive Gaoler in Manon, then it has to be Gary Avis. Is there a more base character in ballet, MacMillan or otherwise, than this sexual predator? There are two things that Avis does that magnifies the sense of revulsion. The literal climax of his attack on Manon is completely uninhibited - it is pure self-gratification. Perhaps more disturbing, as it takes place in public, is how Avis' Gaoler treats Manon as he forces her across the front of the stage once she has disembarked. I haven't seen anyone else do it, but have seen Avis do it on several occasions; I'd rather not describe it - suffice it to say it's literally the modus operandi of the ex-president of the USA, as 'grabbed' on audio tape a number of years ago following an interview. There are no nuances to the Gaoler - the more the dancer can lower themselves into the cesspit of the worst of human behaviour, the more chillingly effective it becomes. And I still can't understand why the end of those first two scenes in Act 3 are met with applause; it just seems so inappropriate. There are so many other character interpretations to mention, but this is way too long already! PS: I'm sure the last set of jumps from Des Grieux and Lescault, as the one is chased across the stage by the other at the end of Act 1, were different last night (Muntagirov/Sissens) compared to the broadcast (Clarke/Campbell); is this right and, if so, is it something the dancers decide amongst themselves? PPS: Did I miss the 'achoo!' from the snuff-taking last night? I don't remember seeing/hearing it yesterday. PPPS: Not really anything to do with cast, but I thought the orchestra under Kessels last night was exceptional; none of the cautious, nervy playing I heard in the first two performances, particularly the streamed one - just a confident, full-bodied accompaniment to the tremendous on-stage dancing.

This type of 'corporate non-answer' is all too common nowadays, and it's really exasperating! In response to a perfectly reasonable request for an existing policy (fees for ticket returns) to change (waive said fees for ticket returns) to address an exceptional circumstance (lack of casting info at the time of ticket purchase), a bland restatement of the existing policy (waiving of fees is standard only for Patrons) is issued; there is no attempt to engage with the question itself and so provide an explanation as to why such a change cannot be accommodated. Grrr! It's especially frustrating given the recent celebration of the Friends' 60th anniversary, with its copious praise of the importance of such Friends to the RB. The disconnect between the supposed importance of Friends and the continued failure to provide casting information at the time of Friends' booking or mitigate its effect either means the RB really hasn't a clue about the motivation behind why people becoming Friends, or that they prioritise income over customer relations, in which case that very public, celebratory praise of Friends starts to sound a bit hollow. Either possibility is worrying. In case anyone from the RB management or customer relations team reads this forum (and I'd like to think they do!), here's my view of why people become Friends, and why casting information *at the time of booking* is so vital. There may well be folk who become Friends simply for the magazine, or access to a handful of rehearsals, or a 10% shop discount, or as a way to donate, or for the kudos - but I've yet to meet any. The overwhelming majority become Friends because it allows them to reduce uncertainty around (and thereby increase control over) the purchase of preferred seats or seats in preferred areas (in terms of view and/or price), and the higher up the Friends ladder you are, the greater the advantage conferred (and upfront cost, of course). Unfortunately, on the basis of their approach to the summer booking period, the RB management seems to be of the opinion that priority access to seat booking is sufficient, along with the pre-existing information about programmes and dates, to make successful bookings. I would argue that those three aspects might be necessary, but they aren't sufficient for a large number of Friends (to the extent that the opinions expressed on the BCF reflect Friends in general). In exchange for handing over a large wodge of cash each year I would expect, when priority booking opens, to be able to make informed decisions about ticket purchases - for that, I need to know the programme, date, and ticket availability but, importantly, I also need to know the cast. Three out of four is not sufficient. The RB management seems unable or unwilling to acknowledge the importance of casts to, I would argue, the majority of Friends (at least, those on BCF - a cursory glance at the forum shows how members, including myself, tend to favour seeing particular dancers). Because of that, the upcoming booking (on the 28th for me) will be essentially a lottery, and one that will cost £4 for each failed gamble on trying to see the cast(s) I'm interested in. That might be good for the RB's cashflow (the cynic in me is mentally calculating the effective price-hike of returning half the tickets for repurchase on other dates, and - if in desperation I buy many more tickets than I need - the short-term effect on their book balances of 'returning' my excess expenditure as vouchers to be spent next year) but it undermines the rationale to becoming a Friend, especially if casting is not made available until after general booking opens. For those travelling to London by public transport and/or having to book hotels, the additional costs incurred by missing out on early-bird offers may also be significant. The RB needs to recognise that we all have favourite composers, choreographers *and* dancers, and many of us need to know all three to make informed purchases. Otherwise it starts to resemble the ballet equivalent of Henry Ford's 'you can have any colour as long as it's black'. If the RB fail to recognise and address the issue of providing timely information on casting, then there are likely to be subtle and damaging effects on the relationship between Friends and the RB; folk are already starting to question the value of being a Friend, and who knows if those relationship concerns might end up affecting other ways of giving? I appreciate that casting is the most difficult aspect for the RB management to control and schedule (programmes, dates and seating are trivial in comparison, mainly due to long lead-ins for the first two and real-time booking for the last), and maybe casting is becoming more difficult every cycle, but accepting the importance of casting to a potentially large segment of the paying public would be a start - but on its own it is not enough. Rather than recognising the problem but dumping the consequences onto that Friends and the paying public, the RB management should ensure that scheduling is not being slowed down by insufficient resources or inappropriate internal processes (eg if marketing/accounting considerations take precedence over casting activities/customer relations in the setting of booking dates). If resources are sufficient, then at a minimum, RB management should put in place measures to mitigate adverse effects (ie waive the admin fee for returned tickets). The ideal solution, of course, would be to withhold ticket sales until casting is known (not necessarily full casting across the run; even partial casting or a staged release as performances are cast would be better than nothing - though the response to @Linnzi5's question suggests the RB can't even see the merits of something that obvious. Perhaps they think it's difficult to implement? It isn't - just setting values in a database.); only releasing performances to book once casting is known would be a marvellous way to focus their minds! It's not that there isn't 'slack' in the system - the lead-in from first booking to performance for the summer season is around 3.5 months! I'm not privy to the internal workings of the RB, or how efficient they are, but that does seem very generous. Could they not put booking back by a month? Surely casting will be complete within a month from now?! I'm getting very twitchy about Wednesday (over and above the usual, unavoidable nervousness that comes with competitively spending large sums of money in a short space of time!) and that is not helped by the RB 'apologising' to @Linnzi5 for casting issues and then ploughing on as normal. How do we ensure this behaviour doesn't become the 'new normal'?

I thought I'd reproduce details of the running order from the rather splendid, ROH-quality, glossy programme from last night's Dance for Ukraine Gala at the Palladium, as it gives some sort of structure to my otherwise random thoughts, as well as providing information for those who were unable to make it. PROGRAMME PART 1 UKRAINIAN NATIONAL ANTHEM Music Mykhailo Verbytsky Mezzo-soprano Kseniia Nikolaieva Cello Urška Horvat Piano Sasha Grynyuk Members of The Royal Opera Chorus ROH Songs for Ukraine Chorus Conductor Keri-Lynn Wilson As it was for the first gala two years ago, this was the most moving part of the evening. Once again Kseniia Nikolaieva began the anthem on her own, with the rest of the chorus joining in as the curtain was raised to reveal them. Perhaps it was the rather poor attendance (the Grand Circle was maybe only one quarter full), or the smaller venue and absence of an orchestra, but, to me, that passionate indignity, that solidarity, that appeal to the injustice of it all, seemed to be rather diluted compared to the first gala at the Coli. Yes, we stood, yes, some sang, but it didn't have the same fervour. PRAYER FOR UKRAINE Music Valentin Silvestrov Mezzo-soprano Kseniia Nikolaieva Members of The Royal Opera Chorus ROH Songs for Ukraine Chorus Conductor Keri-Lynn Wilson In comparison to the rousing national anthem, this was a much more contemplative, reflective piece which seemed entirely apt given the events of the last two years. Perhaps the sung equivalent of the last danced piece, Gloria? FOREST SONG Olga Golytsia & Volodymyr Kutuzov Choreography Vakhtang Vronsky Music Mykhailo Skorulsky World Premiere Kyiv 1946 A fairly low-key start to the evening's dance - enjoyable enough, but I got the impression that the partnering could have been a little more polished on the male side (that's fine by me. I do not expect anything close to perfection in galas - it's more the opportunity to see a variety of dancers do a variety of pieces; the ballet equivalent of a tasting menu or a big box of assorted chocolates - yum!). I thought that lack of polish might not bode well for Kutuzov's Gopak in the second half - but how wrong I was! ROMEO & JULIETTE Lauren Cuthbertson & Matthew Ball Choreography Kenneth MacMillan Music Sergei Prokofiev World Premiere London, 9 February 1965 A predictably polished performance from Ball and Cuthbertson - they were almost on 'cruise control' - and I agree with @Blossom that the lack of live music really knocked its impact down a notch or two (despite what seemed like a very good sound system from listening to other pieces, this rendition seemed a bit 'lo-fi'). GISELLE Vsevolod Mayievsky & TBA* Choreography Marius Petipa after original Jean Coralli and Jules Perrot Music Adolfe Adan World Premiere Paris, 28 June 1841 * original cast is indisposed Included here for the sake of completeness. It didn't happen. METAMORPHOSIS Sangeun Lee & Gareth Haw Choreography David Dawson Music Philip Glass Choreographic Assistants Rebecca Gladstone & Raphael Coumes-Marquet Costume Design Eddie Grundy & David Dawson Light Design Bert Dalhuijsen Piano Olga Khoziainova Online World Premiere Amsterdam, 29 April 2021 I loved this piece, partly because I love the repetitive, minimalist music of Philip Glass - and this piece provided its visual, dance analogue. Glass is not to everyone's taste, of course, and it can seem too repetitive and protracted, but I'm happy to not fight its apparent refusal to resolve itself, and lose myself in the slowly changing sonic and visual landscapes it provides. Bliss. LE CORSAIRE Marianna Tsembenhoi, Luca Acri & Vladyslav Bosenko Choreography Marius Petipa after original Joseph Mazilier Music Adolphe Adam World Premiere Paris, 23 January 1856 This was a bit of a shock for me. It took a few performances, but Acri's stepsister in Cinderella (pink, wide-eyed, smeared lipstick) imprinted 'herself' so well that it took a while to adjust to this bared-torsoed, muscular, stubble-faced, 'alpha-male slave' (if there can be such a thing!) that bounded across the stage like a madcap Tigger. And, like Tigger, he seemed to be having a complete whale of a time! I don't think I've seen him do anything like that before, and I'd love to see more! Bravo! SUITE EN BLANC mazurka Denys Cherevychko Choreography Serge Lifar Music Edouard Lalo World Premiere Zurich, 19 June 1943 Perhaps it's more down to my ignorance than anything else, but coming straight after the well known dance/slave combo, this seemed a bit lacklustre. Denys seemed very earnest, though; perhaps I need to seek it out on YouTube and become more acquainted with it. PRELIWD William Bracewell Choreography Andrew McNicol Music Sergei Rachmaninoff Piano Sasha Grynyuk World Premiere The London Palladium, 18 February 2024 Like Acri, Bracewell was bare of torso and similarly, if not more, muscular. However, that musculature was used in this premiere more to express than propel. And this he did extremely well; he is such an assured and expressive dancer with bucket-loads of 'presence'. DYING SWAN Olga Smirnova Choreography Mikhail Fokine Music Camille Saint-Saëns Cello Urška Horvat Pino Sasha Grynyuk World Premiere Mariinsky Theatre, 22 December 1907 And talking of 'presence'... I was slightly underwhelmed by Smirnova's character in the Dutch Giselle that was broadcast to cinemas recently, but here, in the flesh, in another iconic role, she simply exuded 'ballet icon/diva'. Her technique was simply wonderful but, if I had to criticise anything, it would again be the 'acting' side of it. But that would be unfair of me, of course, as I believe technique/acting is a zero-sum game - it's just that I didn't think the balance was quite perfect. But that is a minor quibble - she's a bona fide superstar, and I got to see her live doing a bona fide classic! And, to top it off, the music was played live by an on-stage cellist and pianist (which helped underline the deficiencies of most of the recorded music elsewhere). TWO BY TWO Grace Jabbari & Ivan Putrov Choreography Russell Maliphant Music Andy Cowton Lighting Michael Hulls Relighting Andrew Ellis Costume & Set Design Russell Maliphant and Dana Fouras World premiere London, 1997 The stage is in darkness apart from two six-foot square puddles of light in which a male and a female dancer move - for most of the time in synchrony. The dance is contemporary and the music modern (it starts with sonar beeps and builds to include thumping bass beats; the sound system did this music proud, including some impressive stereo effects). YouTube can help you visualise it much better than I can, so I'll stop here! PROGRAMME PART 2 AFTER THE RAIN Marianela Nuñez & Lukas B. Brændsrød Choreography Christopher Wheeldon Music Arvo Pärt Piano Sasha Grynyuk Violin Benjamin Baker Costumes Holly Hynes Lighting Mark Stanley World Premiere New York, 22 January 2005 Like Glass's Metamorphosis, Pärt's Spiegel im Spiegel (again, played live!) spools out, seemingly endlessly and enjoyably - like subtlety different waves on a beach. I know I'm in the minority here, but, despite the privilege of seeing this pair of dancers perform it, I often find Wheeldon's choreography crossing too often the line between captivation and boredom. It's me, I'm sure, but I always think of him drawing attention to himself in his choreography, rather than to the music and dancers. It's all very faintly tinged with what I can only describe as narcissism. ASUKA Sugaru-Otome Yuuri Hidaka The Dragon God Tomoharu Yonekura Choreography Asami Maki after Akiko Tachibana Music Yoshikazu Kataoka Lighting Plan: Yuji Sawada World premiere Tokyo, 1957 Probably my ignorance again, but I found this a bit of a 'filler', a bit like Forest Song. Pleasant enough to watch, but it didn't really stir anything in me (positive or negative!). LA FILLE MAL GARDÉE pas de deux Francesca Velicu & Dmitri Zagrebin Choreography Alexander Gorsky after Marius Petipa, original by Jean Dauberval Music Cesare Pugni, Ludwig Minkus, Léo Delibes, Riccardo Drigo World premiere Bordeaux, 1 July 1789 This was a curious one to watch, such is the hold of the Ashton/Lanchberry version on me. Like a distant ancestor in the fossil record, I could see and appreciate the similarities and their contributions to the family tree, but its the modern version that represents the 'evolutionary peak'. The recorded music also contributed to feelings of distance and disconnect (for one, fleeting, moment I was reminded of one of those massive, steam-powered 'orchestras' that used to appear at travelling fairs - really strange). Nevertheless, it was lovely to see Velicu perform; she is another of those dancers with a definite stage presence, and I don't think I've ever seen her where she has failed to stand out (which is sort of self-fulfilling now I think about it...). CARMEN SUITE Olga Smirnova & Denys Matvienko Choreography Alberto Alonso Music George Bizet & Rodion Shchedrin World premiere Bolshoi, 20 April 1967 This, alone, was worth the price of admission! A solo by Smirnova! A solo by Matvienko! Then the pair of these two formidable beasts locked horns in high-stakes, increasingly close and seductive encounters as the air crackled with sexual tension. And that weird, droning-strings music - as if listening in some slightly altered, skewed state of mind. Matvienko still has it - his progress across stage in what might otherwise be comical steps are infused with the self-important seriousness of his own machismo. And Smirnova's Carmen, appearing in total control; but we, and possibly she, knows that she is subject to forces beyond her control as she is inexorably drawn towards Escamillo. The bit that summed her up for me was in her solo, where she steps, three of four times across the stage, each time pointing one leg vertically and grabbing its calf, while on pointe on her standing leg; on the last one she momentarily held her position and turned her head to look at us: there was not the merest hint of any movement anywhere else. Brava! I thought at the time I'd be happy for this piece to just carry on and on; strangely enough, a friend we bumped into on the way out of the theatre said exactly the same without prompting! I think that's a valid enough sample size to prove conclusively it was amazing! LA FILLE MAL GARDÉE pas de ruban Sabine Strokša & Philip Fedulov Choreography Frederick Ashton Music adapted by John Lanchbery from Ferdinand Hérold original World Premiere London, 28 January 1960 I was surprised to find this little snippet made me quite emotional. I love Ashton's Fille. The ribbon dance and, in particular, the music that accompanies it, is redolent of innocence, love, sunshine, etc, etc (probably kittens in there somewhere, too!). Add in the rationale behind the staging of the gala, and it became quite affecting. GOPAK, TARAS BULBA Volodymyr Kutuzov Choreography Rostislav Zakkharov Music Vasily Solovyov-Sedoi World Premiere Bolshoi, 15 April 1941 There are probably as many variations to Gopak as there are dancers who have danced it, and this was among one of the best I've seen. Short, and full of concentrated energy, it's a virtuoso piece - and Kutuzov didn't disappoint. He ended it with a series of 'handless cartwheels', for want of a better term (I've been told ice skaters call them camel jumps). GLORIA Minju Kang, Joseph Taylor & Lorenzo Trossello Choreography Kenneth MacMillan Music Francis Poulenc Design Andy Klunder World Premiere London, 13 March 1980 Again, given the context of the gala, this performance of part of Gloria - between two soldiers and a (beautifully-danced) 'angel' - became even more achingly poignant than usual. The appallingly destructive attrition of the last two years of warfare is difficult to comprehend from afar. Indeed, I often actively avoid it on the news because it is so distressing, but it says something about the nature of dance that it is able to convey, in a way that I am willing to pay for, quite profound insight into the best and the worst of humanity. I, too, came out on a high - but it was a much deeper high (if that's not too much of a contradiction) than usual.

We went to this afternoon's encore showing of last week's Manon broadcast. I was surprised by the reasonably good turn-out for an encore screening; I would guess there were a good fifty-plus in the audience (at the Vue on the edge of Bristol). From a technical point of view, I thought the sound was a bit too loud (certainly louder than it was in the ROH itself) and it dropped out for about a second or so during the first act; and I remain disappointed by the ability of the presumably state-of-the-art cinema projectors to render anything blacker than a darkish grey and to avoid background artifacts on fast pans. I know that reds predominate across much of the scenery and costumes in Manon, but they seemed a bit oversaturated. I'll be charitable and blame the cinema. I thought the live mixing of all those camera feeds into the broadcast itself was poor in places, though maybe I should also be a bit charitable here as it must be a tough, stressful job. On the other hand, there have been so many Manons recorded/broadcast over the years that the camera angles, shots and timing should be note perfect. I get that the broadcast can't be showing everything, everywhere, all at once, but there must be an optimal strategy, and I don't think that was evident in this broadcast. There were examples where wide shots were unnecessarily wide and diminished the action (eg the beginning of Manon being passed around in Act 2), or so close the context of the shot was lost (eg during Manon's solo her dancing might be directed towards Des Grieux, but he was not in shot). And, at the end of Act 2, why have so tight a close-up of Mon GM 'firing' his pistol (Oh! for the days of real blanks!) that you could not see his intended target, nor see Des Grieux pull Manon out of the line of fire? Also, in Act 3, the camera missed Osipova's Manon showing her utter contempt for the Gaoler by spitting at his dead body - a gesture that spoke volumes! On the plus side, some of the close-ups were really effective in conveying the emotions of all those wonderful dance-actors on stage. Such was the calibre of the performance that I hope a) the camera feeds have been saved separately - ie not just what was transmitted - and b) that the powers-that-be are then willing to put in the extra resources to do more than just tweak what was sent to the cinema. I was also impressed by the informative background information in the interval films and the live interviews. I felt Darcey did a much better job than I feared having read some of the earlier comments; she is at her best when not reading the autocue, so play to her strengths! Like others, I was annoyed at cutting away from the curtain calls to show the presenters, er, presenting from behind the curtain; it was much better when we used to get the live view from the audience's perspective and a simple voice-over (even better, why not a voice-over at the end of the curtain calls, perhaps over the credits?). As a result of showing the presenters rather than performers, we only got to see the last bit of Osipova/Clarke's curtain call where she kissed him; we also missed, during the earlier flower presentations, Osipova clapping Clarke when he was presented with his flowers. When the leads are happy enough to do that, you know it's been a good performance. On a final note unrelated to the broadcast, I find the final Act of Manon so harrowing that I have no wish to applaud between scenes, and can't understand why the majority of the audience does. Is it a reflex? For me it's almost equivalent in its grimness to the end of Act 3 of Mayerling. When the lights go down after the discovery of the murder/suicide in preparation for the graveyard scene there is silence in the auditorium, which seems entirely appropriate despite the incredible PDD that has just occurred (I can't think of a performance when there wasn't silence).

I enjoyed my second visit, to yesterday's matinee, just as much as the first, if not more. Part of that might have been the different vantage point (up in the tiny 'balcony' for the first, and on the front row yesterday - literally a couple of feet from the dancers at times) but, regardless, the two half-hour pieces are rich and ambiguous enough in their disjointed, dreamlike quality to benefit from repeated viewings. Once again the (admittedly small) Ustinov Studio was sold out and, while we were waiting in the foyer, a couple of hopefuls asked the door staff if there were any spare seats (someone who definitely did have a ticket was none other than Zenaida Yanowsky, who floated past us - that's how she seemed to move! - across the crowded foyer). With the small number of dancers and fairly spartan sets, I do hope this small-audience run has been sufficiently viable to be further promoted - perhaps even on Sadler's Wells main stage or, more appropriately in terms of intimacy, the Lilian Baylis or the Linbury? And it needs to be recorded. The first piece, Minotaur, was the clearest and most literal of the two, with the three dancers and the four characters they portray recounting distinct chapters in its own interpretation of the slaying of the Minotaur and the events that followed. However, my vantage point allowed me to pick up on nuances that had escaped me before. I was struck by the almost shell-shocked, introspective detatchment of McNally's Ariadne; she seemed emotionally numbed by the killing of her half-brother the Minotaur and her complicity in it - during the 'seduction' sequence between her and Theseus/Ball, her head and gaze were invariably directed towards the Minotaur's head lying to one side of the stage, only becoming more alive and animated when Theseus tried to leave her later in the 'departure' sequence (his repeatedly vain attempts at sneaking away from their shared bed, and his reaction to being being reeled back in, might have elicited laughter under other circumstances). Tommy Franzen was, once again, not to be outdone by the more familiar (to me) talents of Ball and McNally. If anything, his mastery of movement across the vertical surfaces of the set was even more impressive when viewed from 'below' next to the stage rather than 'above' from the balcony. For me, the second piece, Metamorphoses, was the more challenging to unpick and interpret on first viewing, as it sought to render the evolution of the relationship between two lovers from mythology (Cupid and Psyche) against what seemed to be a parallel backdrop of some sort of archeological dig. It yielded dividends on second viewing and, of course, the chance to see again (for the third time in as many weeks!) the living legend that is Alina Cojocaru. Within that evolution there was a gradual power-shift from Cupid to Psyche as their journey to mutual openness was portrayed as a literal journey from the depths to the surface of some sort of underground complex (each phase being punctuated by Franzen's 'archeologist' engaged in the surveying of what I saw as the long-lost ruins of some ancient, possibly advanced, civilisation - perhaps that which inspired the ancient myth, the echoes of which were playing out before us?). At the start, in the dark, Cupid/Ball is in complete control and, within this potentially dangerous asymmetry, is playing with Psyche/Cojocaru's obvious hesitation and concern elicited by that darkness. In the section called 'Ecstasy', she is becoming more at ease with the dark and more trusting of him. There is a wonderful sequence of moves that I had failed to see the relevance of before; she repeatedly falls backwards or leaps forward (in complete darkness, in her world) only to have Cupid catch and 'save' her at the last moment - that thrillingly ecstatic blend of feelings that is 'safe jeopardy', a bit like taking a rollercoaster ride or, as a child, being thrown in the air and caught by a parent! By 'Exposure' she is starting to influence the terms of their relationship and how it develops - it ends with her throwing a switch to expose Cupid to the full glare of the light. He no longer has anywhere to hide - for both their sakes, she has forced him to be 'honest'. He comes to terms with this shock during a solo called 'Elegy', and by the 'Epilogue' they and their relationship achieves a more equal footing (literally, with her balanced over him, supported on his feet). And, talking of feet, it has been pointed out before just how shabby the likes of Osipova's shoes can be; well, Alina wore pointe shoes for Metamorphoses that were similarly, if not more, worn, dirty and generally tatty. But. It. Didn't. Matter. One. Bit. She was lovely, her dancing was lovely, and her shoes were only important in allowing that loveliness full and free rein.

Last night was a tough visit to the ROH for a couple of reasons. This may sound a bit silly, but I was worried about the overall delivery of the performance itself, given that it was being broadcast. Normally, to paraphrase, 'what happens in the House stays in the House', but yesterday it was being showcased around the world, and my somewhat irrational concern must have been down to the esteem in which I hold the ROH, the Royal Ballet, Natalia Osipova and (to an increasing degree given his development and their burgeoning professional relationship) Reece Clarke. Of course, it turned out fine (though some of the orchestra sounded a bit 'nervous' in places), but it made me wonder just what levels of stress Kevin O'Hare must/might be under on nights like these - and that's not even considering all the other balls he has to juggle, including coping with the great and the good in attendance last night (that's over and above regular forum members, of course!). Then there's the ballet itself; I know it's a story of the corruption of innocence, of physical and sexual degradation, of sadistic levels of suffering, yet I go into the auditorium actively wishing for a performance of a calibre that will magnify those emotionally-demanding, challenging aspects. And I couldn't really have wished for much more than I got last night - apart from the hope that the powers that be will release it on disc in the near future. We seem drawn to stories that allow us to consider and confront in the realm of the imagination things we wouldn't wish to experience in reality. The genius of MacMillan is his unequalled ability to weave these dark and disturbing portraits, these 'warnings to the curious', through the medium of ballet (though the tragically short life and career of Liam Scarlett showed similar promise in works such as Hansel and Gretel, Sweet Violets and Frankenstein). I firmly believe that the opera house stage is an important 'safe space' in which the worst of humanity can be, and should be, presented to us; multiple, violent deaths in Frankenstein; sexual violence in The Invitation, Mayerling, Manon, etc, etc. Death and sex are pretty important aspects of life, and they are the driving force (at varying levels of abstraction) behind the majority of narrative (and perhaps all?) ballets. Part of the reason narrative ballets such as MacMillan's generate controversy, I believe, is the conflation of the medium and the message, with the result that works get labelled as gratuitous, voyeuristic, misogynistic 'entertainment'. I was 'entertained' last night (in the sense that I was profoundly moved, emotionally drained and would want to see it all over again), but I got no enjoyment whatsoever from most of the 'message' side of Manon - with the passing of the acts it becomes an accelerating vortex of violence, suffering and despair; yes, there are islands of hope in the seemingly unbreakable bond that develops between the two lovers - although, of course, death breaks even that at the finale. However, I get the most profound, glorious, and incomparable joy from the 'medium' through which that message is conveyed; the theatre, the staging, the spectacle, the music, the choreography, the costumes and, above all, the mastery and sheer beauty of its rendering by the dancers. That is how I square the circle - that is why, for me, a story of depravity can become a profound experience when conveyed through the magical medium that is MacMillan's ballet. And, speaking of dancers, much has and will be said about Osipova. Her fanbase was certainly out in force last night and, like me, many see her as the greatest dance actress of her generation. I've said these things before, but it's appropriate to say them again - briefly! Part of her strength is her openness, her on-stage 'honesty' for want of a better word: rather than play a role, she becomes the medium through which her character is channeled and manifests itself. She inhabits a strange 'superposition' on-stage where she is both unmistakably Osipova and independently Manon (or whoever) - Schrödinger's Dancer, for want of a better analogy. I've argued that dance is a zero-sum game when it comes to technique versus acting - increasing one is at the expense of the other. That may imply a null effect when it comes to overall outcome, but, having mentioned in my previous post on Manon that Osipova is giving Clarke the space in which to develop his talents, I'm beginning to think it's more symbiotic, where the mix of technique and acting opens things up in an inflationary, expansive way. And those acting/technique skills were certainly on show last night to great effect. For example, a pivotal scene is that before the card-playing scam, where Clarke implores Osipova to come back to him. I thought Clarke was excellent on Saturday, but a little extra dash of acting yesterday elevated it even more. At one point in the scene, Des Grieux approaches Manon, who then folds back as his arms engulf her. Last night Osipova visibly melted backwards even as he approached, seemingly caught in the radiant glow of his feelings for her. Later, he flings himself to the floor and lifts his head, in time to the music, in a last, desperate plea to her. When done well, it works brilliantly. Well, last night not only did Clarke seem beat perfect, but he left me with the impression he'd bared his entire soul to her through his posture and the completely open, vulnerable look he gave; that 'honesty' in performance is what she's good at, so to see him act like that bodes well for both his future and their pairing. Osipova's Manon left that scene having convinced me of the finely-balanced turmoil that was raging in her between the purity of Des Grieux's love for her and the materially-rich attractions of Monsieur GM; the differences between last night's and Saturday's performances were tiny - how long her hand lingered on the bracelet, how far she extended her arm towards him, the degree to which she shook her head when running off the stage. She is always a work-in-progress, always evolving, and I think it's wonderful! She certainly seemed pleased by it all; she gave Clarke a lovely kiss at the curtain calls - on the lips, not the cheek; again, a good omen for the future. But, Oh! how I wish the principals could have more than a couple of shots at Manon in this run! I would love to see what Osipova/Clarke - and other pairings - would mould the performance into by, say, their fourth outing! I guess that's the price of having such a fabulous reservoir of talent at the Royal Ballet (though I could argue that any company without Frola is incomplete... 🙂 ).

I'm very fickle when it comes to MacMillan, but in a way that highlights his genius as a choreographer of sweeping narrative ballets; during a run of any of his major pieces, that one becomes my favourite MacMillan/favourite ballet ever - until the next one, that is... So, Manon currently tops my list, which is hardly surprising given the quality on show at yesterday's matinee. It may be the 50th anniversary this year, but I left wondering if there is another established, full-length ballet that so resonates with and reflects the modern world? That sense of decay and neglect; of faded and lost glory; that concentration on hedonism, and the pursuit of money and the material world; the inequality, the hypocrisy, and the exploitation and persecution by the powerful of the weak and poor that those things engender. For me, the parallels are clear, and the ballet has become ever more hard-hitting over the years I have been lucky enough to see it. The setting may be archaic, fin de siècle, but the lessons are disturbingly modern. The character that encapsulates those themes to chilling effect is that of Monsieur GM. What is it about the lovely, proto-national-treasure that is Gary Avis that allows him to portray these types of monster? Yesterday's performance was the most extreme I have seen - not a note of melodrama to be found. Wherever he gets his inspiration from, it is difficult to think of anyone to, er, trump that vain, arrogant, misogynistic, psychotically narcissistic excuse for a human being that is Monsieur GM. Of course, Avis's cold-hearted and callous Gaoler is another memorably abhorrent character, and Lukas B B made a dismayingly effective attempt to emulate that vile creature. Beyond the gaoler's rape of Manon, I find the whole of Act 3 a difficult and despairing watch - as an example of man's inhumanity to man (mainly women, as ever) there is nothing positive or redemptive to be found, but I always leave amazed at the ability of the art that is ballet to convey such a visceral morality tale (though perhaps it is better called an amorality tale, as there is precious little morality on show). Lescaut is certainly an amoral chancer, and although I do not rate Campbell as highly as many on the forum do, I was pleasantly surprised at how well he played him (I'm sure that lop-sided grin helped). I prefer Sambé in the role, but that is personal taste. I'm a sucker for tableau scenes (the end of Firebird, the Prologue from The Sleeping Beauty, etc) and there is a small but very effective one in Act 1 soon after Manon's entrance, where she stands, centre-stage, surrounded by various characters, all wanting a piece of her and laying their hands on her. She is the centre of attention of the story, the cast and the many thousands of eyes in the audience, and in that moment comes the realisation of the power of her desirability. Osipova carries that moment so well, and at some sort of meta-level I imagine it reflects her own professional life (as it would that of many top ballerinas). Osipova is renowned for playing her characters 'in the moment', and yesterday was no different; I was surprised to find how definitive she was in rejecting Des Grieux's attempt to win her back in the brothel before the card game sting, shaking her head vigorously as she fled clutching at the prized bracelet on her wrist. In previous outings I'm sure she had been more ambiguous, leaving the stage more to find a solution to her quandary than to be persuaded by Lescaut to return to squeeze more money from Monsieur GM through a card game - either works, of course. Clarke's increasingly confident approach to partnering Osipova paid dividends in his portrayal of Des Grieux. Having said that, he is still developing and he didn't seem to have the same fluid intensity as my recollections of Hallberg and Shklyarov from previous runs (I realise that it's a bit unfair to bring up those very experienced, long-standing partners for comparison!). In places he seemed to concentrate more on technique at the expense of emotion - but it's early days! One thing that bodes well is that Osipova provides a huge amount of 'dramatic space' within which partners can express themselves, so I'm sure Clarke's dramatic expression will grow into that space with time. One thing Clarke excels at is physical presence and strength. He is an imposing sight on stage, and he is more than capable of handling the kinetic bundle of energy that is Osipova. That came into its own in the final part of Act 3 - I haven't seen her thrown around with that reckless confidence since Acosta; though, having said that, someone mentioned to me afterwards that he seemed to track her a bit too closely prior to catching her when she starts to fall right towards the end, rather diminishing the feeling of jeopardy. Regardless, I was put through an emotional wringer yesterday, but came out loving Manon, MacMillan, and Osipova even more than before. More of the same on Wednesday, please...

I've no idea if pictures stored on Google Drive are viewable by those without Google accounts, but I took a few pictures on my phone prior to and after last night's performance and put them on my Google Drive. The first one in particular might help make sense of my burblings above. Here are the links... The 'prelude' to Minotaur, with Kristen McNally on the bed, Matt Ball's leg exiting on the left, and my fingers top right!... https://drive.google.com/file/d/18krk0DuN28MTMHt2Ay4N-vw-rqSG-cjQ/view?usp=sharing Ball, McNally and Franzen at the end of Minotaur (they seem shortened as I was up in the 'circle')... https://drive.google.com/file/d/18msS3sj_KCcmedXfo5YqHC6jKtVb2yCn/view?usp=sharing Cojocaru and Ball at the end of Metamorphoses... https://drive.google.com/file/d/18iSb7oVo1zNHH8Mjh0YIp6Ykbvt5KMBV/view?usp=sharing

There's a fair amount of blurring of lines within this dance programme based on two stories from mythology - all to good effect, I might add:- - it's titled Metamorphoses, yet it comprises two pieces, one of which is Metamorphoses, the other Minotaur. Is that deliberate, or something more prosaic like a typo on the part of the Ustinov? - it features Matthew Ball in both pieces, on what is effectively the same set, which led to the rather unusual note in the programme that their (and our) 'delight' in having him feature in both pieces should not be misconstrued as implying linkage as they are 'singular and separate works' - both performances have preludes which play out while the audience trickles in and settles down, and these merge into the performances themselves; in Minotaur, Kristen McNally comes out and lays on a bed, Matthew Ball puts some finishing touches to some paintings that decorate the set, and Tommy Franzen sits in a corner - this blurring over time helps generate a blurring of space - there is a clear demarcation of audience and stage, yet such is the intimate, almost claustrophobic, nature of the tiny Ustinov theatre that we are almost part of it (the lighting helped reinforce this) - the period in which the pieces are set is ambiguous; In Minotaur, one episode has the music apparently coming from on old valve radio (which reminded my partner of Pita's The Mother); Also, during the intermission before Metamorphoses, Tommy Franzen (non-dancing and uncredited) explores the dimly-lit set with a head-mounted light, and sets up a theodolite to make measurements of various motifs embossed on the walls; this seemingly modern-day exploration plays out as a parallel, confounding story between the episodes of dance retelling the ancient myth of Cupid and Psyche; Furthermore, the transitions between those episodes add to the confusion around time and place as they are accompanied by the sound of an elevator (I thought here of Pink Floyd's Welcome to the Machine) and bars of sinking light which give the impression of upward travel (cleverly, this reinforces the journey that Cupid and Psyche's relationship is taking from the concealment of darkness to the openness of light). The stage design was sparse and gloomy; its high, dark walls were reminiscent of a dungeon and added to the overall feeling of confinement and claustrophobia. In Metamorphoses, the lighting achieved the neat trick of allowing us to see things that were happening in the dark, without shattering that illusion. On occasion, one high, narrow, very intense strip light that ran across the whole stage near the audience gave the impression of a fourth wall that further confined the dancers. The music was an interesting, appropriate mix of styles and composers, and the recording was played right in the Goldilocks zone - neither too quiet nor too loud. The Ustinov boasts of its good sound system and acoustics, and I can understand why. The main draw that took us on our first visit to the Ustinov was the opportunity to see Cojocaru dance (having only just seen her the week before in La Strada!), but it was also a real pleasure to see Matthew Ball - not only in both of these modern works, but also in a such a small venue and outside of London. It was also lovely to see Kristen McNally in more than her usual supporting, character roles at the ROH. She danced and played the changing fortunes and feelings of Ariadne rather beautifully; her solo 'lament' was captivating, and her dancing with her male partners was impressive (my partner asked me 'when was the last time you saw Kristen properly lifted?', and I really couldn't recall...). The revelation of the evening, though, was Tommy Franzen. He played the Minotaur at the start of, er, Minotaur, and Dionysus (who rescues McNally's Ariadne from her desolate state) towards the end. As the Minotaur, in a section called 'combat', he and Matthew Ball's Theseus fight. The physicality of Franzen was incredible - a mixture of stunt action, gymnastics and contemporary choreography, including what could almost be described as break-dance moves (at one point he moves as if lit by a strobe - as a series of freeze frames). He also leapt a good metre or more up the wall to hold onto a ledge and handhold with such precision it looked like he's been attracted there by magnets (the same sort of effect as when a vaulter hits the mat and doesn't move an inch or degree). But it was his appearance as Dionysus that really impressed. The posters and programme feature a picture of Franzen seemingly suspended above McNally asleep on her bed see: https://www.theatreroyal.org.uk/events/metamorphoses I assumed this would be on a wire, if it were to feature in the performance at all. However, he first appears on the opposite side of the stage to the sleeping McNally, perched at the very top of the scenery wall. This section of the performance is called Deus ex Machina, but there is no contrivance such as a wire to be seen; instead, the knobbly surface of the walls of the stage act as foot and handholds and he moves smoothly and silently down and across the stage walls like some weird amalgam of Gollum and Spiderman, occasionally stopping to lean out at right angles to the wall before moving again. It is him hanging onto the wall next to McNally's bed, that gives the impression of being suspended in space in the poster. Later in the section, McNally is sat at the base of the wall, still oblivious of his presence, and he makes his way vertically down from the top of the wall towards her - all I could think of was how on earth they got it through health and safety! (it turns out he is an avid rock-climber, but even so!) The last part of their final duet together has him on the bed, grasping her waist with his feet and supporting her outstretched body - all without a flicker of wobble or movement; it must be amazing to have legs and feet that you can use like arms and hands! We so enjoyed the evening that when we got home we managed to nab the last remaining pair of tickets from the web-site for another performance. I do hope they continue to tour this production, and hopefully film it, as it's a really effective programme ideally suited to smaller venues. I really can't find anything to fault...

Just spotted and spoke to Frola on the street outside the Coli and he IS dancing this afternoon! 😁

Indeed - and wasn't her on-stage partner also appearing with her in Dubai? In this specific instance, it really is a case of 'tilting at windmills' as both of them were on peak form. Like elite track and field athletes who jet around the world to appear in various competitions, they don't seem to suffer from what appears to us to be a very demanding schedule. In fact, there is an argument that they need regular performances at the various meets in order to maintain their competitive and performative edge.

I realise I'm a bit of an outlier in terms of the extent to which I dislike of this production of Don Q; the emasculation of a vibrant, punchy orchestral score to what is flaccid, impotent mood music; gimmicks such as 'table-dancing' - which does little except break up the flow of the dancing and adds real physical jeopardy; the inspired enhancement/wanton contamination (delete as appropriate; no, on second thoughts, just delete the first one!) of one of the grand-old ballets by 'vocalisations'. That last one particularly annoys me; OK, there's no specific prohibition of 'speech' in the definition of ballet, but that's because to me it's axiomatic of the medium. A bit like Wheeldon introducing 'ugly' feet as a mark of his style, so Acosta's worrying tendency to add vocals to his 'brand' of choreography ends up adversely affecting both the style and the experience. And, yes, there will always be exceptions (eg Hilarion's call to dance in AK's Giselle, the scream at the start of Act 3 of Anastasia, the operatic interlude in Mayerling, and the poems in Façade) but these are integral parts of the original/early productions, not bolted on as a style choice to differentiate one production from another. I couldn't work up much enthusiasm to post about the two earlier performances I've seen this run, even though there were things - good and bad - worth noting. So I didn't post about the real danger in having Basilio act out his fake suicide on a table on which his cloak has been placed: in the first Magri/Sambe performance, Marcelino slipped on the cloak and almost lost his balance as he leapt up from playing dead. And I didn't post about James Hay's superbly-observed portrayal of Gamache last Tuesday; OK, I tend to watch (from the Amphi) with the aid of binoculars, but I'm still trying to figure out exactly how he managed to make his eyes dominate the stage and the audience's attention! Nor did I post about Magri's wonderful, rock-steady balances in the Act 3 PDD last Tuesday, and how gutted I felt when that supremely confident display was derailed at the end of the fouettes. Or even how strange the atmosphere was in the unusually quiet and empty ROH leading up to to Tuesday evening's performance - no-one knew what to expect, and there were more unfilled seats than filled (very reminiscent of the post-covid, socially-distanced performances). And then, suddenly, the Amphi was almost full - the 'exciting news' that the ROH had teased us with all those months ago turned out to be an 'excitable audience'; their excitement might have made the atmosphere crackle, but it seemed oddly misplaced. Also odd was the sight of loads of audience members in the stalls with their backs to the stage; my initial thoughts were of first-timers taking selfies with the iconic curtains as backdrop, until I realised it was a very old-fashioned demonstration of an old-fashioned word - obeisance. Can we move on, please? So, moving on, I went to yesterday's matinee for Osipova rather than the production, as I hadn't seen her dance since Cinderella all those months ago. In the same way that @Sim would pay to see Reece Clarke read from the telephone directory, so I would pay to see Natalia Osipova - though I might insist, in the true spirit of ballet, that it was mimed rather than read! And such are Osipova's dance/acting skills, I believe I would get my money's worth... In previous runs, even with the considerable talents of the likes of Muntagirov, she'd been unable to spark this dire production back to life, but in Clarke she seems to have found someone who's on the same wavelength as her, someone who resonates with her - and together they lit up the stage (ably supported by most of the rest of the cast). Good grief - I was even captivated by that bit at the start of Act 2, before the gypsies turn up; the bit that tries, unsuccessfully, to bathe in the reflected glory of some sublime music from La Bayadere. In hindsight, the clue was in the rehearsal shown on World Ballet Day - they just seemed to work so naturally together. Tellingly, Osipova put as much into her acting as she did to her dancing - they are the two inseparable sides of the same coin to her, and illustrate just why she is such a phenomenal performer. On the night, the deficiencies of the production were pushed into the background and I ended up enjoying a superb couple of hours watching engaging characters and superb dancing. And it wasn't just me; afterwards, we met up with a friend with an incredible depth of knowledge and experience watching ballet, and they were as equally impressed. Gary Avis is a treasure trove of talent. Last Tuesday, at the start of Act 2, his face achieved the most amazing feat of relaying to the audience the turmoil of consternation, confusion and concern of his imagination: he couldn't have been clearer if he'd vocalised his thoughts! Yesterday he repeated the trick with Lorenzo. I've seen three different Gamaches in the three performances, and it speaks volumes about the calibre of the RB dancers that two of them - James Hay on Tuesday and Calvin Richardson yesterday - I would happily label 'definitive'. It's a fine line between 2D caricature and 3D character, but both stood on the right side. I didn't find that with Sancho Panza; I felt Daichi Ikarashi gave a beautifully, er, rounded performance yesterday, whereas the others were more caricatures or even grotesques. But at some level, everyone is there to see Kitri and Basilio, and the 'famous bits'. So how did that go? Well, there were a couple of 'issues'. For those who remember her awful fall in the first season, there was a heart-in-the-mouth moment in the first act, just before the travelling fouettes past the matadors, when there was the start of a slip from which she rapidly recovered. My partner said as much to KOH on the way out at the interval and he nodded in agreement (but there again, he probably nods in agreement with all the punters - it's part of his job!). In the Act 3 PDD I felt Reece finished his solo a bit awkwardly or too soon, which may be why Osipova seemed to start her fouettes slightly early, then hesitate then start again. But other than that, I was so utterly impressed by the pair of them. He was so confident, so assured, and so darn good in delivering the acting and the technique that you would be forgiven for not realising it was his debut. Osipova bounded on completely pumped up, snapped her fingers at the audience, and never slowed down from then on in; yes, like any athlete she puffed briefly after exertion, but I saw absolutely no evidence of fatigue - she seemed just as full of beans in Act 3 and the curtain calls as she did in Act 1. I have noticed on occasion (though not sufficiently or accurately enough to draw firm conclusions) that when she is learning/developing a role from actually performing it (and she always seems to be developing roles, regardless of how familiar they are), her facial expressions reflect her concentration as well as those of her character and, as others have noted, this seemed to be the case yesterday. Given how exciting yesterday was, I really don't know what 'extra' we are going to get next Friday, but I can't wait to find out! I remain in awe of speed at which she conveys the narrative through her acting, the degree to which she does it, and the way she embellishes it with nuanced observation. Emotions played across her face with machine-gun rapidity in Act 1 as fans flicked, shoulders rolled and flirting was noticed. Just after the Act 1 entrance of the pair of them, she moves down then across the stage with a series of jumps - her leg goes up, her head rolls back and her arms go out in a celebratory explosion of happiness that convulses her whole body. And all in perfect harmony with the music - quite extraordinary. And the tiny things; when Basilio's leg refuses to play dead, she surreptitiously leans on it to keep it still. There was also an unexpected depth to their relationship. She seemed to revel in a kiss from him, before realising that might be a bit too much of a come-on, so appears annoyed. And at the start of Act 2, when Basilio suggests they might spend the night, er, resting together, she seems to weigh up the pros and cons before demurring. I never thought I'd be looking forward to seeing this production again, but roll on Friday!

For further clarity, anyone who knows Sebastian would know he'd be mortified if someone bought the ticket on the basis of having misread "the front (row AA)" in his post as "the front row (AA)"...

My feelings about this Triple Bill have not changed much as a result of a third viewing, though I will say is was a pleasure to be able to see the other casts in action last night. And it should be pointed out, as others have, that my unenthusiastic responses to the first two pieces has nothing to do with the dancers (eg Mayara Magri in Corybantic Games!) and everything to do with the choreographers. The dancers were superb, but the old adage about silk purses and sow's ears applies. Dancers aside, I still find Untitled, 2023 a frustratingly disjointed, disconnected experience. The words, the hype, and the reputations of the 'creatives' didn't match the reality of the creation itself - or maybe the creatives work on such a higher, rarified plane it's beyond the reach of mere mortals such as me? Either way, the experience proved unsatisfactory. I thought McGregor's last major outing (The Dante Project) might indicate a case of Emperor's New Clothes and this piece has only reinforced that developing view. @Linnzi5 thought the music to Untitled had a 'sci-fi' feel to it. I felt that too; the bit towards the end with the rhythmic drumbeat reminded me strongly of some of the music from The Terminator. And the very last section, with the plaintive strings, reminded me slightly of Max Richter's style. In fact, I almost enjoyed the last 10 mins or so of Untitled for those very reasons (and also, perhaps, because I knew it would end soon!), but it left me wondering why it was felt necessary to put such 'conventional' music in the piece at all, and why at the end. Did it reflect a lack of confidence in the palatability of the rest of the piece? Was it a spoonful of sugar to help the medicine go down? Corybantic Games still came across as too self-indulgent and self-obsessed to grab my attention. It was great to see Mayara Magri, though, and I enjoyed listening to the Bernstein again, especially the last 10 minutes or so. And it was in those last 10 minutes that the dancing became less self-preoccupied and I perked up a bit (though, again, maybe that was because I knew the interval was coming up). Anastasia Act III, and Laura Morera, didn't disappoint. And neither did hearing the Martinu for the third time in a week! There were some beautifully-observed touches from Laura, for example the way she put her finger to her lips to 'shush' the group trying to smuggle her away from the soldiers. And, just to reinforce the symbiotic link between choreography and music, the alternate bobbing up and down of Laura and the ring of dancers around her was in perfect synchrony to the music and raised that whole sequence to a different level. I've been pleasantly surprised by the impact the stand-alone Act III has had on me, but it leaves me hankering after the chance to experience the full ballet again. That seismic shift in the music, choreography, costumes and setting between the first two acts and the last one is Matrix-level in its magnitude and implication (and Anastasia was created decades before The Matrix!). Like that film, we all take the red pill during the second interval and return to find that the reality we experienced in the first two acts was an illusion, and are left to face the grim horror of what lies beneath. Despite the grim nature of the topics dealt with in Anastasia, the evening ended on a bittersweet high with the post-curtain call celebration of Laura Morera's dancing career. She is so obviously, and deservedly, held in high regard by so many people - on both sides of the fourth wall.

Gosh, judging from my own reactions, that of my partner, those in neighbouring seats, the ROH audience in general and this forum, there's a lot to disentangle in this Triple Bill! So apologies in advance! 🙂 I've seen the Triple Bill twice (Sat 10th and Thu 15th) and will see it again this Saturday, but I thought I'd comment now as reaction to that final performance will - rightly! - concentrate on Laura Morera's last lead performance. Zooming right out, I agree with criticism of the sequencing of the last three runs. Sandwiching the Triple Bill between Cinderella and The Sleeping Beauty would have provided a much more balanced experience for regular audience members, and ending on Cinderella would have had the added bonus of allowing Morera to finish the season on a major-role, full-length, feel-good high. For occasional attendees the sequence wouldn't matter, so once again I'm left wondering to what extent the ROH management's effusive praise of their 'loyal Friends' is mere lip service. While sat outside the amphi last night, a regular attendee was complaining about not having a printed cast sheet to refer to; the management have heard it all before, time and time again, yet such information remains steadfastly digital, incomplete, and late. It's a generalisation, but that lack of a printed cast sheet might be less likely to bother someone who was younger and/or a less frequent visitor. And, yes, the amphi audience at both Triple Bill performances seemed a different, younger mix than for the two full-length ballets (discounting all the kids at Cinderella!). McGregor might not appeal to all, but his following seems large enough and excitedly vocal enough to continue to bolster his reputation and justify his position. But are these just 'niche' attendees who might not extend their support to other choreographers or productions? And would that really matter if those other productions are selling out? Dance/ballet is a broad enough church not to expect every production to appeal to every ballet enthusiast but, as others have pointed out, the skewing of the ROH's choreographers towards the more modern end of the spectrum is a cause for concern. Untitled, 2023 What concerns me most about much of McGregor's work is his seemingly willful refusal to provide a narrative base/thread - for me his strongest works all provide at least some degree of narrative (eg Woolf Works, Infra). His current work seems to extend that omission even to its title - Untitled, 2023 - and look what a stir that caused on this very forum! The bottom line seems to be that its 'title' reflects the use of 'Untitled' by Herrera to name some of her paintings - one of which is used as the backdrop to McGregor's new work. I saw Herrera's work as simplistic and irrelevant until an explanatory narrative was provided. Once I learned that she strips visual information from scenes until a bare minimum remains, I was able to use my imagination to interpret the set as an bleak, austere, expansive vista (maybe at sea, maybe on land) aided and abetted by the wide, uncorralled, shifting sounds of Thorvaldsdottir's musical soundscapes (and the knowledge she is Icelandic). Lucy Carter's mastery of lighting also provided support for my imagination by soaking the whole stage with impressively uniform 'sunlight' (apart from the shadows cast by the single triangular shape on the stage) that changed colour as if under different atmospheric conditions. I had a major problem fitting the choreography into my imagined narrative beyond people traversing a landscape, or the costume design (which also mimicked the angular white/green of the backdrop) representing the shifting of the landscape over eons. It's not that McGregor didn't provide a 'narrative base'; we bought the programme (and, yes, I know there's a view that ballets should stand on their own two feet, unsupported by programme notes) and he asked the question "...how can you be sparer and more economical to best reveal the subtle emotional, rhythmic and somatic movements that emerge slowly throughout the work?" Unfortunately, this didn't help; apart from there being less 'action' on stage at any one point in time, the choreography looked as predictable in its randomness as any typical McGregor piece, and its connection to the soundscapes and lightscapes seemed rather tenuous as best (or was this the ballet equivalent of the Rorschach test, with my brain seeking patterns in random 'noise'?). I do wonder about the degree of collaboration between McGregor and his 'creatives'. I was astounded to hear, in an unguarded moment in one of the insights into the creation of The Dante Project, just how little there was for that piece. Maybe to compensate for that impression, the recent McGregor article in the ROH Magazine uses the word 'collaboration' over and over again (though I almost stopped reading when he said he has "to be with collaborators who aren't blocking the chi"). As someone else pointed out, the relationship between music, choreography, set/costume design and lighting are key; in this latest work I found the link between the choreography and the other aspects to be the weakest, particularly the music, which was rather disconcerting. The self-amplifying possibility of that bond was apparent in a recent Cinderella at which Osipova's Act 2 solo on her debut was met with a thunderous reaction that I rationalised as the beat-perfect matching of her movement to the music, the result being that movement and music melded into a synaesthetic high. Why does McGregor appear to disdain this? I really enjoyed, however, seeing the dancers put their all into it; Fumi Kaneko, Melissa Hamilton and Joseph Sissens in particular caught my attention. But other than seeing these wonderful dancers on stage, it all seemed a bit pointless. In the silent transition from one section/piece of music to another, Fumi threw is a few classical turns, as if to pass the time. Apart from making me think she was passing the time, what was the point of it? Quite frankly I'd be happier to watch the dancers taking a ballet class on stage. It would have more structure, more varied moves, more opportunities to shine and better tunes than Untitled, 2023, and tickets might even be cheaper as it could be produced without a resident choreographer - just a thought... Corybantic Games What a transformation a stronger link between dance and music can make! Nevertheless, I ended up as unimpressed by Corybantic Games as I remember the first time I saw it - and that was without the comparison to McGregor's Untitled, 2023 to flatter it. The music was nice, and the lighting and stage design was varied and reactive, working to define and direct focus from one sequence to another. For the most part, the choreography was pleasant to watch but there were aspects that grated, and the overall narrative 'tone' of the piece was not something I warmed to. There is a hint of self-absorption in Wheeldon's work that takes the shine of some of his work. That doesn't apply to his longer works such as Alice and Winter's Tale (I haven't seen his Cinderella - that has to wait until next week), where the choreography is so firmly focussed on the story-telling that Wheeldon's idiosyncratic injection of 'ugly' signature moves has little effect. But in pieces such as Corybantic Games, I find the right-angled feet etc detract from the neo-classical flow. Furthermore, without a strong story to tell, the focus of any narrative tends to resort to presenting the dancers (rather than the dance) to the audience as end-points, which comes across to me as rather self-indulgently shallow; a reality-TV 'look at me' type of celebrity, more reliant on itself than on anything of importance it's trying to say. Anastasia Act III I'm happy to be in the minority in regarding Anastasia as one of the great narrative ballets of the 20th century. It took a while for this view to grow, for it was in this single act form the first time I saw it and it made little or no sense to me; the lack of dance for the first 5 mins and the inclusion of vocalisations (some recorded) seemed designed to provoke. It was only in the last decade that I saw the three-act ballet for the first time, with the recollections of the imperial household in the first two acts providing the background canvas on which the full horror of her Act III torment would be painted. I was, therefore, unsure how I would react to Act III on its own - would it pack the same, gut-wrenching punch? It certainly did, though unsurprisingly not to the same extent as the full-length production. Osipova's first performance was rather good, though I felt she took a while to get fully into the role; her initial scream seemed a bit weak, and she didn't always look like she was 'living the role' as she normally does. Maybe she was missing the emotional 'set-up' of the first two acts? Maybe I was? The best praise I can give David Donnelly as her husband is to say I wouldn't prefer to see Ed Watson in the role - he was so good at emoting his anguish and helplessness. Matthew Ball really impressed as Rasputin. He looked totally unkempt and dishevelled, as if he'd just returned from a night of drunken debauchery. If Soares played his Rasputin as a Svengali, Ball played him as Charles Manson - a really nasty piece of work. And my goodness, did they use a trebuchet to launch the young prince into Rasputin's arms? His unconscious body seemed to fly across the stage; and what level of trust must that require in someone so young? Osipova's final performance last night was absolutely superb! Her piercing scream at the start made me shudder, and was a harbinger of the ferocious intensity with which she channeled every emotionally-draining episode of her real/imagined life. Again, Matthew Ball was brilliant; the two throws near the beginning, where he throws a horizontal Anastasia up, rolling her as he does, were breathtaking. And in both performances, the way she turns on her tormenter at the end, kicking him from pillar to post across the stage, had me quietly cheering her on. The piece ends on a 'high' note when she overcomes the nightmarish torments of her demons from the past, and summons them from the wings as she passes serenely by on her hospital bed/carriage. I'm always left, though, with the fear that she is doomed to repeat the whole exhausting ritual the following day, trapped in some terrible Sisyphean waking nightmare. That I should feel that way is testament to the genius of MacMillan as well as the dancing talent available at the ROH to realise his vision. It's the management that lacks vision by making this work Morera's and this season's final performance.

As we live only a dozen or so miles from Bath we decided to take a punt on this show along with, as it turned out, a couple of dozen others (mainly women; I counted four men). The theatre is tiny, and the performance took place on the cleared seating area, with the chairs arranged around the edges, looking in. Nice and intimate, then, which definitely suited their engaging, enthusiastic approach. Of the seven or eight performers (two men and the rest women) only one appeared a bona fide dancer - Alexandra Pickford, ex-professional dancer with a 30-year career spanning the RB and ENB. She might be into her 70s, but she remains a remarkably fit and active dancer. It's fair to say the others (who make up a group called Seizing the Day Company) were more proficient at acting, with most only a decade or two behind her. But what they might have lacked in dance technique they more than made up for in heartfelt enthusiasm; and since we didn't go along expecting to see professional-level dancing, we weren't disappointed. The performance was a lighthearted, potted history of ballet - a bluffer's guide to dance - narrated by a larger-than-life fellow with a sonorous, booming voice, and illustrated by episodes from that history (standout skits were a very, very pared down version of The Rite of Spring, and Isadora Duncan telling her story in the form of a poem). They finished with a parody of Strictly Come Dancing, with 'volunteers' from the audience acting as the judges, and the rest of the troupe playing celebrity contestants (eg, the larger-than-life narrator did a nice caricature of Boris Johnson). It was fun, and I can see why they they wanted to finish with a bit of razzmatazz rather than the latest developments in the world of choreography such as, er, some titled or untitled thing by McGregor, but it didn't sit well with the overall ballet theme beyond the obvious Darcey connection. But that's being a bit over-critical for what was essentially an affectionate, light-hearted and surprisingly enjoyable evening's entertainment.

Osipova/Clarke 22nd May Naghdi/Ball 24th May - Cinema Osipova/Clarke 29th May I'm glad I decided to write just the one post about the three Sleeping beauty performances I've seen, as it was interesting to try to rationalise my three reactions (all positive!) to two different casts and three differing spectacles. Anyone who's managed to wade through my posts will know I regard Osipova as the foremost dance-actress of her generation, - and perhaps of all the ballerinas I'd seen before she stormed onto the scene some 20 years ago. And on an imaginary spectrum ranging from 'pure technique' to what might be termed 'non-verbal communication' (I'll avoid the word 'mime' as it has a special meaning in ballet), Osipova strikes what is for me the perfect balance. And here are two other generalisations I found it useful to make; dance-acting is a zero-sum game in which a shift towards one end of the spectrum will necessarily diminish the other, and ballet technique is practised and converges on an agreed ideal, whereas acting evolves and diverges to reflect individual creativity. On the basis of the above, Naghdi and Osipova are two highly watchable, but different, ballet phenomena. Osipova is more of a dance-actress than Naghdi, with the corollary that Naghdi's technique is more precise. And, with Naghdi's emphasis on technique, her performances are much more predictable compared to the impulsive streak of Osipova's creativity. For a classical ballet such as Sleeping Beauty, some may favour performances that concentrate on technique (especially as Aurora does not need a strong character in order to carry the ballet), whereas others may prefer a narrative ballet to feature a central character expressed through more than dance. Thankfully, ballet is a broad enough church to cater to all shades of the spectrum, and the Royal has the talent to deliver them. As others have mentioned, Osipova's characterisations are always a work-in-progress, though the ones that she has performed the most (Giselle, Don Q) have probably reached a relatively stable plateau. For her Aurora in Act 1 of Sleeping Beauty, Osipova has sometimes placed her emphasis on the consequences of a care-free young girl unexpectedly thrust towards adulthood by the match-making arrangements of her parents. She treats the Rose Adagio as a literal 'ordeal' on the part of the young princess, played out in front of the court - which is a clever approach as the dancing itself is regarded by ballerinas as an ordeal in itself, played out in front of the audience. Dancer and character merge to such an extent that the 'anxiety' and 'relief' expressed by Osipova's Aurora during and at the end of the adagio has been interpreted by some as that of Osipova herself, when in fact she generally stays in character even for the applause. It was this interpretation I was expecting in her first outing a week ago, but she seemed to play Aurora as a much more confident, worldly-wise Aurora - unfazed by her father's match-making and so eager to get her hands on the princes she was straining left and right to look at them around her father. So it was surprising and somewhat unsettling to find that some of that previously-seen 'anxiety' seemed to be evident in her expressions and approach to the adagio. Like others have said, it is quite possible that Osipova was still suffering slightly from the after-effects of the illness she had the week before. In contrast, Osipova was back to her normal superb self last night, and gave a wonderfully rendered, confident Act 1 Aurora executed at quite a brisk pace. At the end of one sequence there was a huge, beaming Aurora/Osipova smile (reminiscent of one of those exaggerated 'smug' smiley emoticons) that spoke volumes - here was a character/dancer in control and having the utmost fun! And her timing was exquisite - for example, her casting down of the roses, and the roses then hitting the floor, were both perfectly on the beat (it takes two to tango, and her 'partner' at that moment was, of course, Jonathan Lo). There are really two orchestras at play in a ballet - one aural in the pit and one visual on the stage - and when the two are playing in perfect harmony the whole is greater than the sum of the parts! (Last night Reece Clarke was also on superb form, timing-wise. His Act 3 solo was on-the-note throughout, and the way he carried himself at the end for the applause silently conveyed just how completely chuffed he was with it!) Osipova has form when playing denizens of the supernatural and the ethereal; she has the most amazing ability to bridge the gulf between the real world and the worlds of spirits and the imagination. She instantiates the insubstantial, and in realising them she imbues them with an unsettling potency. In the Act 2 dream sequence, she was less of a vision and more of a manifestation and, as such, the interplay between her and her prince was tangible rather than hallucinatory; the way she used her whole body to reach out to Clarke to implore, to attract, even to woo him was powerful and even very slightly scary! And, to make the whole scene seem even more other-worldly, she did the whole thing with her eyes all but closed. And whenever anyone brings up the subject of lack of consent for the prince to kiss the sleeping Aurora (which, admittedly, isn't very often nowadays!) I suggest they see Osipova's interpretation; such is her real presence in the dream sequence (unlike the barely physical, wispy approach of others) that they're effectively on their successful first date - so I have no qualms about what happens on their second date when he pops round to her house following her 'invitation'! And their professional partnership seems to be developing nicely as well, with hugs at the curtain calls for both performances. She also had a great rapport with the audience, particularly last night. She was obviously pleased with herself and with us, for as she and Clarke left the stage for the last time, she blew us a lovely kiss. I went to the cinema broadcast expecting Naghdi to concentrate on her technique at the (to me inevitable) expense of her acting. And, yes, her technique and musicality were amazing and a joy to behold! And to do all of that under the collective gaze of nigh on a thousand cinemas was incredible. Cinema broadcasts can provide extreme close-ups that to some extent help compensate for other deficiencies they have, but this can be a two-edged sword when the context is lost. For example, Matt Ball's quizzical reaction to the 'fairy boat' leaving the stage was shown without that context being apparent, which led to quite a knowledgeable person in the cinema questioning what he was disapproving of. Hopefully the performance will be released to Blu-ray and these little wrinkles can be ironed out - it certainly deserves to be.

A fabulous run topped off by a fabulous performance last night! Everyone played their parts to the full; the dancers, the orchestra and, as importantly, the audience. It all combined to create a magical, almost celebratory evening. For the second time in the six performances I attended, the circuit of the coach around the stage was accompanied by applause - stuttering as the coach started to move, but it soon caught and spread, fanned by Cinderella's furiously joyful hand-waving; as before with Osipova, the Fairy Godmother's magic may have instantly transformed the pumpkin and her clothes, but as she leaves for the ball she is still Cinders, and her transformational journey is just starting. Prior to that all-to-brief lap of the stage (part of me wants to see at least another lap, but part of me thinks that would dilute its magical impact), much of Act 1 is about establishing the contrast between Cinderella and her step-sisters, with much of the heavy lifting done by the larger-than-life step-sisters, and with their emphasis more on acting than dancing. I was not keen on beer when I first tried it, but through perseverance I acquired a definite taste for it. It's been the same with Avis and Acri's step-sisters; if they are an acquired taste, then I've acquired it! Perhaps their characterisations have changed over the run (Acri seems to be doing a lot more with his eyes, which is one of the reasons James Hay is so good in the role), or maybe my understanding/appreciation of them has changed. Either way, they provide some genuinely funny moments; the smearing of Acri's lipstick by Avis is straight from the old silent movie era; Acri's slip-and-roll entrance to the ball is physical comedy at its best; Avis' necklace spinning is ludicrous and unavoidably hilarious; I could go on... I am also taking to Masciari's Jester, having thought it a bit too extreme the first time I saw it. I don't think he has necessarily toned it down, it's more that I've come to appreciate that the role is supposed to reflect a strange power, almost a 'Stranger in a Strange Land'. Many of the nuances (characters, staging, costumes, tradition, etc) that allow me to make narrative sense of this ballet (and I *need* to make narrative sense of narrative ballets!) have been informed by this forum, and the fact the Cinderella thread is currently 39 pages long is testament to how much useful information, discussion and reflection is there. For example, @Sim's interpretation of Osipova's reaction to finding the slipper after the ball was helpful last night - Osipova's hands shook as she put them behind her back, for a moment not daring to confirm or lose through touch what she could see with her eyes. So thank you for all the contributions! The Royal Ballet is so adept at characterisations across the huge range of roles that appear on stage - no one present is just making up the numbers. For example, I just love the way Lukas B continues to develop his Wellington; last night, following his hoist of Avis onto his shoulder, he took a tiny, wry, almost embarrassed bow/nod to the audience's wild applause at this feat - egged on by Avis - then promptly continued with his 'ricked back' impression. In contrast to the aloof, heroic, self-aware and self-absorbed figure of Wellington is the more ridiculous caricature of Napoleon, and Joshua Junker is becoming very adept at depicting that opposing character. In fact, I think much of the power of Cinderella comes from these vivid contrasts; the bossy versus timid step-sisters; the vulgar, materialistic step-sisters versus the devoted goodness of Cinderella; Wellington and Napoleon; the Jester and the guests; the contrasts between the Fairy Seasons; the Fairy Godmother's two guises; the pumpkin and the coach; Cinders' and Cinderella's outfits; the drab interior of house versus the wonder of the palace and the magical land of the final scene. So it is little wonder this vibrantly-realised ballet appeals to young and old; an old chap with a stick to the right of me chortled something about 'The Love for Three Oranges' when that piece started playing; a young girl behind me (on her first trip to the ROH - what an introduction!) kept up a running conversation with her mum as she immersed herself in the glorious action on stage. And I was surprised to find I didn't care about what otherwise would have been shushable distractions - we were there to enjoy the feast and, if anything, knowing how much fun others were having simply added a bit of seasoning. And, talking of seasons, I thought Ashley Dean's Spring was superb - the timing and precision of her steps is what made it for me. Other highlights included, naturally, Osipova's Act 2 entrance and solo. The way she conveys - with a glance of her eyes, a slight turn of her head, a flicker of a smile - her dawning realisation of where she is (and also 'who' she now is) as she progresses to the front of the stage almost makes me choke up recalling it (with the music that accompanies it, of course!). Her solo was her usual demonstration of control and power though, as before, it didn't quite elicit the incomparable roar that greeted her debut performance. Reflecting on it, and having mentioned Ashley Dean's solo above, I'm wondering now if it's down to timing. It was a while ago, of course, but I seem to recall in her debut Jonathan Lo keeping up with the accelerating pace of Ospiova's turns as the solo came to its climactic conclusion, whereas last night she seemed to have to slow down in the last few turns in order to finish with the music. In much the same way we can pick up on tiny lip-sync differences in, say, TV programmes, perhaps it's the tight coupling of the beat of the steps to the beat of the music that get recognised - consciously or subconsciously - and triggers those occasional, glorious uproars? Reece Clarke also deserves a mention. If his landings were actually audible last night, it was more to do with the fact he was leaping higher than anything else - his ability is preternatural. There were a few glitches along the way last night. I didn't notice it, but my partner thinks Osipova forgot to take off her ball earrings for the start of Act 3. A Fairy slipped (the first slip by anyone I've noticed in six performances) and Osipova came down off pointe and back during one of the balance transfers at the end of Act 3 (not the first time I've seen that happen in this run), but these don't really amount to much and, thinking of the power of 'contrasts' mentioned earlier, these small flaws might even help highlight the perfection of the rest of it! And that last section of the last Act is perfection in all senses of the word; the dancing, tableaux and music make manifest a picture of perfection that brings joyful tears to the eyes. There are moments in ballet that are heaven on earth, and I think this is one of them. Part of that feeling derives from the music, of course, and I thought Jonathan Lo brought the best out of what seemed like a very enthusiastic, demob-happy orchestra. They seemed to notch up the sound level by a couple of decibels, and there were sections where the music was piercingly, almost screechingly loud - but it seemed to match the slightly raucous mood of the evening perfectly. There were the usual high jinks at the curtain calls, with Avis doing his best to distract Jonathan Lo when he was brought on stage; and, during the individual character calls, a rather prolonged appearance by Avis/Acri was interrupted by the Jester jumping out between them. I will miss Cinderella, but if absence does truly make the heart grow fonder, then the next run will see it fit to burst!

Osipova was on sparkling form last night; gosh - she really lives any role she plays and, as a happy consequence, I end up living the dream she spins. As before, I was close up close to tears in the two same places; Cinderella's entrance in Act 2 and the final section of Act 3 beginning with that amazing carry down the steps - what I can only describe as a moving stillness. The combination of the staging, Prokofiev's music, and Ashton's and the dancers' formations/tableaux/dancing creates something gloriously transcendent that reaches deep into my emotional core. And in a curious way, those moments are made even more effective by the earlier contrasting distraction of the slapstick antics of the step-sisters. After all, glorious heights need to be referenced against a base such as sea-level. And, as per usual, Avis and Acri delivered 'base' with unabashed glee - though perhaps a couple of the rapid-fire timings were slightly off? Masciari's Jester was not quite as frenetically pushed and extreme as his previous outings, and I thought it was much the better for it. He still managed to hold on to that air of strangeness, though; not sinister, but a non-conformist outlier for others to be wary of. As much as I love Magri (and am so looking forward to seeing her at the final performance on Wednesday), it was lovely to see Buvoli as the Fairy Godmother. In fact, thinking of all the various Cinderellas, Princes, Fairy Godmothers, step-sisters, Jesters, etc, I've seen in this run (and I've not seen anywhere near all of them!) it's fairly obvious that the Royal Ballet has an embarrassment of riches when it comes to populating cast lists! You could literally put all of the names in a hat (and it wouldn't have to be a magic hat) and pull out a brilliant cast. Yes, I have my favourites (and given budget constraints and travel arrangements I have to be selective) but Cinderella is proving to be such a brilliant vehicle to showcase these dancers' talents that I feel I'm nit-picking when it comes to criticism. So, on to criticism then!... Hardly anything, really - though at a push I'd say I don't know if it was the pace at which the music at the start of Act 3 was played, but I got the distinct impression of a bit of a traffic jam developing on stage as the various characters (Cinderella, couples, the Jester, the step-sisters, etc) traversed across the stage after the ball. But that is quibbling. The overwhelming sense was that of enjoyment - not just on the part of the audience but the dancers and musicians, too (the orchestra was on top form). As with Monday, it didn't reach the peak levels of audience reaction as the previous Friday, on Osipova's debut, though her technique last night was arguably better. Who knows what triggers these things? All it needs is a spark in the right place; sometimes I find myself on the threshold of clapping, but waiting for someone else to; other times I'll clap regardless (I remember clapping her entrance on roller skates [her, not me] for the Anastasia that was broadcast to the cinema, and I remained the sole one in the auditorium doing it, in the gradually-diminishing hope someone else would join in! Ooops!). Reece Clarke makes for an attractive, imposing prince, and his strength is well-suited to dealing with Osipova's effervescent energy (and for such an imposing figure, it is astonishing how he manages to land his leaps completely silently!). Lukas B Braendsrod seems to be from the same mould, and he reminds me of where Clarke was a few years ago - eye-catching and full of potential. And that includes the acting side; maybe I just haven't noticed it, but Lukas is really developing his Wellington character - lots of 'conversations' with himself, with others and with the audience, through a wry look, a raised eyebrow, a grimace or the rub of an 'injured' shoulder. But Osipova remains first among equals for me when it comes to the balance of acting and technique. For technique, the two 'slow' (by her standards) tight series of turns around her prince in Act 2 were an absolute joy to behold:- literally the music of the spheres as she orbited like some heavenly body under the implacable, silent forces of attraction. As for acting, it would be the Act 2 descent down the stairs and then to the front of the stage:- on reaching the last step, her transition from a dream-like trance to captivated joy and delight gradually flickered into incandescent life through the beacon that is her wonderfully expressive face. Overall, a brilliant night out that was improved in different ways by the nice weather, by meeting up with the lovely @Shade for the first time and with the ever-lovely @JohnS, @Sebastian and @Geoff for the 'nth' times, and even by the more down-to-earth joy of finding out that J12-13 of the M4 was not actually closed for scheduled work as expected! I am so looking forward to next Wednesday when this production will, hopefully, reduce me to teary happiness one more time!

A mercifully short post as we need to get on the road soon for tonight's performance courtesy of some returned tickets! Thoroughly enjoyed last night, with Morera's nuanced portrayal of Cinderella lending her a depth and maturity that threw into sharp relief just how shallow were her step-sisters. But it takes two (or three in this case?) to tango, and credit must also go to Hay and Richardson for providing that 'ground' on which the 'figure' of Cinderella was rendered. Morera was deft with her brushstrokes. One that comes to mind was the simple act of lighting the candle to place on the mantlepiece. She cupped her hand around the top of the candle as she 'lit' it with the taper, and kept her hand there while she lifted it up (to protect it from being blown out), only to reveal the now-lit candle to us as she placed it on the mantlepiece. Beautifully observed. I've now seen three pairs of step-sisters; Avis/Acri, Gartside/Hay, and Richardson/Hay. Hay's put-upon sister remains my favourite; it's a strange word to use in the context of the step-sisters, but he is so delicate (and as a result, so effective) in painting the details of his characterisation. I thought Richardson sat between Gartside and Avis across the various spectra ranging from understated/OTT, introvert/extrovert, in control/out of control, etc/etc... For me, Richardson came across as less aloof than Gartside, and maybe a bit more worldly-wise (and world-weary) than the loose cannon that was Avis. But, like another fairy-tale, Goldilocks, choosing between these three pairs is a matter of individual taste; what is 'just right' for one is 'too hot' (or is that 'too OTT'?) for another. Long live variety, in all senses of the word. I was also impressed with Ikarashi as the Jester - his energetic dancing seemed the most effortless of the dancers I've seen in this role. But if the Jester is supposed to be have a sinister edge, his was not the most 'strange'. Once again I became a bit teary during the last scene, from when the prince carries Cinderella down the steps. It's the music; it's genius; I love it!

Never Offer Girls Oranges Afore Twelve? 🙄

Surprisingly, last night's Cinderella never quite caught fire for me in the way it did on Osipova's debut last Friday. Don't get me wrong - it was great, though the grate didn't blaze quite as bright as before... The absence of that intense sense of anticipation I'd felt on her debut could have been responsible, but I don't think it was just me. A couple of stand-out reactions on Friday (the audience applauding her departure in the coach at the end of Act 1, and their collective roar at the end of her Act 2 solo) were not there last night. As to why - well, more than most dancers I see, there's a symbiotic relationship between Osipova and the audience. If the audience feeds off her, then she feeds off the audience and the fire can ignite and burn ever brighter (perhaps the best example of this was her Swan Lake just after the invasion of Ukraine. Her crisis of confidence was met with such a positive response from the audience that her performance, in turn, was lifted higher). Which, of course, begs the 'chicken and egg' question:- what triggers what? I also don't think the weather helped. Our drive to London turned into a near 3 hour slog through near monsoon conditions in places (a cold monsoon at that!) and London was little better when we got there. And it's hard to catch fire when you're damp. I hesitate to use the word, but if last night proved a bit disappointing to me in comparison to Friday, it did put into perspective just how special her debut performance (and the audience's experience of it/reaction to it) actually was. And there are a few points to note about that comparison... - there are few professions that demand as high a level of coordinated motor skills as ballet, so it always surprises me when otherwise superhuman dancers have problems with everyday tasks. On Friday, Osipova had problems knotting the 'scarf' around the broom and eventually gave up and threw it in the grate. Last night was fine. She has previous form:- for example, she had all sorts of problems with her bow and arrow in her debut in Sylvia. I find it all quite endearing: she is a superhuman human - not, as she has said herself, a robot. - Like others, I found last night's vignette with the broom was beautifully acted - she evoked a conversation with, and breathed life into, that inanimate object with real clarity. - I noticed it in both performances, but Osipova's state of mind at the start of Act 3 seemed somewhat different to other interpretations I've seen. I always thought Cinders wakes up as if from a dream, then re-enacts some of that dream only to be astonished to find it was real when she discovers the slipper in her dress pocket. However, on both occasions, Osipova's reaction to the slipper was more one of confirmation rather than sudden realisation. It worked in its own right, but it was different (which, I guess, is typical Osipova). - on Friday there was the odd mis-step in Act 2 (walking up to the 'mezzanine' level of the stairs, she went to take another step up; there was a slight clash of legs at the end of a turn; Reece caught her foot slightly when they took their bows at the end of the solo; she seemed to get her arm wrong when holding the page with the oranges). Last night I noticed nothing amiss. These are all minor points really and, like @JohnS, are included for completeness more than anything else - and I still regard Friday's performance as the better of the two! - on Friday, Osipova's facial expressions during her entrance to the front of the stage in Act 2 painted a bright, detailed, moving picture of her thoughts; they were there again last night, but I got the impression they were fewer both in range and clarity. It was a bit like listening to a radio station that isn't quite tuned in; mind you, we were in the upper reaches of the amphi and 'reception' there, even with binoculars, may well have suffered. - on both nights, the presence of Osipova/Cinderella and Magri/Fairy Godmother on stage at the same time was something to savour - they are both simply wonderful. Magri's Fairy Godmother is increasingly substantial and powerful - her benevolence is more that of an interventionist god than a kind spirit. - in much the same way as I learned to tolerate and normalise the annoying habits of my real sisters, so I'm learning to accept and even enjoy Avis's and Acri's step-sisters. The look on Acri's face after Avis smeared his/her lipstick was pure Stan Laurel - petty, puerile behaviour by Avis, and simply hilarious. And there is a lovely 'story' developing in the curtain calls. On Friday, when Jonathan Lo came on stage to take a bow, Avis' step-sister beckoned to join him in the line, then seemed to ask him about someone in the orchestra, presumably someone the step-sister fancied. Last night he again beckoned to Lo to join him, but Lo played along and, as if 'once bitten, twice shy', instead made a bee-line to Acri, with Acri's step-sister then making faces at Avis to indicate she'd got one up on her sister. Avis also received a bouquet and tried to snog the usher (behind a fan) when it was presented. Even the Jester got into the act, maintaining his outsider's disdain by refusing at one point to hold Acri's hand during the curtain calls. This was all in addition to the usual antics that happen in the individual curtain calls. - all these curtain call antics are perfectly appropriate as it's a pretty lightweight ballet - yet it still has the power to move. On Friday it was the Act 2 entrance of Cinderella that got to me; it's a wonderful piece of theatre in which the atmosphere inexorably builds through the music, the entrance of the stars and fairies, and the gradually changing lighting - at some point triggering a flood of emotion. Last night it was the final few minutes of Act 3. Again, it's the mixture of the music and the sheer beauty of the staging and the dancers upon it. The combination works its magic to make manifest a vision of an ideal, a perfection - but some of its emotion clout comes from the realisation that, in our imperfect real life, such perfection will always be out of reach. In Cinderella, the reappearance of the Fairy Godmother and the exit of the Jester augurs her journey from the chaos and imperfection of her real life to the order and perfection of - what? Is it the after-life? It may be a simple fairy-tale, but last night I found that ending to be quite profound.

As I become more familiar with and attuned to this production of Cinderella, I am falling more and more under its magical spell. I was already under the spell of Osipova, so was keenly anticipating her debut in this role at the ROH, but I wasn't expecting to see such a fully-realised interpretation of what I regarded as a fairly one-dimensional character. Her portrayal and, importantly, how that related to and amplified everything else going on stage, reached out into the auditorium, drew me into the magic and, much to my surprise, brought me at one point to the edge of tears (OK, maybe just over the edge...🤔). In Act 1, it became clear that Osipova's Cinderella was a deeper and more complex character than one whose behaviour is drawn from a well of pure 'goodness'. Hers was a goodness based on optimism, in which setbacks were felt and fallibilities briefly shown, but which were immediately countered by a tiny self-reprimand and a call to see the positive side of things. Her wonderfully nuanced acting brought out the best in others:- to mix metaphors, with Osipova as your foil you are obliged to step up to the plate! And that's exactly what the late replacement, Thomas Whitehead, as her father did; his was a much more rounded character than I'd seen in the other two performances, with a touching relationship with his daughter. The stepsisters (Acri and Avis) also seemed less 'over the top' than before; maybe I'm getting used to their antics, or maybe the contrast between their acting and that of the other characters had closed somewhat. I was thrilled to see Magri as the Fairy Godmother; and it was thrilling, as in Woolf Works, to see her and Osipova on stage together - they complement each other by being alike! The end of Act 1 was pretty magical - the 'transformation' of the pumpkin/reveal of the coach worked well but also this was the first time I'd heard its appearance enthusiastically applauded by the audience (admittedly based on a small sample size). And Osipova exited as Cinders rather than some proto-princess - as the coach accelerated off-stage she waved back at the Fairy Godmother and at us, an excited girl off for, and up for, an adventure! It was her entrance in the second act that got to me emotionally and to my tear ducts physiologically, and to some extent I have the forum to 'thank' for that:- the discussion of magic permeating the air, as well as the prince's sense of anticipation, really hit home. After all, I too was full of anticipation - the anticipation of seeing my favourite dancer in an iconic scene. And as for the music and the appearance of the stars and fairies prior to her entrance, they really did reinforce the feeling of there being 'something in the air'; something mysterious, something potent, something wonderful, something virtuous, something full of promise - and isn't that what the transformed Cinderella represents? But despite her material transformation, she was still Cinders inside, and part of the reason I reacted as I did was the way Osipova let us know the waves of feelings washing over her; her relief following the ordeal of her descent down the steps with the eyes of the magical world, and us, on her; her sense of wonder, mixed with bewilderment and maybe even doubt, as she looked around her surroundings and questioned her unexpected place in it. And this is where I think a certain conflation can happen when watching Osipova. When it's mentioned to me that Osipova 'looked relieved' at the end of a difficult piece where she is the centre of attention (ie the descent down the stairs in Cinderella or the extended sequence following Aurora's entry in Sleeping Beauty), I point out that in my interpretation it is not *her* relief we see, it is her character's. In both Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty her character has just undergone an 'ordeal' in the context of the story, in addition to one in the context of the performance itself. And for a dance-actor of the calibre of Osipova, I don't interpret the latter as applying where the former makes more sense. The end of her solo was greeted by what can only be described as a roar from the auditorium; the solo was fast, it was furious, it was fitting of a Cinderella finding her feet and stretching her wings. That burgeoning confidence, of course, is then shattered by the last of the midnight chimes, and she is returned abruptly to the mundanity of her everyday clothes and servile life. In Act 3, however, despite memories of the previous night, her modest demeanour remained throughout the first half of the act. Even when she was identified by the prince, there was not even a minor sense of triumph, of winning his hand (via her foot... 🤔), and her empathy for the disappointment of her stepsisters felt more real for it. Osipova realy is a consummate dance-actor, so given my assertion that technique and acting is a zero-sum game, what does this say about her technique? Well, as far as Ashton pieces are concerned it has certainly improved over the years, but once pure power/speed is taken out of the equation both Nunez's and Kaneko's seem slightly sharper - though in contrast, I would argue that their characterisations were less effective. In the end, it boils down to what proportion works best for any particular person; for me Osipova has a mix of acting and technique that consistently affects me like no other dancer I have seen. She enchants me, and Cinderella is a fitting ballet for her to cast that enchantment on me.