Nogoat

Re 'orientalism'...

I remember coming out of a thoroughly brilliant Sylvia in Nov of last year and turning to Twitter to see how many others had enjoyed the giddy mix of music, dance, lust, love, anger, violence, mythology, exoticism, sensuality, drugs (alcohol!), etc as much as I had. But my heart sank when I came across this tweet...

"#rohSylvia Act 2 orientalism just gets worse on second viewing so join the #decoloniseROH campaign to eradicate dubious racist stereotypes"

I recognise that we all have particular sensitivities, and that my sensitivities differ from others, but I do worry about perspective and proportion. For example, I'm really concerned about the rate at which the planet's ecosystem is being systematically destroyed, so should I be trying to set the Twitter-sphere alight with angry tweets about Solor normalising the killing of the apex-predator that is the tiger? Well, no, because I recognise that neither the Royal Ballet nor La Bayadere is trying to get me to accept or even take up big-game hunting.

Similarly, La Bayadere is not trying to tell me "this is how it is in the Orient", or even "this is how it was in the Orient back in the day"; I realise that La Bayadere's depiction of the Orient is a popular representation formed at the time, designed to entice audience attendance. We now live in an incredibly interconnected world, and it's easy to forget just how insular most people were a century of so ago; in vying for people's attention, information about far-flung places would emphasise the sensational (and sex and death and drugs, especially when mixed with religion or the aristocracy, are still pretty standard sensationalist fare for most communication outlets...).

So, we don't end up on this forum discussing how disappointing Giselle is because it depicts supernatural entities who decide to live in the forest, or even how foolish people were, back in the day, to believe such superstitious nonsense; no, we accept that the plot of Giselle is a vehicle to deliver musings on those age-old issues of love and death.

Nor do we doubt that a mythological being such as Orion the Hunter would be floored by a couple of glasses of wine, and so dismiss Sylvia as 'unbelievable'.

Nor do we leave Mayerling and Anastasia early because we cannot accept Archduchess Sophie and Rasputin being on stage at certain places in the plot, as in reality they were both dead before the events depicted.

No, we recognise that we are watching a narrative ballet, not a historical documentary, and the purpose of the narrative is to portray emotional truth rather than factual truth.

I think the main reason most of us do not feel these ballets are offensive or even 'dangerous' is because they are not pushing a message that has a specific purpose - ballet's usual subjects of sex/love and death are simply too universal.

Nevertheless, there is a specific element of the Bolshoi's La Bayadere that I object to, and which I hope does not appear next summer; that, of course, is the piccaninnies. So why am I 'happy' to accept the 'orientalism' but not the piccaninnies? I think it's because, in the real world, there are active, negative, social and political connotations related to the ideas of 'blacking up' and also the word 'piccaninnies' that are not associated with the more general 'orientalist' trope of La Bayadere. So the presence of piccaninnies on stage is overtly political in a way that the general oriental exoticism isn't, so the response is different.

The original poster mentioned The Judas Tree. I find this work a very difficult watch, but I would hate to see it removed from the repertoire (gradually or otherwise) and I want to continue to go to see it. In trying to explain why, I am drawn to the quote by Kahil Gibran in the Judas Tree section of the 'National Celebration' programme from last year ; 'as a single leaf turns not yellow but with the silent knowledge of the whole tree, so the wrongdoer cannot do wrong without the hidden will of you all.' By removing this ballet from the repertoire, we 'hide' the misogyny and sexual violence it addresses and are complicit in its perpetuation. By keeping it in the repertoire, we become complicit only in its continued exposure and, hopefully, that exposure will help us as a society to address the issues represented. 

The idea of facing up to difficult subjects is, of course, prevalent in a number of recent offerings. I've been to see Akram Khan's Giselle perhaps ten times in the theatre and twice in the cinema, but it was only with the last cinema showing that something really hit home - almost shocked me. In Act 1 Giselle dies, but we don't see her death. In Act 2, however, the murderer is forced to replay the killing. I was shocked at how violent that killing was; the violence seemed protracted and excessive - almost gratuitous. The murder in Act 1 was 'hidden', but it was still a murder. The murder in Act 2 was shocking, but it was still the same murder - the same violence by the same man against the same woman. In Act 1 I was sad she had died; in Act 2 I was angry she had died, and died that way. We have to face up to the nasty side of human nature, not hide it, even if it makes us feel uncomfortable.

This post is about La Bayadere, though I'll set the context first...

My partner and I went to the 'Month of Sundays' afternoon today. What a brilliant deal for £5! As well as a showing of the Ballet Boyz 'Young Men', we got to see Matthew Ball rehearsing The Unknown Soldier in the Clore. Talk about up close and personal. It really brought home the sheer power of the physical forces at play as Matthew spun and jumped his way around the studio, working up a sweat and huffing and puffing. Marriott, Howells and O'Hare took questions afterwards; one was about the process of staging the work, and O'Hare mentioned, tongue in cheek, how he liked to keep the costs down. Well, as they cleared the studio my partner saw an opening and sidled up to Kevin with a few tongue in cheek questions related to cost; 'why, in Mayerling, is Stephanie presented with what appears to be a choice between a nightie, four pillow slips and a net curtain for her wedding night?' and 'why, in Mayerling, does Mary usually end up in a darned negligee?' 

But my partner also took the opportunity to tell Kevin just how good was the run of La Bayadere, how impressive was Osipova's reading of Gamzatti on opening night (complete infatuation with Solor), and how great it would be if she did that for the cinema broadcast. Now, I don't know how much influence Kevin has with the force of nature that is Osipova, but my partner wishes to lay claim to 'influencer' status (like Rob S with the scrim) if Osipova delivers that on Tuesday! 😁 

Last night was the second of the three Muntagirov/Solor/, Nunez/Nikiya, Osipova/Gamzatti performances, and I don't think that anyone will disagree that two-thirds of it was better than last week. Why? Simply because we were thankfully scrim-less for Acts 2 and 3. Everything was brighter, clearer, more colourful - in one word, better!

I know it's been said before, but it's worth repeating - why deliberately degrade the audience's experience by introducing something for the whole of an act that is only needed for the last few minutes?

But hats off to the stage team who seem to have cracked the problem so astutely identified earlier...

On 02/11/2018 at 18:35, Rob S said:

If only there was some way of lowering it when it's actually needed

...no doubt a hastily put together contrivance of pulleys, levers and muscle power was straining away behind the scenes - but it worked! 😛

But how about the dancing, now we could see it in all its glory? Well, yes, the first thing to note is that with those three on stage 'glory' is all but a given. So, the usual proviso applies - any comparisons/criticisms are relative to the lofty heights achieved...

I thought Act 2 of opening night was the weakest - possibly because Acts 1 and 3 were so good - but last night that was reversed. The corps were radiant (obviously the absence of the scrim, quite literally, helped with that impression), and their movement as precise as that of a Swiss watch; it was nigh on perfect - neither I nor my partner noticed anything amiss (and when you work out the total, combined number of moves during that extended entrance, that is pretty impressive). Nunez was on brilliant, lyrical form in Act 2, and Muntagirov's increasing confidence in his role was apparent as he turned his attention more to expressing his emotions (to great effect throughout all three Acts); when combined, the whole of Act 2 was greater than the sum of its parts. If they can pull that off on Tuesday it will be wonderful.

That leaves Acts 1 and 2. Firstly, I'd like to cover a couple of the 'minor' roles.
 
Avis is utterly dependable as the Brahmin, and a joy to watch; he has a wonderful gift of being able to make his characters larger than life - they are almost caricatures, but he doesn't step over the border into either 'ham acting' or spitefulness. His High Brahmin (and the Notary in Fille) are two great examples. This is in contrast to Gartside's more understated Brahmin and, at the other extreme, the full-on haminess of the Brahmin in other productions (search YouTube for Mariinsky Bayadere July 14th 2014, then look at 18 min in; this video also demonstrates just how wonderful are the Royal's costumes).

It was disappointing that Campbell has not improved his performance from that of last week; actually, that's not strictly true - last night the upper half of his body was better than last week (sharper use of his arms, in particular), but unfortunately that seemed to be at the expense of his lower body, which seemed oddly out of tune (poor elevation, extended legs not horizontal).

Last night, Nunez's Nikiya was difficult to fault - so I won't because I can't (I don't have the technical knowledge for a start). It is the ideal role for her in this ballet. I must admit I was disappointed when I first heard which cast was being broadcast in the cinema (and then, hopefully, released on DVD) - I wanted to see Osipova as Nikiya on the simple basis that she gets more stage time. But now I've seen both dancers in both roles I'm happy that Osipova takes the 'minor' role. But, of course, the role of Gamzatti is not minor at all - it is absolutely central to the story. Without Gamzatti it would become a sweet love story between a noble warrior and a beautiful and unassuming temple dancer, with perhaps a bit of drama thrown into the mix by the jealous High Brahmin (who would soon get his comeuppance from Solor who, after all, has no trouble dispatching tigers). Instead, we get two beautiful women from opposite ends of society vying for the love of that noble warrior. As someone said to me during an interval, the ballet could almost be titled 'Gamzatti' rather than 'La Bayadere'.

And this is where we get to the crux of the matter. What role does Gamzatti play in the ballet to drive and direct its narrative so it all makes sense? Is she a villain, or should she be pitied? What is her relationship to Solor? How does it fit the choreography?
I was initially surprised, and then totally convinced, by what was to me the novel interpretation of Gamzatti by Osipova on opening night. She fell in love - hopelessly and totally - with Solor on first sight, and that fully explained (though, of course, didn't justify!) becoming an accomplice to the murder of her love rival. This strategy fitted the set pieces beautifully; the tiny cameo at the end of Act 2 was of her triumphantly claiming Solor following Nikiya's death; but more tellingly, her Act 3 solo became an evocation of her deep love for Solor, a love that was not being reciprocated even though Nikiya was dead (I felt real sympathy for her during that solo).
I was hoping she would develop that approach last night but, Osipova being Osipova, she changed it - reverting to the more standard interpretation of Gamzatti more as a scheming bitch. It was good, but last week's performance seemed to cohere and strengthen the ballet's narrative. I discussed this briefly with someone after Act 1, and we both agreed that she was probably experimenting in preparation for the broadcast next week. She is the most unpredictable element in the cast - and I love her for it! 

It must be part of herd mentality, but I'm not just affected by what's on stage, but by the auditorium as a whole. There was a palpable buzz and sense of anticipation on opening night that I did not feel last night. The audience seemed a bit tentative and less spontaneous during the performance (does that reflect who tries for tickets on opening night versus a regular night in the run?), and that difference couldn't be down to the quality of what we were seeing. It's a long ballet, and there are lots of trains that need catching, but I was surprised to turn to leave my seat towards the front of the Amphi after the last curtain call to find that a whole series of rows already empty.

I thought an absolutely lovely touch came part way through the curtain calls. Just after she fetched Boris Gruzin on-stage to justifiable applause, Marianela carefully moved her large bouquet to behind her, up against the steps, so there was no chance of Boris backing into it and losing his footing again! How thoughtful was that? 

At the moment the Royal Ballet resemble a fine chocolatier - drawing on their tradition and experience to craft from their array of the finest ingredients concoctions that delight the senses. Yes, they are an expensive indulgence, but I would honestly have paid twice as much for the two slightly different 'selection boxes' they presented last Thursday and last night. Those differences invite (demand?) comparison but, at the risk of mixing metaphors, only in the way that one might compare views in different directions from the top of Everest - the most important thing to remember is you are at the top of Everest!

In a nutshell, my ideal indulgence would be to take Act 1 from Thursday, Act 2 from last night and either Act 3.

An easy place to start is the Bronze Idol. Calvin Richardson gave a very good account - sharply-delimited, precise movement and excellent elevation. Given that the gold standard (making him the Gold Idol?) seems to be Kumakawa (for instance, the way he touches wrists and elbows together in some of the audience-facing jumps, which neither Campbell or Richardson achieved), Calvin probably deserves Silver Idol status.

The approach to the High Brahmin differed between Avis (Thursday) and Gartside (last night). Since the higher levels of any organised religion increasingly rely on theatricality, Avis' histrionics made sense - here was someone who revelled in esoteric, arcane ritual, and whose responses to the more 'base' temptations of desire and jealousy (perhaps his first?) were similarly melodramatic. Gartside's Brahmin was much more down-to-earth, and probably not quite so virtuous; he had less far to fall as he hadn't climbed quite so high up the ladder of religious righteousness.

That Gamzatti is key to the story is a given, but what intrigued me was the differing (and almost equally effective) approaches taken by Nunez and Osipova. To me, Nunez played her as someone looking for a marriage-of-convenience or a 'trophy husband' (and Corrales' Solor would fit the bill for either very nicely indeed, thank you); this is caricaturing it a bit to make the distinction, but it was more a business arrangement than a love story (so her anger at Nikiya was more to do with her messing up her plans). Osipova, in contrast, made it clear from the moment she saw him (and then through the acting masterclass that was the chess game) that she was head-over-heels in love with Muntagirov's Solor and would do anything - including murder - to avoid losing him. The closing moments of Act 1 (with Gamzatti slowly closing in on Solor) also reflected that - Osipova resembled a predatory cat ready to pounce on and devour Solor; Nunez more like the cat who was getting the cream. I think it was this novel, to me at least, way of playing Gamzatti that just tips the balance in favour of Thursday's Act 1.

Act 2 is also a close call (remember, I'm at the top of Everest here!) but I'd go for last night. The corps seemed flawless (I saw a few wobbles on Thursday, though my partner says there were also a few last night; I guess it depends where one's attention is at the time). I was impressed with Yuhui Choe's shade variation last Thursday, but even more so last night - her ability to stop, motionless is just preternatural (or more prosaically some clever arrangement of magnets and glue) and she looks like she knows it - it was lovely to watch! And Osipova gave a portrayal of Nikiya that evolved beautifully and naturally from the initial gossamer, ethereal, melting moves with Solor to the much more tangible, increasingly desperate manifestations of her final solo runs. It was as if Solor's drug-induced vision was morphing from the joy of reunion to the harsh reality of her death and his loss. And talking of Solor, Corrales' solo ended with him motionless, back arched, head almost touching the floor, for what seemed like ten to fifteen seconds while the applause rang out; he then jumped to his feet and exited the stage with a leap and a turn that shouted 'I nailed that!' - and indeed he did!

For a first appearance on that stage in a major role, Corrales was impressive and whetted the appetite for treats to come. His Solor wasn't as 'noble' as Muntagirov's; I could imagine him getting into a bit of a scrap with the tiger during the hunt (whereas Muntagirov would have dispatched it from afar with a single, well-aimed shot from his bow). Corrales' Solor was also better-defined than Muntagirov's; what you saw was what you got. But I don't necessarily see that as 'better'. The nice thing about Muntagirov is that his understated characterisations give you a framework on which you can hang your own feelings and interpretations; I think this works really well.

The final Act was too close to call. I'd choose last night on the basis of the 'silver' Bronze Idol, but last Thursday for Gamzatti's solo (remembering I'm at the top of Everest). I certainly wouldn't base my choice on the projected effects. I don't know if it's climate change, but there certainly seems to be some strange weather on stage at the moment - though at least that feeds into our national preoccupation with it. With Mayerling there was some discussion about the nature of the rain/sleet/snow in the graveyard, and at the risk of precipitating (sorry!) further debate I couldn't decide if, last night, we were treated to a sandstorm or some fine, misty rain as the gods vented their anger; either way, there were certainly some big hailstones falling!!

1 hour ago, Sim said:

I deeply dislike scrims so unless there is a very good reason for their use (and I can't think of many), ban them I say!!   

On the DVD of Frankenstein, the scene where Victor is at his mother's grave and is joined by Elizabeth happens behind a scrim. Unfortunately, there is a small repair patch on it that, in some closeups, sits between Bonelli's face and the camera. It could almost be mistaken for an insect crawling around on him. I'd have thought they might have fixed that in post-production...

The trouble is - like the darning on Mary Vetsera's negligee - once you've seen it it's hard to avoid noticing it next time, and the time after that, etc. So, apologies for pointing it out... 

On 01/11/2018 at 13:23, Nogoat said:

The entry of the line of soldiers from behind the elevated, brightly lit, shattered wall of the factory, one after the other, trudging down the ramps to stage level looked like some nightmarish version of the start of Act 3 in Bayadere.

*cough* *cough*

While watching it last night, it suddenly struck me I meant Act 2 of La Bayadere. I could blame it on the keyboard, but I guess 26-year olds can also have senior moments as well as fat fingers... 

It was slightly surreal to go to the Opera House last night to see a ballet about an arranged royal marriage in a patriarchal society, competing love interests, intrigue, drugs and murder, but then find La Bayadere printed across the top of the cast sheet instead of Mayerling! But beyond the irresistible temptation to superimpose Franz Josef's clothes on those of Thomas Whitehead's Rajah (he did a similar, and wonderful, job as both!) La Bayadere managed the non-trivial task of shifting the focus of my attention.

And wow! If the quality of last night's performance is where they start the run, where on earth are they going to end it?

Putting Nunez and Osipova on stage together in antagonistic roles is like throwing sodium into water - it pops and fizzes in a mightily powerful way! The last time I saw them playing off each other (Anastasia doesn't count as they don't interact) was in Giselle, with Nunez as Myrtha: having two equally powerful, but opposite, forces competing for Matthew Golding's life and soul produced a spectacular dynamic. This also applied last night; Vadim was being torn apart by two competing forms of love - the pure, innocent, reciprocated love of Nunez's Nikiya and the more pragmatic, 'entitled' (but no less intense) love that was Osipova's Gamzatti. The three of them locked together on stage to form a tripod that elevated the whole performance to a different level.

And just what is it that gives them their star quality/stage presence? 

Nunez radiates Nunez - which explains everything and nothing about her.  Last night she focussed those energies firmly on transmuting herself into Nikiya, and I thought the result was sublime. And the smile she gave us in the curtain calls! She's got it.

I've seen Muntagirov outside the stage door; he looks like thousands of other young men on the streets of London; he doesn't stand out - he's not particularly tall for a start. So how on earth does he transform himself onstage into a seven foot tall epitome of grace, authority and grandeur? He's got it.

I once spotted Osipova in central London, from what seemed about 50 yards away; she's got it, even off stage. And on stage she has it in spades. I never thought I'd be in the position of having to choose between watching the wonderful D'Jampee dancers and watching Gamzatti play chess - but I had to last night, and the chess won out much of the time! Osipova turned a straightforward chess board (which others hardly engage with) from a stage prop into an exposition of her character; the intense, hungry stares she gave Muntagirov, and her reaches toward him spoke volumes of her burning desire (if anyone looked at me that way I think I'd either drop dead or run away, but there again I'm not a noble warrior); her immersion in the game and him, to the virtual exclusion of others, told us of her intention to play to win him. That was sheer class. She is also superb at imbuing small movements with meaning; her slow, fixated advance across stage towards Vadim at the end of Act 2 was that of a lioness (admittedly one clothed in military-grade bling) closing in confidently and irresistibly on its target - there is incredible power implied in slow, controlled movement. And her Act 3 solo was simply sublime - the fluidity, musicality and expression were spot on (and the audience knew it and reacted accordingly).

And how about Isabella Gasparini? Admittedly she was on the front row of the corps once they'd come down the ramp, but she just stood out without doing anything to draw attention to herself; she was 'just' a cog in that well-oiled machine, but she couldn't hide her natural stage presence.

A few other points and pluses...
Boris Gruzin did great things with pacing the orchestra to the on-stage action.

The audience seemed very receptive and appreciative, and rightly gave Makarova a fabulous ovation when she was fetched on-stage by Muntagirov.

And it was lovely to see Osipova clapping when Vadim and Marianela took their bow at the curtain call.
The relationship between the three protagonists has been subtly tweaked and clarified, at least compared to the Acosta/Rojo DVD. For the death of Nikiya at the end of Act 1, Solor and Gamzatti leave the stage, Nikiya drops the bottle of antidote, falls to the ground, and the High Brahmin rushes over to her lifeless body. Last night, Solor paused at the wings as Gamzatti left on her own; he looked back at Nikiya as if to say 'I have to do this', she dropped to the floor and it was Solor who rushed back to cradle her body (very Giselle-like, said my partner). Also, in Act 3, Muntagirov's gesture to Gamzatti (after the booby-trapped flowers have been given to her and discarded) was a pointed finger at the end of a pointing arm - very clearly accusatory.

All very positive so far, but there were a few things that caused me to take note...
Given how brilliant Marianela is at classical, 'tutu' work, I did end up wondering if her Act 2 performance was a tiny (emphasis on the tiny, folks!!) bit below par - though that might reflect unrealistic expectations on my part, having just seen a fabulous Act 1 (and writing this now, having seen a brilliant Act 3).
I know this will be controversial in some quarters, but I was unimpressed by Campbell's Bronze Idol - for me there was a general lack of sharpness and elevation. My partner suggested this morning that I look on YouTube at other performances such as Kumakawa's or Sambe's (Ballet Evolved Insight Evening) and, yes, I stand by what I thought at the time.
I can understand (just about) the use of a scrim screen to give an aura of otherworldliness to Act 2, but why on earth is it still there in Act 3? Why try to make it more difficult to see 'real' things happening on stage? Heaven knows it's difficult enough to make out detail on the stage from the Amphi at the best of times, so why make it even more so? I don't deliberately smear my glasses with Vaseline to lend a bit of atmosphere to my perception of daily life, so why bother here? The dancers, choreography, lighting and music are perfectly capable of doing that, thank you. And if that means trading in a few projected rocks falling down (or not, as was the case last night) at the end for a better view throughout, then that's fine by me.
I know there's no relationship between the size of a poisonous creature and how deadly its venom is, but can we please have a decent-sized snake for the booby-trapped flower-basket scene? And maybe one a bit less drab - as poisonous things often advertise themselves with colour. That it didn't even uncoil last night to reveal its usual, majestic (one foot?) length meant it didn't even look like a snake; for all I know, it could have been a small hoopla ring being thrown around.

This thread is understandably quiet now, but with Mayerling over, and thinking back to the earlier run of Lest We Forget as well as the historical links between the two, I wanted to put a few thoughts down.
 
While waiting in the foyer for one performance I overheard a woman talking to a friend about the special performance laid on for the British Legion. Afterwards, she recounted, one of the senior members of ENB (I think a performer) had said it was the most moving performance s/he had been involved in in their 20-plus year career. I think that sums up the emotional impact this trilogy of reflections on senseless loss, separation and trauma has on audiences and performers alike.

No Man's Land has grown on me over the performances I have seen, perhaps because it has the most involved 'story line' which took (for me at least) a bit of deciphering. Given the intervening run of Mayerling (and its role in the events leading to WWI) as well as the upcoming Bayadere, there were a couple of things that caught my attention. 
The entry of the line of soldiers from behind the elevated, brightly lit, shattered wall of the factory, one after the other, trudging down the ramps to stage level looked like some nightmarish version of the start of Act 3 in Bayadere. And the netherworld of the 'kingdom of the shades' is apt inasmuch as the life these men lived in the trenches was no life at all, and so many of them would end up lifeless.
The use of Liszt's Heroide Funebre in both No Man's Land and Mayerling might be a deliberate linking of the two historical events (or merely represent Scarlett's and Rojo's particular liking for it).

Second Breath seems the piece that produced the most varied reactions. Yes, it's probably the weakest of the three, but given the calibre of the others I still thought it incredibly effective and thought-provoking. I don't usually sit in the stalls (I prefer the view 'from above' so I can see the larger patterns of movement) but I found myself in the stalls for one of the performances this year. I hadn't realised how the lighting was so starkly layered; from the stage to about eight feet up there was little of no lighting; for the next several feet up the air was illuminated by horizontal lighting from the wings. This meant that when the soldiers were raised up, their heads/torsos were lit before they fell back down. It suddenly struck me that this was a literal representation of the trenches; the dark trenches offered some protection, but raising one's body above the trench invited sniper fire.
I was also incredibly impressed by the music/soundscape that accompanied the dancing. The spoken roll-call of casualties - starting off with individuals, then working up to losses at battles and across countries, in a variety of languages - brought home the sheer scale of the carnage of this global catastrophe. The spoken recollections, particularly the repetition of 'bombardment', was also effective; and the deep, insistent, percussive beat of the music reinforced this. Other sounds (perhaps a reversed snaredrum?) resembled bullets of shells whizzing overhead. The use of the crackly, distorted reading of Dylan Thomas' Do Not Go Gentle... was inspired; I imagine this is what speaking over an early field telephone sounded like. I had assumed that the recording (deliberately distorted) was that of Dylan Thomas himself, but on listening to it on YouTube I thought his reading a bit 'soft' for what I heard. There is also a recording by Richard Burton, and I think that was the one used (his emphasis of the last syllable of 'night' and 'light' is how I remember it in the performance).

Dust is an incredibly moving and innovative piece of dance theatre, and I'm sure the 'wiggly bit' that's been referred to will become as iconic to this era as, say, the Rose Adage is to its. In terms of its 'meaning', several things struck me when watching it; yes, there is the idea of support being given by others to aid this traumatised victim of war; but later it appears as if he is also driving their movements - as if his suffering is, in turn, producing ripples that affect the community; finally, when the dancers in the 'arms' join both arms and start to twist, I'm reminded of the structure of DNA and the idea that how much of our aggressive, war-like tendencies undoubtedly have a genetic basis.

I'm left wondering if I will ever see these three ballets performed together again; there will certainly never again be the additional emotional context of coinciding with the centenary of WWI - and by the 125th anniversary I might not be here.

In the meantime, at least we have the recording of Dust at Glastonbury (which is still on YouTube), though the daytime/open air atmosphere is understandably not the same, and there were also adjustments made for the staging; I also remember seeing Second Breath performed on TV, I think it was performed live on some sort of current affairs/magazine programme, but that has not appeared on YouTube, unfortunately.

16 minutes ago, LinMM said:

Love your post Nogoat!! 

Maybe nearer the truth than we realise ....I'm sure he could have a stab at all those roles Hee hee

Made me laugh anyway.

Im trying not to get too excited about Bayadere next week (5th) but don't want to start expecting impossible standards from him! 

He has come a long way since his 2013 Prix de Lausanne Blog where I first came across him. 

 

You are right. Given the skills the Trocs have shown us over the last month or so, and the role-blurring joys that await us in the Bolshoi's Bright Stream next year, I don't think my tongue should have been quite as firmly in my cheek as I thought...

3 hours ago, Sim said:

Bonelli/Morera/Lamb/Hayward/Zen/Stix-Brunell would be my ideal cast here.  I am only going on dancers I have seen, not potentials!

Going on potentials, my ideal cast is...

Rudolf - Corrales

Bratfisch - Corrales

Four Hungarian Officers - Corrales, Corrales, Corrales, Corrales

Mary Vetsera - Corrales

Mary Vetsera as a Child - Corrales

Larisch - Corrales

Mitzi Caspar - Corrales

Archduchess Sophie - Corrales (or Campbell - I don't wish to appear biased... )

Having been lucky enough to see them in the last run, I was very much looking forward to seeing the Bonelli/Morera performance last night - and for the most part they did not disappoint. They seem to have a natural affinity for each other that comes, perhaps, from their partnering experience - but whatever its source, that sort of intangible chemistry raises the bar of expectation and, more often than not, delivery.

Having said that, and given the sheer complexity of the artifice the cast attempts to construct on stage, exceptional individual performances cannot guarantee an overall exceptional experience, and I didn't feel that happened last night. I don't think this is being overly harsh; there must be an element of 'luck' involved in everything and everyone working together seamlessly - and small issues can bully their way to the front of one's perceptions, like a small scratch on a vinyl record.

The biggest small issue, to me, was Bratfisch. He just didn't convince me in either his dancing or overall characterisation; maybe this is because, for me, James Hay had set a new standard the week before (and that is both a blessing and a curse - a blessing as I was lucky enough to see it, and a curse as having seen it I cannot help but compare!).

Having previously been very impressed by the touching interplay between Gary Avis' Bay Middleton and Elisabeth in their Act 2 PDD, I was rather disappointed that Kish kept his suave, unflappable persona even when alone with the object of his affections.

I want to concentrate on the positives, though...

I thought Bonelli's Rudolf was perfectly credible and his downward spiral into abject despair captured my sympathy; he is an exceptional actor (as is Morera) and the profound, hopeless sadness he showed at the end of his PDD with his mother was very moving. Unusually, compared to other Rudolfs, there was no maniacal laughter or rage when straddling Stephanie on the floor after terrorising her - it was almost a sense of anguish or self-loathing at his own behaviour as he turned his head to us and seemed to push her away. In the tavern scene, he seemed the most 'relaxed' of the Rudolfs I have seen in this run - whatever conflicts were triggered in his head at court, etc, were subdued in that environment; one lovely flourish was the 'horizontal bow' when being held by the Hungarian officers - executed with a cigarette in his mouth! He is also so good at broadcasting his thoughts - for example, in the way he handles the revolver after his brief meeting with Larisch and Mary outside the tavern.

Morera's Mary was excellent. She was convincing as a vapid, love-struck teenager (rather than, say, the scheming social-climber that I felt was Cuthbertson), who was out to impress sexually (and, boy, did she do that in the Act 2 PDD!), but was naive/immature/obsessed enough simply to adopt the morbid interests of her lover without question. There was one superb sequence in the Act 3 PDD, the section between when Mary puts the revolver on the table (interestingly, they didn't slam the gun back on the table, but she placed it back on her own, almost reverently) and when they collapse motionless on the floor before he goes to the syringe; the two diagonal run/jumps she makes across the stage at Rudolf - the first hooking her arm around his neck and the second ending up horizontally in his arms - were the best I've seen in this run (they were so effortless, fluid, and spot-on with the music!).

Kobayashi went out on a high with her Larisch (and also with lots of flowers!). She played her as a consummate and incessant mischief-maker, which meant that those occasions when this facade was broken and the true tragedy of her situation became apparent (eg her crestfallen response to holding the portrait of Rudolf in Mary's apartment) were even more poignant.

I was also really impressed by the progress Stix-Brunell has made in her portrayal of Mitzi Caspar - the various facets of her personality were so much more on show through her interplay with the characters (from Rudolf through to Taafe).

As noted elsewhere, Mendizabal makes a suitably icy, distant Elisabeth, who has her own set of demons to contend with.

Finally, I could cut'n'paste quotes from previous posts (mine or anyone else's) about Corrales. His stage presence and dependable excellence have rapidly become a 'given', even in this relatively minor role. I think (and fervently hope!) we are about to be blown away by him in Bayadere next week... 

On 26/10/2018 at 12:28, Fiz said:

It snowed very heavily during the two nights that Rudolf and Mary stayed at Mayerling. It was the end of January so it’s probably meant to be snow or sleet. 

What struck me was just how bright the 'snow/sleet' was.

At the risk of over-analysing this (well, it is Saturday night and there's nothing on the telly, so I'll have a go), given that snow/sleet isn't luminous in its own right, a few possibilities spring to mind...

- Perhaps the grave-diggers had set up some arc lights to help with their nocturnal preparations and these were illuminating the downpour (arc lights were invented in the early 1800s, so the technology existed).

- Perhaps the moon was near to full, and was illuminating a localised shower of sleet/snow. Unfortunately, this can't explain the brightness of the precipitation as there was a New Moon at the end of Jan, 1889 (though this actually lends further support for the 'arc light theory', above, as it would have been pitch-dark in the graveyard).

- Or perhaps the burial coincided with a particularly spectacular meteor shower, and that's what we witnessed on stage. The Quadrantids happen in January, and meteor showers used to be thought of as presaging disasters, which make this explanation appealing (though they peak in early Jan and the 'disaster' of WWI didn't occur until many years later  ).

I didn't originally plan to see last night's cast, but went to see Soares/Cuthbertson on the recommendation of a friend. Don't get me wrong; I enjoyed the performance, and it was interesting to see yet another interpretation of the story to compare to the others I have seen, but I don't think it lived up to the hype that persuaded my partner to shell out for some amphi tickets.

But thank goodness there is sufficient latitude in the ballet to permit widely different portrayals, as well as diverse sensibilities in the audience to respond to those portrayals; maybe my 'antennae' lack sensitivity or are tuned to pick up different things, but the overall performance just didn't set up a resonance within me. Basically, it boils down to 'different strokes for different folks'...

Some of the things that stuck in my mind were...

I've seen enough of Soares to know he is a great actor but, as in the McRae broadcast, I didn't get a strong enough impression of the 'journey' that led to the eventual murder/suicide. I've mentioned before I want (need?) to see emotion in narrative ballets to complement the dancing, but in a way that is still not enough (McRae radiated emotion, but it tended to be rather loud and monotonic); I also need to see change in order to understand motivations etc. Soares started off fairly low-key (so I was looking forward to seeing development), but by the time we got to the 'chair' scene in Act 3, all I could think of was 'here is someone who is dazed and confused' (in contrast, say, to Ball who manifested his thought processes with crystal clarity through his movement and expression). It was all just a bit too 'fuzzy' for me.

I think Cuthbertson is pure class, and I was looking forward to seeing her. For me, she played Mary more as a clever 'social climber' compared, say, to the 'wild child' that was Osipova's Mary. She seemed to be using Rudolf more than she was infatuated by him (with those eyes and that smile, she could basically get anyone to do anything!). As Esmeralda mentioned, Mary was effectively 'in charge' - and not solely driven by passion or thrill-seeking. That control came through nicely in the seduction at the end of Act 2, where she was both sensual and raw (I have never seen a Mary expose that much skin before, nor place her hands on Rudolf where she did!). Given where the story was going, I was reminded briefly of the lover in Jeune Homme - using her sensual skills to facilitate the suicide of the young man. 

Their final PDD took time to build, but it certainly became reckless - though I don't believe intentionally. The spiralling dismount of Mary from Rudolf carrying her on his shoulders across the stage (which can involve the chair getting hit) seemed to be a bit too quick and maybe one rotation fewer than normal, causing Lauren to yelp as she hit the floor sooner and faster than expected; for a moment I thought she had strained something, but she seemed to carry on OK after that. It was a bit of a heart-stopping moment, though if anything it added to the tension of the scene.

I think Yuhui is a beautiful, stylish, graceful dancer - but I didn't think the role of Stephanie suited her. Maybe she was slightly put off by a slip in her bedroom solo at the end of Act 1, but I felt the subsequent PDD with Soares never really gelled and, therefore, did not carry the level of claustrophobic menace as in other performances (for example, Hirano and Ball roughly shoved Stephanie's legs apart on the bed right at the end - which spoke volumes in terms of attitude and intent - and I have a recollection that McRae used his knee to do that, which is even more telling; but Soares seemed to roll Stephanie to the back of the bed, more as if to make room for him to settle down after a hard day's work!).

Corrales stood out again as the lead Hungarian officer; and it's not just that he's good - he's consistently good! It may have been the 'shock of the new' but, if anything, I'd say he has even toned it down compared to the first night! Roll on Bayadere!

Sambe was as sharp as a tack in his brothel solo - and came across as a confident, sociable character. It was slightly disappointing, then, to find the edge had gone from his technique (and characterisation) in the final act compared to, say, James Hay (there has been some comment on how good Hay is - and I totally agree. He is always scrupulous in how he presents his character, however minor the role he plays; a case in point would as a sacrificial goat - along with Anna Rose - in last year's Sylvia.).

Itziar gave an interesting, almost insolent (compared to the mostly cool and composed games-master that was Sarah Lamb) reading of Larisch. The looks she gave when called to heel by her husband were priceless!

I thought the 'fireworks' PDD between Gary Avis and Lara Turk was beautifully observed; the happiness and contentment they invoked and felt in each other's company blazed forth, and made Rudolf's surveillance of it even more poignant.

I'm sorry this post went on a bit; I always start with the intention of 'keeping things brief', but the truth is that Mayerling makes me think about performances in ways that other ballets beginning with M, such as Multiverse, don't (though now I've got the image in my head of It's Gonna Rain playing over the start of Mayerling, with all that rain/snain/sleet/snow - delete as appropriate - falling in the background! ).

20 hours ago, Mummykool said:

The Hirano we saw last night was nothing like the Hirano we saw in opening night and who garnered such tepid reviews. It has been interesting to watch how his characterisation has grown and how the whole cast seem to have gelled together.

I know the focus is shifting to last night's performance, but I was too busy yesterday to put this together. So, sorry to muddy the water...

There were two narratives playing out on stage on Friday night; the self-contained story of the descent of Rudolf, as portrayed by Hirano over the three  acts of Mayerling, and the on-going story of the evolution of Hirano's interpretation of that role. Both made for fascinating and rewarding viewing.

I was captivated by Friday's performance; the whole ensemble of characters seemed to mesh together like the well-oiled cogs of some fantastical, story-telling contraption. Nothing seemed forced or out of place - the unfolding of the story, and the unravelling of the various characters just 'flowed'. The whole cast seemed at ease with their roles, confident in their own delivery and trusting in the contribution of the others to that delivery. The whole became greater than the sum of its parts, and given that some of those parts were superb, the overall effect was incredible. All the pieces of the jigsaw were there, they all fitted together seamlessly, and the vista revealed was awesome.

The power on show from Hirano during the Act 1 PDD with Hayward was as impressive as before, but on Friday it was used to create less of a brutal monologue, less of a straightforward thuggish assault. The physical energy seemed to pass from Hirano to Hayward and back again; to and fro, like waves breaking on a beach, with the beach resisting the waves' retreat. I can't remember the last time I saw this exchange of energy being so 'fluid' in this PDD, and much of that must be down to Hayward's absolute trust in Hirano as a partner. OK, the 'cocked-leg lift' (I'm sure there's a technical term for it!) was telegraphed a bit, but the way he brought her back down to the stage seemed to push at the limits of what is physically possible and made me catch my breath (just how close did her head get to the stage?).
The overall effect was heartbreaking; the depiction of Stephanie's predicament, and her attempts to deal with it, certainly passed what might be called the Well Test - my eyes were certainly welling-up by the end of their PDD.

This is in contrast to their first outing, where everything seem much more mechanical; then, the focus seemed to be more on the mechanics of delivering the performance rather than on the story told by that performance. I guess the experience of repeated performance brought with it a cascade of improvements: an increasing sense of trust and confidence between partners; greater opportunity to develop the 'acting' side of the choreography; more expressive on-stage 'conversations' related through movement and expression; greater audience empathy and satisfaction.

To feel empathy with the on-stage characters, those characters need to fire up our 'mirror neurones' - we need to be able to put ourselves in their position in order to feel their emotions; and the richer and more coherent the information we are provided with, the greater that will be. Well, all I can say is my brain (which perhaps is not as discriminating as others!) was fizzing and popping like the firework display; I felt totally immersed in and convinced by the unfolding story.

That culminated, of course, in the final PDD. I felt the desperate anguish on display, that this was the only course of action open to them, but also the relief, almost joy, that they were embarking on it together - with a commitment to each other that had started in the final embrace of the Act 2 PDD and sealed in the PDD in his bedroom after Larisch had left. I was totally convinced by the narrative arc and welled up yet again!

Sarah Lamb, once again, gave her own unique and incredibly effective reading of Larisch; she was embedded within the story, but at the same time seemed also to be relaying to us, the audience, her role in its development and realisation. This she did by breaking the fourth wall (her staring at us during the wedding ball procession, and the way she interacted with us during the card reading scene). Given that the real Larisch published her memoirs, I wonder if Sarah is deliberately adopting some sort of 'autobiographical stance' where she is both narrator and subject? Was she literally 'playing it by the book'?

The depth of characterisation was evident throughout. One that caught my eye was when two of the whores were brought over to Stephanie by Rudolf; one of them elbowed Stephanie in the ribs as if to say 'this is our patch and we play by different rules here!' 

A couple of other observations might be worth mentioning. In the final PDD, Osipova, unlike the other Marys I have seen, reaches and holds Rudolf just as he dismisses Bratfisch - almost as if she is affirming and supporting his action. And, once more, she crossed the stage to prostrate herself in front of Rudolf on her knees - 'ugly', though I swear she did it in time to the music! Finally, you cannot fault Hirano for effort; two bloodied knees and one bloodied elbow.

Although I left the ROH buzzing, and to some extent still am, part of me (the greedy part!) wishes this cast were down for four performances rather than three...

Or maybe five...

Etc...

10 hours ago, Sunrise said:

I thought Darcey and Ore made a decent stab at explaining some of the plot. 

 

I think some of the difficulty of the similarity of the costumes and wigs - even if you do your research or have a good synopsis, it's really hard to separate all women in Rudolf's life until you get to Mary Vetsera. It doesn't help that on screen the Empress looked about the same age as Rudolf.

When I saw Mayerling for the first time I was completely flummoxed by one 'new' character who appeared towards the end, in the scene with Rudolf seated in the chair. "Who was the irate woman with the really long hair who slapped Larisch?", I asked afterwards. (I probably flatter myself, as it was more likely "Who was that woman hitting that other woman, was that his old nanny?") "That was his mother!", I was told.

In the intervening years, I've got to know the characters in more and more detail, to the extent they are almost 'friends'; like friends, I mostly delight in their behaviour, though I'm occasionally disappointed by it.

Tonight, I will be looking closely at my 'friend' Sarah Lamb's Larisch, in particular her interaction with the audience through the 'fourth-wall'. Will she stare at us on her entrance? Will she play out the start of the card scene to us rather than to Mary and her mother? (In her last outing, she stood facing us when 'asking' the mother for the cards by holding her hand out, and once she put the switch card in her dress - something everyone does facing us - she threw hers arms up to us, not to them, like a magician starting an elaborate trick; but in this case the trick is not an illusion, but deadly real).

A very satisfying evening at the cinema last night, with some excellent performances on show in a coherent, though not glitch-free, re-telling of the story.

I have to start with the wonderful Sarah Lamb as Mary. I’ve mentioned before how impressed I’ve been with the unique (to me) way she portrays Larisch - as someone inhabiting the space between the stage and the audience; as both character and story-teller/author, both experiencing the narrative arc and responsible for creating it. I felt she brought a little of that to last night’s performance as Mary; it was as if she knew where the story was going and had come to terms with it – this feeling arose from a variety of sources, and also from one amazing moment. 

Right from her entrance, and in contrast to, say, Osipova, Lamb appeared less excited, less excitable, more in control. Osipova played Mary as a ‘wild child’ reacting to, and getting her ‘highs’ from, the novelties presented to her (from the spectacle of the wedding ball to the ultimate novel experience of death). In contrast, Lamb played Mary as more mature, relaxed, ‘knowing’. This came across in her more muted behaviour at the ball; in the way she just handed over the letter to Larisch without any obvious second thought; in the complete absence of any doubt or hesitation in the Act 2 PDD; in her reaction to agreeing to the suicide pact (McRae’s face madly contorted, Lamb’s face almost serene); and, in particular, in an amazing moment with the skull at the end of Act 2. 

I thought it happened when I saw her in the last run, but I couldn’t be sure. This time I was prepared, and she didn’t disappoint. When Lamb’s Mary goes across to the desk and picks up the skull, she holds it in front of her and moves back towards Rudolf. Unlike any other portrayal I’ve seen, she holds the skull still in line of sight between the two of them, him looking at the skull’s face, and her looking at the back of it; she moves the skull away, so in Rudolf’s view the skull’s face is replaced by hers. It’s as if she is saying ‘I am death’. Given how important a ‘domino’ the Mayerling Incident was in the chain-reaction of events leading to the calamity that engulfed the world 25 years later, I’m tempted to extend that to the quote used by Oppenheimer – ‘I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.’ That’s probably a step (or three!) too far, but I’m increasingly of the opinion that Sarah Lamb has an incredible affinity for these narrative ballets and an aptitude for teasing out nuances from them; she is a very cerebral ballerina! And, just to bring it back down to a more basic level, her legs and the way she uses them are just incredible!

It’s such a complex ballet that there are bound to be some ‘adjustments’ that need to be made on-the-fly. One that caught my eye was at the beginning of the fortune-telling scene. Whoever has set out the props had forgotten to place the vase upright; Lamb took this in her stride wonderfully – she put the vase upright, then wiped the table with her dress where the mouth of it had been, as if mopping up the spilled water! Brilliant!

As far as other characters are concerned…

- James Hay put in a wonderful performance as Bratfisch. He was razor-sharp in his execution, and played the character beautifully. The look of desperation that accompanied those similarly desperate attempts to pull Rudolf back from the brink was poignantly realised. I don’t know if it was a trick of the camera angles, but I got the impression that Bratfisch was looking at Mary when Rudolf finally dismissed him – as if he had an inkling that her presence meant this was the end, and it was his last appeal to her.

- Anna Rose was an absolute gem as Louise. Her character radiated strongly into the auditorium throughout her assured performance, and the audience basked in its light – a star in the making! It was lovely to see her receive some flowers at the curtain calls.

- Stephanie failed to convince me in her solo in the bedroom at the end of Act 1, but this greatly improved once Rudolf was on stage, though some of the lifts were ragged beyond excusing them as attempts to look spontaneous.

- Morera did well, but unfortunately I can’t help but compare her reading of Larisch with Lamb’s. However, what came over particularly well in the cinema was the poignancy as the ‘old guard’ mistress anointed and passed on the mantle to the younger, more vibrant and effective blood.

Broadcast ‘annoyances’. A few key moments were missed:- the reason why Stephanie left the stage in the brothel scene; the turning over of the third card (death?) in the fortune-telling scene, though the subsequent ‘switch’ was; the first half of confrontation between Taafe and Rudolf was replaced with Bay offering the cigar to Franz Joseph. On a more general level, there is still the tendency to focus on the torso/head at the expense of the legs/feet. An example that springs to mind is the hunting scene where the Hungarian officers and Rudolf encircle Franz Joseph. This approach is almost a relic from DVD days, when video resolution was low and close-ups a necessity; in today’s HD/Blu-Ray world, this is less excusable. And can we please have a 'flash' to accompany the revolver shots behind the bedroom screens (the 'pop' of the gun is totally unconvincing on its own)?

That leaves me with the tricky bit – McRae. He has improved greatly from the last run – replacing the ‘pantomime villain’ snarling-face (is there an emoji for that?) with something more nuanced and effective. His movement across the stage (particularly his solos in the brothel and fireworks scenes) was breath-taking – almost as if the video feed to the cinema had lagged and was on fast forward to catch up! I can only imagine how good it must have looked at the ROH. In contrast, some of his lifts looked like he was at, and almost beyond, his limit; his partners were not always elevated enough to avoid slippage, and subsequent moves looked ‘strained’ for the wrong reasons (the Act 1 and 3 PDDs spring to mind). The Matthew Ball debut also had this problem to some extent, but there were no such worries with Hirano – he was as strong and stable as a Prime Minister ox.

I waited to be moved by the final PDD, and was confused when I wasn’t. Having had time to reflect, I think it was the combination of Mary’s almost passive acceptance of her fate, and of a Rudolf for whom I had little sympathy. Of course, Rudolf has an uphill battle to gain anyone’s sympathy, for he can be seen as a coward who cannot just ‘top’ himself, but needs the endorsement of a partner in crime.

To have sympathy for Rudolf, I need to be able to feel he is a victim not a perpetrator, to feel that there were other paths he could have taken, or paths he tried to take. I didn’t see much on stage to convince me otherwise; yes, being spurned by his mother was heart-breaking; yes, his expression of angst in his solo in the final PDD was strong and clear; yes, he was the victim of the hypocrisy of the court (the affairs by all and sundry, the arranged marriage as ‘formalised prostitution’), but others managed to deal with it. Now, of course, we are not party to all of the events that made him who he was at the beginning of the ballet (cold, ruthless, boorish, vulgar), and the box labelled ‘nature vs nurture, responsibility, agency, determinism, etc’ is a Pandora’s Box we can point to but don’t really want to open, but that journey seemed just about complete by then. Overall, I was left with the impression he was a bit too one-dimensional, and that dimension was psychopath/sociopath; they don’t care about ordinary people, and the gulf is too big for ordinary people to care too much about them.

This is in contrast to Hirano, who appeared to be someone fighting a losing battle to contain his urges. But the volcano was building up its pressure relentlessly, with minor eruptions leading eventually to him – literally – blowing his top. With Ball, I got the impression that here was someone who had lost control of the vehicle he was driving, and was looking for an escape route to minimise the damage that would inevitably be wreaked (maybe like the Trolley Problem in ethics?); this was particularly evident in the ‘clarity’ with which he decided to fetch the gun and ask Mary to die with him. At least they seemed to be offering some resistance to their urges, so ended up gaining some of my sympathy.
 

On 09/10/2018 at 11:16, Ian Macmillan said:

A slightly odd Twitter exchange here between two critics.  Is Luke Jennings suggesting that Ms Osipova had remained very much in character at the curtain, or that she appeared to be unhappy about some performance aspect or other?  Suggestions from those who were there?

 

A rather belated review by Luke Jennings of last Monday's performance has now appeared on the Guardian website.

My interest in his reviews has steadily faded as I increasingly end up thinking he attended a different performance to the one I recall seeing, such is our divergence in opinion - and this one is no exception.

I was lucky enough to see both Ball's debut in yesterday's matinee, and Hirano's second outing in the evening. The obvious danger arising from this (apart from that of being flagged in my ROH ticketing history as a 'high frequency' attender, selfishly preventing some putative 'new audience' member from attending) is the temptation to compare:- and no doubt I will fall headlong into that. But as long as it's recognised (and I think it is) that, beyond the technicalities, these narrative ballets have a surprisingly broad scope for variation both in terms of the dancers' interpretations and the audience members' perceptions of those, then surely that's OK.

I hope these rather patchy, haphazard recollections (in reverse order) are correct; no doubt my recollections will be corrected if not... 🙂

The orchestra: - 
The music definitely seemed 'beefier' and ‘punchier’. Was this down to it being the 'proper' orchestra (as opposed to the BRB Sinfonia) or me being in the Amphi on Saturday rather than the balcony on Monday (the Amphi seems to 'capture' sound, and I love the effect that gives)?

The curtain calls: - 
Ball received a thunderous reception, complete with lots of shouts of 'bravo' - totally deserved, especially as it was his debut. Hirano's was very enthusiastic rather than ecstatic; he certainly seemed happier with his performance - he couldn't prevent himself (though he did seem to try!) breaking out into a bit of a grin. In the final call with both Mary and Larisch he lingered for a few extra seconds once they had left - I think he knew he had done well. He had certainly thrown himself into it - he had blood around both knees during the curtain calls (as opposed to just the one knee on Monday).

The last PDD: - 
Beautifully executed (no pun intended) by all involved; it was 'pin-drop' time in both performances. Osipova didn't seem quite as 'driven' as on Monday, maybe because she didn't need to compensate quite as much as Hirano seemed more animated (or the difference - I almost said 'gulf' - between them was less obvious). Even though she can be full of boundless energy, Osipova is wonderful when it comes to painting the fine detail of a character; I loved the 'this is disgusting' look on her face when she first tried whatever the pair were drinking at the table on the left. It was pointed out by bridiem that Osipova prostrates herself, arms outstretched as in a cross, in front of Rudolf when he injecting himself (having first crossed the stage to this point on her knees). She did this again on Saturday evening, and though 'ugly' it made sense in terms of the discussion on this forum. Hamilton pulled herself across on her hands, as did Mary in every other performance I have on DVD. I don't think Osipova does anything without a reason...

The 'seated' PDD:-
In the matinee, when Larisch left following the command of the Empress, she didn't put her finger to her lips; a small point, but, like a scratch on a vinyl record, noticeable. The moment at which Rudolf decides to fetch the gun and persuade Mary to join him in a suicide pact was played with incredible dramatic effect by Ball; he went from a staggering, drug-addled wreck to bolt-upright, striding with purpose to the desk to fetch the gun. That fatal decision seemed to be made by him in a rare moment of lucidity. Ball's use of shadow around his eyes helped him project his feelings throughout the auditorium, though it did remind me a bit of the era of silent movies...

The hunting accident:-
It was nice to see (and hear) 'real' guns being fired (with blanks!). In both cases, Rudolf wanders off stage momentarily, returns with his gun, which is fired within a few seconds. I should imagine the gun he wanders around stage with when he first enters is not loaded, but is loaded by the armourer in the wings just before the shooting - for 'health and safety' reasons. In the past, the revolvers fired blanks and were onstage continuously (and waved around) before being fired, but they are not any more. The bang is generated elsewhere; is this for health and safety reasons? It's a shame, because the flash from the blank behind the screen when Mary is shot added a dramatic touch. It would be easy to replicate that flash behind the screen in a 'safe' way! (using a flashgun?)

I thought I'd spend an hour or so putting down a few points, but I didn't realise just how much there is to talk about. I think I've covered most of what I wanted to say about Act 3, so I'll stop now and put up my thoughts on the rest if anyone would find that useful...

In the meantime, I'll just finish off with something that is, in hindsight, apposite...

For reasons known only to my subconscious, I woke up wondering which one word I would use to try to capture the essence of this ballet, and I thought - this is behemoth of a ballet!

Since it's a word I probably haven't used in decades, if ever, I thought I'd better check how appropriate it was beyond its alliterative appeal. Well, I had to smile, since Behemoth is a massive, unconquerable, creature whose strength makes it beyond human control; what's more, from Job, "his strength is in his loins".

This fits Mayerling like a glove; the ballet is a huge, overwhelmingly powerful creation; it's unconquerable both in terms of its execution (caught wigs, fluffed or forgotten moves end up as the norm) and its representation (there is no single, 'perfect' interpretation); also, the destructive force of the ballet, and much of its focus and action, pertain to the 'loins' of the protagonists (be that the sexual drive of Rudolf or other characters, or Franz Joseph's preoccupation with the continuation of the dynasty).

Yes, this is a behemoth of a ballet!
 

15 hours ago, Darlex said:

That's interesting, Nogoat.

 

There was a period from about 1986 - 1992 when Mayerling wasn't performed. I saw the South Bank Show documentary before I saw a live performance, so when it came to it, I understood the plot and who the characters were and with repeated viewings, filled in the gaps and made the connections. Like many others on this forum, I was completely swept away. Yes, I was Mayerling obsessed! The ballet inspired me to visit Vienna and Vetsera's grave. I would have named it as my favourite ballet.

But that was a long time ago. Since then, I have gone off this ballet and that's nothing to do with the quality of the performances. Although I believe many of the original cast have never been bettered, some have, or at least have been equalled. In the documentary we get to see all the best parts and don't have to sit through all the padding and what is, in my view, some of MacMillan's least inspired choreography for the corps: Stephanie's maids; the glamorous porn - movie choreography for the whores; the fireworks business; and all the stuff that happens in front of the curtain while the sets are being changed - not just one officer jumping out of the curtain, but ... four - embarrassing,  even more so when you see a hand or leg sticking out of the curtain as I have on the last three occasions. And I find some of the 'drunken' acting in the tavern scene really tiresome. There are also moments in the music which I find OTT (the discovery of the bodies at the end reminds me of old horror film music, for example).

You may ask 'why be so miserable about it, but still go to see it?'. I suppose my answer would be that I am hoping to be swept away again. Just for one moment, as the parade of characters passed by at the beginning of the ballet, I thought I just might. 

 

Are there any ballets that other forum members have fallen out of love with over time? I used to rate Grigorovich's Spartacus - no more! (It will be my secret guilty pleasure next summer! I haven't seen it in donkeys years.)

 

 

 

 

Thanks for that very honest and illuminating history of your 'love affair' with Mayerling, Darlex - your somewhat lukewarm review comments earlier in the thread now make much more sense in the light of this! 

I'm still at the 'besotted' stage, but of course that may change in time...

Since I am besotted, I feel honour-bound to defend the implied shortcomings of the object of my affection... 

- in their choreography, the maids come across as prim, proper, happy, organised, eager to please, and content in the insulated, superficial and artificial world they inhabit - Stephanie's world. 

- this is in marked contrast to the 'whores' whose eagerness to please is firmly grounded in the sordid, carnal, 'real' world inhabited by Rudolf (and many of the other males). The brothel scene, and Rudolf's attempt to induct Stephanie into its hedonistic, sex-based view of human relationships, throws light on his treatment of her at the end of Act 1 with its cruel corruption of her vision of 'pure love' (expressed, to me, in her solo before Rudolf turns up). It could be argued that it's difficult to make that point without a bit of 'porn' to emphasise the contrast; and I'm sure there are whole theses that can (and have been written) about the portrayal of physical relationships between various characters, in various ballets, by various choreographers.

- I find the firework business fascinating. Much of it is characterised by stillness (in a ballet, of all places!), posture and by slow glances. And the inclusion of a bit of 'opera' seems a sly dig at that other arm of 'high culture' that occasionally condescends to include a 'bit of dancing'. 

- given that stuff needs to happen while scenes are being changed, I think those 'curtain' scenes help define some of the (admittedly complex) facets of the story well. The one I least like is of Franz Joseph contemplating the ancestral portraits, but even that shows that even the most absolute of rulers face problems beyond their control. I am continually impressed that MacMillan was able to include a narrative on the revolutionary politics in the air at the time (again, in a ballet, of all places!). It was by necessity a shadowy world, full of dangers. To me, those brief, furtive excursions from the shadows, the whispers in the ear, the attempts to persuade, the wavering, come across very well in both the episodic staging and the choreography.

- I don't know what the drinking habits were back in the 1880s, but I'm sure it wasn't 30% of young adults not drinking alcohol, as apparently it is now.

- OK, the object of my affection can be a bit OTT, but in his/her defence... The crashing of the screen and discovery of the bodies is pure melodrama - and the music reflects that; after all, it was the defining moment of that era's equivalent of the mother-of-all 'tabloid' scandals. This is in marked contrast to the incredibly private, intense PDD that preceded it, and the sombre, but grubby, attempt to cover the scandal up in the churchyard that followed it.

Right, I've got a couple of dates with the object of my affection coming up, so I will stop there and go and get ready...

1 hour ago, Darlex said:

And for me that was exactly when her performance teetered somewhere between the sublime and the ridiculous. I love so many of the choices Osipova has made with this role: her overwhelming commitment, abandonment and sense of daring will stay etched on my memory forever. Maybe this moment would have felt more congruous had she been dancing with Watson. Not sure. It did made Mary seem totally mad, which, to be fair, might well have been the case to go through with such a terrible act. I do wish I had been sitting closer to the stage as I don't feel it's a ballet best viewed from the Amphi* - possibly because the balance is weighted in favour of drama over dance. I have enjoyed Mayerling far more from SCS (that's Stalls Circle Standing**). I would be interested to know where each person viewing the performance has sat or stood.

 

*Level 4/5?!

**Ground Floor Level/Level 1?!

Yes, perhaps more than any other ballet, Mayerling requires several things...

- for the majority of seats, and for anyone without 20/10 vision, a good pair of binoculars (where good is a bright image, low magnification, and wide FOV). The acting, down to mere glances, is key.

- some preparatory research/reading, otherwise it's difficult to understand the plot development (let alone the nuances). I found the South Bank doc invaluable in that regard.

- repeated viewing. Like a good novel, repeated exposure pays dividends. I'm happy to watch it over and over again... 

The very first time I saw Mayerling I got totally confused about just about everything (the number of characters, the complexity of their relationships, the costume/hair changes, the 'ageing' of the male lead, etc). However, I (like to think I) realised there was a lot to gain from persevering - so I did.

In fact, perhaps an interesting thread to start might be one considering just how much one should be able/expect to 'get' from a first exposure to a ballet? I don't want to 'get' everything from a first viewing, but there again I don't want a work to be so obscure that repeated viewings (and expenditure on tickets!) yields little enlightenment. I expect I can think of ballets that fit either end of this continuum. To me, Mayerling is one of those that hits the 'sweet spot' - I think I could happily watch it once a month for the next ten years...

1 hour ago, alison said:

 

You haven't seen the Watson DVD, then?  

🙂 Yes, that's also a very impressive hit - probably the equivalent of a 'home run' in baseball! 

But I can't count it in my tally as sadly I wasn't there... 😞

I wonder what percentage of performances result in physical contact with the chair? To keep with the baseball analogy, what is Mary's Batting Average? 🙂

Though, strictly speaking, it should be Rudolf's Batting Average as he's the one swinging Mary around (which unfortunately would make her the baseball bat)...

10 hours ago, Sim said:

As far as building a head of steam, absolutely.....but that is pure animal lust!  Watch how Melissa Hamilton deals with Rudolf;  that will convey the different approach much better than I can with words.   I just prefer her erotic interpretation of Mary, a slower build but to me, more exciting.  She may have changed how she plays her since the last run;  we will find out on Saturday!  I also loved Laura Morera's astonishing performance of the role;  multi-layered, scary, emotional, tragic.....one of the best I have ever seen.

Judging from the slightly flustered, hot-and-bothered look of most of the males in the vicinity when the lights went up, 'pure animal lust' describes it perfectly! 🙂

Saturday promises to be an absolute treat! We are so lucky...

Yes, I was mightily impressed by Morera in the one performance of hers I saw - especially the (to me, deliberate) clattering of the chair in the final PDD! I haven't seen that very often (I guess it's too risky?) but it brilliantly illustrated the narrative arc accelerating and careening out of control to its fatal conclusion.

9 hours ago, bridiem said:

The image that has stayed with me is Osipova/Mary simply lying flat on her front, arms stretched out ahead of her towards Rudolf at the table, whilst (I think) he injects himself. Her complete submission now to what is happening, indicated by her complete physical abandonment. Still and prostrated before him, waiting for what is to come. For me, it brings to mind a religious context: a priest prostrated before the altar in an act of complete submission to God (e.g. on Good Friday).

Oh my goodness, this line of thought is so intriguing! Yes, her pose was definitely cruciform (it could only have been more so if she had crossed her feet!); and she moved across the stage to assume that pose on her knees! Also, the South Bank documentary mentions that Franz Joseph had a chapel built on the site, with the altar directly under the bedroom where the deaths occurred. Layers upon layers upon layers...

I can hardly wait to experience the ballet again, illuminated by the observations and discussions on this forum!

On 09/10/2018 at 13:54, Sim said:

I am not a fan of Osipova's Mary.....the youthful exuberance is overdone for my taste.  This Mary steamrollered Rudolf instead of seducing him, and I prefer the latter approach.  

Fair enough, though given she turns up at his bedroom for their 'first date' in her negligee suggests that neither will have much trouble building up a head of steam! 🙂

If anything, is any 'seduction' (as in the need to overcome reticence) working the other way around? Once Rudolf has 'inspected the goods' (a superb piece of theatre that is both daring in what it represents and modest in the way it is represented), he moves full-steam ahead without a backward glance.

But Osipova's Mary, more so than others I have seen, doesn't always show such absolute commitment.

After she puts the skull back on the dresser she remains facing away from him, seemingly more interested in the gun than him, and it seems it's the 'electric thrill' of him stroking her hair that causes her to arch back and return to centre stage.

Towards the end of the PDD she pushes him away; she may be testing him/playing hard to get, but she may also be thinking about the consequences of her yearnings, now they are being realised. I lean towards the latter, for just before moving into the final clinch that ends the Act, she pauses behind him; two things cross my mind when I see her do this - is she having fleeting second thoughts, rather than just running headlong into what she must know will be a tempestuous affair, or is she starting to comprehend the extent of the power she now holds over the heir apparent to the Austro-Hungarian empire? Either might give anyone pause for thought.

I don't know, but isn't it great that we have such a marvellous set of MacMillan narrative ballets that permit us to imagine such things, and a marvellous company such as the Royal Ballet to trigger those imaginings?

When I joined the forum I thought I'd choose something fairly innocuous but still relevant as my handle; yes, it's a bit cryptic, but I wasn't expecting it to generate any interest whatsoever.

SPD444, I hope you don't mind if I don't 'reveal all' (even the gender of the goat! 🙂 ) as I think it will become self-evident with time.

However, since I don't want to be thought of as a wet blanket, I'm happy to field any guesses with a simple yes/no (no 'getting warm') - can that be done 'peer to peer' within the forum, so it doesn't clutter up the important stuff? If someone gets it right, I'm happy to stump up something to put behind the Amphi Bar (sorry, should that be the Level 5 Pub?) for forum members one evening when I'm there to give the bar staff the cash and the 'winner' is there to stand a chance of getting a drink; I've just looked in my purse/wallet and I have £32.39p in cash, so don't get too excited...

I'm not even sure if the above contravenes forum 'rules'; I apologise to the moderators if it does and await censure.

A lot to mull over from last night's performance, aided and abetted by a good night's sleep and some interesting comments on the forum...

The orchestra: I had assumed the playing was a bit slow (even ponderous) as it was opening night and everyone was taking things a bit cautiously - after all, rehearsals can only take you so far in preparing for 'live' performances, and Hirano had (apparently, though they must have had an inkling) been parachuted in with only days to spare. However, during one of the intervals I did hear someone complain how it was undermining their enjoyment, and I could see (hear?) where they were coming from.

Larisch: I agree - Sarah Lamb IS Larisch; I have not seem anyone else play the role as well as she. Rudolf may well top the cast-list, and Larisch may well only appear sixth, but to me she is the axis around which the, literally, mad world of the ballet revolves, and the motive force that nudges it along its orbit, guiding it (intentionally or otherwise) to its fateful conclusion. To me Larisch has the character of a story-teller/narrator/even author, slightly removed from the ballet (but nevertheless grounded in, and a victim of, its ultimate tragedy). Why? Because she is the only one of the cast deliberately to break the fourth wall; during the procession across the stage at the beginning of the wedding ball scene she pointedly looks out at the audience - she knows we are there, and does she indulge us for the rest of the ballet by making things happen? I regard that look as very significant; I've even gone so far as to wonder if she is an on-stage proxy for MacMillan - the master story-teller himself (I've had that thought about a secondary character responsible for driving the narrative flow before - The Fool in Prince of the Pagodas).

Bratfisch: I'm not a huge fan of Campbell - he too often comes across as Campbell, trying, usually too hard, to impress in whatever role he is playing. But last night I thought he kept his character firmly calibrated to the story rather than to the audience, and the quality of his dancing was the better for it.

Rudolf: Even though I know there is great scope for interpretation within MacMillan, the simple fact that Hirano was replacing Watson (and the pairing of Watson/Osipova was the reason I bought the ticket) still left part of me hoping for a 'like for like' replacement. On that basis I was bound to be a bit disappointed, and in hindsight that is really my fault. My simple memories from the previous run were; Watson, starts deranged/cruel, and it just keeps going downhill from there; Bonelli, starts 'normal' and spirals into a black hole; McRae, starts as a bit of a snarling pantomime villain, but becomes a pitiful human shell by the end. Each is different, and each appeals to a different audience depending on their experiences and expectations. Why should Hirano conform to any of these and not develop his own interpretation? I was also too eager to judge him on the basis of his starting point, rather than his journey. In Act 1 he came across as blank and aloof, but I think I was wrong to ascribe that to either his lack of experience or inability to 'act'; on reflection I think there was an element of 'courtly restraint' on display, with, as bridiem has pointed out in her fantastic summary, the irresistible pressure building within. By Act 3 I was won over; his descent could no longer be contained, managed or corralled and the emotional hit of that last pas de deux with Osipova was a fitting climax. So, in the end we have been given another interpretation - in fact, a first public airing of an interpretation. We can compare it to others, we can rank it against our own experiences of other performances which, in turn, were influenced by our experiences before that - but I think it's too early to do that. I'm happy to see how this one develops, and then decide when the next run comes around how to spend my money (assuming I can still afford the tickets by then!).

Osipova: My immediate thought is 'why did I flag this Osipova and not her character, Mary?' On stage she is so obviously, patently, whatever character she is inhabiting, but she is also so obviously Osipova. I think it's her ability to be both the dancer and the character simultaneously (and complementarily) that gives her such an on-stage presence. I will not forget in a hurry that crazed look as she perches on Rudolf's shoulder and he charges across stage towards the table with the gun, and the warped feeling of near-joy as they succumb to the madness of their deadly pact. And that in contrast to the (albeit probably historically inaccurate) 'love-struck' ingenue of the first half of the ballet (the prior knowledge of whose fate always makes me well-up, especially in the fortune-telling/letter-writing scene). I have nothing but admiration for her ability to cover such gamuts (think Anastasia, think Sylvia).

A couple of other comments, then I will stop! 

I saw nothing 'chilly' about the curtain calls. I agree that with something carrying such an emotional investment, it must be hard just to 'switch' back to happy-smiley for the curtain calls. Sometimes this switch can be thrown by something as simple as receiving flowers, or just by sheer relief (I'm thinking of Osipova's Hallberg/Ball Giselle), but the emotional drain last night must have been huge for a number of reasons (first night of the season; replacement lead; debut; it was Mayerling!).

Why can the Opera House spend millions on a revamp but not afford to make Mary a new negligee for Act 2? The one she was wearing last night had the same ugly darned patch over her 'left thigh' as it had last time round; hopefully I'm not being a pedant - I heard others mention it as well during the interval. It's not like there's a lot of fabric involved...

Was Hirano pushing the screen over THEN collapsing forward (rather than pushing the screen over BY collapsing forward) intentional?

Don't they trust Osipova with a 'real' fake gun because she gets so into her roles...?