Shostakovich : The Taming of the Shrew
Artists of the Bolshoi Ballet
Orchestra of the Bolshoi Theatre
Igor Dronov
When The Taming of the Shrew was first rumoured as part of the 2015/16 Bolshoi cinema season, I assumed that it would be the Cranko version, which was fine with me because I've never seen it. However, when the trailers started appearing, saying music by Shostakovich, it became clear that this was going to be a completely different piece, and another example of the way the Bolshoi Ballet has been opening up to new works recently. This Shrew comes courtesy of French choreographer Jean-Christophe Maillot, current director of the Monte-Carlo Ballet and former dancer with Neumaier's Hamburg Ballet, and the first foreign choreographer invited to create a full-length ballet for the Bolshoi. It was premiered in July 2014, and tailored to the styles and personalities of the dancers who created the roles, most of whom we saw in today's performance, so it was a little like being offered the chance to see that first performance of 18 months ago.
This is not Shakespeare. There is nothing remotely "English" about this adaptation, not even the tea-drinking (you'll have to see it to get it) - the Russians have their own relationship with tea, after all. What it is, though, is a tremendously witty and wholly engaging account of the basic story, shorn of excess (none of that ridiculously convoluted sub-plot about Lucentio's father and mistaken identities) but absolutely not lacking in emotional impact. It is also completely moulded to the style and presentation of the Bolshoi - at this point, I can hardly imagine any other company being able to give it the same quality of performance, the verve and flair, the speed and the power.
Before even the conductor has made an appearance, a chic, black-clad dancer in (very) high heels strolls out in front of the curtain, smoking idly. With a faintly curious glance out at the audience, she sits down nonchalantly in the middle of the stage, pulls off her heels, and puts on a pair of pointe shoes, then powders her nose, while the conductor, who is now standing amongst the string players, huffs mildly in impatience, which amuses her more than anything else. When she is good and ready, she stands, grandly indicates that he should take the stand, the curtains part, and we're off and running. That gently ironic, sly introduction sets the tone for the whole piece, bold, humorous, sometimes enigmatic, always engrossing.
Maillot's choreographic style is firmly anchored in classical ballet, and his steps do not shout against that style. The end result, however, is strong and clear, often very fast, even explosive (particularly for the men), with every character expressing him- or herself quite emphatically. You might say there's a quite a lot of "shouting" going on, in the dance steps. Even the douce Bianca gives indications that she's perhaps not really the wouldn't-say-boo-to-a-goose type one might take her for. When humour is called for, it's genuinely funny. Petruchio's chest-thumping introduction might be a bit over-the-top, but Vladislav Lantratov's grinning, disreputable Petruchio makes it work for him. His drunken arrival at his own wedding is masterly, and there's a delicious moment when the servant Grumio delivers the invitation to Bianca's wedding, towards the end. Maillot uses mime all right, but it bears no resemblance to the formalised, 19th Century stuff we all know from Petipa, this is forthright, crisply clear, and, when appropriate, hilarious, as in the gestures Grumio uses to depict Bianca.
The dancing was outstanding all around. Anna Tikhomirova, whom I had found a little angular a few weeks ago in Neumaier's Lady of the Camellias, was perfectly suited to the sardonic Housekeeper, who rules the staff with an iron fist in the background, and gives up on her hopes of annexing Baptista (now that he has married off his daughters) in favour of the somewhat louche Gremio of Vyacheslav Lopatin. Igor Tsvirko was a brooding, self-absorbed Hortensio, eventually partnered with the austerely elegant Widow of Yulia Grebenshchikova. Artemy Belyakov was a harried, hapless Baptista, simultaneously obstinate and powerless in the face of Ekaterina Krysanova's tempestuous, violent and intransigent Katharina, admirably matched by Lantratov's energetic, capricious Petrucchio. Olga Smirnova, recently promoted to Principal, was the more lyrical Bianca, with the adoring Lucentio of Semyon Chudin firmly wrapped around her little finger.
Things have clearly been organised so that the ballet is, all the same, accessible by other companies. It's relatively short (2 hours with interval), makes fairly modest demands in casting (10 soloists and a tiny corps of six couples), and the staging and costumes are smart, sexy and very simple. The music has been selected (mostly) from the lighter side of Shostakovich's prolific output, the film music and Jazz Suites, for example, but with an orchestrated version of String Quartet No. 8 for the intense and complex start to Act 2, the principal pas-de-deux between Katharina and Petruchio. It's the orchestral element that might, technically, put the work beyond the reach of smaller companies, because the orchestra is large, and the music demanding, but dazzlingly performed tonight by the Bolshoi orchestra under Igor Dronov, who helped assemble the various bits and pieces into a cohesive and well-judged whole.
I've compared ballet to figure-skating before, and once again, the comparison presented itself, because watching this company was like watching the Russian ice skaters. At their best, there's the fluidity and precision of movement, the sheer turn of speed, and the contained and controlled power that no one else ever quite seems to match. It was obvious even Maillot had made that connection, because three times I saw a move that was visibly inspired by the so-called "death spiral" common in pair skating programmes, and effortlessly delivered here, as was the rest of the choreography, the steps, no matter how difficult or how brilliant, wholly dedicated to conveying the story and the characters. This performance, I hope, will find its way onto DVD; it deserves to be preserved as a model for anyone else wanting to put on this ballet, and there should be many, because it is a true delight.
[Next : 26th January]
No comments:
Post a Comment