Royal Ballet (HD broadcast), 02/11/2016

Tchaikovsky / Martinu : Anastasia

Artists of The Royal Ballet
Orchestra of the Royal Opera House
Simon Hewett


In the 60s, MacMillan was very much the Great Hope of British ballet.  His name was already made, in many respects, with short ballets like The Invitation or Solitaire, and consecration was expected with his first full-length piece, Romeo and Juliet, which has become probably the definitive version internationally since then.  However, it was that same ballet that put the nail in the coffin of an intermittently strained relationship with the management at the Royal Opera House, because he had created it on and for Lynn Seymour and Christopher Gable, but for box-office reasons the premiere was entrusted to Margot Fonteyn and Rudolf Nureyev.  Unhappy with what he viewed as a betrayal, MacMillan accepted an invitation to become Artistic Director at the Deutsche Ballet in Berlin, taking with him a number of dancers from London, including Seymour, and it was for her, there, that he created the original, one-act version of Anastasia in 1967.

In the event, MacMillan was not a great deal happier in Berlin, he disliked the administrative side of running a company, finding that it cut into the time available to work on his choreography.  He returned to London in 1970, as Artistic Director of the Royal Ballet - he would give that up within the decade, for the same reasons he found the post onerous in Berlin, to focus wholly on choreography - and was probably under some pressure to furnish new, original works for the Royal Ballet at quite short notice.  He therefore returned to Anastasia, and fleshed it out into a three-act evening, with the original piece incorporated as Act 3 of the new ballet.  As the first new, full-length, narrative ballet seen in the company since the hugely successful Romeo and Juliet, the anticipation was considerable, and the disappointment with the result something I recall, young as I was, as almost tangible.

The premise of the original version was a sort of psychological exploration of the mysterious (and at the time, still very much alive) figure of Anna Anderson, the woman claiming to be the Grand Duchess Anastasia, youngest daughter of the last Romanov rulers, Nicholas and Alexandra, thought to have been executed along with the rest of her family during the Russian Revolution.  Set to Martinu's 6th Symphony, along with a short passage of specifically composed musique concrète, it was MacMillan very much in the avant-garde of ballet, with an angular, almost violent choreography to express the thoughts of Anderson as she sits in her Berlin asylum after the suicide attempt whose aftermath brought her to the attention of the world.  However, MacMillan left it ambiguous as to whether we are seeing Anderson actually reliving, or retrieving, true memories, or merely convincing herself that she is doing so.  MacMillan's widow has said that he was somewhat inclined to believe in Anna's story, certainly at the time, although when the bodies of the Romanovs were recovered in 1991, subsequent DNA testing proved conclusively that Anderson could not possibly be Anastasia.

In order to fill out the piece, MacMillan concocted two acts of 'back-story' for the real Anastasia, set to Tchaikovsky's 1st and 3rd Symphonies, and showing her in the context of her family, and the Imperial Court, shortly before the outbreak of the Revolution.  Which is all well and good, except it undermines the ambiguities of the third act, by suggesting that Anna really is Anastasia, and also we get two acts in a 'softer', more romantic style, very sharply contrasted to the far more modern choreographic language of the final act.

Nothing much really happens in the first two acts - it's lovely to look at, and there are one or two moments that are truly interesting, notably the centre of the second act, with a trio between Nicholas, Alexandra and Rasputin, turning into a quartet with the addition of Mathilde Kschessinska.  On the whole, however, it's fairly nondescript, and Rasputin in particular seems like a rather egregious addition; by the time of the first act (August 1914) he was rarely actually at court anymore, and by the time of the second (March 1917), he was dead.

He's there, of course, because he was there in the original one-act version, as a ghost from Anastasia's past, or a figure with whom Anna knows Anastasia had to have interacted at one time.  Similarly, much of the choreography of the earlier acts is generated from what was already present in the last act, the interactions with her family, and other movements and gestures; MacMillan was choreographing with hindsight.  However, there is more power in the last forty minutes of the ballet than in all the rest put together, and frankly, the Royal Ballet should ditch the full-length version definitively in favour of the original one.

Either way, it's a tremendous role for the principal ballerina.  She's on stage almost constantly, and if the first two acts demand little of her emotionally, the last makes up for it and then some.  I would have liked to have heard more from Natalia Osipova about the character; she's apparently the first Russian to have ever danced the role, and on top of that, she's young enough that the whole concept of Anastasia-impersonators, of which Anderson was merely the most famous, would be unknown to her save as anecdotal history.  It must put an interesting slant on her concept of the part, compared to her predecessors.  The first two acts were useful for appreciating her technically, light, fluid, effortless, but it's in the last that a character, however confused (in the right sense), really emerged alongside the formidable technique, in a powerful, haunting interpretation.

Natalia Osipova as Anna Anderson/Anastasia
Photograph by Tristram Kenton (© ROH 2016)

Thiago Soares was a bit wasted as Rasputin, he's mostly required to lurk ominously throughout the first two acts, though he did that quite successfully too.  He's more of a grand guignol figure in the last act, you're fairly sure from the outset that he's simply a manifestation of fears rather than an actual person, something that is confirmed by Anna's explosive rejection of him at the end, as if he's keeping her from her realisation of her 'true self' as Anastasia.  Similarly, in the Tchaikovsky acts, Edward Watson is barely noticeable (and it's amazing how much a moustache can render a face almost unrecognisable!) as The Officer courting Anastasia, but in the final act, as The Husband, turns in a strong, physically imposing performance finely attuned to Osipova's projected fragility.

Christina Arestis seems to be specialising in youthful matrons - the last time I saw her was as Victor Frankenstein's Mother, back in May - but it suits her well, she was an elegant and gracious Alexandra, while the 'star turn' of Kschessinska and partner in Act 2 was delivered with great panache by Marianela Nuñez and Federico Bonelli.  Conductor Stewart Hewett handled both Tchaikovsky and Martinu symphonies very well, and it's a handsome production, certainly (though I felt the court dresses in Act 2 were a bit too old-fashioned), but I can only say that it's a bit superfluous, and ultimately dissatisfying to see second-rate MacMillan pitted directly against first-rate.  The last act embodies everything that makes MacMillan one of the greatest choreographers of the last century, the directness and clarity of the language, the originality of concept and the musicality, while the first two acts are little more than window-dressing, pretty but superficial.

[Next : 4th November]