danceview
a quarterly review of dance

Reviews

Paquita Returns Home
and the Kirov Wanders

by Marc Haegeman
copyright © 2001 by Marc Haegeman
Spring 2001

Paris

Shortly after acquiring George Balanchine’s stylish triptych Jewels, the Paris Opera Ballet made yet another remarkable addition to its cornucopian repertory. Paquita, until recently only known in the guise of Petipa’s brilliant virtuoso Grand Pas—sublime example of abstract classical choreography—but originally one of the major French ballet-pantomines of the Roman-tic era, has now been recreated for the company in its entirety, as a two-act ballet, by Pierre Lacotte. Paquita has finally returned home. And very successfully so.

The performance history of Paquita is indeed a curious one and characteristic for the cross-pollination of 19th-century ballet. Typical exponent of the Romantic period’s infatuation with “exotic” subjects (Spain and gypsies), Paquita was premiered at the Paris Opera in 1846 with a choreography by Joseph Mazilier and music by E.M.E. Deldevez. The leading roles were danced by Carlotta Grisi and Lucien Petipa, the successful creators of Giselle five years earlier. Set in Spain during the Napoleonic wars, it tells the story of the French officer Lucien d’Hervilly, who in spite of his betrothal to the sister of the Spanish governor, falls in love with a gypsy girl, Paquita. Paquita saves Lucien from a sinister plot machinated by her jealous suitor, the gypsy chief Inigo, and is eventually revealed as Lucien’s cousin, raised by gypsies when a child. Instead of the hapless “mariage de raison”, Lucien can marry Paquita and live happily ever after.

Already in 1847 the ballet was mounted for the Imperial Theaters in St. Petersburg by Marius Petipa, and restaged in 1881, again by Petipa. On that second occasion Petipa added the famous Grand Pas for the leading dancers, a mazurka for children (with new music by Ludwig Minkus), and revised the pas de trois in the first Act.

Paquita soon disappeared from the Parisian stage in the second half of the 19th century, but in Russia the full-length ballet was performed in Petipa’s version until the 1920s. While Mazilier’s ballet was forgotten, interest in Petipa’s pieces was kept alive by several stagings, first in the West (by among others Balanchine, Danilova, and Nureyev). In Russia it was Oleg Vinogradov, then artistic director of the Kirov Ballet, who in 1978 distilled the Grand Pas and the pas de trois into a successful Paquita-divertissement, a version soon acquired by the Paris Opera Ballet.

Considering his widely acknowledged expertise in restoring the 19th-century repertory and his special interest in the Romantic era, a crucial period in French ballet history, it is rather surprising that so far the Paris Opera Ballet hasn’t commissioned more works from Pierre Lacotte. The company obtained his staging of Taglioni’s La Sylphide, but Paquita is in fact the first full-length ballet Lacotte especially created for Paris.

While plot and original pantomime have been preserved, the choreography by Mazilier is for the most part lost. What we see now is almost entirely Lacotte’s work, “in the style of”, but clearly attuned to today’s technical and dramatic standards. The choreography is very demanding and often elaborate for both male and female dancers, corps de ballet as well as soloists, and relies primarily on allegro technique. All the women dance on pointe and Lacotte may well praise the usually underrated virtuosity of the male dancers of the Romantic era, to see in the first few moments of the ballet two male bravura variations culminate in manèges with ‘double sauts de basque’ and ‘coupé jetés en tournant’, makes it clear to everyone that Mazilier’s style has been firmly updated.

Lacotte’s choice to keep the Petipa additions is certainly inspired by the valuable accounts from his former teachers Lubov Egorova and Carlotta Zambelli, who both danced the ballet in St. Petersburg in the beginning of the 20th century, but it is not an obvious one. With the Grand Pas kept intact, a totally different world opens up at the end of the ballet, an experience which already briefly occurred with the pas de trois-intermezzo in Act I. Not only the costumes are different, the whole atmosphere of Petipa’s grandiloquent style is alien to the romantic ‘espagnolades’ of Mazilier, even when updated by Lacotte.

Yet I reckon that very few will mind that in an early 19th-century gypsy camp in Spain all of the sudden two girls turn up in tutu, or that a group of children start to dance a mazurka at a ball in Saragossa. Although originally a melodrama, Lacotte takes a light-hearted view at the story and sees it basically as a pretext for dancing. Thanks to his theatrical flair, the sweep of his dances, and the spirit and talent of the Paris company this Paquita is irresistibly entertaining.

The production is large-scaled with spacious trompe l’oeil sets and fine costumes by Italian designer Luisa Spinatelli. The decors, based on the original ones of the romantic period, are grand but unobtrusive, while the costumes of different historical periods are mixed in a typical anachronistic way.

Injuries were creating havoc among the soloists of the Paris Opera Ballet and on opening night Aurélie Dupont was replaced by Clairemarie Osta. In the performance I attended, on January 26th, it was première danseuse Marie-Agnès Gillot who took over from Agnès Letestu in the leading role, partnered by Jean-Guillaume Bart. The following night Gillot danced again, this time with José Martinez as Lucien d’Hervilly.

Although I have the feeling that the role should be better suited for a smaller dancer and Marie-Agnès Gillot’s Paquita looks neither very Spanish nor very gypsy, she was by no means a disappointment. Extremely tall and lean, Gillot tackled the choreo-graphy with confidence and fervour, and endowed her character kindness and spirit. A few blemishes in finish notwithstanding (and easily forgiven in a debut), her performance was admirable throughout. Gillot’s appearance in tutu at the final Grand Pas was a splen-did metamorphosis, displaying stylish bravura and impeccable grandeur. A gifted comedienne, she took full advantage of Lacotte’s tongue in cheek treatment of the 2nd scene when Inigo’s plot is joyfully thwarted.

Jean-Guillaume Bart, one of the younger male étoiles in the company, proved a magnificent d’Hervilly. Bart is a true danseur noble and gave the role dashing presence and aristocratic dignity. A strong partner, his dancing was nothing less than exemplary.

José Martinez, tall and slim, covering for Bart on the second night, is a fine dancer as well, although the lack of rehearsal time may have accounted for some heavy handed partnering. His duets with Gillot lacked fluidity and security, and several of the high lifts were omitted.

Yann Saïz and Karl Paquette were both enjoyable as gypsy chief Inigo, a Lankedem-type character in this version, with Saïz having the edge on purely technical grounds.

The pas de trois in Act I was a showcase for some ravishing dancing, especially by the male soloists Jérémie Belingard and, in the other cast, Emmanuel Thibault. By comparison some of the girls looked a bit constricted, with only Clairemarie Osta and Fanny Fiat really succeeding in bringing these variations as something more than a well-learned school exercise. The corps de ballet was generally admirable and the few rough edges in the ensemble work here and there did not distract from the apparent overall quality of the company.

David Coleman, who conducted the Orchestre Colonne, revised and orchestrated the music by Deldevez and Minkus. His arrangements are stylish and he made no attempt to equalize the two scores. While studying Deldevez’ score for this production, Coleman discovered that the music for the pas de trois, tradition-ally attributed to Minkus, is in fact composed by Deldevez. Only the coda is by Minkus and the variation for the boy is by Adolphe Adam.

The production was received with much enthusiasm and once the company will have completely grown into it, Lacotte’s Paquita is sure to gain a well-deserved place among the ever-popular 19th century ballets.

Kirov Ballet
Amsterdam – March, 2001 – Giselle and Swan Lake

The Kirov Ballet returned to Amsterdam in March for an eleven-day engagement at the Royal Theatre Carré, proposing four performances of Giselle, three of the popular Fokine programme (with Chopiniana, Petrushka, and Scheherazade), and another four of the perennial Swan Lake.

Being a well known circus theatre in downtown Amsterdam, usually programming musicals and cabaret acts, Carré can hardly be considered the ideal venue for a ballet performance, yet it was sheer heaven compared to the abysmal RAI centre where the company had appeared the previous year. Even if the sightlines in the expensive front row seats of the orchestra stalls are inadequate, at least the stage is sufficiently spacious and the Orchestra of the Mariinsky Theatre, slimmed down for the occasion, could take place in a proper pit covering the whole width of the stage. It remains nonetheless a pity that a company like the Kirov cannot obtain the ideal Muziektheater, at only three canals distance from Carré. However, with Giselle and Petrushka as new productions for Amsterdam, this visit of the Kirov was greeted with much the same enthusiasm by the Dutch audiences as the previous year and most of the performances of this short season sold out.

The performances I attended (four Giselles and two Swan Lakes) brought very little surprises and basically confirmed the image I acquired in the last five or six years. The quality of the ensemble, under the watchful eye of director Makhar Vaziev, remains excellent, even if it is quite clear that the group has the deplorable tendency to appear less sharp on these smaller engagements than in London or New York, where the pressure is so much higher. The female corps de ballet can still look ravishing, but the final impression is one of regret and discontent because of too many weak and uninspired performances by the leading dancers.

In usual publicity fashion many of the current star principals had been announced, yet only a few of them eventually performed in Amsterdam. There were injuries, several soloists were held up in a project with John Neumeier, and the company gave even more the impression of being overstretched. The result was a complete reshuffle of the casts and of the four scheduled Giselles only one actually danced in Amsterdam. Diana Vishneva danced opening night and the third performance, while the other two were entrusted to Irina Zhelonkina and to Maya Dumchenko. Except for the leading couples the casts for Giselle remained exactly the same for all four performances. The Peasant pas de deux was regrettably omitted because of lack of dancers.

Vishneva, Zhelonkina, and Dumchenko are very different Giselles and these differences go well beyond simple nuances in interpretation of the role. Also judging from these performances it’s hard to talk about a uniform Kirov style or stamp among the female soloists of the company. Even soloists coached by the same ballet master look completely dissimilar. Vishneva and Dumchenko, both Vaganova graduates of the same age, have always been preparing their roles with Olga Chenchikova, yet there is a world of contrast between them in style, manner and approach.

The much publicized Diana Vishneva, one of the protégés of Vaziev, is an often dazzling technical dancer but with a very limited dramatic vocabulary and emotional range. As Giselle Vishneva fares best in the 2nd Act by her lightness, her speed and the ease by which she tackles the choreography. But even here, the mannerisms, the hyperflexibility and exaggerated extensions call too much attention to themselves. An even more serious flaw is Vishneva’s apparent refusal or inability to identify with the character. Stylistically incongruous, her appearance as playful, much too sophisticated girl (her hair in a long tail, creating obvious problems for her partner during the supported pirouettes) in the 1st Act was not only in open defiance of the ballet’s performance tradition, it completely failed to reveal anything new about the role. When Vishneva danced Giselle in 1999 there was still a trace of feeling for style and period, now hardly two years later there is very little left of it.

As was also noticeable in Vishneva’s interpretation of Juliet last year, dramatic accents in her Giselle are constantly sacrificed to what seems to be a very personal approach: the prediction of her fate by her mother was nothing but a few threatening chords in the music, the mad scene was surprisingly unmoving and inefficient, the final moments with Albrecht had her staring numbly into the distance. Even the curtain calls looked strangely contrived. It may well be spectacular, but it tells us little or nothing about Giselle or Romantic ballet.

Maya Dumchenko, on the other hand, is a genuinely lyrical dancer, for whom technique – excellent as it is – is never a purpose in itself. With Vishneva she is one of the youngsters whose career took abrupt flight with Vaziev’s rise to power in the mid-nineties, yet unlike Vishneva and others, Dumchenko has been featuring less and less prominently in the company in recent years, frequently consigned to second rank duty on tours. Even her Giselle in Amsterdam was a last-minute decision brought about by the absence of the scheduled dancers.

In any case, I found her Giselle fascinating from start to end. Remembering Maya Dumchenko as Giselle back in 1997, I was then struck by the tragic intensity of her portrayal. Yet now she showed even greater understanding of the dramatic and choreographic whole. The pace of the 1st Act, leading subtly but inexorably toward the mad scene, was most captivatingly handled. The mad scene itself was a dramatic highlight. But what really made this Giselle superior, and a performance worthy of the Kirov lineage, was Dumchenko’s sense of style and the quality of her plastique for the 2nd Act, improved beyond all. With her there are none of the applause milking sky-high extensions or flashy outbursts, instead she simply reminded us how telling a 90 degree arabesque can be and how fluid and limpid arms can appear. Everything about her was poetically believable, everything looked right and true.

Irina Zhelonkina, who joined the company in 1989 and was promoted to soloist in 1995, is not often cast in leading roles on tours either. In fact, her performance as Giselle in Amsterdam was a total surprise and wouldn’t have happened if the company wasn’t so overextended. Zhelonkina hadn’t danced the role in the last two years, but with a minimum of rehearsal time, she gave us the second splendid Giselle of this season.

As with Dumchenko her Giselle is firmly linked to tradition as a result of her stylistical integrity and theatrical instinct. All delicate charm and girlish innocence, the naiveté of Zhelonkina’s Giselle in the opening scenes was touching, and one could only feel compassion for her sincere feelings followed by disbelief and despair upon discovering Albrecht’s schemes. Her mad scene went straight to the heart (Zhelonkina was also the only Giselle who let her hair down).

An admirable stylist, Zhelonkina is perfectly at home in the nocturnal atmosphere of the 2nd Act. Her effortless, airy jumps, her fragile, ethereal lines, her fluid movements, her emotional response, made me wondering why she can’t be seen more often in this role. After her performance the word “Leningrad style” could be heard backstage and it was no coincidence that “St. Petersburg” wasn’t used.

While the role of Albrecht offers massive opportunities for the leading man, it is amazing that the Kirov male soloists make so little use of them. With many the role lacks depth and suffers from dramatic inconsistencies - which weren’t there, say, ten or fifteen years ago. For example somebody should tell these Albrechts that it makes more sense when they wait for Myrtha’s command to continue their solo.

Igor Kolb may be a rewarding dancer on his own, his character remained superficial and there was hardly any rapport with Vishneva. The first encounter with Giselle in the second Act resulted in a series of frantic high jumps, which resembled more a solo competition. Many fine moments in the ballet were simply overlooked.

Farukh Ruzimatov, who partnered Vishneva in her second performance, has never been the most convincing of Albrechts, yet this evening he also looked embarrassingly out of shape and hardly ever touched the role. That he substituted poor man’s version of Le Corsaire for the traditional variation in the second Act is questionable, but that he danced it badly is a more serious matter.

Vyacheslav Samodurov was much better. Samodurov has been dividing his time between Kirov and other companies, mainly Dutch National Ballet in Amsterdam. This commuter career often placed him in an awkward position and gained an acute dimension during this tour when he had to prepare Albrecht for the Kirov and James for the Dutch National’s Sylphide simultaneously.

Samodurov’s Albrecht was nonetheless a praiseworthy performance and his dancing could hardly be faulted. Although he never danced Giselle with Zhelonkina before and had only two rehearsals with her, theirs was a true partnership serving the roles. Sparking each other off, the pas de deux in the 2nd Act acquired a sense of despair, as if both were aware that these were their final moments together.

This was even more the case with Dumchenko and Baranov. Viktor Baranov may not be the most exciting male dancer in the Kirov, on this occasion he proved ideal. He made a credible Albrecht, gently aristocratic, danced well and was above all a perfect partner. The way he lifted Dumchenko in the 2nd Act’s adage made the image of fluidity and weightlessness complete. Baranov was the only one who successfully did the swallow lifts in the 2nd Act. The other Albrechts didn’t even bother.

Myrtha was danced in all performances by Tatiana Amosova, coldly authoritative and exciting, if more by stature and boldness of movement than by subtlety of dancing. Veteran soloist Alexander Kurkov was a credibly passionate Hilarion. And if the male corps wasn’t always that sharp, the Wili’s in the 2nd Act were a delight to watch. It was a shame that the lighting in the 2nd Act was too bright and ruined much of its evocative power.

Skipping the Fokine programme but returning for the final weekend of Swan Lakes, it seemed that many of the soloists had already left Amsterdam. Apparently so did inspiration. The two Swan Lakes I saw looked far too much like routine, not helped by the lacklustre leads. The four performances were entrusted to Sofia Gumerova (twice), Veronika Part, and Tatiana Amosova, partnered by Danila Korsunstsev or Evgeny Ivanchenko.

None of the two casts I saw was particularly memorable. Amosova at least had the panache and energy to bring off the Black Act in an exciting way, but failed to move as Odette.

Part on the other hand was dull and lifeless. Tall, physically gifted, Veronika Part is one of the youngsters recently pushed forward by the management, come what may. Performances like this makes one wonder why. Slow, languid and heavy, Part reduced Swan Lake to some snapshots of plastical beauty and stillness. Her Odette remained hidden under a huge crown of feathers, while her Odile, lacking dynamic, speed and confidence, was a non-event. A fitting Monna in Giselle doesn’t automatically make a good Swan Lake.

Evgeny Ivanchenko, who danced Siegfried on both occasions, may have the potential of a danseur noble, he is also one of the most tedious artists in the company. He still hasn’t figured out what to make of his character and danced without conviction or joy. Alexander Kurkov is now too old to dance Rothbart, unfortunately he was cast in both performances.

The pas de trois with Dumchenko, Zhelonkina, joined by the young and promising Dmitry Simeonov, was one of the all too rare bright moments in a low-key finale to a none too exhilarating season.

Alexander Titov, who conducted all performances in Amsterdam, hardly looks at what’s happening on stage. The music-making was tame; the thrill is gone.

It’s unnecessary to repeat the many difficulties the Kirov Ballet is facing at the advent of the third millennium. It is somehow telling for the general state of affairs of this company that it is having difficulties in finding suitable leading dancers for smaller engagements like this, while on the other hand some of the most rewarding performances were given by those artists who are usually benched. Even a company with the reputation and the history of the Kirov Ballet cannot live on its name forever.