Scottish Ballet, 8/1/2020
Rimsky-Korsakov (arr. Honner) : The Snow Queen
Scottish Ballet
The Scottish Ballet Orchestra
Jean-Claude Picard
Scottish Ballet brings its 50th birthday year to a close with a new Christmas ballet, The Snow Queen, choreographed by the company's Artistic Director Christopher Hampson, to music by Rimsky-Korsakov arranged by the just-retired Head of Music Richard Honner. Based on the Andersen tale, Hampson has remained relatively faithful to the spirit of the story, while taking a certain amount of liberties with it. First and foremost is a sort of back-story to the Snow Queen herself. In a brief prologue, we see not just the Snow Queen but also her younger sister, the Summer Princess, isolated in an ice palace with only each other for company. The Summer Princess grows restless and looks in the enchanted mirror (at this point, thought it's never stated, it's worth remembering that the mirror is a creation of the devil and can only cause mischief) and sees herself passionately embracing a young man. Impatient and eager to meet him, she runs off, leaving the Snow Queen behind, so angry at being abandoned that she shatters the mirror, and sets off to retrieve her sister.
Then the story settles into more familiar lines. Gerda and Kai are, of course, adult and sweethearts - it would be next-to-impossible to have it otherwise, in a ballet - while the Summer Princess has 'gone native' as Lexi, a wily pickpocket plying her trade in busy fairgrounds. Kai is, of course, the young man in the mirror, who has no eyes for anyone save Gerda, until the Snow Queen, to spite her sister, blows shards of the mirror into his eyes and freezes his heart, before making off with him altogether. Lexi reluctantly agrees to help Gerda find out what happened to Kai and introduces her to a gypsy fortune-teller at her bandit camp, and it's in this that we recognise Lexi as the truculent little bandit girl of Andersen's story. Gerda braves the winter spirits sent to bar her way and finds Kai and the Snow Queen, but it takes Lexi's intervention, to reconcile with her sister and free the way for Kai to recover his senses and his fiancée.
Lexi (Kayla-Maree Tarantolo) is a very ambiguous character; to me, she comes across as a sulky teenager much of the time, and neither the original argument between the sisters, nor the final confrontation and reconciliation are terribly convincing. At the end, the sisters fall backwards through the broken mirror, and it's not at all clear why. Have they withdrawn from the mortal world altogether? Are they dead? Gerda and Kai (Bethany Kingsley-Garner and Andrew Peasgood) are a sweetly innocent young couple, but Gerda, at least, is allowed to develop as the ballet progresses, and she's never a simple damsel in distress. The adaptation, therefore, has its pros and cons, just as the choreography does.
The music used is a broad selection from Rimsky-Korsakov, mostly from the suites he created from his operas. I counted five of which I was certain, The Snow Maiden, Christmas Eve, Tsar Saltan, The Golden Cockerel, and Kitezh, plus the latter half of the Capriccio espagnol, and I'm probably missing some. On the whole, the arrangement is quite effective, however the final scene - again, that confrontation between the sisters - does not have one of the stronger passages, and suffers from it.
It's a handsomely designed affair, as one expects from Lez Brotherston (Matthew Bourne's regular collaborator, amongst others), with an interesting quirk to some of the costumes. The townsfolk are dressed in modern clothing, c. 1940s, roughly, and where dancers normally look like size 0s - which they more or less are, being wiry and excessively lean - here they looked pretty much like normal people. Fit ones, admittedly, but not the pencil-thin specimens we usually perceive. I had one beef with the stage design, the cut-out scrim, showing the broken outline of the mirror, that was used periodically cut off the dancers just below the knee, so you could not see their feet, which is never a good thing.
So to Hampson's choreography, which also has its pros and cons. It's solidly classically based, and generally quite appealing, but in the direct interactions - the pas de deux mainly - although it's attractive enough, there's a lack of emotion which is no fault of the dancers. I'm bothered by Lexi's petulance, which is certainly expressed in her steps, because it makes her a brat, rather than something not quite human, which is what I think was the overall intention. There's quite a good differentiation between the Snow Queen's movement - sharply delineated, almost spiky, and very well conveyed by Constance Devernay - compared to the other characters, but perhaps not quite enough to mark the change in Kai. On the other hand, what works very well are scenes that do not really advance the narrative, but are crowd-pleasers. The scene of the winter fair coming progressively to life is very nicely calculated; there may be faint undertones of the Shrovetide Fair in Petrushka, but that seems entirely appropriate. The circus which arrives, and presents several numbers, is also a lively little divertissement in the first act, with a dashing Ringmaster in Bruno Micchiardi.
Where Hampson really knocks the ball out of the park is in the first scene of Act 2. As mentioned above, Lexi brings Gerda to the bandit camp to meet Mazelda the fortune-teller. The scene begins with an ensemble number (set to the Capriccio espagnol), with an on-stage (semi-acoustic) violinist, visually very turn-of-the-century mittel-Europäisch, all swirling gypsy skirts, and headscarves, and a leaping, twirling choreography that is sexy and vital and brilliantly conceived, the perfect marriage of steps and music. Quite frankly, this is worth all the rest of the ballet put together, about eight minutes of pure exhilaration delivered with an extra degree of sparkle and vigour. Technically speaking, it may be cliched, but its impact certainly isn't, and I would really love to see much more of this quality of work from Hampson.
The Snow Queen, despite appearances, lacks a strong dramatic structure - the ending is weak, regrettably - and there's not enough truly distinctive choreography, especially when there is that one example of what Hampson can do when he's really inspired. That said, it's nevertheless a good evening's entertainment, a familiar fairy-tale well enough told in an attractive setting, and a solid choice for the end-of-year festivities.
[Next : 11th January]
Scottish Ballet
The Scottish Ballet Orchestra
Jean-Claude Picard
Scottish Ballet brings its 50th birthday year to a close with a new Christmas ballet, The Snow Queen, choreographed by the company's Artistic Director Christopher Hampson, to music by Rimsky-Korsakov arranged by the just-retired Head of Music Richard Honner. Based on the Andersen tale, Hampson has remained relatively faithful to the spirit of the story, while taking a certain amount of liberties with it. First and foremost is a sort of back-story to the Snow Queen herself. In a brief prologue, we see not just the Snow Queen but also her younger sister, the Summer Princess, isolated in an ice palace with only each other for company. The Summer Princess grows restless and looks in the enchanted mirror (at this point, thought it's never stated, it's worth remembering that the mirror is a creation of the devil and can only cause mischief) and sees herself passionately embracing a young man. Impatient and eager to meet him, she runs off, leaving the Snow Queen behind, so angry at being abandoned that she shatters the mirror, and sets off to retrieve her sister.
Then the story settles into more familiar lines. Gerda and Kai are, of course, adult and sweethearts - it would be next-to-impossible to have it otherwise, in a ballet - while the Summer Princess has 'gone native' as Lexi, a wily pickpocket plying her trade in busy fairgrounds. Kai is, of course, the young man in the mirror, who has no eyes for anyone save Gerda, until the Snow Queen, to spite her sister, blows shards of the mirror into his eyes and freezes his heart, before making off with him altogether. Lexi reluctantly agrees to help Gerda find out what happened to Kai and introduces her to a gypsy fortune-teller at her bandit camp, and it's in this that we recognise Lexi as the truculent little bandit girl of Andersen's story. Gerda braves the winter spirits sent to bar her way and finds Kai and the Snow Queen, but it takes Lexi's intervention, to reconcile with her sister and free the way for Kai to recover his senses and his fiancée.
Lexi (Kayla-Maree Tarantolo) is a very ambiguous character; to me, she comes across as a sulky teenager much of the time, and neither the original argument between the sisters, nor the final confrontation and reconciliation are terribly convincing. At the end, the sisters fall backwards through the broken mirror, and it's not at all clear why. Have they withdrawn from the mortal world altogether? Are they dead? Gerda and Kai (Bethany Kingsley-Garner and Andrew Peasgood) are a sweetly innocent young couple, but Gerda, at least, is allowed to develop as the ballet progresses, and she's never a simple damsel in distress. The adaptation, therefore, has its pros and cons, just as the choreography does.
The music used is a broad selection from Rimsky-Korsakov, mostly from the suites he created from his operas. I counted five of which I was certain, The Snow Maiden, Christmas Eve, Tsar Saltan, The Golden Cockerel, and Kitezh, plus the latter half of the Capriccio espagnol, and I'm probably missing some. On the whole, the arrangement is quite effective, however the final scene - again, that confrontation between the sisters - does not have one of the stronger passages, and suffers from it.
It's a handsomely designed affair, as one expects from Lez Brotherston (Matthew Bourne's regular collaborator, amongst others), with an interesting quirk to some of the costumes. The townsfolk are dressed in modern clothing, c. 1940s, roughly, and where dancers normally look like size 0s - which they more or less are, being wiry and excessively lean - here they looked pretty much like normal people. Fit ones, admittedly, but not the pencil-thin specimens we usually perceive. I had one beef with the stage design, the cut-out scrim, showing the broken outline of the mirror, that was used periodically cut off the dancers just below the knee, so you could not see their feet, which is never a good thing.
So to Hampson's choreography, which also has its pros and cons. It's solidly classically based, and generally quite appealing, but in the direct interactions - the pas de deux mainly - although it's attractive enough, there's a lack of emotion which is no fault of the dancers. I'm bothered by Lexi's petulance, which is certainly expressed in her steps, because it makes her a brat, rather than something not quite human, which is what I think was the overall intention. There's quite a good differentiation between the Snow Queen's movement - sharply delineated, almost spiky, and very well conveyed by Constance Devernay - compared to the other characters, but perhaps not quite enough to mark the change in Kai. On the other hand, what works very well are scenes that do not really advance the narrative, but are crowd-pleasers. The scene of the winter fair coming progressively to life is very nicely calculated; there may be faint undertones of the Shrovetide Fair in Petrushka, but that seems entirely appropriate. The circus which arrives, and presents several numbers, is also a lively little divertissement in the first act, with a dashing Ringmaster in Bruno Micchiardi.
Where Hampson really knocks the ball out of the park is in the first scene of Act 2. As mentioned above, Lexi brings Gerda to the bandit camp to meet Mazelda the fortune-teller. The scene begins with an ensemble number (set to the Capriccio espagnol), with an on-stage (semi-acoustic) violinist, visually very turn-of-the-century mittel-Europäisch, all swirling gypsy skirts, and headscarves, and a leaping, twirling choreography that is sexy and vital and brilliantly conceived, the perfect marriage of steps and music. Quite frankly, this is worth all the rest of the ballet put together, about eight minutes of pure exhilaration delivered with an extra degree of sparkle and vigour. Technically speaking, it may be cliched, but its impact certainly isn't, and I would really love to see much more of this quality of work from Hampson.
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| Grace Horler (Mazelda) and Jerome Barnes (Zac) The Snow Queen, Scottish Ballet (© Andy Ross, 2019) |
[Next : 11th January]