Royal Opera House

Everyone knows the story of ‘Swan Lake’. A princess turned into a swan, a wicked sorcerer, a chiselled prince coming to save her. It’s a wonder that the ancient story, and ancient 1877 choreography by Marius Petipa, is still beguiling audiences. But just like the most classic of fairy tales, the tale of the cursed princess remains a gesamtkunstwerk that will definitely pull on your heartstrings.  In a production first staged in 2018, ‘Swan Lake’ at the Royal Opera House is very much a trad ballet. It’s got all the things you’d expect – beautiful, featherlight swans moving in mesmerising unison, grand sets (designed by John Macfarlane), lavish costumes (a personal favourite was the Queen’s glittering black Victorian ball gown with an enormous bustle), and a bombastic Tchaikovsky score. Apart from an altered ending, there’s not much about this production by Liam Scarlett that shocks or surprises. Everything is neatly shaped to fit into the package that is ‘the ballet’. It’s still beautiful and satisfying to watch, but not particularly mind blowing.  In Act I the corps moves with military precision, with formations creating wonderful symmetry as the ballerinas swung their legs like pendulums. Then in the enchanted forest we meet Mayara Magri as Odette, who portrayed her with both a treacly sadness and light skittishness – not an easy combination to nail. Marcelino Sambé’s Prince Siegfried was a dependable partner, while also performing some seriously impressive jetés and pirouet

'The Winter's Tale' is back at Royal Opera House in 2024. This review is from its 2014 opening. Love may conquer all, but the road there is often paved with jealousy and heartache. Cue British choreographer Christopher Wheeldon’s adaptation of Shakespeare’s ‘The Winter’s Tale’. One of the Bard’s lesser-realised tragicomedies, it’s now the first major new Shakespearean ballet in half a century. Friendship between kings is put to the test, a wife’s fidelity is questioned, a mother and son perish, a newborn is abandoned. Where’s the comedy you may ask? Well there’s not a lot in the fraught first act of this psychological story. Edward Watson articulates the paranoid Leontes’ suspicions about his wife’s fidelity, transforming the first act’s nobleman-protagonist from a loving husband into a wretched monster full of unsettled anguish. Under Natasha Katz’s brilliant lighting design, this inner turmoil spirals compellingly into insanity. Colourful courtly scenes turn to sour distress, and after 49 minutes you’re in need of the sublime relief of act two. Here, designer Bob Crowley triumphs with his set for Bohemia, the land of delight and merriment where Leontes’ daughter Perdita has grown up in the 16 years since act one, unaware of her royal lineage.Under an enchanted tree, the gaiety of love between Perdita and young nobleman Florizel is stunningly performed by Sarah Lamb and Steven McRae – the fusing of classical direction with the odd contemporary twist is sheer heaven. Their fl