One of the most celebrated choreographers in the storied history of the balletic form, Marius Petipa, will forever be remembered for creating The Nutcracker and Sleeping Beauty – both scored by Tchaikovsky and adored by children the world over. His 1895 revival of Swan Lake continues to be the touchstone for productions staged to this day, ensuring his place in history. But not all of Petipa’s works have enjoyed quite the same staying power.
Harlequinade, originally performed by the Imperial Ballet in Saint Petersburg in 1900, is one of the more rarely staged examples of his oeuvre. Drawing on the Italian tradition of comedia dell’arte, Harlequinade is a pantomime-like production stacked with clowns, faeries and boisterous bundles of broad physical comedy. Or, as the Australian Ballet’s artistic director David Hallberg put it on opening night before the curtain finally rose on this lockdown-delayed co-production with the American Ballet Theatre, it’s a “sugar puff”. A great introduction to ballet, then, for families with younger kids.
Opening on Robert Perdziola’s marvellously detailed set depicting a bustling city street crammed with cottages, young lovers Harlequin (Brett Chynoweth) and a balcony-bound Columbine (Benedicte Bemet) proceed to woo one another before taking to the streets with spritely pas de deux.
Despite their joyously effervescent pairing, the course of true love does not run smooth. Columbine’s cranky father Cassandre (Steven Heathcote) sneers at her penniless suitor while manipulatively angling to marry her up to rich boy Léandre (Timothy Coleman). Enter, stage left, creepy mime-like Pierrot (Callum Linnane), a flopsy-limbed and white-robed sad sack with comically overlong sleeves that drown his flailing arms.
Tasked with preventing their would-be union, Pierrot takes things way too seriously despite his silly nature. It surprisingly leads to a momentary dash of Brothers Grimm-like darkness, as Harlequin is promptly hurled from that very same balcony and torn limb from limb for good measure, in an eyebrow-raising inversion of that Romeo and Juliet-style meet-cute. All of which might make us reappraise the ‘fun for all the family’ tag if it weren’t for the fact that (a) it’s handled with lashings of absurd comedy, and (b) Harlequin quickly recovers from said indignity with the help of Ingrid Gow’s Good Fairy. Conveniently, she also provides him with a pair of magically blessed slapsticks to fight back in the name of truth and love against the louts that beset him.
It doesn’t make a lick of sense, but then again, like any old fairy tale, it doesn’t have to. The plot, mostly over before act two, is not the drawcard here. Rather it’s the ebullient performances of the corps de ballet that whisk that sugar puff into a frolicsome fairy floss of good, clean fun. And what makes the proceedings extra adorable is the space provided for a phalanx of teeny stars-in-the-making, sourced from ballet schools all over Victoria, to jeté away with the principal artists in what would surely be a magic moment for all involved.
Having a ball with the silliness of it all, the ensemble are swathed in gloriously kaleidoscopic costumes also whipped up by designer Perdziola. And as cute as his sets for act one are, a much more open ballroom staging for act two allows the corps to show off what they can do with much grander set-pieces.
Aus Ballet regular collaborator Alexei Ratmansky builds on the bones of Petipa’s original choreography to dazzling effect. Retaining the original score by Riccardo Drigo as performed with bravura gust by Orchestra Victoria, it’s a flight of fancy that really comes alive in the latter half and leaves you floating on cloud nine alongside love’s young dream Harlequin and Columbine.
