Opposites attract in a double bill of allure, love and hate
WHEN The Rite of Spring enjoyed – or, if you prefer, endured – its world premiere at the newly opened Theatre de Champs-Elysees in Paris on May 29, 1913, it provoked rioting in the stalls and in the streets.
Sadly, Scottish Ballet artistic director Christopher Hampson’s version of what has since been recognised as one of the seminal dance works of the 20th century elicited a more civilised reaction from the audience at the Theatre Royal in Glasgow as the company began a Scotland-wide tour of a Stravinsky double bill.
Not that the term means the two pieces are related. In fact, a shared composer is about the only thing that links them. It would, indeed, be difficult to devise a double bill so disparate. The Fairy’s Kiss is an homage to both Tchaikovsky and tradition; The Rite of Spring could scarcely be more uncompromisingly contemporary.
This is, of course, not necessarily a bad thing – and in this instance it is not. Opposites may not always attract; but these two certainly provided an enthralling evening for an appreciative audience.
In a sense, The Fairy’s Kiss is somewhat derivative. As well as Stravinsky’s score acknowledging the 35th anniversary of Tchaikovsky’s death and referencing one or two of his early melodies, Dunfermline born choreographer and Royal Ballet colossus Sir Kenneth MacMillan based this work on Hans Christian Andersen’s short story The Ice Maiden.
It has a certain rarity value, though. To all intents and purposes unseen since its unveiling in 1960, this was essentially a world premiere – as Hampson informed us in a unusual address to the audience at the start of the evening.
Its setting was that familiar balletic world of Middle Ages Middle Europe, populated with jolly peasants who appear just a little too wholesome and slightly more scrubbed up that one might expect of the era.
Village maiden Bethany Kingsley-Garner, as always, was pretty as a picture, displaying effortless joy and an enviable cleanliness and clarity of line and limb. As her swain, Andrew Peasgood was a jovial, initially everattentive, but easily confused bumpkin. It could have been delightfully bland – but for the eponymous Fairy, who really was the one who made you want to watch. Constance Devernay brought an astonishingly alluring touch of evil to the role as she cynically and cruelly stole the young man away from his fiancée – just because she could. But the way she did it was magnificent, entrancing and abhorring an audience who could not help but admire her, much against their better judgment.
Hampson’s take on The Rite of Spring could scarcely have been more different. Every accoutrement, including costume, was stripped away in a work as modern, minimal and malevolent as you will almost ever see.
Divided into Then and Now, it examined the lives of two brothers living in utter isolation. As their relationship moved inexorably from strained tolerance to horrible brutality, their sealed world was visited by Faith… and Death.
As the older brother, Christopher Harrison was a brutally effective dominant. As the younger, Constant Vigier was a submissive desperately trying to escape.
IT will come as no surprise that Faith and Death turned out to be one and the same – and the catalyst for tragedy. Dressed first in white then all in black, Sophie Martin produced a breathtaking performance of grace and athleticism. Though now moving her career more towards choreography, she remains a dancer who is truly formidable – in the bilingual sense of the word, as perhaps befits a girl from Cherbourg.
This was a truly powerful piece, though Hampson’s vision is far removed from Vaslav Nijinsky’s original choreographic vision.
One wonders how it would have gone down with the star-studded audience – which included Picasso, Proust, Ravel and Debussy – at that Paris premiere more than a century ago. The Rite of Spring/ The Fairy’s Kiss; Scottish Ballet; Festival Theatre, Edinburgh, tonight; His Majesty’s Theatre, Aberdeen, October 24-25; Eden Court, Inverness, November 3-4.