Irresistible display of intimacy from one of ballet’s greatest double acts
Alina Cojocaru’s new programme of ballet at Sadler’s Wells begins with a sonic dance as opposed to a physical one: a barnstorming rendition of a Handel passacaglia by violinist Charlie Siem and cellist Maragarita Balanas. It makes for an effervescent opening, and also serves as a statement of intent: this, the former Royal Ballet-turned-english National Ballet principal is telling us, will not be your average star-driven vanity project, but a classy, considered evening, with (mostly live) music every bit the dance’s equal.
In the event, the programme doesn’t entirely avoid the standard portmanteau-show pitfalls. Juliano Nunes’s new love-triangle, Journey, although perfectly respectable, feels tonally surplus to requirements here. And exactly how much the two short films bring to the table is debatable, even if they do (in 2018’s Faces) show Cojocaru commendably up-close and unvarnished, and (in the new Kiev) see her pay touching tribute to some of the teachers who most influenced her when she left her native Bucharest to train in Ukraine.
But there is much here that is excellent. The opening dance work, Tim Rushton’s Reminiscence, is a duet for Cojocaru and her fiancé – and father of her child – Johan Kobborg (also late of the Royal Ballet) that was begun many years ago but has only now been finished.
This is a vignette of intimacy and familiarity, full of mimetic hand gestures and tenderly imitative steps. And, with the sort of mutual understanding and sense of shared experience that cannot be faked, Cojocaru (38, as wonderful as ever) and Kobborg (47, still dancing sublimely, and now out-and-proud bald) repeatedly frame each other’s movements near-telepathically, while she at one point even seems to trace the outline of a small child.
Their own? Another that they hope to have? One that never was? It is impossible to say. But it is one of many tiny vignettes that make this fleeting study of the human condition so cherishable.
The evening also yields a welcome revival of Kobborg’s mischievous neoclassical gem Les Lutins (“The Imps”). This not only proves a virtuosic showcase for Cojocaru, Japanese guest Takahiro Tamagawa and Royal Ballet principal Marcelino Sambé (stupendous), but also sees them interact delectably with the onstage Siem, whose irresistible musicianship ends up charming Cojocaru away from her two would-be paramours. Fabulous.
Strikingly for this sort of galastyle programme, its second half is taken up by just one ballet: Frederick Ashton’s 1963 vehicle for Fonteyn and Nureyev, the tragic love story Marguerite and Armand. And what’s more, this substantial Royal Ballet staple (which Cojocaru never performed with her alma mater) is fully staged here, Cecil Beaton set, six footmen, eight admirers and all.
If ENB principal Francesco Gabriele Frola over-emotes and doesn’t entirely convince as the love-struck Armand, let’s at least give him an A for effort. Meanwhile, Cojocaru – as the titular consumptive courtesan – is every bit as alluring, fragile and pitiable as you’d expect of this magnificent performer, pouncing on every possible physical detail to make Marguerite real.
The stage here is never more alive, though, than when she is sharing it with Kobborg. As Armand’s disapproving, very much bewigged father, he reminds you that – quite apart from being, in terms of technique, the nearest thing the 21st century has had to Baryshnikov – he is also an almost scarily convincing and nuanced actor.
And that, essentially, is why this flawed show will I suspect prove unforgettable. Cojocaru and Kobborg are two of ballet’s all-time-great artists, have still absolutely “got it”, and their partnership – a once-in-ageneration phenomenon – is a rare sight on a British stage these days. What a treat then to see them once again, still, in each other’s arms.