Gothic ballet too long, choppy
In an era when a pop diva can make news by cloning her pet pooch, the act of constructing a humanoid out of spare body parts seems less fantastic than it might have a generation ago. Should we rejoice or weep? The search for a suitable tone is only one of the issues afflicting Liam Scarlett’s “Frankenstein,” which opened a week’s revival run by the San Francisco Ballet Tuesday, March 6, at the War Memorial Opera House.
This year marks the 200th anniversary of the publication of Mary Shelley’s source novel, a Gothic affair that has inspired almost two centuries of theatrical endeavor. Young English choreographer Scarlett, in his first full-evening ballet, strives uneasily to mingle philosophical ruminations with episodes of violence, and the two never quite congeal into a satisfying unity. So audiences wait through a comedy scene in an anatomy theater, ensemble numbers and romantic duets for a bit of mayhem.
But not until the middle of the second act does the piece begin to probe the essential relationship between Victor Frankenstein and his creation. Not until the middle of the second act does it explore the scientist-as-God issue, which should obsess his protagonist.
Instead, Scarlett betrays his inexperience in building a narrative that neither moves briskly nor exudes psychological resonance. Instead, he fills the stage with corps numbers that feature, in their turn, medical students, drunken revelers, household staff, garden party guests and waltzing ballroom couples. He tosses in a couple of unnecessary murders (one is a child) and a superfluous execution that seems a gratuitous way to end the second act.
There may be an explanation as to why this “Frankenstein” creeps toward the three-hour mark. Scarlett originally planned this production in 2016 for London’s Royal Ballet; the San Francisco Ballet came in as coproducer. English ballet fans, still under the spell of the late Kenneth MacMillan, really devour these melodramas, with their unmotivated ensembles and hosts of minor characters, with tangential relationships to the plot. Americans prefer less throat clearing in their dance dramas.
The heart of this “Frankenstein” (reset by Ricardo Cervera) resides in the solos and duets. The creature stumbles into society; his maker drowns in guilt and you wait for it all to play out, disastrously. Scarlett cuts right to the bone here, and the duets for Victor and his fiancee Elizabeth show the choreographer at his most fluid.
The lead at this opening performance went to Max Cauthorn, who last year danced the assignment before he moved from corps to solo ranking. He delivers with much assurance and dramatic attack, although he looks indecently youthful for this role. Cauthorn proved a staunch partner to his Elizabeth, Lauren Strongin, whose arching line elevates the duets. Wei Wang was vivid, even touching as the creature. Esteban Hernandez flew through the air as friend Henry.
John Macfarlane’s period costumes and atmospheric decor (especially that anatomy theater) are exceptional. Lowell Liebermann’s score borrows from Mahler and Ravel occasionally, but mostly settles into raucous blandness. Martin West conducted.