A jolt to the senses
Speed and virtuosity meld in this Romeo and Juliet
In Alexei Ratmansky’s version of Romeo and Juliet, love acts like a triple shot of espresso, jolting the limbs as well as the hearts of the title hero and heroine.
Ratmansky choreographed this new R&J for the National Ballet of Canada’s 60th anniversary in 2012. For audiences accustomed to John Cranko’s more stately, sentimental interpretation — in the NBC repertoire since the 1960s — Ratmansky’s ultra-caffeinated version must have come as something of a shock.
Ratmansky’s love of speed and extravagant displays of virtuosity comes into focus from the very opening moments of the ballet. Romeo, alone on stage, executes a breathless solo variation, all double-quick turns, rapid, nervous battlements and sudden explosive leaps. The steps hum with the electric, show-off exuberance that transcends Renaissance Italy and typifies young males everywhere, throughout time.
It’s this relentless energy that gives the ballet its contemporary flavour. The crowd scenes feature intricate, complex, demanding choreography that nods noticeably toward Mediterranean folk dances — no sedate milling about with fruit and flowers for these residents of Verona. Mercutio, Benvolio and Romeo interact as adolescent bros naturally would: through testosterone-fuelled horseplay. And in their balcony and bedroom scenes, Romeo and Juliet’s passion is sketched out in heart-stopping spinning lifts and arcing, swimming arm motions — two people literally drowning in love for each other.
At Thursday night’s Ottawa premiere, Guillaume Côté’s Romeo had a balls-to-the-wall desperation that made his dancing less perfect, but more honest. The real discovery of the night was Elena Lobsanova as Juliet. She has a beautifully light, soft, expansive port de bras; elegant long feet; and a charmingly dimpled face that makes her pass easily for a teenager. Even in the arms of her lover, her dancing has a demureness — you could almost call it humility — which makes her Juliet achingly vulnerable and wholly believable.
Piotr Stanczyk’s wonderful Mercutio was a spring-loaded class clown, while Étienne Lavigne gave Tybalt a truly hateful, sociopathic bent.
Richard Hudson’s luxe costumes and uncluttered, angular sets are a tribute to quattrocento painting: rich, boldly graphic draperies; heavy robes and turbans in tones of cinnabar, sapphire and sage; and tall, ochre-coloured archways and walls. Like Ratmansky’s choreography, they strike a rare balance between modern and period.
Romeo and Juliet continues at the NAC until Saturday, Feb. 2.