Zippy ‘Coppélia’ keeps ballerinas on their toes
The unabashedly old-fashioned “Coppélia” has emerged from the closet, looking as sunny as ever, not a minute over 149 years and yet somehow timeless.
The setting is a Bavarian village where people in bright red boots often break into mazurkas and czardas. The textbook structure has plenty of elements that could seem like filler in the 21st century: Mime. Plotless divertissements. An obligatory wedding scene with a grand pas de deux and fairylike characters who indulge fantasies but add nothing to the plot.
And yet, Léo Delibes’ deliciously melodic score and Houston Ballet’s exuberant performance make every minute fun.
Houston Ballet has Delibes in its bones after performing Stanton Welch’s new “Sylvia” earlier this season, but it last performed Ben Stevenson’s “Coppélia” in 2007. That was three years before Karina González, opening night’s Swanilda, joined the company as a soloist, and a year before Charles-Louis Yoshiyama, her Franz, arrived in the corps de ballet.
Because of their generation’s dazzling technical virtuosity and the ballet’s enduring popularity, Stevenson’s 1992 staging could easily have landed on a list of shows ripe for an update. Desmond Heeley’s opulent set, beautifully restored, is almost a relic in itself, framing the stage with weighty structures.
I was prepared to be bored but surprised to be captivated by the purity of Stevenson’s classical choreography. Simplicity serves this story well, keeping many ballerinas on their toes — and often on one foot.
Capturing the essence of the ebullient , oh-so-danceable music, their steps repeat and repeat and repeat, with slight variations, so you can appreciate it as a test of graceful endurance. They are winding up, building energy, and taking you along for the ride.
Stevenson based his production on one of the oldest ballets in existence. Delibes and choreographer Arthur Saint-Léon had an instant hit in 1870 when they turned E.T.A. Hoffmann’s psychological fantasy “Der Sandmann” into ballet’s first successful comedy. “Coppélia” was 22 years ahead of Peter Tchaikovsky and Marius Petipa’s “The Nutcracker,” another ballet that gave a dark Hoffmann tale the sweet treatment.
The family-friendly story is easy to follow. The real heroine is not the title character but the village girl Swanilda, who wants to be friends with an aloof girl who sits reading on the balcony outside the workshop of the magician-dollmaker Dr. Coppélius. Swanilda’s flirtatious fiancé, Franz, also has eyes for the girl, who has blown him a kiss quite by accident. Swanilda is jealous, and it doesn’t help when the village priest gives her a sheaf of wheat that doesn’t rattle — akin to a “he loves me, he loves me not” custom.
Serious fun begins after some village boys rough up Dr. Coppélius and he drops his house key, allowing Swanilda and her friends to sneak into his workshop and confront the unfriendly girl. Just as they discover that Coppélia is a doll, the old man returns. Swanilda hides in a closet with the doll. Franz has come in through a window, looking for Coppélia. In the most Hoffmann-esque moment of the ballet, the old man catches him and drugs him, plotting to use Franz’s life energy to bring Coppélia to life.
But the willful Swanilda has pulled a switcheroo. Wearing the doll’s clothes, she deceives Dr. Coppélius into thinking his evil magic has worked. She humors him by performing a Spanish dance and a Scottish dance but also gives him a handful — slapping him, poking him in the rear and upending all the other dolls before she and Franz escape, leaving the old guy alone and heartbroken. (Although, really, it’s hard to feel sorry for him.)
Demanding a quick-witted, strong ballerina who is also a consummate actor, “Coppélia” still provides a great vehicle for a dancer like the feisty González. She turns the Act 2 shenanigans into a tour de force performance, as delightful as a hellion can be — sassy and mean yet still lovable as she channels her barely containable energy into the rapid character changes. In the grand pas of Act 3, she corrals the devilishness into highspirited elegance.
Yoshiyama, a terrific partner with crack comic timing and spring-loaded legs, slips easily into the role of Franz. He has less of a transition to make but evolves from a handsome goof into a valiant dynamo by Act 3, when he eats up the stage in leaps, bounds and impressive barrel turns.
Ian Casady is an agile Dr. Coppélius, although the character could be more vivid if he ramped up the wickedness a notch. After Allison Miller breezes good-naturedly through the “Dawn” solo and Yuriko Kajiya brings meditative quietude to the “Prayer” role, the corps de ballet sparkles in the dreamy Waltz of the Hours.
One reason it all flew by: a speedy tempo. Conductor Ermanno Florio and the Houston Ballet Orchestra sounded like they were having as much fun as the dancers with the colorful score, but sometimes it felt like a race. I half expected them all to gallop into the “William Tell Overture” during part of Act 3, although some of the folk dances — full of lifts and twirls that show off the bright, circular skirts of the women — also looked rushed.
Better too fast than too slow. But when simplicity shines, it deserves to be respected, and savored.