"Sleeping Beauty"
Russian National Ballet Theatre
Marin Center
San Rafael, CA
February 11, 2011
by Rita Felciano
Copyright © Rita Felciano, 2011
Jim Farley, who directs the Marin Center's cultural and performing arts series, explains that Russian ballet finds a big audience in his theater. Indeed, the 2,000 seat theater was just about sold out for the one night appearance of the Russian National Ballet Theatre's production of "Sleeping Beauty" for which no choreographic or directorial credit was given beyond Petipa. "Russian" and "story ballet" clearly have lost little of their popular appeal and not just among the Bay Area's large Russian community. What the enthusiastic audience received was a generally well danced, truncated and stripped down version of a beloved classic. Still several times my theater companion, who danced with the Marquis de Cuevas company and who was surely familiar with the exigencies of traveling and performing in constricted circumstances, couldn't help but shudder.
With a few exception, this production's reduced story telling to minimum. Mime was absent even where it would have been essential. The emphasis squarely rested on the pure dance passages with continuity or emotional logic falling by the wayside. This was particularly irksome in the second act when, unless you knew it, you wouldn't have found out that it was the Lilac Fairy who called up the vision scene for a (not very) melancholic prince (Ruslan Mukhambetkaliev) who really had looked out of place when he leapt (spectacularly, to be sure) into the hunting scene.
The production also imbued two character roles with more than a touch of comedy. The Master of Ceremony's (Dmitri Shchemelinin) function was enlarged from his bungling -- though he is forgiven -- the invitations to being beaten up by Carabosse's attendants. He also fetched the baby and placed her in the cradle. In Act I he seemed in love with Aurora, and he became a kind of dancing master for the divertissements dancers in Act III. Carabosse (Evgeny Rudakov), attended by three monsters, was intentionally and marvelously over the top. Swooping in his "ermine" edged black cape, contracting and exploding in rage, he threatened mayhem, yet cowered in fear in front of Lilac. Missing was the sense of injured dignity, no matter how oftene he pointed to his crown.
While it would have been lovely to have a sense of context for this fairy tale, the performance itself was refined even though not very animated. But the dancers clearly have been beautifully trained; to see their ensemble work was worth putting up with mediocre production values. The ensemble work impressed more than individual interpretations. The trio for the knitting ladies--costumed like milkmaids--with its crisp, dainty point work was a charmer. Lilac's attendants showed an impeccable, unforced discipline; their dancing was clean, unadorned and as musical as was possible given the rather raucous tape of the score. Several times I was reminded of someone's speaking about "the glory of unisons" of which there were many in this production. Of the Fairy variations - -which didn't even acknowledge the presence of the birthday child -- Anna Petushinova's fluttering Canary and Victoria Krakhmaleva's crisp piqués in Generosity looked particularly good. Maria Klyueva Lilac suffered from some serious mishaps in the Waltz. She dropped off point in a turn and, unfortunately, didn't find her rhythm again.
The third act dispensed with the Precious Jewels variations though the remaining ones for Pussycat and Tom, Bluebird and Florina (lovely port de bras from Marianna Chemalina) and Little Red Riding Hood and Wolf (a spectacularly leaping Marlen Alimanov) were nicely detailed -- a pleasure to watch.
The big disappointment was Ekaterina Egorova's Aurora. A physically beautiful dancer with a small head and long tapered limbs, her technique was not particularly strong -- as evidenced in the tentative Rose Adagio, and not just in the balances. Egorova is very stiff in upper body -- she probably couldn't do épaulement if she tried. Throughout, she looked like a wound-up porcelain doll. Only in the knitting needle incident when she refused give up the dangerous object, did she show a vivacity which made you think that there must be a dancer of charm and conviction somewhere in that body.
Mukhambetkaliev's Desire cannot be faulted on the technical demands of the role -- impressive jumps, soaring jetés, clean entrechats with impeccable endings. His partnering skills were secure but impersonal but then who can blame him when at the beginning of the Grand Pas de Deux his Aurora turns her head away from him and smiles at the audience. The ending traditionally honors the new czar and his bride; here Lilac was hoisted high above everyone. Somehow, it seemed appropriate.