BWW Reviews: SLEEPING BEAUTY at American Ballet Theatre

In my next life, I'm returning as the world's foremost dance historian to write the ultimate chronicle of Tchailovsky's Sleeping Beauty from 1890 to 2013. It's going to be a huge tome, one that encompasses every move, scene shift and cast change that was ever seen. Actually, by the time I finish my epic work, it will be superseded by an even larger tome, but that's life. What led me to this decision was American Ballet Theater's production of Sleeping Beauty that I saw on the July 6, 2013, the closing night of the season. This sent me back to my books, DVDs, CDs, balletomane friends and YouTube to decide just what Sleeping Beauty is all about, or should be about.

The saga of Sleeping Beauty began in 1888 when Ivan Vsevolozhsky, the Director of the Imperial Theatre, decided that Charles Perrault's Sleeping Beauty would be the basis for a majestic ballet. He invited Tchaikovsky to compose the ballet music, even though his only previous ballet, Swan Lake (the first version composed in 1877), was a total failure. But Tchaikovsky had become one of Russia's foremost composers since that time, and why not commission a composer who professed his love of the ballet? Also available was Russia's foremost choreographer, Marius Petipa. I can imagine what was going through Vsevolozhsky's mind: a great composer, a revered choreographer, and a chance for him to write the libretto and design costumes.

Tchaikovsky didn't hesitate in undertaking the commission. He supposedly completed the overture, prologue and outlines of Acts I and II in less than three weeks. The entire score was finished at the end of May 1889, Tchaikovsky having allegedly spent 40 days composing 3 ½ hours worth of music. As he wrote in a letter, "The subject is so poetic, so inspirational to composition, that I am captivated by it."

Rehearsals began in August, but the premier, originally scheduled for December, was postponed repeatedly. Opening night was finally set for January 15, 1890, with Carlotta Brianza as Aurora, a ballerina that Tchaikovsky admired not only to her technical virtuosity, but her emotional restraint and sensitive acting ability. Others in the cast included Pavel Gerdt as the Prince, Maria Petipa as the Lilac Fairy and Enrico Cecchetti, doubling in the mime role as the evil fairy, Carabosse, and the Blue Bird.

The ballet was greeted with mixed reviews, most critics citing the music as being too symphonic or not suited to ballet. The Tsar told Tchaikovsky that his music was "very nice." Audiences begged to disagree. They came in droves. The marriage of Petipa's classicism and Tchaikovsky's music was irresistible.

Sleeping Beauty made its debut outside of Russia at La Scala in 1896. However, it was not until Serge Diaghilev presented the ballet in 1921 with designs by Léon Bakst, new orchestrations by Stravinsky and revised choreography by Nijinska at London's Alhambra Theatre that its fame began to spread. By all accounts, it was a stunning production. Diaghilev rotated four ballerinas in the leading role, and even brought back Carlotta Brianza to perform Carabosse. However, the cost to run the ballet was staggering, and Diaghilev had to close it after 105 consecutive performances, an artistic success, but a devastating box office failure. The Sadler's Wells Ballet (later the Royal) presented the ballet in 1939, 1940, and, most famously in a 1946, all staged by Nikolai Sergeyev on what was considered the original Petipa choreography. Margot Fonteyn's performance in the leading role propelled her to international fame for the rest of her life, although it's funny to read the London Times review in 1946. Margot Fonteyn merits exactly one line; a later performance with Pamela May, another leading ballerina performing the title role, received more coverage. Does anyone remember Pamela May?

While the Royal's staging has become the one most people know, there have been many other productions, borrowing from what was the presumed original Petipa choreography, making cuts, additions, insertions, sometimes turning the ballet on its pristine head. The one most associated with the original Imperial Russian spirit was choreographed by Konstantin Sergeyev for the Kirov--home of the original production-- in 1952, which was supplanted by a reconstruction of the 1890 original in 1999, which was then dropped for a revival of the Sergeyev production.

This now brings us to the American Ballet Theatre's production, which was, according to a statement in the program, inspired by the 1952 staging of the Konstantin Sergeyev for the Kirov Ballet. That's great, but then, in large print, it tells us that the choreography is after Marius Petipa, with additional choreography and staging by Kevin McKenzie, Gelsey Kirkland and Michael Chernov. No Frederick Ashton? Who did what?

The ballet is about the Princess Aurora, not about how many productions were consulted and studied. At times it was like watching what seemed to be an original Petipa passage as reimaged and plopped down by the new choreographic team. There was no flow, no surge from one act to another. I can't imagine what a person seeing Sleeping Beauty for the first time would make of all this: what doesn't become a legend most is the first thing that comes to mind.

A major problem for serious music devotees was the orchestral playing. It was bad, and I'm being nice. There are times when all you could hear was a thumping that sounded like a bad tuba player. The worst affront to Tchaikovsky, and to the leading ballerina dancing the Rose Adagio, was the booming sound of a drum roll. Where were the strings and brass players? This is the time when the music is of paramount importance; it swells to suggest a young girl's coming of age and her entrance into womanhood; it's not Sousa or Irving Berlin's This is the Army. I wanted the music that manifests the grandiosity and supremacy of a prima ballerina. No, a drum roll will just not hack it.

Veronika Part was not totally unconvincing as the young princess. She was technically adept in the Rose Adagio and at the beginning of her solo in the first act, for example, the piques into arabesque and then into attitude. But she lacked the power of imagination that his role requires. She did not burn herself into our psyches of what an Aurora should be: fresh, animated and vibrant. I watched an old television production with Margot Fonteyn and realized what is missing: star wattage. Fonteyn lacked great technique, but the force of her overwhelming presence more than compensated for this. Fonteyn presided over the ballet; she compelled you to watch her. She is the captain of the major league team; Part is only a minor league player.

Marcelo Gomes was an outstanding prince, but then is he never less than outstanding? What technique and virility he brings to the part. If there ever was a prince, Gomes gets my vote. Stella Abrera as the Lilac Fairy was quite severe in the first act. She warmed up later, but it was too late to see her as the savior of the whole situation. She's the one, after all, who says that Aurora won't die but will just sleep a gesture which the creative team did not stress. She should dominate the fairies and stand out with her benevolence and special powers, not to mention the music. The theme that Tchaikovsky wrote for her is heard for approximately twenty minutes throughout the ballet. Aurora doesn't get a theme. So the Lilac Fairy should be doing a lot more presiding.

Martine van Hamel hammed it up as Carabosse. She snarled, she hissed, she threatened, all to no avail. This is not a silent movie. Carabosse is the one who was not invited to the christening and is mortified that the court could humiliate her in such a fashion. I found none of this is van Hamel's performance. Now that Monica Mason has retired as Artistic Director of the Royal Ballet, why not bring her over to coach van Hamel and other dancers who perform the role.

The others in the large cast were excellent: Gemma Bond as the Fairy of Charity, Simone Messmer as the Fairy of Valor, and Misty Copeland as Princess Florine and Blaine Hoven as the Bluebird. I wish I could praise Isabella Boylston as the Cat. However, in this production the Perrault fairy tale characters are reduced to sitting upstage and watching the proceedings. Another waste of talent and an indication of a misguided creative team.

I hope that Kevin Mackenzie drops this production quickly. It does nothing but tarnish the reputation of American Ballet Theatre as one of our leading classical companies. I am all for new productions of the great classical works, but, when rendered in such a hapless production, one wonders what's next for us.

Photograph: Gene Schiavone

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