THE HUNGARIAN NATIONAL BALLET's SINGULAR SWAN LAKE, Nov. 7, 2018

The Hungarian National Ballet Company's Swan Lake

The Hungarian National Ballet's Singular Swan Lake

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

November 7, 2018

New York, New York

After having to cancel numerous performances earlier this week at the David H. Koch Theater, the Hungarian National Ballet went up in what would be their single performance of Swan Lake. I salute their chutzpah. The house was packed and they received a rare show of support. Conductor of the Hungarian National Orchestra, Balsázs Kosárs, unleashed the joyful, exuberant sound of what is one of three of the greatest scores composed by Tchaikovsky for the ballet, filling the house with ample volume. Swan Lake is one of his most uplifting and buoyant scores ever written for dance, but no matter which way you try to spin it, the story of Swan Lake is an out and out tragedy. Yet no matter how dramatic a ballerina's portrait of the doomed princess, Odette, when you leave the theater at the end of the night, you want to waltz out through the lobby dancing. It was clear from the start the HNB's Artistic Director, András Almási-Tóth did not wish to deliver a conventional version of this beloved classic--why bother putting New York audiences to sleep? Created by Rudi Van Dantzig after Petipa and Ivanov, the production takes numerous narrative and artistic risks that ensure the achievement of this end and make for a very unusual evening at the ballet. Van Dantzig attempts to make the story more accessible by embellishing the action and introducing several new features, such as a childhood friendship between Siegfried, danced by Gergely LeBlanc, and his friend, Alexander, danced by Dmitry Diachov. Those who are fond of the insane plot of Swan Lake may not appreciate Van Dantzig's clever use of narrative devices. The intrusion of Alexander seemed to strike more than a few jaded New Yorkers as an unusual ploy. Some imagined that they detected a homoerotic vibe between Siegfried and Alexander, something that clearly was not the intention of Van Dantzig. Hungary is well known for being an extremely homophobic place; it is doubtful that the HNB would have chosen a production that wishes to raise questions about Siegfried's sexual identity. Rather, the boyhood friendship between Siegfried and Alexander is a symbol of something that has become too comfortable and now prohibits Siegfried's growth. Appropriate in boyhood, it has run its course and Siegfried must discard it if he is to marry and become the ruler of his kingdom. By introducing this seemingly innocuous relationship so early in the ballet, Van Dantzig establishes an aspect of the theme of transformation that is central to Swan Lake.

In Act 1, we find ourselves at a party in the garden outside the castle where Siegfried resides with his mother. Toer van Schayk designed the sets and costumes, sparing no expense to evoke the lush, verdant landscape of 17th century Flanders and the opulent exterior of the palace. The ballet opens with the traditional birthday bash for the young prince, who has just turned 18. Numerous well wishers engage in Hungarian folk dances choreographed by the multi-talented Toer van Schayk, who also choreographed numerous national dances and variations in Act 3. In Act 1, the simplicity and charm of Hungarian folk dance was underscored by the presence of small children and female dancers in long, plain skirts and peasant blouses unadorned by ribbons or bows. Hungarian folk dance, like the Hungarian language, is something that is unique to Hungary. Ballet audiences would be mistaken to compare it to the character dances of Russia, Eastern Europe or Poland; certainly, it should not be confused with the acrobatics of the Moiseyev Dance Company of Moscow. The gentle candor of the movement of this unique dance form is yet another singular feature of HNB's Swan Lake.

In Act 1, Van Dantzig adds a slight twist to the plot. Siegfried's care free counterpart, Alexander, has made the party a surprise, forgetting that members of the court may show up and placing Siegfried in an awkward position. This establishes the difference in rank between the two boys. When the Queen appears suddenly, Siegfried is terribly embarrassed that he is not properly dressed to receive her. His attempt to straddle spontaneity and propriety leaves him looking very foolish. The Queen presents him with the gift of a wedding ring, underscoring the obvious. Soon he must choose a bride and resume responsibility for running his father's kingdom. Siegfried's father is dead; he never knew him. That, combined with the fact that he is shy and awkward with girls, makes the prospect of marriage and leadership weigh heavily on him.When the Queen departs, we watch him undergo a radical change in mood. Feeling that he cannot live up to his mother's expectations, he lapses into melancholy. Alexander, the more well-adjusted and extroverted of the pair, has no concept of the pressure that Siegfried is under. As the party winds down, he suggests that he and Siegfried flirt aimlessly with girls, hoping to cheer his buddy up. But this only makes Siegfried feel worse; he flees the scene. When he ventures into the woods, hoping to escape the pressure he is under by thrashing about with a bow and arrow, his actions simultaneously convey a reversion to the games of youth and a metaphor for his search for personal truth. Alexander follows behind loyally and is eventually told to bugger off. Siegfried finds himself alone last. Here he can create the solitude in which he will begin to grapple with the internal change that life is demanding of him.

Tatiana Melnik, an elegant ballerina with pale auburn hair, brings a new maturity to the dual role of Odette/Odile, one of the most demanding parts for a ballerina among the "story ballets." Today, it has come to be thought of as the test of a ballerina's mettle, but it is in fact a test of a dancer's stamina, emotional range and ability to imitate a bird. Odette is a princess who long ago was transformed into a swan by the wicked spell of an evil magician. The same ballerina portrays her counterpart, Odile, the magician's sister and accomplice. Melnik's tendency to play Odette as terribly fragile sometimes translated into sheer exhaustion but, overall, she was secure in her role. (She may have been recovering from an injury for, occasionally, at the beginning or end of a long passage, she teetered on pointe.) Melnik's Odette is neither a complainer nor a drama queen, but a grown woman resigned to her fate as the captive of the wicked magician, Rothbart, danced vigorously by Mikalai Radziush. Long ago, he transformed her into a piece of fowl; she can only manifest in human form at nightfall by the edge of the lake. During the day she resides in the water, gliding about like a duck, presumably. Rothbart presides over her affairs from atop a rock formation overlooking the water. A huge, gawking bird, he continually flaps his wings, which are covered with hideous green feathers. He watches Odette closely and for good reason; should some wonderful man stumble into the picture and fall in love with her, vowing to love her and prove his fidelity, Odette will be released from the wretched spell that has ruined her life. And thankfully, in Act 2, it appears as though that happy day has come. The fixed aspect of transformation that is part of Odette's character is indirectly reflected by the ballet's focus on this important transitional and developmental moment in Siegfried's life. He stumbles across Odette as he takes aim at a large bird circling in the air. Traditionally, Siegfried sees Odette in the sky and raises his bow and arrow, mistaking her for a bird. She flutters to the ground, pleading for her life. In this version, Rothbart is flapping about so much that it appears that Odette enters, pleading with Siegfried to spare Rothbart's life. Too much activity on stage wrought confusion, or perhaps Van Dantzig wishes to establish Rothbart's domination over Odette by having her patrol the skies. 

Transformed into a woman, Odette emerges in the darkness, preening and shaking off her feathers. Siegfried perceives a strange but ravishing vision of femininity. They enter into a dialogue in which she tells her sad story and explains why she's got feathers sprouting out of her hind parts. She brings out Siegfried's protective instincts, making him feel manly and noble. He vows to love her and be faithful to her, determined to free her from bondage. Odette has struck lucky! Siegfried's vow is sincere. But does he really love Odette? This is the question the ballet Swan Lake raises that nobody ever gets around to asking, usually because they're too busy trying figure out what the heck is going on. Certainly, Siegfried is infatuated, but just how serious is he? A few minutes later, he leaves Odette to attend a party in his honor back at the palace. It all seems a little impulsive, but, as a royal, he would be bound take his social obligations seriously. He intends to return--in fact, he must if he ever hopes to see Odette without her feathers in the light of day. But just how well does he really know this bird? Determined to keep up appearances, he dashes off to prepare for the big shindig.

LeBlanc struggled technically throughout the evening, but never faltered in his self-assurance or the straightforward manner in which he conveyed Siegfried's love for Odette. It is rare to see technical inadequacy and temerity of heart side by side in a dancer, but his was a performance that lacked inhibitions of any kind. Despite his limitations, I admired the sincerity that he brought to his execution of the role. In Act 1 he conveyed Siegfried's genuine misery, awkwardness and loneliness. As things progressed, he committed fully to every phase of his love for Odette. In Act 1, Diachov brought good cheer and technical verve to his part, projecting genuine affection for Siegfried. Although the court now discourages their friendship they remain loyal to each other. Much can be said about the skilled dancing of the corps de ballet. In Act 2, the swans moved beautifully about the stage in one, unified body., led by the handsome Ellina Pokhodnyk and Kristina Starostina. The beloved variation of The Four Swans was faithfully executed by Nadezhda Sorokina, Yuka Asai, Olga Chernakova and Lili Feméery, a dance that was performed expertly and with no affectation.

In Act 3 Rothbart and his sister and accomplice, Odile, arrive uninvited at the ball, the latter intending to seduce Siegfried so that he will break his vow of fidelity to Odette. Toer van Schayk's choreography includes national dances and variations of all sort.The spirited dancing of the highly qualified soloists, each adorned in bright silks and satin trimmed with braid or festive ribbon, was delightful to behold, but the old adage "less is more" quickly came to mind. Princesses who vie for Siegfried's favor provide some comic relief--one becomes tipsy and and another tries too hard push herself forward--the two lock horns. Myriad types of entertainment are offered up in honor of Siegfried and the Queen. By the time Odile and Siegfried began the Black Swan pas de deux, Act 3 has begun to lag. Nevertheless, Melnik made a dazzling Black Swan, polishing off 32 fouettés with finesse, working in double pirouettes between fouettés, and looking both delicate and regal in her black feathers. Siegfried asks his mother to allow him to ask for Odile's for her hand in marriage, instantly destroying his vow of fidelity to Odette. His realization that he's been duped by Rothbart and Odile comes about in a wave of intuition that sweeps over him. In the traditional version, we see a vision of Odette in Siegfried's mind's eye, a sole figure in white, upstage, flapping her wings in distress. But this is omitted from Van Dantzig's production. Instead, Siegfried is experiencing the pangs of an awakening conscience. After realizing that Rothbart's plot has ruined his chances of saving Odette, Siegfried flees the ball and runs into the forest to find her and beg her forgiveness.

Now comes the best part.

When the curtain rose at the beginning of Act 4, the audience was stunned by the sheer beauty of the formations of swan maidens frozen in a breathtaking tableau that filled the entire stage. Scattered about in random and spontaneous patterns, it took my breath away. The audience burst into spontaneous applause. This glimpse of balletic architecture on the part of Van Dantzig was well worth the wait. I only wish that I had photographs of it to share with the reader. The dancers began to move...Odette and Siegfried wandered into the woods and found one another. She forgave his betrayal, understanding that he had been tricked. Once again, Melnik's mature interpretation of Odette had a distinct impact, causing Odette to appear to suffer less than Siegfried, who is wracked with guilt. Her view of events is philosophical; thus she can comfort Siegfried. As Odette disappears into the woods, carrying on with her life trapped in a spell, Rothbart attempts to chase Siegfried away from the lake. Siegfried charges him and drowns trying to kill him. (If one did not read the synopsis in the program it would have been very difficult to put this together.) A search party arrives, led by Alexander. Siegfried's body is dredged up out of the water. In the final moments of the ballet, Alexander carries Siegfried's dead body up out of the lake and downstage in his arms. This moment of horror lends a Gothic aspect to the ending, terror and loss dominating in the final moment of Swan Lake.