Swan Lake Studies 11-15
11-15. “Swan Lake” research continues with thoughts about Marius Petipa’s pas de trois. Must it be danced in Act One, or can it be part of the ballroom act? May the male role be allocated to Benno, the prince’s friend, whose sole dance function otherwise (almost invariably omitted since the 1960s) is as Siegfried’s co-partner to Odette? To what rank of dancers should this divertissement be given? How much should it be presented as a gratuitous divertissement or how much should its performers be woven into the narrative?
These photographs show various performers in the Royal (Sadler’s Wells) Ballet production(s) over the years, all, I think, in various designs by Leslie Hurry. 11 (photograph by Leslie Spatt) shows the beloved Ann Jenner , in the “jumpy” role, at the end of her variation; she was generally the first-cast interpreter of this role when I was becoming acquainted with “Swan Lake” in 1975-1977. Her jump was outstanding, both in the quickness of its takeoff and in the quality of midair suspension at the apex; more than forty years on, I invariably miss her in the opening solo coda with the grands fouettés sautés are combined with cabrioles - the clean definition of line with which she climaxed each jump was always a thrill. 12 and 13 (photographs by Leslie Spatt) show Laura Connor , another illustrious interpreter of the same role, with the generous effulgence that characterised all her dancing. (Fans wore badges saying “Laura For Aurora” - a role she never danced.) She and Jenner were both classic interpreters of Lise in “La Fille mal gardée”; I also loved Jenner as Swanilda, the heroine of “The Two Pigeons”, and as MacMillan’s Juliet; she and Jennifer Penney were the definitive interpreters of the two “side” women in Frederick Ashton’s “Symphonic Variations” for many years. Connor, another natural Ashton dancer, was the original Mitzi Caspar in MacMillan’s “Mayerling”.
14, from a 1956 collection of Royal Ballet photographs by John Hart, shows Brian Shaw as the male dancer of this pas de trois. Soon an admired teacher of the Cecchetti methods, he was a classic interpreter of virtuoso classical roles, from “Symphonic Variations” and the Bluebird to this pas de trois and the “Monotones” “Trois Gnossiennes” from 1946 to the late 1960s; he continued in a range of character roles, always with exemplary footwork, into the 1980s.
15, from 1943 (photograph by Russell Sedgwick), shows the pas de trois as part of the ballroom act; the dancers are Joan Sheldon, Alexis Rassine (a future Siegfried), and Margaret Dale (later famous for directing several classic ballet broadcasts on television, notably of Ashton ballets). Yes, this divertissement was danced with high tutus; yes, it was often performed by the Royal in the ballroom Act Three between 1943 (or earlier) and 1970. (Just as strange, Ashton’s fabulous 1963 pas de quatre, which recently surfaced on Facebook in an excellent 1988 English National Ballet performance, was usually performed in Act One in 1963-1970.)
“Swan Lake” is so full of problems that we should not fret overmuch about these details. Still, the pas de trois belongs musically in Act One; I find Petipa’s entrée alone, with the three dancers fluently zigzagging together across the stage, perfectly establishes a lyrically expansive outdoor mood that should be all wrong for the ballroom (just as the Ashton pas de quatre, which I sorely miss in the Royal “Swan Lake”, is to ballroom music, sophisticated and glittering.)
To have principal dancers in this divertissement is the kind of luxury a great company should afford. When I was first watching “Swan Lake”, it was not unusual to watch a dozen principal dancers in a single cast: this raised the bar for everyone concerned in a way no longer known to today’s audiences.
I’m perhaps alone in this, but to me the role of Benno is absolutely antithetical to the pas de trois. He’s a Horatio to Siegfried’s Hamlet, a loyal companion for Siegfried’s escapist thoughts and a butt for the Princess Mother’s disapproval; he’s not an ebullient sparkler. In the 1970s, the three dancers of the divertissement behaved to Siegfried with jovial courtesy, showing the same privileged delight that they would after a performance when Princess Margaret or the Queen Mother attended (as happened not too infrequently).
There are incidental oddities to Petipa’s choreography. In particular, I’m not fond of the way the man runs on in silence for his variation, then strikes a preparatory pose while still in silence, and finally cues the orchestra by taking a jumping diagonal upstage (the music starts as he reaches the apex of his jump). But any such awkwardnesses are vastly outnumbered by the felicities. This is a divertissement, but it perfectly illumines the story by illustrating essences of harmonious high civilisation that catch and heighten the mood of Act One: it establishes examples of dancing femininity and masculinity that will expressively offset the more poignant dance drama we’ll soon see by the lakeside.
One last note: the pas de trois is usually taken way too slow. Alexei Ratmansky’s 2016 Zürich production set it as brisk tempo that transformed it, giving it inner life and momentum rather than polishing it for the admiration of balletomanes and perfectionists.
Sunday 12 July .
