It's the weather. I'll blame my blah week on the weather. Spring has certainly arrived, and in British terms that simply means lots and lots of rain. So you can imagine that the idea of a trip to the Royal Opera House would brighten up my Monday. It did! In fact, I'd been looking forward to this performance since December when I won seven pound standing tickets through ROH's student standby scheme. It's a fantastic program that I would highly recommend signing up for if you are a penniless, art loving student like me.
Unfortunately, due to insinuating circumstances, I didn't arrive at the theater until five minutes after the first ballet had started. How humiliating! Despite some disapproving glares we were ushered up to the top floor by a very nice man and told we could watch the first half of the show live on television screens. We bought ourselves a large pot of tea and had our own little private viewing party with all the other stragglers, it wasn't half bad! As much as I was upset to miss The Dream, I do appreciate ROH implementing this policy; it is highly irritating and unprofessional to have people scurrying around and disrupting the performance just as the curtain has gone up. I will be sure not to repeat this embarrassing mistake but it can be difficult when you live in a city that leaves you at the mercy of public transport.
Even though I have seen The Dream several times previously I do not feel I can comment fairly on the Royal Ballet's interpretation of it after watching from the lobby. From what I could tell the costumes and set were gorgeous and as we meekly filed in after the interval I heard only positive reactions from the proper theater goers who had actually managed to arrive on time.
When we did find our "seats" I was happy to discover we weren't up in the gods as expected. We stood in the back of the right circle with fantastic views despite a rather ill placed pole (why do these exist in theaters?). Apart from having a chance to watch all the posh people milling around it was fun to be with all the real ballet fanatics. Several had brought binoculars and all seemed to be carrying out quite well informed conversations about ballet. I hope I will be able to join them more often in the future! Not bad for seven pounds a pop!
Thank goodness the ballet we missed was not Song of the Earth; already a breathtakingly beautiful piece of choreography, this particularly performance took the opportunity to display some of the Royal Ballet's (and Britain's) finest dancing. Ever. As a huge Carlos Acosta fan girl I had to stop myself from squeeing every time he appeared on the stage, and I have a feeling I wasn't the only one! It was lovely to seem him do something more lyrical as it allowed him to show his intense dramatic ability separate from those breathtaking leaps. As the messenger of death he was appropriately mysterious but strong, so strong that the elegant Nehemiah Kish was quite overshadowed. This is perhaps implied in the choreography but also has a lot to do with their contrasting styles. Also their support system was a little weak; the men's corps seemed to lack some of the passion and unity of the women.
Sarah Lamb was absolutely charming in the Third Song. Held upside down one second and balancing in a perfect arabesque the next, she never missed a beat and floated effortlessly through the complex choreography. Her technique is stunningly perfect, combined with unequaled fluidity and a simply natural presence she is a joy to watch.
Topping it all off was the powerful, yet delicate, Marianela Nunez. It was in the the Sixth Song that I realized why dancers loved this piece so much. She threw herself into the movement, letting momentum lead her from one step to the next. The dazzling series of bourres that took her from one side of the stage to the other multiple times had the audience breathless. Her emotions were raw, heartfelt, and not the least bit melodramatic. When paired with the two leading men she completed the otherwise odd triangle. As the three dancers began their final series of tiny developes moving downstage she began to cry. Not small elegant tears but huge sobs, clearly visible to everyone in the theater. Nothing was held back, this was no ballerina putting on a show, this was Marianela Nunez moved to tears by the sheer emotion of the piece she had just danced. A program note indicated that Nunez had in fact dedicated this particular performance to Anya Evans Jones, "her former teacher, mentor, and dear friend." I cannot think of a more beautiful or heartfelt way to honor someone she so obviously cared about. What a beautiful evening!
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