Pierrot Lunaire review – The Royal Ballet reaches for the moon with a dance of eerie desire | Dance

SSometimes reviving an old work can make it, and us, feel alive: if it speaks to the present, for example, or refreshes our sensibilities, or simply because its craftsmanship endures. Other times it remains in the past, like a historical curiosity, a museum piece, or even a relic. Glen Tetley’s 1962 film Pierrot Lunaire, a pivotal point in dance history, is a curious connection between these disparate aspects.

Drawing from Commedia dell’arte Iconic, it tells the embellished story of the innocent Piero (Marcellino Sampi), the awakening of his desire through an encounter with the many-faced Columbine (Maiara Magri), and the intervention of the controlling and manipulative Brighella (Matthew Bole). The set is sparse – just scaffolding, a central platform – and the dancing style is a bold, effective mixture of long, light classical ballet lines with the force of gravity, tense angles and the visceral gestures of Martha Graham.

Glimpses of the moon abound – in its many fleeting crescent shapes, in Pierrot’s tugs upwards as if catching the moon’s rays. The choreography is clear, precisely crafted and purposeful: witness the well-constructed duet Pierrot and Columbine in which they keep looking out, up, and around, but not at each other. The three dancers, mysterious in facial make-up, embody their roles wonderfully, inhabiting the mood set by Schoenberg’s composed but highly tense score, all atonal anxiety and sliding hysteria.

Which brings us to the somewhat hysterical and decidedly archaic Freudian iconography that drives the drama. There’s a big moment (there’s no way to describe it well) when Pierrot Barb cuts off Columbine’s breast, and she slaps him and twitches. It gradually becomes clear that Piero is a boy, shamed and punished for his growing desires; Columbine is a woman, a living doll of various forms, a bride wrapped in a bow, and a scarlet harlot; And Brigilla is the man/father, big and bad, with his wooden sword sticking out from between his legs. The combination of retro crassness and sadistic tone with high style, sophisticated design and powerful performances is truly bizarre – and terrifying.