The Royal Ballet: Viewpoints Review – Intimate seduction, pure dance and lasting beauty | Ballet

WWhen choreographer Cathy Marston was commissioned to create a new one-act work for the Royal Ballet, she intended to create something abstract, just dancing to the music – admittedly not the usual style of the woman who gave us Jane Eyre, Hamlet, Atonement and other novels – but in the end the music she chose did not allow her to do that. Benjamin Britten’s Violin Concerto was written from 1938 to 1939, and its background was; The beginnings of World War II, Britten – a pacifist – moved to the United States with his lover Peter Pears, and the death of the composer’s mother. All of these things found their way into Marston’s work, Against the Tide, and all for the better.

William Bracewell plays the unnamed protagonist, his dancing as instinctive as ever, the loops of his mind twisting and untangling his body. Here come military men with tough demeanors and clenched fists, and Matthew Ball with satin shirt and seduction; There Bracewell is torn between duty, beauty and freedom. You can feel his agony, it reads like a long dark night of the soul.

The partnership between Bracewell and Ball is beautifully done, and endlessly inventive, as their bodies take winding paths that might lead to diving fish of some sort, or a tender moment caressing their foreheads. Marston’s choreography is never predictable, but always human. Melissa Hamilton appears as the spirit of Bracewell/Britten’s mother. The score brings heightened senses, astringent vocals, and ominous brass. Chloe Lamford designed a gorgeous set, a gray bridge rising across the stage, heavy and hopeful at the same time.

The rest of the program showcases two American choreographers who were very comfortable dancing to great music. George Balanchine built his career on it, and Justin Peck, heir to Balanchine’s torch, follows suit. They both enjoy the pure joy of dance, the speed, the intricate details. In Beck’s piece, “Everywhere We Go,” the dancers move repeatedly on the letter “and,” before the bar line, eager to get going.

Peck is the pre-eminent American ballet choreographer of the 21st century, but surprisingly this is the first time the royals have performed his work, and they dance it well: playful, playful, playful, tightly punched, as Peck slides through the various permutations of the dancers to a busy score by Sufjan Stevens. There are wonderful interjections for the whole group, when the dancers jump en masse with their arms sweeping to the sky and then fall to the ground, it is like a giant happy sigh. Marianela Nunez brings her magnanimity to a slow section, with the music reduced to emotional repetition. The mischievous Daichi Ikarashi flies through the fast cuts with infectious glee.

Balanchine’s “Serenade,” from 1935, features one of the most interesting openings in ballet: Tchaikovsky’s charged strings, a curtain raised on stage of women in long tulle skirts, their hands raised to the sky. It starts out like a ballet class, but it’s both academic and escapist, and at best the dancers are transparent and lively – Leticia Dias captures it perfectly. It is an example of Balanchine’s famous saying, “Ballet is a woman.” Although since his death, there has been some re-evaluation of Balanchine’s attitudes towards women, and it’s hard to watch the scene in which three female selfies let go of their long hair and surround the lone man Ryoichi Hirano without imagining it as Balanchine’s after-hours fantasy. But there’s no denying that she’s very pretty.