State Theatre, Melbourne, September 13
The beginning was very promising. The curtain rose to reveal a cameo of the two lovers embracing, encased in a shell that is split apart, separating what should be whole. Simple, beautiful - and telling a thousand words -- this image opens Graeme Murphy's greatly anticipated reworking of Romeo and Juliet for the Australian Ballet. The audience was then treated to a stunning Italian Renaissance set, replete with gorgeous costumes, and a particularly well choreographed sword fight, with the two clans of the Montagues and the Capulets facing off, while the ever debonair Death (Prince of Darkness, played by the imposing Adam Bull) stalks his prey, the true master of the situation.
The opening choreography for the young lovers is promising as well - from Juliet's light skittish steps to Romeo's good-natured bravado and adolescent awkwardness, while their first meeting and onrush of feeling is well contrived.
How sad that that promise is not borne out by much of what follows. Nutcracker and Swan Lake, both iconic ballets also reworked by Graeme Murphy, benefited from totally revised storylines, reordered musical scores and an abundance of emotional and psychological exploration of the characters' predicaments which the choreography managed to bring out - elements all missing from this Romeo and Juliet. Those became ballets that could stand on their own, not as reworked classics but as independent and new productions. This Romeo and Juliet, however, does retain the original plot and stands or falls as an adaptation. And, as such, it falls short compared with other versions, both choreographically and dramatically.
The choreography on the whole tends not to equal the power and expression of the music and seems to ignore Prokofiev's often acerbic and pointed rhythms. It skims along the surface, relying on complexity and lots of gimmicks, such as bicycles, swimming, a brief appearance by the Hare Krishnas, or a scene reminiscent of Bollywood which forms the backdrop to the tragically mindless violence which results in the deaths of Mercutio and Tybalt. Much of this feels gratuitous and intrusive relative to the dramatic coherence of the story.
Dramatic coherence and emotional involvement with the characters are not aided either by the opulent shifts of scenery, period and costumes from Renaissance Italy to an icicle bedecked ballroom, to perhaps fascist Europe, to a Buddhist temple with monks and a Holy Man, to an Oriental bazaar with a Hindu wedding, to desert sands which the unfortunate Lady Capulet has to lurch across minus her shoes looking like a modern day fashion plate, while Juliet lies on a bed of skulls... In between all this, the ballet loses the plot and the drama loses its way.
Many of the constituent elements, taken on their own, are stunning - sets, costumes, lighting, projections, and, of course, the dancing - but the sum is less than the parts as the different themes don't integrate into a dramatic whole. As a result, the climax of the lovers' deaths was lost in the detail - its emotional impact nullified. The evening acquired the sense of a travelogue through a variety of periods and settings, or of a series of previews for different shows, with each section having something to offer, but those somethings did not build through the show, leaving behind an ultimately disjointed effect.
Individual elements and performances stood out, notwithstanding - an effective use of “freeze frames” at the ball, the motif of two halves making one whole circle at the wedding - and many of the group tableaux, a particular strength of Murphy's, are memorable. The costumes (Akira Isogawa) are beautiful for their colour, detail and movement, while sets (Gerard Manion) and lighting (Damien Cooper) are stunning throughout, but all this opulent detail tends to overwhelm the dancing which struggles to remain in the foreground.
The dancers worked hard with the often complex choreography, producing some superb dancing, not least Madeleine Eastoe as Juliet - all delicate control and speed, her flowing bourrés and flying brisés a joyful portrayal of Juliet's youth and innocence, contrasting with the regimented spiky world of the Capulets. Kevin Jackson as Romeo was every inch the moonstruck awkward youth with a good heart. Theirs is a good partnership and both work to extract what drama they can from their roles. But even in the balcony scene, the complexity of the choreography soon overrides any development of emotional intensity. So the pas de deux is good in snippets but there is so much material there that it ends up feeling disjointed.
Mercutio (Daniel Gaudiello) and Benvolio (Jacob Sofer) have lots of humour-laden material and make the most of it, revelling in some interesting sequences as irreverent teenagers mucking up.
However, most of the acting is not given a chance to rise above melodrama or comic slapstick - even the cold cruelty of the Capulets did not really register as it can in more understated versions - so the burden of the story is not carried either by naturalistic acting or by powerful movement sequences. In the end the choreography is not developed thematically or dramatically and at times it has the sense of trying too hard - as does the entire production.
Orchestra Victoria sounded a bit more sparse than usual and there was some unusual insecurity in a few passages.
In short, this Romeo and Juliet offers a kaleidoscope of variety with inspired snippets not gelling into an integrated whole.
– IRINA KUZMINSKY