BALLET REVIEW : Second Cast Strengthens New ‘Swan Lake’ in S.F.
SAN FRANCISCO — Helgi Tomasson’s lavish new production of “Swan Lake†at the War Memorial Opera House endures two basic liabilities.
Jens-Jacob Worsaae’s lovely, painterly decors, hazily lit by David K.H. Elliott, suggest the delicacy of 18th-Century France rather than the passion of 19th-Century Russia. More problematic, the principal dancers of the San Francisco Ballet do not seem to possess the larger-than-life personalities required to illuminate the central roles.
Nevertheless, this “Swan Lake†represents an extraordinary, still-promising achievement. The staging scheme is swift, the action eminently dramatic. The choreographic embellishments are tasteful and reasonably inventive.
The swan corps, indoctrinated in the lofty Kirov tradition by Irina Jakobson, dances with unanimous, sweeping purity. The national exercises, usually tests of tedium, are dispatched here with welcome vigor. Tchaikovsky’s wondrous score is treated with urgent, loving care by Denis de Coteau and the resident orchestra.
Most of the priorities are in order. If only the company could muster a compelling Odette-Odile and a dazzling Siegfried. . . .
Wednesday night the protagonists had been a rather nervous, ill-matched, French-accented pair: Karin Averty and Jean Charles Gil. Standards rose a few notches on Thursday when Ludmila Lopukhova assumed the contradictory guises of the swan queen and Simon Dow took over the princely duties.
Despite a pardonable glitch or two, the second cast outclassed the first in technical security. Lopukhova and Dow conveyed individual authority as well as mutual sympathy.
Trained in Leningrad, Lopukhova knows all about the grand manner and the heroic gesture. She can sketch the tragedy of the lyric passages economically, and she can flash the menace maneuvers with bravado. She phrases generously, commands admiration with a robust, instantly imposing line.
If only she didn’t seem so cool and detached. If only she didn’t generalize. . . .
An alumnus of the Australian Ballet, Dow partners the ballerina sensitively. He suggests the quiet strength and easy elegance of a potential danseur noble. Although the elevated variations of the Black Swan pas de deux threaten strain, he sustains unerring clarity and point.
If only he didn’t seem so stiff and blank. If only he didn’t generalize. . . .
In this context, a little romantic ardor could make a big difference. Bewitched swans and brooding cavaliers do not thrive on abstraction.
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