James Streeter – British Ballet Now & Then

Spotlight on English National Ballet’s Carmen

I have always thought you would kill me. The very first time I saw you I had just met a priest at the door of my house. And tonight, as we were going out of Cordova, didn’t you see anything? A hare ran across the road between your horse’s feet. It is fate. (Mérimée 44)

Carmen is having a moment! This year marks the 150^th anniversary of Georges Bizet’s celebrated opera, and new ballet adaptations have been created by Arielle Smith for San Francisco Ballet (April 2024) and by Annabelle Lopez Ochoa for Miami City Ballet (April 2025). As you may remember, both of these choreographers have featured in previous British Ballet Now & Then blog posts. In this post, however, we are focussing on Johan Inger’s Carmen, created in 2015 and now in the repertoire of English National Ballet.

Last year’s English National Ballet premiere was our first encounter with Inger’s Carmen. On first viewing we were mostly struck by the performances of the dancers. We had seen Minju Kang before with Northern Ballet, and of course we were hoping to see her in Kenneth Tindall’s Geisha, which was created on her, but we had no idea how feisty she was. Unsurprisingly, James Streeter received praise as Zuñiga, Don José’s commanding officer (from critics Teresa Guerreiro and Deborah Weiss, for instance), and Erik Woolhouse was sensational as Torero. Erik is our favourite ever Birbanto in Le Corsaire—another extrovert, audacious character, and we are still hoping to catch him as Hilarion in Akram Khan’s Giselle.

Minju Kang as Carmen and Erik Woolhouse as Torero in Johan Inger’s Carmen © Laurent Liotardo

The set design by Estudio Dedos is another aspect of the work that we found very satisfying on first night: sets that create different spaces in a fluid and symbolic way capture our imagination (like the black cube in Annabelle Lopez Ochoa’s Broken Wings, or the bookcases in Cathy Marston’s Victoria). As set designer Curt Allen explains, “the entire set arises out of one shape: an equilateral triangle”. Nine 3-sided prisms are moved around the stage space transporting the audience from mundane tobacco factory to glittering party venue to the foreboding mountains of Don José’s flight. Each side of each prism is different—mirror, concrete, black corrugated material—inviting parallels with the triangular relationship central to the dark tale: “three are a crowd, three stir up jealousy, three, alas, erupt into violence” (Allen).

James-Streeter as Zuniga, Minju Kang as Carmen and Rentaro Nakaaki as Don Jose in Johan Inger’s Carmen © Laurent Liotardo

Set, movement and music work together synergistically, like a Gesamtkunskwerk (total art work) that results in more than the sum of its parts. Rodion Schedrin’s 1967 orchestration of Georges Bizet’s opera (1875) has additional percussion, which adds a layer of energy, and maybe even suggests the violence that so interests Inger. But new music by Marc Àlvarez is integrated into this existing score to explore Don José’s inner world. What we found so impressive was the seamlessness of the result, a seamlessness that supports the recurring shifting between the tangible world and Don José’s inner torment.

The focus on Don José rather than on Carmen herself was something unexpected. However, given that Inger went back to Prosper Mérimeé’s 1845 novella, in which Don José tells the narrator his life story, after giving himself up and being condemned for Carmen’s murder, this focus was understandable. Yet despite Inger’s aim to explore the darkness of Don José’s psyche and expose the story’s domestic violence against women (qtd. in Compton), we found ourselves sympathising more with the tortured Don José than the deviant Carmen. It is Don José who both brings Act I to a close and then starts Act II with an unnerving running motif, and while he is clearly running from the authorities after killing Zuñiga, the vicious undercurrents of the score speak of a man desperately attempting to escape from himself and his own obsession.

Rentaro Nakaaki as Don Jose in Johan Inger’s Carmen © Laurent Liotardo

We wondered whether our sympathy was also connected to the casting. Rentaro Nakaaki, a young dancer who joined the Company in 2018 and almost still looks like a teenager, has an air of naivety about him. Critic Jenny Gilbert commented on the effect of his “loose-limbed dancing” on her sympathetic reaction to the character, stating that he “was a joy to watch throughout”. But on subsequent viewings we still found ourselves sympathising with this character. Inger himself aims to be “honest” and “very human” in his choreography “to get to the people beneath” (qtd. in Compton), and his choreography for Don José accentuates the character’s struggles, with ample solo time for dancers to explore nuances in interpretation. For example, Aitor Arrieta seemed to highlight the character’s concern for his image and his desire to “do the right thing”. There was an awareness of and anxiety about the incongruities in his behaviour, so the tension was driven by his desperate struggle to resist his urges and hang on to his sense of self. In contrast, Fernando Carratalá Coloma seemed to succumb to the inevitable with less resistance, and his desperation was more an expression of his grief at unrequited desire, and his perceived lack of agency in the situation.

Something we struggled with was what we saw as something of a disconnect between Inger’s description of Carmen as a “feminist” and the way Carmen, and indeed the other Cigarreras, were represented on the stage. When the women enter the first time and dance in unison, they appear to take charge of the space as powerful determinants of their own destiny: most of all we remember the motif of the low wide fourth position, their arms in attitude greque and their gaze directed firstly to the audience and then on repeat to Zuñiga. But they are also brazen and flirt outrageously, as well as fighting amongst themselves in a way that could be perceived as disempowering. We found it difficult not to interpret the way they strut their stuff as inviting the male gaze rather than challenging it and wondered whether a female choreographer would present them differently. On the other hand, Carmen’s refusal to play by societal rules that demand a certain behaviour from her afford her a strength of character that Don José, so bound by those rules, lacks.

Francesca Velicu as The Boy and Rentaro Nakaaki as Don Jose in Johan Ingers Carmen © Laurent Liotardo

We always enjoy ambiguity in a work, so we were intrigued by The Boy, who is in fact performed by a female dancer. Significantly, they frame the whole narrative, perhaps symbolising youth and innocence that ultimately breaks down, but possibly also representing an integral feature of Don José’s character, even a stereotypically feminine side. Here we are thinking in particular of his longing for domesticity, and the reticence of his public demeanour, particularly in contrast to the other male protagonists, and in fact to Carmen and the other Cigarreras. To us this reticence was really noticeable in Carratalá Coloma’s posture on his first entrance, and in the way that Nakaaki was at times a palpable presence on stage, but without being central to the action—more like an onlooker.

One of the scenes that stood out was a trio with Don José, Carmen and The Boy that represents Don José’s vision of domestic bliss in the middle of a vicious fight with Carmen. It was noticeable that this pas de trois, which struck us as rather humorous, even ironic, was choreographed to the music that is given to the central pas de deux for Carmen and Don José in Roland’s Petit’s 1949 choreography for himself and Zizi Jeanmaire.

Other ambiguous characters are The Shadows, dressed in black, who seemed to us to represent fate—fate that Carmen is all too aware of in Mérimée’s novella. The presence of fate manifests itself in the structure of Inger’s piece, beginning and ending as it does with The Boy and one of The Shadows. As the work progresses The Shadows multiply and visibly draw it to its climax. It is as if they are the driver of Don José’s obsession, and as if Carmen’s death at his hand were preordained by some inexorable force—maybe even societal forces that drive the way we construct gender and therefore perceive man- and womanhood.

It’s noticeable that although we see Carmen philandering with her other lovers, the only duet she performs is with Don José. And the mirroring in the choreography clearly communicates a connection between them. But despite this, Carmen’s behaviour demonstrates that she is in no way tempted to accept Don José as a permanent fixture in her life. And then again we wondered whether this connection were simply a figment of Don José’s imagination, or wishful thinking on his part.

Minju Kang as Carmen and Rentaro Nakaaki as Don Jose in Johan Inger’s Carmen © Laurent Liotardo

We are very aware that we have focused a lot of attention on Don José in this post, but that, we feel, is a reflection of Inger’s work. Carmen’s character is clear from her actions: she is energetic, fiery and independent, but also violent, rude and unfeeling. We wondered whether, if she had more solo material, we would see more depth in her character.

We found Matthew Paluch’s perspective helpful. He says:

Femicide is a deeply uncomfortable, pressingly current topic, but it doesn’t make the premise of Carmen any easier to swallow. Inger’s Carmen is very difficult to like, as her raison d’être seems to have zero consideration for others, so the audience is presented with questions as to how we approach her demise. It’s a very conflicting tactic.

We relish the wealth of possible meanings engendered by Inger’s ballet, and we appreciate the perplexing nature of the work. To us it seems to reflect Carmen’s words to Don José before he murders her:

You mean to kill me, I see that well. It is fate. But you’ll never make me give in … You are my rom [husband], and you have the right to kill your romi, but Carmen will always be free. (Mérimée 46)

Nonetheless, this is a work by a male choreographer, commissioned by a male artistic director (José Carlos Martínez), and based on a novella by a male writer, made famous by a male composer. The two recent adaptations that we mentioned at the start of this post have been created by female choreographers, and commissioned by female artistic directors (Tamara Rojo and Lourdes Lopez, respectively). Both choreographers have noted the emphasis on Don José in the original story and expressed their desire to present a work more focussed on Carmen herself:

The very basic theme, that I think is powerful, is it’s a piece about a woman … And that, for me, on the very basic level, was my job, was to make this piece Carmen’s story; otherwise we shouldn’t call it Carmen. (Smith 07:15-07:34)

I wanted my ballet to be more about a strong woman that yearns to be independent, that wants a job and that wants to go higher in the social rankings. (Ochoa 0:32-01:46)

Crucial for us is that both Carmens are involved in business: Smith’s heroine takes over the family restaurant, while Ochoa’s protagonist develops her career from card dealer to poker queen. This gives them a different kind of agency to Mérimeé’s creation: feisty and rebellious though she may be, the original Carmen does not use her wit and intelligence to better her lot in life or resist her fate, but accepts that her community can demand her life if she refuses to conform to its mores.

Carmen is clearly a seductive subject matter for artistic creators, but with its themes of violence and cultural stereotyping, an increasingly difficult one. We welcome further balletic investigations into Carmen’s character, but for starters we would love to see the interpretations of Arielle Smith and Annabelle Lopez Ochoa on a UK stage.

With thanks to Jodie Nunn for her contribution to the writing of this post

References

Allen, Curt. “Setting the Scene.” Programme for Johan Inger’s Carmen at Sadlers Wells Theatre, English National Ballet, London, 2024.

Crompton, Sarah. “Getting under the skin of Carmen: interview with Johan Inger.” Programme for Johan Inger’s Carmen at Sadlers Wells Theatre, English National Ballet, London, 2024.

Gilbert, Jenny. “Carmen, English National Ballet review”. The Arts Desk, 3 Apr. 2024, https://theartsdesk.com/dance/carmen-english-national-ballet-review-lots-energy-even-violence-nothing-new-say.

Guerreiro, Teresa. “English National Ballet, Carmen Review”. Culture Whisper, 28 Mar. 2024, https://www.culturewhisper.com/r/dance/english_national_ballet_carmen_sadlers_wells/17825.

Mérimée, Prosper. Carmen. Alpha Editions, 2021.

Ochoa, Annabelle Lopez. “Carmen: In Conversation”. YouTube, uploaded by Miami City Ballet, April 2025, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-vXgM9B8XdM.

Paluch, Matthew. “Review: English National Ballet – Carmen”. Broadway World, 28 Mar. 2024, https://www.broadwayworld.com/westend/article/Review-ENGLISH-NATIONAL-BALLET-CARMEN-Sadlers-Wells-20240328.

Smith, Arielle. “‘She never felt like the protagonist of her own story’”. YouTube, uploaded by San Francisco Ballet, 16 Nov. 2023, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lfdCAk7FbOM.

Weiss, Deborah. “English National Ballet: Johan Inger’s Carmen is chillingly topical”. Backtrack, 28 Mar. 2024, https://bachtrack.com/review-carmen-johan-inger-english-national-ballet-sadlers-wells-march-2024.

WATCHING WITH BRITISH BALLET NOW & THEN

Akram Khan’s Giselle Revisited

If Tamara Rojo’s sole achievement during her years as Artistic Director of English National Ballet (2012-2022) had been the commissioning of Akram Khan’s Giselle, she would have made a tremendous contribution to the ballet repertoire. Such are our thoughts both before and after the Sadler’s Wells opening night of the production in September 2024.

English National Ballet dancers © Camilla Greenwell

Of course we have been watching the ballet since its first London run in 2016 and seen most of the casts. Treasured memories include multiple viewings of Tamara Rojo herself with the wonderfully human James Streeter; a particularly intense performance by Alina Cojocaru and Isaac Hernández, where they both seemed to take flight into another dimension; Crystal Costa’s final ENB performance, with the sensitive and expressive Aitor Arietta, and our first viewing of James and his wife Erina Takahashi performing together (last year in Bristol).

Erina Takahashi as Giselle and Ken Saruhashi as Hilarion © Camilla Greenwell

Revisiting the work after a period means seeing it afresh. We know that. But as the now-familiar stage action unfolds, we are surprised when a veil seems to lift from our eyes and we start to notice more clearly underlying patterns that bring an additional layer of emotional resonance to the piece for us.

From the gloom emerges the crowd of refugee Outcasts pressing against the Wall. From the crowd emerges a triangle of outliers: Giselle, a model of defiance and strength of will in the face of the Landlords; Albrecht, her lover, himself a Landlord, but one who spends time with the refugees to see Giselle; and the angry, arrogant, but fearful Hilarion, desirous of Giselle but desperate to improve his lot in life by bargaining with the Landlords. We start to realise that triangles in this work act as an omen. Conveyed through the most potent economy of means—space, eye contact and stillness—this is just the first of several dangerous triangles that mark key points in Khan’s staging.

Once seen and surely never forgotten is the Glove Scene. Bathilde, Albrecht’s fiancée, removes one of her gloves with deliberation and drops it on the floor for Giselle to pick up. Her cruel power game plays out in stillness: Giselle holds her rival’s gaze with confidence and defiance as she calmly returns the glove. But it is not Giselle who has retrieved the glove. No. The other character in this triangle is Hilarion. It is he who has stooped down to pick the glove up from the ground and has attempted in vain to make Giselle bow her head before Bathilde. He has managed to force the other Outcasts to bow down before the Landlords, but Giselle he cannot control.

As Albrecht and Hilarion fight—a fight so palpable in its aggression, even though physical contact is limited—the chief Landlord circles slowly around them until his gaze reaches Hilarion’s eyes, a gaze of such force that it brings the confrontation to an abrupt end. Squeezing Albrecht’s jaw in the vice of his grip, the Landlord seals Albrecht’s fate with an angry kiss.

The fates of Giselle herself and Hilarion are sealed at the moment when triangular relationships collide into a deadlock. Giselle has dared to insert herself and her unborn baby into the “neat” triangle of the Landlord, Bathilde and Albrecht, that is, the triangle that will keep power in the hands of the powerful and keep it removed from the powerless. Giselle pulls Albrecht’s hand to her belly, holding it there so he can feel their bond. But feeling instead the glare of the Landlord and Bathilde’s penetrating eyes upon him, Albrecht wrenches his hand away, throwing Giselle to the ground. Then he literally turns his back on Giselle to walk off stage with Bathilde.

Erina Takahashi as Giselle & James Streeter Albrecht © Camilla Greenwell

For us the words of First Soloist Katja Khaniukova, who has been involved in the ballet since its premiere, shine a light on this climax:

I believe that she’s dead from the moment when Albrecht left her, when he decided … when he just turned away … That’s the moment when she died inside.

Erina Takahashi as Giselle © Camilla Greenwell

The ensuing mad scene is the final straw for the Landlords, as it were. Giselle must be got rid of. And it is Hilarion who is tasked with the dirty work.

Our impressions of Act I lead us to conclude that the narrative of Khan’s Giselle can be traced through this series of triangular relationships, based on love, desire, power and control, that escalate to the crisis point of Giselle’s destiny.

In the final triangle of the ballet Giselle seems to regain some of her agency. It is she who cannot or will not pierce Albrecht through the heart with the cane, despite Myrtha’s urgent exhortations to do so. It is she who demands some grace time to relive moments of love with Albrecht. And it is she who pulls the cane from Myrtha’s grasp, thrusts it into herself and then Myrtha to connect them as they disappear back into the gloom. Giselle then holds Albrecht’s gaze for as long as she is able. Erina Takahashi, who has been dancing Giselle since 2016, gives us a sense of Giselle’s state of mind.

So one of the scenes that has a strong impact on me … is at the end of the ballet … the last pas de deux with Albrecht. At the end we are feeling each another and Myrtha takes us separate, but I decide to say to Myrtha “It’s ok, I’m coming with you”. … You have a last look to Albrecht to say goodbye to him, and then go away with Myrtha. That’s a very strong impact for me.

Emma Hawes as Myrtha © Camilla Greenwell

Days after the performance the magnificent score by Vincenzo Lamangna still haunts us. Lamagna’s reworking of the familiar love themes from Adolphe Adam’s original 1841 music have now taken on a life or their own: like a phantom they hover and linger, circle and circle without resolution. At a climactic moment the melody spirals into a dark wailing abyss as the Wilis perform their famous arabesques voyagés. With another woman dead at the hands of the Landlords, the vicious cycle of oppression continues without respite.

Ironically, in order to create such “bewitching” (Mackrell) performances of Outcasts, outliers and misfits, of divisive abuse of power, the Company must work together to produce cohesion in their dancing and storytelling. And in truth, we have never experienced a performance of this ballet where the effort and energy of such cohesion was not pouring from the stage.

We would like to thank our lovely friend Victoria Trentacoste for the beautiful hand-drawn illustrations 🙏

thinkcreatewrite.com

https://www.instagram.com/thinkcreatewrite/

References

Khaniukova, Katja. “Akram Khan’s Giselle: Katja Khaniukova’s favourite moments | English National Ballet”. YouTube, uploaded by English National Ballet, 23 Oct. 2016, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5cM8nK0WYxs.

Mackrell, Judith. “Giselle review – Akram Khan’s bewitching ballet is magnificently danced”. The Guardian, 28 Sept. 2016, https://www.theguardian.com/stage/2016/sep/28/giselle-review-akram-khan-english-national-ballet.

Takahashi, Erina. “Erina Takahashi on the ending of Akram Khan’s Giselle”. X, uploaded by English National Ballet, 18 Sept. 2024, https://x.com/ENBallet/status/1836358770542190633.

In Conversation: English National Ballet’s Emerging Dancer 2021

Emerging Dancer: a celebration

This year’s Emerging Dancer was a bit different to the usual event, in that it was a celebration of the competition, performed by past winners of both the Emerging Dancer Award and the People’s Choice Award. The programme was diverse, spanning the Romantic era to new commissions, and produced by James Streeter, First Soloist of English National Ballet, as part of the Dance Leaders of the Future programme. Julia and Rosie watched it on English National Ballet’s YouTube channel.

For us it’s really important that Emerging Dancer continues to give opportunities to choreographers and dancers to work together on new pieces. Traditionally there’s been an emphasis on the stars of the future in terms of dancers, but it’s also great to see new choreographic works by lesser known and less experienced choreographers, who may become the choreographic stars of the future.

Alison McWhinney and Junor Souza perform No Man’s Land as part of ENB’s Emerging Dancer – A Celebration photo: Laurent Liotardo

Rosie: In 2018 there was an amazing work by Mthuthuzeli November called Point of Collapse that he created for Precious Adams. I was transfixed by it. Then last year Stina Quagebeur made a duet titled Hollow for Emily Suzuki (who has fast become one of my favourite ENB dancers—elegant, classical and dramatic in equal measure) and Victor Prigent, which they went on to perform as part of the Solstice programme at the Festival Hall in June of this year. But it was also performed by Alison McWhinney and Junor Souza. I was disappointed that I didn’t see this additional cast as well as the original dancers.

Julia: I was particularly taken by Alison and Junor’s performance of Liam Scarlett’s No Man’s Land pas de deux. Both dancers’ connection was so profound yet so subtle: you could really see their connection through the movement being performed, for example, the way Junor’s arms created harmonic lines framing the elegant curves of Alison’s upper body.

Rosie: Sometimes you can really see how the choreographer uses the particular talents and personality of the dancer or dancers they use. I felt this keenly in the case of Mlindi Kulashe’s Self Tape that he made for Rhys Antoni Yeomans. Mlindi is with Northern Ballet, although he studied at ENB School, and we saw his Mamela… in 2018. That was about frustration and entrapment, but for Rhys he made a piece of a very different nature. Rhys won the People’s Award last year, and I can see exactly why: he has an ebullient stage presence and is able to perform a lot of virtuosic “tricks”, as if to the manner born.

Rhys Antoni Yeomans performs Self Tape as part of ENB’s Emerging Dancer – A Celebration photo: Laurent Liotardo

Julia: I found the first section of this solo very quirky and humorous, perhaps reflective of his character, as he dances with a camera on a tripod, as if working out where best to place it to record his “performance”. The second section was also quirky in its use of gesture and unusual rhythms, but in addition displayed Rhys’ technical facility with constant quick, unexpected changes of weight, and leaps and turns that seemed to appear from nowhere.

Rosie: A dancer who is very different to Rhys is Aitor Arrieta, another favourite of ours.

Julia: Yes, indeed! He always strikes me as a very elegant and refined dancer, ideal for the classics, and princely roles. He reminds me of James Streeter in the way he carries himself, and the style of the Grand pas classique that he danced with Julia Conway really highlighted these qualities of Aitor’s—as the title suggests, in fact.

Rosie: We went to see him in Christopher Wheeldon’s Cinderella in Southampton, remember? I found him tender in this role. He won Emerging Dancer jointly with Rina Kanehara in 2017 performing the Esmeralda pas de deux. But he also has a lot of dramatic potential: we saw this in Manon, didn’t we? And even more so in Akram Khan’s Giselle. That performance of Giselle was very special, because it was Crystal Costa’s final performance with the Company. I miss her—she was my number one Mistress in Manon.

Julia: Yes, she brought out a warmth in the character, as well as humour—she sometimes seemed a bit ditsy. Remembering this performance of Giselle makes me really excited to see Aitor in Akram Khan’s Creature at the start of next month.

Rosie: Another dancer I love as Lescaut’s Mistress in Manon is Rina. She has a natural radiance, but she is also very funny in that role.

Julia; Yes, I enjoyed watching her in this year’s new commission by Nikita Goile, dancing with Georgia Bould and Alice Bellini. You can really see her own interpretation of Goile’s choreography, and personal choices performing the movement material, like the individuality of the hand gestures close to her face.

Georgia Bould, Alice Bellini and Rina Kanehara perform Lilith’s voice in Emerging Dancer – A Celebration photo: Laurent Liotardo

Rosie: Yes, we saw a completely different side of her, which I’ve seen only in corps de ballet roles, such as Akram Khan’s Giselle. But here, in Goile’s Lilith’s Voice she was the central figure and showed a dramatic, even tragic, weight in her dancing, as well as an intensity of presence. This is another advantage of new choreographies—they can bring out unexpected qualities in dancers, thereby helping the dancer to develop, and helping us, the audience, to see the dancer in a different light and so not be tempted to typecast people in our minds.

Julia: Indeed – ENB dancers are incredibly fortunate to have such diverse experiences with the Company.

Rosie: I thought the evening came to a rip-roaring climax with Shiori Kase and Dani McCormick in Flames of Paris. One of the things I really enjoyed about watching this celebration was seeing some of the same pieces with different dancers.

Julia: In 2019 we saw Flames of Paris with Julia Conway and Rentaro Nakaaki. That was the last competition before the pandemic, and the performance was a clear winner for us. I was so excited for Julia when she won. I think we have said this before—she has always worked in a focussed way and seems so eager to continue to develop her skills, using her personal talent and aiming to achieve her full potential. But did you know that it was Shiori who coached Julia in 2019?

Julia Conway and Aitor Arrieta perform a Grand pas Classique, part of ENB’s Emerging Dancer: A Celebration photo: Laurent Liotardo

Rosie: No, I did not! That’s so interesting. I would love to see Julia as Aurora—she emits a sense of composure in the face of technical challenges that would suit the role, I think … This was abundantly clear in that fiendish diagonal of rélevés with développés and turns in her solo variation from Grand pas classique. But Shiori won the Emerging Dancer Award in 2011, the second year of the competition, and she has since shown herself to be a beautiful classical ballerina, most recently in Solstice, in which she danced both the Coppélia and Le Corsaire pas de trois; I mean, her technical assurance in Flames of Paris was just captivating. Here she also showed a cheekiness in her dancing. And I loved her fouettés with changing port de bras from fourth position to fourth position with the other arm. I found out from her Instagram that she and Dani (whose full name is Daniel Alejandro McCormick-Quintero) participated in the US International Ballet Competition in 2014, when she won the Gold Medal. One of the joyful things about this performance was Dani’s full adoption of the role of Philippe, as well as his full engagement with all the technical and stylistic challenges of the role—and let’s face it, there are plenty. In this he reminds me of Jeffrey Cirio; I can’t really give any higher accolade.

Shiori Kase and Daniel McCormick perform a pas de deux from Flames of Paris in ENB’s Emerging Dancer – A Celebration Photo: Laurent Liotardo

Julia: Indeed – it was a great performance from Dani! I particularly liked Ivana Bueno and Victor Prigent’s partnership in the extract from La Sylphide. Ivana’s phrasing was incredible; her épaulement was to perfection and the way in which she combined Bournonville’s small movements with more expansive turns and jumps was beautiful to watch.

Ivana Bueno and Victor Prigent perform La Sylphide as part of ENB’s Emerging Dancer: A Celebration photo: Laurent Liotardo

Rosie: I always think that Bournonville choreography is deceptively simple. Our students tend to think that Bournonville’s ballets are much easier to perform that the Petipa classics like Sleeping Beauty and Swan Lake. I was impressed by Victor’s articulation of all that intricate batterie, which is so challenging. I also felt that he and Ivana portrayed a wonderful sense of the human and supernatural worlds and their attraction for one another.

Julia: And finally, it was great seeing James Streeter at the end of the performance cheering his colleagues for their brilliant work and dedication toward this year’s performance. He made particular mention of the mentors, who are all dancers in the Company. For me, this shows that despite the challenges the Company faced during the pandemic, ENB dancers continue to find ways of developing their careers and exploring new skills.