SPOTLIGHT ON MARY HONER

When Ninette de Valois’ ballerina Alicia Markova left the Vic-Wells (now Royal) Ballet in 1935, initially there was no single dancer capable of taking her place, due to the extent of her repertoire and skills.  Instead, Markova’s roles were divided amongst a group of dancers, including Margot Fonteyn, who became the most celebrated of the group by far.  The other dancers were Elizabeth Miller and Pamela May, already with the Company, plus two new recruits, June Brae and Mary Honer.  This last dancer, Mary Honer, is the focus of this British Ballet Now & Then post.  And the reason we have chosen Mary is that Elizabeth Honer, CEO of the Royal Academy of Dance since January this year, is related to her: Mary was in fact second cousin to Elizabeth Honer’s father, and a great influence on Elizabeth’s passion for ballet.

Not a great deal has been written about Mary, so it has been quite a journey finding out sufficient information about her to fill a blog post, rather like following a trail of breadcrumbs.  Still, rifling through books, magazines, journals and programmes, finding bits and pieces of information from primary as well as secondary sources, and fitting them all together like a jigsaw makes us feel like detectives uncovering a mystery, and we have found it quite exhilarating. 

Something that set Mary apart from her colleagues was her professional experience in musical comedy and revue.  This was of course not unusual at the time—it’s easy to forget how closely intertwined the establishment of ballet in Britain was with the music hall.  Adeline Genée, Anna Pavlova, Tamara Karsavina, Lydia Lopokova, Phyllis Bedells and Ninette de Valois all danced in London music halls, and Frederick Ashton choreographed for musicals and revues.  In fact the first role that Ashton created for Mary was not in the context of the Vic-Wells Ballet: we were interested to discover that in 1933 he had choreographed “an exquisite ballet” for the musical Gay Hussar “with the dainty Miss Honer” (The Stage qtd. in Vaughan 91). 

Of the dancers who took over Markova’s roles, the two performers who by all accounts were the most technically accomplished were Elizabeth Miller and Mary.  At this particular time in the development of British ballet technical proficiency must have seemed almost a matter of life and death.  Reminiscing on the period, photographer Gordon Anthony (brother of Ninette de Valois) comments on the Vic-Wells dancers: “Its dancers then were rich in talent but comparatively weak in technical accomplishment” (88).  Now that British ballet is so securely established with major companies, such as the Royal Ballet, English National Ballet, Northern Ballet and Scottish Ballet, as well as smaller troupes, including London City Ballet and Ballet Black, it is difficult to imagine that in the 1920s and ’30s ballet was perceived predominantly as a foreign, and more particularly Russian, art form.  For de Valois dancers with secure technical ability were crucial to her plans for the repertoire: a combination of 19th and early 20th century “classics” and new works that would serve as a secure foundation for the development of her Company and the creation of a distinct British style.

In Mary Honer de Valois certainly found herself a dancer who could rise to any technical challenge.  Here are just a few examples of comments about Mary’s technique:

“She brought with her a virtuoso technique hitherto unseen at Sadler’s Wells (Manchester 98)

“very strong technique” (Clarke 152)

“a delicious soubrette with a formidably strong technique” (Walker 23)

“brilliant technician” (Vaughan 123)

“a virtuoso dancer” with “technical strength” (Morris 104)

Most enthusiastically and evocatively, Anthony described her as “a pyrotechnical magician of those days, tossing off pirouettes and fouettés as if they were pink gins at a cocktail party” (88).

Mary’s technical prowess is suggested too by her casting as Odile to Margot Fonteyn’s Odette in Swan Lake (Le Lac des Cignes as it was known in those days) (Bland 279).  According to Fonteyn’s biographer Meredith Daneman, it was in the event the more experienced Ruth French who performed the role (97).  Ashton’s biographer and esteemed dance historian David Vaughan however states that French and Honer shared the performances of Odile until the autumn of 1937 when Fonteyn was considered sufficiently strong in technique and stamina to perform the dual role (158).  Following some additional research we were very excited to discover a programme, probably from early 1937, listing Fonteyn as Odette, Honer as Odile, and signed by both ballerinas (“Swan Lake, The Vic-Wells Ballet- 1937”): incontrovertible evidence of Honer’s performance as Odile to Fonteyn’s Odette.  Interestingly, this casting is also recorded in Alexander Bland’s statistics in the appendices of The Royal Ballet: the first 50 years (279), but within the text only Ruth French is acknowledged as Fonteyn’s Swan Lake counterpart (46).  The vagaries of research!

In the same year Ashton created Les Patineurs.  According to Ashton’s biographer Julie Kavanagh, his “main aim was to reveal the virtuosity of the burgeoning English ballet” (209).  While Fonteyn danced the central pas de deux with Robert Helpmann, it was for Elizabeth Miller and Mary Honer that he created the “Blue Girls” with their effervescent and highly challenging choreography.  Even Daneman states that Fonteyn and Helpmann’s “thunder was easily stolen by the virtuoso Blue pas de trois” performed by Miller, Honer and Harold Turner (111). 

Although there are no existing recordings of the original Les Patineurs cast, we have watched videos from a variety of companies (American Ballet Theatre, Joffrey Ballet, London City Ballet, Royal Ballet), and from this feel that we have gained a sense of Honer’s technical capabilities.  In the pas de trois, the continuous terre à terre work combined with adagio movements requires great stamina as well as precision.  We are thinking here of repeating motifs such as relevé lent devant through passé into arabesque while executing temps levés, or demi grand rond de jambe sauté en dehors continuing round to arabesque while doing a series of temps levé en tournant, the whole motif accompanied by a huge port de bras.  There were also challenges in pointe work, such as turning hops sur pointe with the working leg in attitude devant.  Given what we know about the casting of Honer as Odile, it is perhaps unsurprising that her role climaxes in a series of fouettés, but with the added complexity of integrating some pirouettes à la seconde and taking the arms to fourth position on every fourth turn.  And in case we are tempted to assume that in the latter part of the 20th century dancers would have made the choreography more complicated to suit advances in technique, according to Kavanagh, towards the end of his life, Ashton would complain that “it was so much more complicated then than it has become” (209).  This also resonates with Bland’s assertion that the “spinning Girls in Blue, Mary Honer and Elizabeth Miller, were to set a challenge for their many later replacements” (49).

While we have emphasised Honer’s technical capabilities because of their significance in the development of British ballet during the 1930s, we in no way wish to pigeon-hole her.  The range of Mary’s repertoire implies that she was in fact very versatile.  Another role which Ashton created for her was the Bride in his A Wedding Bouquet, which premiered two months after Les Patineurs.  Here Mary danced a parody of a classical pas de deux with Helpmann.  Photographs by Gordon Anthony depict Mary posing in elegant positions while Helpmann partners her awkwardly by for example facing the wrong direction, appearing as if he is dragging her along behind him, or balancing her in a swoon on his knee with his arm hooked over her waist (Vaughan 150-51).  Mary Clarke, dance historian and editor of the Dancing Times for forty-five years, provides a wonderfully vivid description of Mary Honer as the Bride: “She simpered and blushed and giggled her way through the ballet” (130).  Clearly the effectiveness of Mary’s performance in the role was displayed through the combination of a keen comedic talent and the physical control required to end “upside down and back to front in most of the pas de deux … without looking ruffled by the experience” (Morris 104).  In fact Kavanagh asserts that Mary was so hilarious as the Bride that Helpmann felt upstaged by her (212).  Another Ashton ballet that capitalised on Mary’s comedic gifts was The Wise Virgins (1940), based on the Parable of the Wise and Foolish Virgins from Saint Matthew’s Gospel.  Writing in 1946, ballet critic Audrey Williamson declared that as the leader of the Foolish Virgins, Mary “plumbed depths of disarming silliness no one has ever achieved since” (75).   

The role that seems to have been central to Honer’s classical repertoire was Swanilda in Coppélia (Saint-Léon, 1870; Cecchetti, 1894): a role requiring both comedic talent and technical virtuosity.  With its two acts, the Vic-Wells’ 1933 production of Coppélia was the first multi-act 19th century “classic” staged by de Valois, and as such a crucial work in the establishment of ballet as an art form in this country.  In 1940 Honer was chosen as first cast for the first three-act production of Coppélia in this country, making her the first English Swanilda in a full-length production, a performance for which she received a well deserved ovation, according to Richardson (464), and garnered much critical acclaim (Fisher 14; Manchester 99).  Mary gave the role a “saucer-eyed wistfulness and mischief and a steel-pointed technique of glittering virtuosity”, wrote Williamson (120), intimating that the ballerina not only dazzled the audience with her rendition of the choreography, but also excelled in creating a warm, funny and captivating character.

In complete contrast to Swanilda is the Betrayed Girl in de Valois’ The Rake’s Progress, based on William Hogarth’s set of paintings.  Although she finds herself pregnant by the Rake, the Betrayed Girl uses her savings to pay off his debts, and later, once his fortunes have deteriorated, visits him in the prison where he dies.  This role differs from Mary’s most celebrated roles not only in character, but in style and technique.  The Girl’s best known dance is probably her solo near the prison gate, which is also a personal favourite of ours and has been described as de Valois’ most lyrical piece of choreography (Williamson 62).  The poignant dance shows her embroidering with motifs of developpés, lunges and relevés in attitude devant accompanied by port de bras representing her pulling thread through the fabric on her embroidery hoop. After this she puts the hoop down and gives into her distress through a series of weeping, reaching and pleading motifs.  More motifs show her anxiously looking from side to side as she performs stuttering glissades piqués sur pointe.  With its repeated motifs and cyclical structure the solo conveys to us a sense of time passing, suggesting the Girl’s loyalty and steadfastness, as well as her sorrow.  The dance is understated, with emotion and character communicated through the combination of danse d’école and contained, stylised gesture. 

Given what we have learnt about Mary’s virtuosic style, the Betrayed Girl seems an unlikely candidate as a highlight in her repertoire.  Yet we have found a number of sources that draw attention to her interpretation of the role.  Williamson remarked on the “true eloquence” of her hands in the embroidery solo, and the “wounded and wistful loyalty that was deeply touching” in the final scene (62).  Her performance is described in her Dancing Times obituary as “wholly credible” in its “simplicity” (“Miss Mary Honer”), and Gordon Anthony even declared that she surpassed both Alicia Markova and Margot Fonteyn in the role (89), an opinion clearly shared by Williamson for whom Mary represented the “the criterion for this part” (62).  These descriptions and appreciations of Mary in this role made us very happy, as they suggest that Mary was a far more versatile dancer than it seemed in the beginning stages of our research.

The Rake’s Progress was one of the ballets broadcast on the BBC before the service was shut down for the duration of World War II.  It was such serendipity that the advent of television coincided with the fledgling years of British ballet.  On 2nd November 1936 the BBC opened the world’s first regular high-definition television service.  Three days later Ballet Rambert became the first British ballet company to be broadcast, swiftly followed by the Vic-Wells on November 11th (Davis 363).  The BBC became an important patron of the arts, not only broadcasting but also commissioning concert music, plays, and yes, ballets, most notably by another significant British ballet choreographer, Antony Tudor (BBC Story: 1930s; Davis 302-03). 

Between 1936 and the outbreak of World War II on 1st September 1939, the Vic-Wells Ballet regularly appeared on the BBC, and Mary, of course, made a significant contribution to these broadcasts.  In addition to dancing the Betrayed Girl on television, Mary performed classical roles, including Princess Florine and the Sugar Plum Fairy, and 20th century works, most notably the two Ashton roles that had been created for her in Les Patineurs and A Wedding Bouquet, and her photograph appeared in the Radio Times Television Supplement in March 1937 in the Grand pas de deux from The Nutcracker (or Casse-Noisette as it was known at that time) (“Pre-war Television” 3).  She also danced a role for which she received particular praise from both Phillip Richardson, editor of The Dancing Times, who declared her to be “at her best as Papillon” in Fokine’s Carnaval (138), and Gordon Anthony, who remembered the excitement of her “speed, lightness and precision” (89). 

What we found more interesting, however, was that from the autumn of 1937 a small number of prominent dancers were given the opportunity to each curate a 10-minute programme highlighting their own individuality.  Dancers included Alicia Markova, Pamela May, and unsurprisingly, Mary Honer.  In 1938 Mary performed two such recitals.  Some dances were evidently arranged specifically for the occasion, but for existing repertoire, in addition to the Sugar Plum Fairy variation and the ballerina solo from Ashton’s Les Rendezvous, Mary chose Odette’s solo from Act II of Swan Lake (Davis 284).  To us this seems like a very deliberate choice that displayed Mary’s versatility rather than simply emphasising those qualities for which she was best known.     

While television seems to us to have been an ideal medium to promote ballet, journalist John swift, who under the pseudonym “The Scanner” had a column in the television section of Radio Times, emphasised rather the importance of ballet for television, stating “One thing is clear: that ballet has established itself firmly as an important part of the more serious side of television programmes” (“Pre-war Television” 22).

Unexpectedly, in the course of our research we came across a repeated anecdote that gives us an impression of Mary’s character, her attitude to her work and to her colleagues.  Several sources describe a performance of The Sleeping Princess (later named The Sleeping Beauty) where Pamela May, who was dancing the Lilac Fairy, unfortunately injured herself during the Prologue.  That evening Mary was performing her usual roles—the Breadcrumb Fairy (known as the Violet Fairy in that production) and Princess Florine (Bluebird Pas de deux).  Despite never having rehearsed the Lilac Fairy’s choreography, Mary’s reaction to her colleague’s unfortunate accident was to complete the Lilac Fairy performance in Pamela May’s stead as well as dancing her own roles.  It was only in the Apotheosis that an additional dancer (Julia Farron) was needed to cover the last section of the Lilac Fairy’s role (Anthony 89; Clarke 166; Leith xii; Manchester 99).  Critic P. W. Manchester showed her admiration for Mary’s dedication and intrepidness in the following words: “She can have known the part only because she had assiduously watched rehearsals when she might easily have chosen to take the time off”.

One further anecdote tells us of Mary’s commitment to the Company, and of her sense of fun.  In 1950, at the Sadler’s Wells 21st anniversary gala, Mary reprised her role of the Bride in A Wedding Bouquet, despite having left the Company over seven years earlier.  Evidently her performance showed an undiminished vitality: she looked “radiant and unchanged” (Clarke 253) “with all her old skill and charm” (“Miss Mary Honer”).

When Mary died in 1965, the Dancing Times paid tribute to her contribution to the development of British ballet in its formative years:

Virtuosity, in those days, was a rare ingredient in our national ballet and Mary Honer’s dancing set a standard and provided an example … She was proud of the role she played in the development of our national ballet and rightly so for her contribution was great.  Technical standards have risen fantastically since her day—but the choreography written for her in Les Patineurs still taxes our strongest dancers. (“Miss Mary Honer”)

This obituary concludes with the uncompromising words “Her place in ballet history is safe”.  But of course this brings us to the perplexing question of why the name of Mary Honer is not a more familiar one in British ballet history.  For that burning question we have a few suggestions.

We have wondered whether, despite Markova’s status, experience and skill, de Valois was not altogether unhappy at her departure.  De Valois’ aim was to develop dancers nurtured within her Company (Quinton), but although Markova was only 22 when she joined the Vic-Wells ballet, she had already danced with Diaghilev’s Ballets Russes for four years, been ballerina of the Camargo Society, and was dancing with Marie Rambert’s company.  Similarly, when Mary arrived, she was, as Gordon Anthony put it “already a premiere danseuse of some note” (88).  Fonteyn, on the other hand, was only fourteen years old when she joined de Valois’ school and debuted with the Company (Daneman 62). This circumstance allowed Fonteyn to develop into a truly “home-grown ballerina” (Hall 259).

The critics and dance writers of the 1930s and ’40s, such as Arnold Haskell, Lawrence Gowing, P. W. Manchester, Fernau Hall, and Ninette de Valois herself, were intent on ballet becoming integral to British cultural life, but also on ensuring that it would be considered a serious art form.  Perhaps as a way of educating audiences, they seemed keen to categorise dancers as particular types.  Apart from being labelled as a technical and virtuosic dancer, the descriptor most often applied to Mary was “soubrette”, a term both used at the time and reflected in later writings (Clarke 152; Manchester 99; Walker 23).  As we have noted, the strength and ease of Mary’s technique was crucial at this time in the development of ballet performance and culture, something that is highlighted in favourable comparisons with Russian dancers (Vaughan 148; Manchester 99).  Manchester expresses this point in no uncertain terms: “Her fouettés have the freedom and sweep of which previously only the Russians have held the secret”.

Yet, in our opinion, such labels as “soubrette” and “technical” can be rather limiting, and as you will have noted, from our research we have gained the impression that Mary was a rather versatile dancer.  A number of writers referred to certain “mannerisms” (Fisher 14; Gowing 494; Manchester 98) that were presumed to be a result of Mary’s work in revues and musicals and deemed unsuitable for performing in a serious ballet company.  We noted however that critics regularly commented on dancers’ improvements in technique and expression, and indeed some critics remarked on developments in Mary’s performances.  The statements that Mary had “widened her mimetic range to an astonishing extent” (Manchester 98) and “acquired a true classical style” (“Miss Mary Honer” 477) suggest to us that she had not only “shed the mannerisms” (Fisher 14), but that over time her dancing developed in both expressivity and in refinement of style.  Further, we do wonder whether drawing attention to this aspect of Mary’s performances was the result of some degree of snobbishness on the part of critics who were so eager for ballet to be perceived as a serious art form, and consequently wished to distance ballet from its ties with the music hall.  Perhaps there was even a sense of resentment surrounding a dancer from what they considered a more lowly art form being able to out-fouetté, as it were, dancers with only ballet experience.  We did also find it curious that even within the same article descriptions of Mary’s performance style could be contradictory.  For example, while Gowing criticised Mary’s “mannered” hand movements, on the same page he describes her Princess Florine as “possibly the most perfect single piece of dancing seen on the Sadler’s Wells stage this season” (494).  So to return to our main point, we believe that this association with revue and musicals could be another reason why so little has been written about a dancer who must have been influential at the time: we cannot imagine that her colleagues were not inspired to emulate her technique.

Although they may seem insignificant, there are two discoveries which brought home to us Mary’s importance to the Vic-Wells Company and to the flowering of ballet in this country.   The first was Bland’s description of the way de Valois’ company had developed by 1939, numbering up to forty dancers “with at least the mandatory four principals – Fonteyn, Helpmann, Honer and Turner” (57).  The phrase “mandatory four principals”, followed by an alphabetical list, implies not only equal ranking amongst the four dancers, but also that they were absolutely crucial to the Company.  The second discovery was a cartoon from the same year by Charles Reading, stage designer at Sadler’s Wells Theatre (131).  It depicts four “Sadler’s Wells Personalities”: Constant Lambert, Ninette de Valois, Robert Helpmann and Mary Honer.  And who bothers to produce a cartoon of someone insignificant?

Mary left de Valois’ company at the end of 1942.  While she continued her involvement in ballet by occasionally dancing with the Ballet Guild, becoming a member of The Royal Academy of Dancing (RAD) Major Examinations’ Committee and running a dance school, this means she was not involved in the post-war events that catapulted the Sadler’s Wells Ballet to international fame: the legendary re-opening of the Royal Opera House in 1946, and the triumphant first visit to New York in the autumn of 1949.  Both of those events were led by performances of The Sleeping Beauty, which was to become the Company’s signature ballet.  Both first nights were led by Margot Fonteyn as Aurora: the part that was to become her signature role.  By the 1950s Fonteyn had become an international celebrity, and books about her by Cyril Beaumont (1948), Cecil Beaton (1951), Hugh Fisher (1954), James Monahan (1957), and Elizabeth Frank (1958) further thrust her into the limelight, contributing to the mythological figure she still is today.

Concluding thoughts

Mary Honer was distinctive in a number of ways: she demonstrated an unprecedented brilliance of technique that rivalled the Russian dancers of the time; she inspired Ashton in his choreography when the British ballet repertoire was starting to be developed; she could dance all the 19th century classics that de Valois introduced into the repertory and promoted to give British ballet more gravitas as a serious art form based on a strong tradition; and Mary was adaptable and versatile with a great work ethic and spirit of collegiality.  The range of Mary’s roles can be seen in the table below.

Nonetheless, despite the confident words of the Dancing Times, Mary’s place in British ballet history has not been as safe as predicted.  We hope therefore that this post goes some way to restoring her to her rightful place as a pioneer of British ballet.

We would like to thank the Library staff at the Royal Academy of Dance, particularly the wonderful archivist and dear friend Eleanor Fitzpatrick.  Thanks also to our research assistant Jodie Nunn who, with her usual enthusiastic and energetic spirit, has helped with trawling through programmes from the archives, and Dancing Times editions from 1935 to 1943. And finally, a thank you to Madeleine of Madeleine’s Stage for permission to use the image of her signed Lac des Cygnes programme.

Mary Honer’s Roles with the Vic-Wells Ballet

Work/ Production  Role
Façade (Ashton, 1931)
New production (1935) †    
 
**Scotch Rhapsody  
Tarantella and Finale (1939)  
Les Sylphides (Fokine, 1909)  
(staged by Markova, 1932)  

Mazurka (1936)  
Valse (1938)  
Coppélia (Saint-Léon, 1870; Petipa/Cecchetti, 1894)  
Coppélia Acts I & II
(staged by Sergeyev, 1933)    
     


Swanilda (1938)    
Le Carnaval (Fokine, 1910) †  
(staged 1933)  

Papillon (1935)      
The Sleeping Beauty (Petipa, 1890)   “The Bluebird Pas de deux”  
(staged 1933)  


The Enchanted Princess (1935)  
The Sleeping Beauty (Petipa, 1890)   “Aurora Pas de deux”  
(staged 1933)  
     

Aurora (1936)
Les Rendezvous (Ashton, 1933)Ballerina role (1937)  
Giselle (Coralli / Perrot, 1841)
(staged by Sergueyev, 1934)
 
Peasant Pas de deux (1939)  
The Nutcracker (Ivanov, 1892)  
Casse-Noisette
(staged by Sergeyev, 1934)  
     

Sugar Plum Fairy (1935)    
Swan Lake (Petipa/Ivanov, 1895)  
Le Lac des Cygnes
(staged by Sergeyev, 1934)  

[Sometimes Act II, or III, was performed alone as part of a mixed bill.]  
     

Act I Pas de trois (1935)    
Odile (1936)  
Odette/Odile (1937)  
Odette (1938)    
† Odette Act II solo  
† Odile Act III solo    
The Rake’s Progress (de Valois, 1935) †  The Betrayed Girl (1936)
Le Baiser de la Fée (Ashton, 1935)* Spirit
The Gods go a’Begging
(de Valois, 1936)  

*Serving Maid
Apparitions (Ashton, 1936) 
Nocturne (Ashton, 1936) † 
Prometheus (de Valois, 1936)*Prometheus’ Wife 
Les Patineurs (Ashton, 1937) †*Blue Girl
A Wedding Bouquet (Ashton, 1937) † *The Bride
Horoscope (Ashton, 1938)*Follower of Leo
The Sleeping Beauty (Petipa, 1890)  
The Sleeping Princess (staged by Sergeyev, 1939) †

**Breadcrumb (Violet) Fairy **Princess Florine (Bluebird pas de deux)
Diamond Fairy (1940)
Lilac Fairy (unplanned)
Cupid and Psyche (Ashton, 1939)* Minerva
Coppélia Acts I-III
(staged by Sergeyev, 1940)  

**Swanilda  
The Wise Virgins (Ashton, 1940)  *Leader of the Foolish Virgins
The Prospect Before Us (de Valois, 1940)  
*Street Dancer
Façade (Ashton, 1931)  
New production (1940)
   
**Maiden (Country Dance)  
The Wanderer (Ashton, 1941)* Allegro, Presto, Finale
Orpheus and Eurydice (de Valois, 1941)*Leader of the Furies

*  created role
** production first cast
†  televised performance


© British Ballet Now & Then

References

“American Ballet Theatre Les Patineurs (complete)”. YouTube, uploaded by David Coll, 6 Sept. 2011, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PSdROtoWdJk.

Anthony, Gordon. “Pioneers of the Royal Ballet: Mary Honer”. Dancing Times, vol. LXI, no.722, 1970, pp. 88-89.

“The BBC Story Factsheets: 1930s”. BBC, 2024,  https://www.bbc.com/historyofthebbc/timelines/.

Bland, Alexander. The Royal Ballet: the first 50 years. Threshold Books, 1981.

Clarke, Mary. The Sadler’s Wells Ballet: a history and appreciation. A & C Black, 1955.

Daneman, Meredith. Margot Fonteyn. Viking, 2004.

Davis, Janet Rowson. “Ballet on British Television”. Dance Chronicle, vol. 5, no. 3, 1983, pp.245-304.

De Valois, Ninette. Invitation to the Ballet. John Lane The Bodley Head, 1937.

Fisher, Hugh. Ballerinas of Sadlers Wells. Adam and Charles Black, 1954.

Hall, Fernau. Modern English Ballet: an interpretation. Andrew Melrose, 1949.

Haskell, Arnold. Prelude to Ballet: a guide to appreciation. Thomas Nelson, 1936.

Gowing, Lawrence. “English Dancers in English Ballet”. Dancing Times, New Series, no. 316, 1937, pp. 489-94.

Kavanagh, Julie. Secret Muses: the life of Frederick Ashton. Faber and Faber, 1996.

Leith, Eveleigh. Introduction. The Sadler’s Wells Ballet: camera studies by Gordon Anthony, 1942.

Manchester, P. W. Vic-Wells: a ballet in progress. Victor Gollancz, 1946.

“Miss Mary Honer”. Dancing Times, vol. LV, no. 657, 1965, p. 477.

Morris, Geraldine. Frederick Ashton’s Ballets. 2nd ed., Oxford UP, 2024.

Noble, Peter, editor. British Ballet. Skelton Robinson, 1949.

Les Patineurs. Choreographed by Frederick Ashton, performance by the Royal Ballet. 2010, Opus Arte, 2011.

“Les Patineurs, part 1” [Joffrey Ballet]. YouTube, uploaded by markie polo, 2 Aug. 2016, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-OJz0V6h-X0&t=23s.

“Les Patineurs, part 2” [Joffrey Ballet]. YouTube, uploaded by markie polo, 2 Aug. 2016, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1RmU7DCeK2w&t=57s.

“Les Patineurs, LCB, Singapore 1992”. YouTube, uploaded by Andrew Steven, 6 Apr. 2016, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=puxdJVP6zQg.

Quinton, Laura. “Ninette de Valois and the Transformation of Early-Twentieth Century British Ballet”. Precarious Professionals Gender, Identities and Social Change in Modern Britain, edited by Heidi Egginton, and Zoë Thomas, U of London P, https://read.uolpress.co.uk/read/precarious-professionals-gender-identities-and-social-change-in-modern-britain/section/9215c1f3-a47c-4d1f-8ca8-352d7e343414.

“Pre-war Television: March 5, 1937”. Radio Times Archive, http://www.radiotimesarchive.co.uk/television.html

Reading, Charles. “Sadler’s Wells Personalities”. The Dancing Times, New Series, no. 314, 1939, pp. 131-38.

Richardson, Phillip. “The Sitter Out”. The Dancing Times, New Series, no. 314, 1936, pp. 135-38.

—. “The Sitter Out”. The Dancing Times, New Series, no. 356, 1940, pp. 463-67.

“Swan Lake, The Vic-Wells Ballet- 1937”. Madeleine’s Stage,  https://madeleinesstage.co.uk/swan-lake-the-vic-wells-ballet-1937/. Accessed 13 July 2025.

Vaughan, David. Frederick Ashton and his Ballets. 2nd rev. ed., Dance Books, 1999.

Walker, Kathrine Sorley. Robert Helpmann: a rare sense of theatre. Dance Books, 2009.

Williamson, Audrey. Contemporary Ballet. Rockliff, 1946.

Romeo and Juliet On Screen Now & Then

The year 2025 marks the 60th anniversary of Kenneth MacMillan’s Romeo and Juliet.  

At the premiere in 1965, Margot Fonteyn and Rudolf Nureyev famously received forty-three curtain calls (“The Royal Ballet’s Romeo and Juliet”).  Since then the work has been staged regularly, filling the Royal Opera House. Moreover, despite the abundance of balletic Romeo and Juliets performed across the globe, as Emma Byrne of the Evening Standard points out, MacMillan’s adaptation is often considered to be the “definitive” ballet version of Shakespeare’s play.

From 1966 to the present day MacMillan’s Romeo and Juliet has also been screened in the cinema, on television, and since the 1980s reproduced on VHS tapes, then DVDs, and now on streaming services.  This is the topic of our discussion below, originally written in 2022, and now updated, and enhanced with original artwork by Victoria Trentacoste of thinkcreatewrite.com.

Romeo and Juliet on Screen Now

Given the importance of this year’s anniversary in the history of MacMillan’s ballet, the announcement that a performance would be live-steamed in cinemas once again came as no surprise.  In contrast, when a 2007 recording of Romeo and Juliet starring the celebrated dance partnership of Tamara Rojo and Carlos Acosta arrived in cinemas the following year, it caused quite a stir, as well as a debate about the advantages of watching ballet in cinemas (Wilkinson).  Since then cinema screenings in the arts have become a regular occurrence, not only from the Royal Opera House but from, amongst other venues, the Metropolitan Opera in New York, the Palais Garnier in Paris, and the National Theatre here in London.  And no fewer than four live performances of MacMillan’s Romeo and Juliet have been screened in cinemas since 2008, featuring the following principals: Lauren Cuthbertson and Federico Bonelli (2012); Yasmine Naghdi and Matthew Ball (2019); Anna Rose O’Sullivan and Marcelino Sambé (2022); Fumi Kaneko and Vadim Muntagirov (2025). Apart from this year’s offering (which will presumably be released in due course), all of these recordings have been made commercially available either on DVD or on Royal Ballet and Opera Stream, and all have been directed for the screen by Ross MacGibbon, former dancer with the Royal Ballet, and now a renowned filmmaker specialising in dance and theatre.

In preparation for our original Romeo and Juliet post in 2022 we studied all of the recordings available on DVD.  However, for the purposes of our discussion below we focussed on only one of these recordings.  We found it quite tricky to choose, but we decided that the ballet partnership of Rojo and Acosta made a neat parallel with the Fonteyn and Nureyev partnership featured in the Romeo and Juliet on Screen Then section of this post.  

By the time of filming Rojo and Acosta were an established partnership in both the 19th century classics, particularly Giselle (Perrot/Coralli, 1841) La Bayadère (Petipa, 1877) and Swan Lake (Petipa/Ivanov, 1895), and in MacMillan’s Manon (1974), as well as Romeo and Juliet.  Described as taking the Royal Ballet “by storm” when they joined the company (Acosta in 1998, Rojo in 2000) (Guiheen), over time they became known on stage as the “Brangelina of ballet” (Tan).  This suggests that although they indubitably did not cause the sensation of Fonteyn and Nureyev (has any couple in the history of British ballet?), they were unquestionably a ballet partnership of glamour, and a force to be reckoned with.  Further, they had received outstanding notices for their performances.  John Percival, for example, claimed that Rojo “must be the best Royal Ballet Juliet for a quarter century or more, since Gelsey Kirkland’s guest seasons”, adding that Acosta was “on equally fine form”, while according to Sarah Crompton, their performances “absolutely gleam[ed] with greatness” (qtd. in “Reviews 2004-2007”). In contrast, with the exception of Bonelli, all of the other protagonists filmed in Romeo are home grown, so to speak, all having had at least some training at the Royal Ballet School; neither were their partnerships celebrated to the same extent.  However, by the 2012 Bonelli-Cuthbertson performance, cinema screenings of ballet were well established, and consequently perhaps no longer needed the draw of an international star partnership. 

By now you must be asking yourselves about still the most publicised screening of the ballet in recent years, that is, Romeo and Juliet: Beyond Words … which we have of course not forgotten.  For their 2019 Beyond Words former Royal Ballet dancers Michael Nunn and William Trevitt held auditions, resulting in the cast being led by two more home-grown talents: Francesca Hayward and William Bracewell.  Undoubtedly the reason for the additional publicity was that Nunn and Trevitt produced and directed an adaptation of the ballet filmed on location.  Their choice of location was the Renaissance backlot of the Korda Studios in Hungary.  Constructed for the TV series The Borgias, the backlot is a magnificent and atmospheric set of buildings, courtyards, piazzas, alleys and interiors depicting historical Italy.  

Filming the ballet on location was of course not an original idea. As early as 1955, Lev Arnshtam directed the seminal Romeo and Juliet by Leonid Lavrovsky (1940) on location in the Yalta Film Studio.  Perhaps more important for our discussion, however, is the film of Shakespeare’s play directed by Franco Zeffirelli.  We know that MacMillan had been inspired by Zeffirelli’s 1960 Old Vic staging.  Further, the naturalism emphasised by Zeffirelli in his direction lent itself well to an on-location filming, including the Palazzo Borghese in Rome, the streets of the medieval town of Gubbio, and the Basilica of St Peter in Tuscania.  Therefore, this way of breathing fresh life into MacMillan’s choreography and bringing the ballet to potential new audiences seemed to us entirely compatible with the choreographer’s own vision for his work.  

In all of the recent live recordings on DVD the familiar rich colour palette of Nicholas Georgiadis’ designs dominates: deep reds, browns and golds, with injections of white, noticeably in the costumes of the two Lovers.  In contrast to this, Beyond Words is altogether brighter and livelier in its initial visual impact, opening as it does on the sun beaming down on a courtyard scene of hens and a dog, a busy servant, and a small child running off on some errand.  Juliet’s room is no longer a minimally furnished vast stage space, but a chamber embellished with pale light drapes that let the sunshine in, and filled with various furnishings, including a chest, cushions, a settle, chairs and candles.    

MacMillan’s ballet began life in 1964 when he was commissioned to create a short work for Canadian television.  This work in fact became the Balcony pas de deux, which MacMillan created on his muses Lynn Seymour and Christopher Gable.  This duet was the beginning of the full ballet that premiered the following year in London.  Given its place both within the narrative and as the culmination of Act I, it is of course one the ballet’s main climaxes; but for us, the fact that the rest of the work emerged from this pas de deux gives it a special significance.   

At the start of the scene Tamara Rojo’s Juliet emerges from the darkness of the balcony, the whiteness of her skin and dress gleaming softly through the night air, and we think of Romeo’s wistful words …

But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?

It is the East and Juliet is the sun!

(11.2.2-3)

She looks down at the hand that Romeo touched when they first met in the Ballroom, brings her hands together and holds them to her cheek.  Again, we hear the voice of Romeo: 

See how she leans her cheek upon her hand!

Oh that I were a glove upon that hand,

That I might touch that cheek!

(11.2.23-25).

Given that MacMillan, Seymour and Gable worked with Shakespeare’s text, it seems reasonable to assume that these gestures were integral to the original choreography, but even if not, we know that Rojo studied Shakespeare’s text in her preparation for dancing the ballet, thereby rendering her approach to creating her own version of Juliet faithful to the spirit of the work (“Tamara Rojo on being Juliet”).  We also find that the resonances with Shakespeare’s soul-stirring verse, and the reference to their first meeting lend a palpable air of longing to the opening of the scene.  

At the end of the scene Juliet returns to the balcony, only to kneel down immediately and reach for Romeo, who is straining up towards her.  But despite their burning passion, their hands don’t quite meet—a reminder perhaps that the distance imposed upon them is simply too great; or maybe it is an expression of unfulfilled desire; or perhaps both.  Whatever our feelings about this moment, it is also a foreshadowing of the tomb scene where Rojo’s Juliet lacks the strength to keep hold of Romeo’s hand as she draws her last breath.

In an interview after the Beyond Words premiere, Hayward talked about how important the set was to her understanding and portrayal of Juliet.  At the start of the Balcony Scene music we see the Nurse (Romany Pajdak) brushing Juliet’s hair.  Juliet seems preoccupied, restless.  As she approaches her balcony, we watch her from behind, almost as if we are following her into another world.  But the scene is softly aglow with the light of the moon, so there is no sense of Juliet lighting up the darkness; neither are there any noticeable gestures referring to Juliet’s first meeting with Romeo or to Shakespeare’s text.  But what we are given here is a sense of being physically present in Verona, as we watch the Lovers through the foliage of the garden.  And at the end of the scene not only do their hands touch, but they are able to hold one another’s forearms before letting go again.  Although the scene is to us rather less poetic than the stage version, it recreates the sense of realism that MacMillan was so eager to effect in a work—a realism to which we have perhaps become too accustomed to fully appreciate.

At the end of the film our minds return to this moment of joy: looking through the grille enclosing the crypt, we witness Juliet’s failed attempt to reach Romeo’s hand.  In close-up shot all we can see in the final moments are her hands dangling over the tomb, almost as if they were disembodied.  It is well known that MacMillan wanted no sentimentality to be portrayed in this scene: “… the death scene was crucial to Kenneth.  His lovers were not reunited in death.  They did not die in each other’s arms” wrote Seymour (186).  As far as MacMillan was concerned, the death of Romeo and Juliet was a complete waste of young life (qtd. in Seymour 186), and this ending seems to us a fitting indictment on all those involved in precipitating the death of the teenagers. 

Another memory that Seymour writes about is the now iconic scene where Juliet sits alone and still on her bed in desperation until she resolves to visit Friar Laurence for help with her predicament.  Sixty years after the premiere, this is still a suspenseful moment of high emotion in a live performance, a moment when we invariably reach for our opera glasses to experience more intensely Juliet finding a glimmer of hope through her despair.  As if mimicking our opera glasses, in both the recordings we’re analysing the camera moves in close, so that we can witness the expressivity of Rojo and Hayward in their near stillness, watch the quickening of their breath, the agitation in Hayward’s face, and the transformation from Rojo’s dark mien to the return of light to her face.  And sixty years after the premiere, this must surely still constitute a challenge for the ballerina to project her interpretation of Juliet’s emotions through the most economical of means.  Rojo herself states, “The hardest thing is the moment when you sit in bed and you have no movement at all to express your feelings” (“Tamara Rojo on being Juliet”).

Romeo and Juliet on Screen Then

For commercial recordings of Romeo and Juliet from earlier years there is no problem of choice: as far as we are aware, there are only two.  These are the film version made just one year after the creation of the work, starring Fonteyn and Nureyev, and the 1984 recording for BBC television featuring Wayne Eagling and a 21-year-old Alessandra Ferri.

We found comparing the two in terms of visual impact very interesting.  Although recorded in Pinewood Studios, the film version attempts to simulate a theatre experience with the opening and closing of the curtains at the start and end of each act, and curtain calls at the end.  Given that it was produced and directed by the film maker Paul Czinner, we would guess that the budget was quite substantial.  In contrast, the quality of the television film is rather poor, far from the high definition to which we have now become accustomed.  Although a sense of opulence is still conveyed with some imagination on the part of the viewer, the television production values are of the time, and we must confess that to us it is rather drab looking.  This MacMillan may of course have appreciated in a way, given his love for realism in the theatre.

On the other hand, from the start the Czinner film blazes with colour like a Renaissance painting, with bright blues and highly pigmented reds, striking yellows and dazzling golds and greens vying for attention.  For us these original sets and costumes provide an ideal frame for the kind of vibrancy that MacMillan had so admired in Zeffirelli’s Old Vic production of the play in 1960 and wished for his own ballet.  In fact he told Georgiadis, who often attended rehearsals, that he wanted a Verona “where young horny aristocrats roamed the town full of romantic, adventurous spirits” (qtd. Seymour 181).

Just as there is such a dramatic contrast between the look of the two recordings, there are some equally alerting contrasts in the particular moments that we have discussed above in the Now section of this post.

When booking tickets at the Royal Opera House, we have always preferred to sit on the left side of the auditorium for this ballet, to ensure that we can watch Juliet on her balcony.  There seems to be a substantial amount of freedom from performer to performer with regard to how she uses the opening music of this scene, and very likely ballerinas won’t even perform exactly the same movements from one performance to the next; so this is another moment when the opera glasses come out.  Ferri appears with an air of blissful restlessness, looking up at the moon, down to her hands, over the balcony and up to the moon again.  Leaning her elbows on the balustrade, the most telling moment is when she holds her hands to her cheek, swaying her body gently from side to side with an ecstatic smile on her face.  But Fonteyn’s use of this moment of freedom to explore Juliet’s feelings we find almost disconcerting.  As in the 2007 and 1984 productions, she emerges from darkness to light up like Romeo’s “bright angel” (Shakespeare 11.2 26, p. 37), after which she gestures slowly upwards with her right arm towards the moon.  Although we know the moon to be significant to Shakespeare’s scene, in our opinion the gesture does not reveal much about Juliet’s thoughts and emotions.  This was contrary to the intentions of MacMillan, Seymour and Gable who had “tried to find steps and gestures to express the characters’ state of mind” (Parry 279).

The scandal of the world premiere of Romeo and Juliet being given to Fonteyn and Nureyev in favour of Seymour and Gable, who had contributed so much to the rehearsal process, is well documented.  Not only was Seymour cast as the fifth Juliet, but it was she who taught the role of Juliet to the other four ballerinas: “Margot … wanted to create her own Juliet”, she recalls (188).  This is particularly noticeable in some movements near the start of the Balcony Scene that are reminiscent of “The Kingdom of the Shades” from Marius Petipa’s 1877 La Bayadère, which Nureyev had staged in 1963: supported pirouettes ending in arabesque accentuate Fonteyn’s classical line, and were presumably chosen by her for this reason.  At the close of the scene Nureyev remains downstage right in a lunge, elegantly gesturing towards Juliet on the balcony as she reciprocates by unfolding her arm in his direction.  This approach does accentuate the irreconcilable distance that the family feud has imposed upon the Lovers; but the poses strike us as symbolic, rather than reflecting the naturalism and urgent emotion that MacMillan was after.  As Seymour put it during a coaching session on the Balcony Scene:

He wanted you to be a real pimply teenager, both of you, who bump noses when they first try to kiss and do all that sort of thing.  They didn’t do it beautifully … it was a little awkward, and a little wonderful, and a little gawky and a little this and a little that.  So try not to deal with it as if you’re some kind of ballerina.

(“Romeo and Juliet Masterclass”)

Another noticeable discrepancy that jars somewhat is Fonteyn’s choice of movement when her Juliet is trying to find a solution to her approaching marriage to Paris.  Rather than sitting on the bed facing directly downstage, she kneels by the bed facing downstage left and mimics crying before raising her head and slowly moving her gaze to downstage right, almost as if watching herself rushing to Friar Laurence.  Perhaps this worked at the time, but when the viewer is accustomed to the drama of being confronted with Juliet’s stillness face-on, it breaks the intensity of the moment.

Seymour recalls what a daring decision it was to reduce movement to a minimum at this climactic point in the narrative, and what a challenge it presented for her, but that MacMillan was convinced that she was capable of holding the audience (185-86).  And his belief in Seymour was justified: audiences and journalists alike were struck by the audaciousness of the sequence, Seymour claiming that it “had a singularly terrifying effect on the scalp of balletgoers” (193).

Presumably it was a combination of Fonteyn’s celebrity status and the challenge presented by the innovative choreographic and dramatic ideas conjured up by MacMillan, Gable, and Seymour that persuaded the other Juliets to adopt Fonteyn’s approach to interpreting the choreography and character, resulting in MacMillan’s fear that his vision of the ballet would not be realised onstage (189).  However, as the recording of Ferri’s 1984 performance testifies, MacMillan’s fears were ultimately unfounded.  The Balcony Scene ends with Romeo and Juliet straining towards one another in their burning desire to touch one another’s hands just one more time before they part.  Ferri’s Juliet sits on the bed facing the audience as Colin Nears’ camera zooms out, thereby emphasising her aloneness in the vast stage space that represents her room.  And Ferri, who became such a long-standing interpreter of the role, showed no reluctance in the death scene to allow the weight of her body to hang in a precarious backbend over the sepulchre with no thought to elegance, unable to keep hold of Romeo’s hand.  Fonteyn’s Juliet, on the other hand, dies holding onto Romeo’s arm and with her body carefully arranged so we can still see her face, and with little sense of the precariousness that might disrupt the ballerina image.  

Ironically perhaps, the Czinner recording states overtly that the purpose of the film is twofold: to preserve the performance for a wider audience and as a record for posterity.  For us, however, the importance of the film lies not so much in its preservation of the dancing of the two undisputed ballet stars of the era, but the way in which the reluctance of the performers to engage fully with MacMillan’s vision highlights the radical nature of MacMillan’s choreography seen both in performance and in the later films.

Concluding thoughts

Having grown up at a time when the only way to engage with ballet choreographies apart from seeing them live was through written materials, photos, LPs and the occasional television broadcast, we feel immensely privileged to have access to all of these recordings of MacMillan’s Romeo and Juliet.  

The films offer us an insight into the radical nature of the choreography, and ways in which the politics of power can have an impact on the nature of a choreographic work.  We can also re-evaluate the work after a long period of familiarity and find new ways of appreciating it through the imaginative work of directors and new casts that bring the work to life again.

© British Ballet Now & Then

References

Byrne, Emma. “Romeo and Juliet review: an inspired choice for the Royal Ballet’s return”. Evening Standard, 6 Oct. 2021, www.standard.co.uk/culture/dance/romeo-and-juliet-review-royal-opera-house-b959020.html

Guiheen, Julia. “Tamara Rojo and Carlos Acosta in “Romeo and Juliet” (2007)”. Pointe Magazine, 20 Nov. 2019, pointemagazine.com/tbt-tamara-rojo-carlos-acosta/

Parry, Jann. Different Drummer: the life of Kenneth MacMillan. Faber & Faber, 2009.

“Reviews 2004-2007”. Tamara Rojo, 7 Mar. 2006, www.tamara-rojo.com/reviews-2004-2007/.

“The Royal Ballet’s Romeo and Juliet: 50 years of star-crossed dancers – in pictures”. The Guardian, 2 Oct. 2015, www.theguardian.com/stage/gallery/2015/oct/02/royal-ballet-romeo-and-juliet-50-years-of-star-crossed-dancers-in-pictures.

Seymour, Lynn, with Paul Gardner. Lynn: the autobiography of Lynn Seymour. Granada, 1984.

—. “Romeo and Juliet Masterclass: Balcony pas de deux”. Revealing MacMillan, Royal Academy of Dance, 2002. 

“Tamara Rojo on being Juliet”. Dance Australia, 26 May 2014, http://www.danceaustralia.com.au/news/tamara-rojo-on-being-juliet

Tan, Monica. “Tamara Rojo and Carlos Acosta: the Brangelina of ballet on chemistry, ageing and loss of innocence”. The Guardian, 27 June, 2014, www.theguardian.com/culture/australia-culture-blog/2014/jun/27/tamara-rojo-carlos-acosta-brangelina-of-ballet

Wilkinson, Sarah. “Why Watch Ballet on the Silver Screen?”. The Guardian, 15 Aug. 2008, www.theguardian.com/stage/theatreblog/2008/aug/15/whyshouldipaytoseeprerec

Romeo and Juliet On Screen Now & Then

Like many of you, no doubt, we were perplexed when the BBC announced at the start of this year that the Royal Ballet would be staging a brand-new production of Romeo and Juliet.

For one thing, we had already booked tickets for what we understood to be Kenneth MacMillan’s adaptation of William Shakespeare’s 1597 play; for another, why on earth would the Company want to stage a different production? At the premiere in 1965, Margot Fonteyn and Rudolf Nureyev evidently received forty-three curtain calls (“The Royal Ballet’s Romeo and Juliet”).  Since then the work has been staged regularly, filling the Royal Opera House (we went to the 531st ROH performance, with the searing Mayara Magri dancing to a packed house).  Plus, despite the abundance of balletic Romeo and Juliets performed across the globe, as Emma Byrne of the Evening Standard points out, this adaptation is often considered to be the “definitive” ballet version of Romeo and Juliet.

From 1966 to the present day (Valentine’s Day this year, to be precise) MacMillan’s Romeo and Juliet has also been screened in the cinema, on television, and since the 1980s reproduced on VHS tapes, and then DVDs.  And this is the topic of our discussion below …

Romeo and Juliet on Screen Now

Unlike the news that the Royal Ballet would be staging a new production of Romeo and Juliet, the announcement that a special screening of the ballet would be live-steamed in cinemas on 14th February this year came as no surprise: we have become accustomed to live cinema screenings and encore screenings, and Romeo and Juliet seems to be a favourite for this purpose. 

When the 2007 recording starring the celebrated dance partnership of Tamara Rojo and Carlos Acosta arrived in cinemas in 2008, it caused quite a stir, as well as a debate about the advantages of watching ballet in cinemas (Wilkinson).  Since then cinema screenings in the arts have become a regular occurrence, not only from the Royal Opera House, but notably from the Bolshoi Theatre in Moscow, the Metropolitan Opera in New York, and from the National Theatre here in London.  And no fewer than three live performances of Romeo and Juliet have been screened in cinemas since 2008, featuring the following principals: Lauren Cuthbertson and Federico Bonelli (2012); Yasmine Naghdi and Matthew Ball (2019); Marcelino Sambé and Anna Rose O’Sullivan (2022).  Apart from this year’s offering (which will presumably be released in due course), all of these recordings have been made commercially available as DVDs, and all have been directed for the screen by Ross MacGibbon, former dancer with the Royal Ballet, and now a renowned filmmaker, specialising in dance and theatre.

In preparation for this post we studied all of the recordings available on DVD.  However, for the purposes of our discussion below we will focus on only one of these recordings.  We found it quite tricky to choose, but we decided that the ballet partnership of Rojo and Acosta made a neat parallel with the Fonteyn and Nureyev partnership featured in the Romeo and Juliet on Screen Then section of this post. 

By the time of filming, Rojo and Acosta were an established partnership in both the 19th century classics, particularly Giselle (Perrot/Coralli, 1841) La Bayadère (Petipa, 1877) and Swan Lake (Petipa/Ivanov, 1895), and in MacMillan’s Manon (1974), as well as Romeo and Juliet.  Described as taking the Royal Ballet “by storm” when they joined the company (Acosta in 1998, Rojo in 2000) (Guiheen), over time they became known on stage as the “Brangelina of ballet” (Tan).  This suggests that although they indubitably did not cause the sensation of Fonteyn and Nureyev (has any couple in the history of British ballet?), they were unquestionably a ballet partnership of glamour, and a force to be reckoned with.  Further, they had received outstanding notices for their performances.  John Percival, for example claimed that Rojo “must be the best Royal Ballet Juliet for a quarter century or more, since Gelsey Kirkland’s guest seasons”, adding that Acosta was “on equally fine form”, while according to Sarah Crompton, their performances “absolutely gleam[ed] with greatness” (qtd. In “Reviews 2004-2007”). In contrast, with the exception of Bonelli, all of the other protagonists filmed in Romeo are home grown, so to speak, all having had at least some training at the Royal Ballet School; neither were their partnerships celebrated to the same extent.  However, by the 2012 Bonelli-Cuthbertson performance, cinema screenings of ballet were well established, and consequently perhaps no longer needed the draw of an international star partnership.

By now you must be asking yourselves about surely the most publicised screening of the ballet in recent years, that is, Romeo and Juliet: Beyond Words … which we have of course not forgotten.  For their 2019 Beyond Words former Royal Ballet dancers Michael Nunn and William Trevitt held auditions, resulting in the cast being led by two more home-grown talents: Francesca Hayward and William Bracewell.  Undoubtedly the reason for the additional publicity was that Nunn and Trevitt produced and directed an adaption of the ballet filmed on location.  Their choice of location was the Renaissance backlot of the Korda Studios in Hungary.  Constructed for the TV series The Borgias, the backlot is a magnificent and atmospheric set of buildings, courtyards, piazzas, alleys and interiors depicting historical Italy. 

Filming the ballet on location was of course not an original idea. As early as 1955, Lev Arnshtam directed the seminal Romeo and Juliet by Leonid Lavrovsky (1940) on location in the Yalta Film Studio.  Perhaps more important than this, however, is the film of Shakespeare’s play directed by Franco Zeffirelli.  We know that MacMillan had been inspired by Zeffirelli’s 1960 Old Vic staging.  Further, the naturalism emphasised by Zeffirelli in his direction leant itself well to an on-location filming, including the Palazzo Borghese in Rome, the streets of the medieval town of Gubbio, and the Basilica of St Peter in Tuscania.  Therefore, this way of breathing fresh life into MacMillan’s choreography and bringing the ballet to potential new audiences seemed to us entirely compatible with the choreographer’s own vision for his work. 

In all of the recent live recordings the familiar rich colour palette of Nicholas Georgiadis’ designs dominates: deep reds, browns and golds, with injections of white, noticeably in the costumes of the two Lovers.  In contrast to this, Beyond Words is altogether brighter and livelier in its initial visual impact, opening as it does on the sun beaming down on a courtyard scene of hens and a dog, a busy servant, and a small child running off on some errand.  Juliet’s room is no longer a minimally furnished vast stage space, but a chamber embellished with pale light drapes that let the sunshine in, and filled with various furnishings, including a chest, cushions, a settle, chairs and candles.   

MacMillan’s ballet began life in 1964 when he was commissioned to create a short work for Canadian television.  This work in fact became the Balcony pas de deux, which MacMillan created on his muses Lynn Seymour and Christopher Gable.  This duet was the beginning of the full ballet that premiered the following year in London.  Given its place both within the narrative and as the culmination of Act I, it is of course one of the ballet’s main climaxes; but for us, the fact that the rest of the work emerged from this pas de deux gives it a special significance.  

At the start of the scene Tamara Rojo’s Juliet emerges from the darkness of the balcony, the whiteness of her skin and dress gleaming softly through the night air, and we think of Romeo’s wistful words …

But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?

It is the East and Juliet is the sun!

(11.2.2-3)

She looks down at the hand that Romeo touched when they first met in the Ballroom, brings her hands together and holds them to her cheek.  Again, we hear the voice of Romeo:

See how she leans her cheek upon her hand!

Oh that I were a glove upon that hand,

That I might touch that cheek!

(11.2.23-25)

Given that MacMillan, Seymour and Gable worked with Shakespeare’s text, it seems reasonable to assume that these gestures were integral to the original choreography, but even if not, we know that Rojo studied Shakespeare’s text in her preparation for dancing the ballet, thereby rendering her approach to creating her own version of Juliet faithful to the spirit of the work (“Tamara Rojo on being Juliet”).  We also find that the resonances with Shakespeare’s soul-stirring verse, and the reference to their first meeting lend a palpable air of longing to the opening of the scene. 

At the end of the scene Juliet returns to the balcony, only to kneel down immediately and reach for Romeo, who is straining up towards her.  But despite their burning passion, their hands don’t quite meet—a reminder perhaps that the distance imposed upon them is simply too great; or maybe it is an expression of unfulfilled desire; or perhaps both.  Whatever our feelings about this moment, it is also a foreshadowing of the tomb scene where Rojo’s Juliet lacks the strength to keep hold of Romeo’s hand as she draws her last breath.

In an interview after the Beyond Words premiere, Hayward talked about how important the set was to her understanding and portrayal of Juliet.  At the start of the Balcony Scene music we see the Nurse (Romany Pajdak) brushing Juliet’s hair.  Juliet seems preoccupied, restless.  As she approaches her balcony, we watch her from behind, almost as if we are following her into another world.  But the scene is softly aglow with the light of the moon, so there is no sense of Juliet lighting up the darkness; neither are there any noticeable gestures referring to Juliet’s first meeting with Romeo or to Shakespeare’s text.  But what we are given here is a sense of being physically present in Verona, as we watch the Lovers through the foliage of the garden.  And at the end of the scene not only do their hands touch, but they are able to hold one another’s forearms before letting go again.  Although the scene is to us rather less poetic than the stage version, it recreates the sense of realism that MacMillan was so eager to effect in the work—a realism to which we have perhaps become too accustomed to fully appreciate.

At the end of the ballet our minds return to this moment of joy: looking through the grille enclosing the crypt, we witness Juliet’s failed attempt to reach Romeo’s hand.  In close-up shot all we can see in the final moments are her hands dangling over the tomb, almost as if they were disembodied.  It is well known that MacMillan wanted no sentimentality to be portrayed in this scene: “… the death scene was crucial to Kenneth.  His lovers were not reunited in death.  They did not die in each other’s arms” wrote Seymour (186).  As far as MacMillan was concerned the death of Romeo and Juliet was a complete waste of young life (qtd. in Seymour 186), and this ending seems to us a fitting indictment on all those involved in precipitating the death of the teenagers.

Another memory that Seymour writes about is the now iconic scene where Juliet sits alone and still on her bed in desperation until she resolves to visit Friar Laurence for help with her predicament.  Fifty-seven years after the premiere, this is still a suspenseful moment of high emotion in a live performance, a moment when we invariably reach for our opera glasses to experience more intensely Juliet finding a glimmer of hope through her despair.  As if mimicking our opera glasses, in both the recordings we’re analysing the camera moves in close, so that we can witness the expressivity of Rojo and Hayward in their near stillness, watch the quickening of their breath, the agitation in Hayward’s face, and the transformation from Rojo’s dark mien to the return of light to her face.  Fifty-seven years after the premiere, this must surely still constitute a challenge for the ballerina to project her interpretation of Juliet’s emotions through the most economical of means.  Rojo herself states, “The hardest thing is the moment when you sit in bed and you have no movement at all to express your feelings” (“Tamara Rojo on being Juliet”).

Romeo and Juliet on Screen Then

For commercial recordings of Romeo and Juliet from earlier years there is no problem of choice: as far as we are aware, there are only two.  These are the film versions made just one year after the creation of the work, starring Fonteyn and Nureyev, and the 1984 recording for BBC television featuring Wayne Eagling and a 21-year-old Alessandra Ferri.

We found comparing the two in terms of visual impact very interesting.  Although filmed in Pinewood Studios, there is an attempt to simulate a theatre experience with the opening and closing of the curtains at the start and end of each act, and curtain calls at the end.  The film was produced and directed by the film-maker Paul Czinner, and we would guess that the budget was quite substantial.  In contrast, the quality of the television film is rather poor, far from the high definition to which we have now become accustomed.  Although a sense of opulence is still conveyed with some imagination on the part of the viewer, the television production values are of the time, and we must confess that to us it is rather drab looking.  This MacMillan may of course have appreciated in a way, given his love for realism in the theatre.

On the other hand, from the start the Czinner film blazes with colour like a Renaissance painting, with bright blues and highly pigmented reds, striking yellows and dazzling golds and greens vying for attention.  For us these original sets and costumes provide an ideal frame for the kind of vibrancy that MacMillan had so admired in Zeffirelli’s Old Vic production of the play in 1960 and wished for his own ballet.  In fact he told Georgiadis, who often attended rehearsals, that he wanted a Verona “where young horny aristocrats roamed the town full of romantic, adventurous spirits” (qtd. in Seymour 181).

Just as there is such a dramatic contrast between the look of the two recordings, there are some equally alerting contrasts in the particular moments that we have discussed above in the Now section of this post.

When booking tickets at the Royal Opera House, we have always preferred to sit on the left side of the auditorium for this ballet, to ensure that we can watch Juliet on her balcony.  There seems to be a substantial amount of freedom from performer to performer with regard to how she uses the opening music of this scene, and very likely ballerinas won’t even perform exactly the same movements from one performance to the next; so this is another moment when the opera glasses come out.  Ferri appears with an air of blissful restlessness, looking up at the moon, down to her hands, over the balcony and up to the moon again.  Leaning her elbows on the balustrade, the most telling moment is when she holds her hands to her cheek, swaying her body gently from side to side with an ecstatic smile on her face.  But Fonteyn’s use of this moment of freedom to explore Juliet’s feelings we find almost disconcerting.  As in the 2012 and 1984 productions, she emerges from darkness to light up like Romeo’s “bright angel” (Shakespeare 11.2 26, p. 37), after which she gestures slowly upwards with her right arm towards the moon.  Although we know the moon to be significant to Shakespeare’s scene, in our opinion the gesture does not reveal much about Juliet’s thoughts and emotions.  This was contrary to the intentions of MacMillan, Seymour and Gable who had “tried to find steps and gestures to express the characters’ state of mind” (Parry 279).

The scandal of the world premiere of Romeo and Juliet being given to Fonteyn and Nureyev in favour of Seymour and Gable, who had contributed so much to the rehearsal process, is well documented.  Not only was Seymour cast as the fifth Juliet, but it was she who taught the role of Juliet to the other four ballerinas: “Margot … wanted to create her own Juliet”, she recalls (188).  This is particularly noticeable in some movements near the start of the Balcony Scene that are reminiscent of “The Kingdom of the Shades” from Marius Petipa’s 1877 La Bayadère, which Nureyev had staged in 1963: supported pirouettes ending in arabesque accentuate Fonteyn’s classical line, and were presumably chosen by her for this reason.  At the close of the scene Nureyev remains downstage right in a lunge, elegantly gesturing towards Juliet on the balcony as she reciprocates by unfolding her arm in his direction.  This approach does accentuate the irreconcilable distance that the family feud has imposed upon the Lovers; but the poses strike us as symbolic, rather than reflecting the naturalism and urgent emotion that MacMillan was after.  As Seymour put it during a coaching session on the Balcony Scene:

He wanted you to be a real pimply teenager, both of you, who bump noses when they first try to kiss and do all that sort of thing.  They didn’t do it beautifully … it was a little awkward, and a little wonderful, and a little gawky and a little this and a little that.  So try not to deal with it as if you’re some kind of ballerina.

(“Romeo and Juliet Masterclass”)

Another noticeable discrepancy that jars somewhat is Fonteyn’s choice of movement when her Juliet is trying to find a solution to her approaching marriage to Paris.  Rather than sitting on the bed facing directly downstage, she kneels by the bed facing downstage left and mimics crying before raising her head and slowly moving her gaze to downstage right, almost as if watching herself rushing to Friar Laurence.  Perhaps this worked at the time, but when the viewer is accustomed to the drama of being confronted with Juliet’s stillness face-on, it breaks the intensity of the moment.

Seymour recalls what a daring decision it was to reduce movement to a minimum at this climactic point in the narrative, and what a challenge it presented for her, but that MacMillan was convinced that she was capable of holding the audience (185-86).  And his belief in Seymour was justified: audiences and journalists alike were struck by the audaciousness of the sequence, Seymour claiming that it “had a singularly terrifying effect on the scalp of balletgoers” (193).

Presumably it was a combination of Fonteyn’s celebrity status and the challenge presented by the innovative choreographic and dramatic ideas conjured up by MacMillan, Gable, and Seymour that persuaded the other Juliets to adopt Fonteyn’s approach to interpreting the choreography and character, resulting in MacMillan’s fear that his vision of the ballet would not be realised onstage (189).  However, as the recording of Ferri’s 1984 performance testifies, MacMillan’s fears were ultimately unfounded.  The Balcony Scene ends with the Romeo and Juliet straining towards one another in their burning desire to touch one another’s hands just one more time before they part.  Ferri’s Juliet sits on the bed facing the audience as Colin Nears’ camera zooms out, thereby emphasising her aloneness in the vast stage space that represents her room.  And Ferri, who became such a long-standing interpreter of the role, showed no reluctance in the death scene to allow the weight of her body to hang in a precarious backbend over the sepulchre with no thought to elegance, unable to keep hold of Romeo’s hand.  Fonteyn’s Juliet, on the other hand, dies holding onto Romeo’s arm and with her body carefully arranged so we can still see her face, and with little sense of the precariousness that might disrupt the ballerina image. 

Ironically perhaps, the Czinner recording states overtly that the purpose of the film is twofold: to preserve the performance for a wider audience and as a record for posterity.  For us, however, the importance of the film is not so much in its preservation of the dancing of the two undisputed ballet stars of the era, but the way in which the reluctance of the performers to engage fully with MacMillan’s vision highlight the radical nature of MacMillan’s choreography seen both in performance and in the later films.

Concluding thoughts

Having grown up at a time when the only way to engage with ballet choreographies apart from seeing them live was through written materials, photos, LPs and the occasional television broadcast, we feel immensely privileged to have access to all of these recordings of MacMillan’s Romeo and Juliet

The films offer us an insight into the radical nature of the choreography, and ways in which the politics of power can have an impact on the nature of a choreographic work.  We can also re-evaluate the work after a long period of familiarity and find new ways of appreciating it through the imaginative work of directors and new casts that bring the work to life again.

© British Ballet Now & Then

References

Byrne, Emma. “Romeo and Juliet review: an inspired choice for the Royal Ballet’s return”. Evening Standard, 6 Oct. 2021, www.standard.co.uk/culture/dance/romeo-and-juliet-review-royal-opera-house-b959020.html.

Guiheen, Julia. “Tamara Rojo and Carlos Acosta in “Romeo and Juliet” (2007)”. Pointe Magazine, 20 Nov. 2019, pointemagazine.com/tbt-tamara-rojo-carlos-acosta/.

Parry, Jann. Different Drummer: the life of Kenneth MacMillan. Faber & Faber, 2009.

“Reviews 2004-2007”. Tamara Rojo, 7 Mar. 2006, www.tamara-rojo.com/reviews-2004-2007/.

“The Royal Ballet’s Romeo and Juliet: 50 years of star-crossed dancers – in pictures”. The Guardian, 2 Oct. 2015, www.theguardian.com/stage/gallery/2015/oct/02/royal-ballet-romeo-and-juliet-50-years-of-star-crossed-dancers-in-pictures.

Seymour, Lynn, with Paul Gardner. Lynn: the autobiography of Lynn Seymour. Granada, 1984.

—. “Romeo and Juliet Masterclass: Balcony pas de deux”. Revealing MacMillan, Royal Academy of Dance, 2002.

“Tamara Rojo on being Juliet”. Dance Australia, 26 May 2014, http://www.danceaustralia.com.au/news/tamara-rojo-on-being-juliet.

Tan, Monica. “Tamara Rojo and Carlos Acosta: the Brangelina of ballet on chemistry, ageing and loss of innocence”. The Guardian, 27 June, 2014, www.theguardian.com/culture/australia-culture-blog/2014/jun/27/tamara-rojo-carlos-acosta-brangelina-of-ballet.

Wilkinson, Sarah. “Why Watch Ballet on the Silver Screen?”. The Guardian, 15 Aug. 2008, www.theguardian.com/stage/theatreblog/2008/aug/15/whyshouldipaytoseeprerec.