Northern Ballet – British Ballet Now & Then

In Conversation: NORTHERN BALLET’S GENTLEMAN JACK

World Premiere 7 March 2026

Gemma Coutts in Gentleman Jack – Photo: Colleen Mair

In March of this year Rosie and her ballet-loving friend Philippa spent a weekend in Yorkshire. The purpose of the visit was to attend the world premiere of Northern Ballet’s Gentleman Jack at Leeds Grand Theatre. Choreographed by Annabelle Lopez Ochoa, the ballet is based on the life of Anne Lister (1791-1840) “diarist, businesswoman, landowner, traveller and lesbian” (“Anne Lister”), so the trip also included a visit to Shibden Hall, the home of Anne Lister, in Halifax. Here they talk about a weekend to remember.

Rosie: Ever since I first heard about this project (in the autumn of 2024, I think it was), I have been bursting with anticipation. I could hardly believe that someone was creating a ballet about Anne Lister. Which is odd, to be honest, given that Northern Ballet are known for taking inspiration from British literature and history. I’m thinking in particular about Massimo Moricone’s A Christmas Carol (1993), David Nixon’s Wuthering Heights (2002), and Cathy Marston’s Jane Eyre (2016) and Victoria (2019). And of course Anne Lister was from Yorkshire. But I’m also well aware that Annabelle (Lopez Ochoa) has choreographed works focussed on iconic women, like Frida Kahlo (Broken Wings, 2016), Eva Peron (Donã Peron, 2020), and Coco Chanel (Coco Chanel, 2024). But maybe I was so surprised because I must admit I had never heard of Anne Lister prior to the 2019 BBC drama Gentleman Jack with Suranne Jones.

Philippa: No, neither had I. And once I started reading Anne Choma’s book Gentleman Jack: the real Anne Lister I couldn’t believe what a fascinating character she was, and one who was almost lost to history! I think it was only after the publication of Helena Whitbread’s I Know My Own Heart: The Diaries of Anne Lister in the late 1980s that her name started to be better known.

Rosie: Even though the diaries had been discovered in the earlier part of the century. But once the coded passages about her sex life were deciphered some people were worried about the explicitness of Anne’s descriptions of her lesbian relationships. Thank goodness that times have changed, right?

Gemma Coutts and Saeka Shirai in Gentleman Jack – Photo Tristram Kenton

Philippa: Yes, absolutely, because Anne was an extraordinary woman, living a life years ahead of her time in the shrewd way she ran the estate, her business acumen, her love of travelling, her curiosity and determination to be educated, her study of anatomy, her mountaineering … It’s so important that a woman of such accomplishment and drive is celebrated.

Rosie: I loved the story that Helena Whitbread told in the video we watched at Shibden about Anne’s ascent of the Vignemale in her silk stockings, sturdy walking shoes and rolled up skirts. Hilarious.

Philippa: And some male member of the aristocracy typically had the gall to claim he got there before her, didn’t he? But Anne wasn’t having any of it and set the story straight (“The Anne Lister Story”).

Rosie: Ha! Quite right too! One aspect that I loved about the ballet was that the prologue focussed on Anne showing her prowess in a man’s world, because obviously men were always trying to get the better of her. Ballet so often focuses on romance, and although the work does explore Anne’s romantic life, it was quite exhilarating to see it start with Anne Lister the entrepreneur rather than Anne Lister the lover. The programme reads

Anne Lister controls the stage. Surrounded by men, she directs every action, setting the scene for complex games of business and love. She is grounded and decisive, clear and proud, even as the men encircle her. She is the one who initiates action, who lives on her own terms. (“The Story” 4)

Gemma Coutts in Gentleman Jack – Photo Scott Salt

I think this description gives a clear sense of the stage action.

Philippa: And her groundedness definitely comes through from the fact that she doesn’t perform in pointe shoes until the wedding scene with Ann Walker towards the end of the ballet.

Rosie: There are motifs connected to her character too that recur throughout the ballet. My favourite is the way she moves into attitude derrière on a fondu. It’s so simple, but it makes her look really 3-dimensional and gives her gravitas too. Very different from Aurora’s attitude motif.

Philippa: Totally. For me it also gives a sense of her striding forward. Laura Capelle’s article said that the dancers watched how Suranne Jones walks in the drama series, and I think I could see that.

Rosie: Yes, really purposeful and energetic. Judging from the climb up to Shibden, Anne Lister must have been super fit. And her energy is partly conveyed simply through the size of her movements (again, à la Suranne Jones). Annabelle said she chose dancers to perform Anne who “dared to take up the space” (qtd. in Winship).

Philippa: I found that the contrast between the size of Anne’s movements and those of her family also contributed to some of the humour in the choreography. Some of my favourite scenes were the afternoon tea scenes, with the “teaography”, as the critic Jennie Eyres describes it. The way that Anne’s Uncle, Aunt and Sister move their teacups, saucers and spoons around gives a sense of the repetitive and mundane nature of their lives. And then Anne comes bursting in on the scene with all her blazing energy, completely disrupting the calm.

Rosie: I loved the way she dramatically launches herself at the table in a huge cabriole derrière, and even literally dances on the table (“Gentleman Jack | First Look”; “Gentleman Jack | Trailer”). To the consternation of her family, of course, who look quite put out.

Philippa: There were laugh-out-loud scenes too, like Anne’s business rival Christopher Rawson physically trying (and failing) to separate his niece Ann Walker from Anne Lister because of Anne’s reputation vis-à-vis women. It almost felt like a game of musical chairs. Of course the TV drama contains plenty of humour too, because Anne is always defying expectations. But she’s also quite snobbish, and sometimes that can also be quite comical.

Rachael Gillespie, Gemma Coutts, George Liang and Alessandra Bramante in Gentleman Jack – Photo: Emily Nuttall

Rosie: Kirsty, the volunteer at Shibden whom we chatted with, mentioned the scene where Anne and her sister Marian disagree about Shibden, because Anne can’t bear to admit that the Hall was originally more like a farmhouse than a mansion. It’s a cracking scene. And there’s another one where their father (Timothy West) points out that Anne loves to conveniently forget that the Listers’ ancestors were “trade”, because that’s unthinkable to Anne, who likes to thinks of the family as higher up the echelons of society.

Philippa: Anne Choma also writes about Anne’s snobbishness in her book (40).

Rosie: There are so many Ann/es—I love that she’s an Anne too—and we haven’t even talked about Aunt Anne yet! But I’m not sure how much Anne’s snobbishness comes through in the ballet. I’ll look out for it when I watch it next time. What does come through is that she “was not such a kind person”, as Annabelle says (“Gentleman Jack | First Look”). It’s so ironic that despite being pioneering in so many ways, Anne Lister was properly reactionary in other ways. She could be harsh with her tenants (Choma 47-48); she did not believe in women involving themselves in politics (apart from herself, of course) (89); she didn’t believe in extending the franchise to men of a lower class without property (xiii, 88). In the ballet I think this comes through really clearly in the scene where she suddenly decides to join forces with Rawson, her arch-enemy, because the miners are protesting about their wages, and “workers must be kept in their place” (“The Story 4”).

Philippa: Although there’s a clear chronology to the ballet, the scenes seem to be focussed on specific aspects of her personality and her relationships more than aiming to convey a plot—like this one you’re describing. So it made sense when I discovered that Annabelle described the ballet as a portrait rather than a biopic (“Northern Ballet’s Gentleman Jack | In rehearsal”). And it makes sense with the ending of the ballet—that moment when Anne is literally framed like a portrait is brilliant.

Gemma Coutts in Gentleman Jack – Photo: Tristram Kenton

Rosie: I think you were wondering whether the ballet would end with Anne’s death, but Annabelle wanted the work to end on a “positive” and “inspiring” note (May). And there are enough ballets that end in death, right?

Philippa: There are indeed. The union with Ann Walker was such an iconic moment in Anne’s life, so it seemed fitting that this was the climax to the work. Settling down with a female companion was something she truly wanted: she planned for it and probably prayed for it, because she had religious faith and took the notion of marriage with another woman very seriously.

Northern Ballet dancers in Gentleman Jack – Photo: Tristram Kenton

Rosie: Yes, and I felt there was a spiritual atmosphere to that scene, especially with the white veils and pointe shoes, and the way the Brides are held aloft face-to-face with their palms touching. It’s very idealistic. They’re framed by the Chorus of Words, as if this moment is the fulfilment of all Anne’s secret desires, and the Words are giving the union their blessing. I do love the use of a chorus—it’s a device that Annabelle has used before, like in Broken Wings with the Chorus of Male Fridas. Cathy Marston does this too, for example in Jane Eyre. It gives an insight into the interior world of the protagonists.

Philippa: And it makes complete sense in this ballet, because Anne Lister’s diaries are the key to our knowledge of her life. But I found the Chorus most effective in the scene with Ann Walker: her growing desire and longing for Anne felt really palpable with all those yearning, reaching movements.

Rosie: I enjoyed our conversation with Kirsty about Anne’s “crypthand”, as she called it. Last autumn Annabelle and Northern Ballet visited Shibden, and there was talk about the idea of the code being integral to the design and the choreography, but Kirsty didn’t know if that idea had been realised. It was great to let her know that it was, with symbols from the code embellishing the costumes for the Chorus of Words, as well as being used as a stimulus for creating movement (“Northern Ballet’s Gentleman Jack | Decoding the Diary”).

But to go back to the notion of the portrait, there were two main duets (one in Act I with Marianna and the other in Act II with Ann Walker), and they seemed to me to be representative of those romantic relationships rather than simply being a part of the plot.

Gemma Coutts and Rachael Gillespie in Gentleman Jack – Photo: Emily Nuttall

Philippa: Yes I agree. They’re both very sensual, but one is clearly an established sexual relationship, whereas the other starts more tentatively, as Anne Lister is seducing Ann Walker (“Gentleman Jack | First Look”). I love the way Anne used the feather in this second duet—for me it connects to her journal writing, because she’s “writing” about her desires and emotions with a quill.

Rosie: When we watched the work in the theatre, I noticed a motif during the duet between Anne and Mariana, which I believe I saw again at the end of the seduction scene between Anne and Ann: it involves their legs crossing over one another so that we can see the letter X. This seems significant to me because the letter X in the margins of the coded parts of her journals indicated an orgasm (“The Secret Diaries of Anne Lister”).

Philippa: So it’s a bit like the audience are reading Anne’s code through the choreography. So clever. So imaginative.

Rosie: Yes, Something that surprised me was the duet between Anne and her Aunt Anne. In a way I feel it shouldn’t have been surprising, because here was the opportunity to investigate a different kind of relationship between women. Aunt Anne was her confidante: unusually she was someone who really seemed to understand Anne, as well as loving her dearly (Choma 77). I found it very tender.

Philippa: This happens at the start of Act II, doesn’t it? She comes home after being assaulted by a group of men. At this point she’s shown to be both physically and emotionally vulnerable, because Marianna, the love of her life, has made the decision to stay with her husband, so Anne is heartbroken and then beaten up when she’s already at a low point. It’s quite a rare moment. A startling moment.

Rosie: There’s a similar scene in the drama: Ann Walker has said she can’t go on with the relationship, and Anne is attacked on her way home. It’s based on a real incident, which Anne makes very light of in her diary (Choma 201) but it’s been given dramatic impact and significance by Sally Wainwright (creator of the BBC drama and creative consultant for the ballet). I know that Annabelle felt strongly that her “portrait” of Anne would not be interesting, or complete, I suppose, if Anne were shown to be totally unassailable in every situation. She says “We need to show some flaws, we need to show some cracks, some vulnerabilities” (“Northern Ballet’s Gentleman Jack | In rehearsal”).

Philippa: I even felt that Anne appeared a bit vulnerable earlier on in her meeting with Christopher Rawson and his business associates, whereas you saw them as trying to manipulate her but ultimately failing. But I was really interested when Kirsty pointed out that we only have Anne’s word for it that she came out on top—Rawson might have written in his diary that he got the deal he wanted. Annabelle uses the word “resilient” to describe Anne, and I think she hits the nail on the head there. One of the great ways she depicts this in movement is Gentleman Jack’s motif of looking boldly out to the audience, as if breaking the fourth wall. I especially noticed it when she leaves the stage, which made me think of Suranne Jones talking to the camera in the drama.

Rosie: It’s very expressive choreography. But I think that aspects of Gentleman Jack’s character are portrayed through the design too. I’m not 100% convinced that the moving bookcases were entirely successful, but I think that the concept itself is brilliant.

Northern Ballet dancers in Gentleman Jack – Photo: Colleen Mair

Philippa: Maybe something got lost in translation, so to speak. The idea of bookcases that can be moved around easily to create different indoor spaces (rooms in people’s homes, Rawson’s office) immediately spoke of Anne’s love for books and learning—she has been called a “voracious learner” (“Gentleman Jack”). But the projections on the back of the bookcases used to indicate a variety of other spaces that were important to Anne looked like television screens to me, so they just seemed too modern for the time when she lived.

Rosie: They reminded me of those touchscreens where you place your order for a takeaway. I wondered whether they would work better if they were larger. Having said that, though, I think the combination of the way they are so easily moved and frequent changing of projections really gives a sense of Anne’s restlessness, her love of walking and travelling and being busy. And they help keep up the pace of the work, which is important for conveying Anne’s character. There’s an account in the Choma book (153-55) of Anne’s day on the 8^th October 1832, when she made no less than five visits (a mixture of social and business) before lunchtime, and this included going into Halifax, after which she undertook the “forty-five minute hike up the hill” (155) to visit Ann Walker.

Philippa: I bet it would take us longer than 45 minutes!

The panels definitely give a sense of place—the countryside, Paris, Shibden itself. And when Anne uses the attitude motif you were talking about with a moving image of the Yorkshire landscape in the background, you really can visualise her eating up space with her purposeful stride (à la Suranne Jones, as you would say). Obviously it would be great to see the ballet again—things can seem so different on repeated viewing.

Rosie: I’ve booked myself a ticket in the stalls at Sadler’s Wells (unheard of!) to see how the designs look from that level.

Philippa: Oooh, I look forward to hearing what that was like.

Rosie: Four years after Annabelle created the one-act Broken Wings, she developed the work into a larger scale two-act ballet. Even though Gentleman Jack already has two acts, it’s not a very long ballet at 1 hour 40 minutes, so if she chose to extend the work, I was wondering what we might like to see added or developed.

Philippa: Well, that’s an interesting thought …

Rosie: Anne Lister was such a multifaceted character. I would like to see something more about her passion for travelling and thirst for knowledge, and all the work she did on Shibden—both the physical work and her architectural achievements. Tragically, she and Ann were away traveling in the Caucasus when she died, so she never got to use the new study and library she had designed at Shibden. This of course was at a time when a university education was not available to women.

Philippa: Another tragedy is that the marriage lasted only about six years because of Anne’s death. By all accounts the road to Ann Walker’s final commitment to the relationship was a bumpy one, partly because of her mental health issues, and also of course due to the social mores of the time. I think I’d like to have seen the complexity of that situation explored in the ballet. I feel it says something of Anne’s resilience and her desire for a lifelong partner that she didn’t give up on Ann Walker.

Rosie: I’m not sure I’d have been brave enough to commit—I think I’d have been more of a Marianna and accepted a proposal from a suitable gentleman, so to speak.

Philippa: I think it was astonishingly brave of Ann Walker to commit to such an unconventional union for the time.

Rosie: It’s so great that we were able to witness the premiere of this work—it shows how ballet is able to grow as an art form. As does Scottish Ballet’s Mary Queen of Scots (Laplane/Bonas, 2025), which we watched the evening before. But that will be for another post …

References

“Anne Lister ‘Gentleman Jack’ of Shibden Hall”. Calderdale Council, 27 Sept. 2024, https://new.calderdale.gov.uk/leisure/local-history/glimpse-past/people/anne-lister.

“The Anne Lister Story by Helena Whitbread”. YouTube, uploaded by Calderdale Council, May 2019, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HWMMdnz0jbY

Capelle, Laura. “‘Gentleman Jack’ Brings a Quiet Revolution to Ballet”. The New York Times, 2 Mar. 2026, https://www.nytimes.com/2026/03/02/arts/dance/gentleman-jack-northern-ballet.html.

Choma, Anne. Gentleman Jack: the real Anne Lister. Penguin, 2019.

Eyres, Jennie. “Gentleman Jack – Leeds Grand Theatre”. The Reviews Hub, 8 Mar. 2026, https://www.thereviewshub.com/gentleman-jack-leeds-grand-theatre/.

“Gentleman Jack”. IMDb, https://www.imdb.com/title/tt7211618/. Accessed 12 Apr. 2026.

“Gentleman Jack | First Look”. YouTube, uploaded by Northern Ballet 16 Jan. 2026, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hmItwHp78j8.

“Gentleman Jack | Trailer”. YouTube, uploaded by Northern Ballet 18 Mar. 2026, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tSUdalypey4&list=RDtSUdalypey4&start_radio=1

May, Emily. “In Gentleman Jack, Anabelle Lopez Ochoa Brings 19th-Century Queer Icon Anne Lister to Life”. Pointe, 5 Mar. 2026, https://pointemagazine.com/gentleman-jack-ballet/#gsc.tab=0.

“Northern Ballet’s Gentleman Jack | Decoding the Diary”. YouTube, uploaded by Northern Ballet 17 Feb. 2026, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PttBljw0sYU.

“Northern Ballet’s Gentleman Jack | In rehearsal”. YouTube, uploaded by Northern Ballet 5 Feb. 2026, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WuaNmmWt3Ps.

“The Secret Diaries of Anne Lister – Cracking the Crypthand Code”. Visit Calderdale, 12 Aug. 2021, https://www.visitcalderdale.com/the-secret-diaries-of-anne-lister-cracking-the-crypthand-code/.

“The Story”. Programme for Gentleman Jack at Leeds Grand Theatre, 2026, pp. 4-5.

Watching with British Ballet Now and Then: Northern Ballet’s Romeo & Juliet

We are a tad nervous. Northern Ballet is one of our favourite companies: we’ve travelled out of London to watch them perform Cathy Marston’s Jane Eyre and Victoria, as well as David Nixon’s Cinderella and The Great Gatsby. But this is Romeo and Juliet, and over the years there has been such a plethora of productions to see in this country, and even a cluster of celebrated versions created for, or at least staged by, British companies: English National Ballet have staged both Rudolf Nureyev’s and Frederick Ashton’s choreographies, Scottish Ballet John Cranko’s, and of course both Royal Ballet companies the iconic adaptation of Shakespeare’s play by Kenneth MacMillan, often described as the “definitive” Romeo and Juliet ballet (Byrne; Watts). Having been watching it since our teens, it is the Romeo with we are most familiar, the one that is indelibly seared on our memory.

How is it possible to compete with these celebrated works? We did in fact once see Northern Ballet’s production, which was choreographed by Massimo Moricone, and directed and devised by the dancer and actor Christopher Gable, who famously created MacMillan’s Romeo in 1965. But that was long ago, in the 1990s, when it was new, and our understanding of adaptation not as developed as it is now. We have read positive reviews, and we enjoy the conducting of Daniel Parkinson (Associate Conductor), as well as the dancing of members of the cast we are about to see: Dominique Larose (Juliet), Joseph Taylor (Romeo), and Rachael Gillespie (one of Juliet’s Friends). So, tentative as we are, let’s see what happens …

At first the scale of the work bothers us slightly: the market scenes are not teeming with people, and surely the ball is a rather slight gathering for a family as proud and powerful as the Capulets. But let’s shift our watching a bit and think of the stage action more as symbolic than realistic … There are other ingredients that bring the work to life. There are children in the marketplace (not all choreographers have followed August Bournonville’s enthusiasm for including children in the villages and towns that provide the setting of their narratives); there are great swaying, streaming carnival pennants that fill the space and add energy to the movement.

But what is most noticeable about the first fight scene is its humour. Montagues and Capulets jump on each other’s backs. There are fisticuffs. Lord Capulet tries to throttle his rival Montague. It’s all a bit uncouth. And there seems to be more flag waving and stick wielding than real intention to kill, despite the menacing posturing of the Capulets. Lethal weapons are scant.

Northern Ballet dancers in Romeo and Juliet ©Tristram Kenton

Nonetheless, this first fight ends on a note of strange tragedy. A child dies and is held up by Prince Escalus for all to see. It seems a bit out of place amidst all the raucous behaviour. But again, thinking of it on a symbolic level, it functions as a forewarning of events to come.

Similarly, the Ballroom Scene, while relatively small in scale, is rich in action—so much so that it is quite a challenge (albeit a pleasurable one) to pick up on all the narrative detail. Our eyes roam around the stage to follow all the activity … Once he has spotted Juliet, Romeo moves around and across the space, as if drawn to her by an invisible thread. There are some shenanigans going on between Lady Capulet and her Nephew Tybalt in the background, which seems to cause some tension with Lord Capulet. And joy of joys, Juliet’s friends have personality—their function is definitely not simply to frame Juliet as the ballerina, but to convey something of the excitement and sheer pleasure of youth. They flit around the stage, eagerly watching the dancing, animatedly “chatting” amongst themselves, with Juliet’s Nurse, and with the Guests; they are prominent in the dancing with the Guests and with Juliet. And their thrill at being at the ball ratchets up a notch when they notice, all aflutter, the instant and magnetic attraction between Juliet and Romeo.

The hustle and bustle of the ballroom dissolves into dark stillness as a pool of soft light creates Romeo and Juliet’s new world of radiant and tender love, a love that is also pitted against the escalating friction between the aggressive Tybalt and mapcap Mercutio.

And now to the climax of Act I … The sets that separate the protagonists as the curtain opens on the first scene is now used to explore their desire for one another before they come together in their duet. At the start of the scene their breathless anticipation is palpable. Juliet above and Romeo below, they lean their bodies against the balcony, feeling its surfaces with sensuous touch, like a surrogate lover. Now moving around the stage together, their touch is reciprocated: they stroke one another’s hair, embrace, lean on one another and eventually kiss. Although the heady sweep of MacMillan’s choreography is still so alive in our minds, there are moments in the choreography before us where we see the movement follow Sergei Prokofiev’s score in a different way, as their bodies open and close, rise and fall with the melody.

Dominique Larose and Joseph Taylor in Romeo and Juliet ©Tristram Kenton

And so to Act II … The light-hearted, comedic tone resumes, with jocund carnival dancing, while Romeo sets himself up for a good ribbing as he wanders the town square in a state of swooning reverie, followed by bawdy fun with Juliet’s Nurse when she brings Romeo his letter from Juliet. Even the fight between Tybalt and Mercutio begins more as derring-do than any serious intention to wound, let alone cause a mortal wound. Mercutio goads his opponent by waving Tybalt’s own gloves in his face, spinning, leaping and cartwheeling around him, like an acrobat. This ridiculing is too much for the vain and vicious Tybalt, who avails himself of a metal claw to strike out at Mercutio. And suddenly there is Mercutio impaled on the wall stabbed by his own dagger.

Harry Skoupas and Joseph Taylor in Romeo and Juliet ©Tristram Kenton

The duel between Romeo and Tybalt is of an utterly different order to all the fighting that precedes it. Right from the start both parties wield their lethal swords, one in each hand, fighting to the death. The clash of metal and the speed of movement expose the emotional intensity of this fight. But the violence culminates not only in the anticipated thrust of Romeo’s sword: the two men seize one another’s throats, with the result that Romeo kills Tybalt with his bare hands around Tybalt’s neck. The murder of Mercutio has flipped comedy to tragedy, play fighting to murderous violence. Sheets of rain cascade down from the heavens, with thunder and lightning, closing the act like an echo of Mercutio’s curse “A plague a’both your houses!” (3.1.106).

In the final act, the gawky child whose feet dangle from the bed is jolted into womanhood. We watch this transition with awe. The ferocity with which Juliet rips off the signature Capulet red and black apparel establishes her independence. Completely alone on the stage and in life, betrayed by her Nurse, in conflict with her Parents, her Cousin killed by her exiled Husband, Juliet has to make the decision that will determine the rest of her life. Shakespeare leaves us in no doubt about Juliet’s fears of what may transpire if she decides to take the potion. She imagines the “foul mouth” of the tomb, Tybalt “festering in his shroud”, “loathsome smells”, and “madly play[ing] with my forefathers’ joints” (4.3.34-51).

We watch Juliet dance a pas de deux in this scene, with the vial of sleeping potion replacing her partner. Dancing a pas de deux, her aloneness is all the more poignant: by rights she should be dancing with her husband on the first joyful morning of their marriage. She holds the vial close to her body, away from her body, moves it in circular motions around her—in front, above, behind her—turning, bending, swaying, twisting as she explores the space around her. She may be making a decision, but the vial seems welded to her very being, as if fate has decided for her.

Dominique Larose in Romeo and Juliet ©Tristram Kenton

Lady Capulet instructs the Nurse to see to Juliet’s body. After the warm, playful exchanges between Juliet and her Nurse, after the sharing of confidences and the Nurse’s fierce defence of Juliet in the face of Lord Capulet’s rage at his Daughter’s flagrant disobedience (more striking in this version than others, we feel), the Nurse’s deft, uncompromising, seemingly detached, stripping of the bed and rearranging of Juliet’s body conveys its own peculiar sense of brutality.

The violence of this work strikes us again in the Tomb Scene when Romeo’s response to Paris’ assault on him with a dagger is to smash Paris’ head against the wall—the nearest, most immediate weapon to hand. Romeo’s grief again manifests itself in raw physical brutality before he lovingly and tenderly dances with Juliet’s comatose body, wrapping her limbs around him, wrapping his body around hers, stroking her soft skin, feeling her still-warm body against his own to relive their brief time together. Juliet’s joy at waking to find herself in Romeo’s arms is palpable but of course short lived.

As Lord Capulet and Montague become reconciled in their grief we sense Mercutio’s curse lifting. But the scene is not so long as to detract from the loss of young lives that has precipitated this long overdue reconciliation.

We leave the theatre, our minds astir with images that bring to mind Linda Hutcheon’s concept of adaptation as a “creative act” (8), and our nervousness assuaged. We are great admirers of MacMillan’s Romeo and Juliet, but we don’t feel comfortable with the notion of a “definitive” adaptation of anything really—it just seems too limiting to us. This adaptation of Shakespeare’s play has emphasised humour and sexual awakening on the one hand, and the pragmatism, grief and violence associated with death on the other. And we’re fine with that.

©British Ballet Now & Then

References

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

Hutcheon, Linda and Siobhan O’Flynn. A Theory of Adaptation. 2nd ed. Routledge, 2013.

Shakespeare, William. Romeo and Juliet. Penguin Books, 1967.

Watts, Graham. “Northern Ballet’s Romeo & Juliet: a plethora of outstanding dancers”. Bachtrack, 29 May 2024, https://bachtrack.com/review-romeo-and-juliet-northern-ballet-sadlers-wells-may-2024.

Cinderella Now & Then

Cinderella Now

It’s been a year of Cinderellas!

We started this blog two years ago with The Nutcracker Now & Then. Last December we published a second Nutcracker post. However this year, Cinderella seems a more relevant ballet for our Christmas discussion.

On the other hand, Cinderella seems to be a ballet for all seasons: at the start of 2019 Scottish Ballet (SB) were performing their production by Christopher Hampson; in the summer English National Ballet (ENB) performed Christopher Wheeldon’s Cinderella in the round at the Royal Albert Hall, but in the autumn toured the original version, choreographed on Dutch National Ballet and San Francisco Ballet for the proscenium stage; shortly after this Northern Ballet (NB) started to tour their 2013 production by David Nixon, which they will continue to perform over the Christmas period and then again in the spring months of 2020.

Of course, Cinderella adaptations that are based on the famous score by Sergei Prokofiev have the four seasons built into the structure of the work, if the choreographer chooses to employ the music in that way. Wheeldon and ENB took advantage of this structure when adapting his 2012 choreography for the huge arena of the Albert Hall by doubling the number of dancers for the Four Seasons divertissement making it into a magnificent spectacle. But nevertheless, with its magical tree, vibrant blues and greens, the fantastical birds and mythical Tree Gnomes, it seems to us to be imbued with a sense of warmth and fecundity that makes us associate it more with spring and summer.

English-National-Ballets-Cinderella-c-Laurent-Liotardo-2 — English National Ballets Cinderella / Photo: Laurent Liotardo

The same might also be said for Hampson’s 2007 staging of Prokoviev’s Cinderella with SB, in which a rose planted by Cinderella …

… becomes the motif…, blooming into swirling curlicues and trailing blossom, becoming the backdrop of the ballet’s scenes of magic. There’s a corps de ballet of roses, and it’s a rose, as much as a dropped slipper, that reunite this Cinders with her prince. (Anderson)

In this way the magic of nature is woven into the fabric of the ballet, and more literally into the fabric of Cinderella’s gown for the ball, woven together by “silk moths, grasshoppers and spiders” as it is (Lowes).

In contrast to this emphasis on nature’s warmer months, NB’s Cinderella is set for the main part in a fantasy Moscow winter time, affording the opportunity for visits to the winter market populated by the likes of jugglers, acrobats and a magician, skating scenes on the Crystal Lake, and huskies for Cinderella’s sleigh to take her to the ball.

Abigail Prudames and Joseph Taylor in Cinderella. Photo Guy Farrow copy — Abigail Prudames and Joseph Taylor in NB’s Cinderella / Photo: Guy Farrow

The atmospheric score composed by Philip Feeney, and Duncan Hayler’s sparkling set, with its Fabergé-inspired ballroom (new this year) create a quite different world of magic to that created by Daniel Brodie, Natasha Katz and Basil Twist for ENB, and the art nouveau realm of Tracy Grant Lord’s designs for SB.

Araminta Wraith in Scottish Ballet's Cinderella by Christopher Hampson. Credit Andy Ross copy — Araminta Wraith in Scottish Ballet’s Cinderella by Christopher Hampson / Credit Andy Ross

One of the things that these three Cinderellas all provide is a back story that helps to create a sense of humanness in the characters, making them more than stock figures or archetypes.

Both Hampson (SB) and Wheeldon (ENB) show their heroine in childhood grieving over her Mother’s grave. But the everlasting bond between mother and daughter is symbolised by Cinderella’s tears generating new life: the blossoming of Hampson’s rose garden and the growth of Wheeldon’s magical tree. Hampson’s Prince is portrayed as lonely, without anyone to whom he can relate (“The Story of Cinderella”), while ENB’s Prince Guillaume seems to enjoy his life with his childhood friend Benjamin too much to want to commit to marriage – until, of course, he meets Cinderella. A delightful scene occurs in Act I as the result of the familiar trope of swapping identities: taking Guillaume for a destitute pauper, Cinderella offers him food, shelter and company – a mark of her compassionate nature. But as they clumsily dance together on the table, the attraction between them is unmistakable.

Erina-Takahashi-and-Joseph-Caley-in-English-National-Ballets-Cinderella-c-Laurent-Liotardo-5 — Erina Takahashi and Joseph-Caley in English National Ballets Cinderella / Photo: Laurent Liotardo

Nixon’s (NB) Cinderella meets Prince Mikhail in childhood, but the most significant thing we discover about her is that she is partially responsible for her Father’s accidental death; this perhaps accounts for her Stepmother’s antipathy towards her. Yet, despite her burden of guilt, the grown-up Cinderella radiates delight in the world of the market and the Crystal Lake. The innovations in characterisation that make this production feel fresh and closer to life, despite the wintry glitter and sparkle, are Cinderella’s eventual bold defiance of her Stepmother, and the Prince’s initial derisory rejection of Cinderella when he discovers her lowly status as a servant to the household. The Prince’s “upper-class bad-manners moment”, as Amanda Jennings calls it (37), felt quite uncomfortable to watch; however, so poignantly did Joseph Taylor portray Mikhail’s remorse at his own lack of empathy and insight, that there could be no doubting his love for Cinderella.

Cinderella Then

As the first three-act British ballet, Frederick Ashton’s 1948 Cinderella, still regularly performed by The Royal Ballet (RB), is without a doubt the most celebrated Cinderella in the history of British ballet. And without a doubt this is in part attributable to the number of prestigious ballerinas who have performed the eponymous role, amongst them Moira Shearer, Margot Fonteyn, Nadia Nerina, Svetlana Beriosova, Antoinette Sibley, Jennifer Penney, Lesley Collier, Maria Almeida, Darcey Bussell, Viviana Durante, Tamara Rojo and Alina Cojocaru.

Sibley_Fairy Spring_GBL Wilson — Annette Page ( as The Fairy Godmother ) ; Antoinette Sibley ( as Fairy Spring ) ; Vyvyan Lorrayne ( as Fairy Summer ) ; Merle Park (as Fairy Autumn ) ; Deanne Bergsma ( as Fairy Winter ) ; Royal Opera House, December 1965 ; Credit : G.B.L. Wilson / Royal Academy of Dance

But despite its status in the British Ballet canon, Ashton’s Cinderella is to some extent an exception, especially for the year 1979, which is where we focus our attention now. We chose this particular year, because not only did the RB stage Ashton’s Cinderella that December, but both NB and SB mounted brand new productions – by Robert de Warren and Peter Darrell respectively.

It is no secret that Ashton choreographed his Cinderella as a tribute to late 19^th century ballet. The divertissements of the Seasons are reminiscent of the Prologue Fairies from The Sleeping Beauty (Petipa, 1890), with their quirky, idiosyncratic movements that portray the feel of the season, while the Stars remind us of Ivanov’s Snowflakes, with their sharp, spikey, shimmering movements and patterns that bring to mind the constellations of the night sky. The pantomime dame style “Ugly Sisters” could be comical renditions of Carabosse, as they plot to ensure Cinderella’s continued subjugation and to deny her her destiny, earned by the beauty of her being.

Ugly sisters_Ashton & Helpmann_GBL Wilson — Robert Helpmann ( as the Ugly Sister ) & Frederick Ashton (as the Ugly Sister ) Royal Opera House, December 1965 ; Credit : G.B.L. Wilson / Royal Academy of Dance

Like Desiré in The Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella’s Prince arrives late in the proceedings and has to pursue Cinderella through the Stars that form barriers between them. Like a 19^thcentury classical ballerina role, Cinderella herself is the focus of the stage action and the narrative, with a string of solos and duets in different styles. No ballerina we have seen has ever competed with Tamara Rojo in portraying the two faces of Cinderella: the downtrodden but creative, imaginative and kindly young woman on the one hand, and the ideal vision of the fairy princess on the other.

But in 1979 NB offered a quite different interpretation of the Cinderella story. De Warren based his choreography on the 1901 score by Johan Strauss Jr., the only ballet score ever written by the composer, and adapted the scenario from Heinrich Regel’s original libretto. The theme of the seasons was retained in the name of the department store where the action is located. Here Cinderella is employed in the millinery workshop and bullied by her Stepmother, who is head of the department. However, as far as we can make out, there were no fairies representing the seasons, although magical doves (reminding us of Wheeldon’s fantasy birds) help Cinderella with her chores so that she can go to the ball.

CIN79-001 — Alexandra Worrall and Serge Lauoie in Robert de Warren’s Cinderella (1979) for Northern Ballet. Photo Ken Duncan.

The ball has been organised by Gustav, the owner of the Four Seasons, for his staff. What we find so enchanting about this telling of the story is that Gustav is so in love with Cinderella, despite her lowly position, that he makes excuses to go to the millinery department to catch a glimpse of her, and seeks her out at the ball, where everyone is disguised by masks.

Darrell’s 1979 SB Cinderella shared similarities with the NB production in that it also used an alternative musical score to Ashton’s, one arranged by Bramwell Tovey from music by Gioachino Rossini, including some numbers from his Cinderella opera La Cenerentola (1817). The libretto was also based loosely on the scenario to the opera (Tovey) and evidently foregrounded the Prince. The first source we found on this production was a review by John Percival which struck us with both its title “She knows a good ‘un when she sees him”, and with the first lines:

The Hero of Peter Darrell’s ballet Cinderella is the quiet, gentle Prince Ramiro, who is more interested in books than court occasions; you could almost imagine him talking to the plants in the palace gardens …

Scottish Ballet present Peter Darrell's Cinderella. Credit Bill Cooper (1) — Scottish Ballet – Peter Darrell’s Cinderella/ Credit Bill Cooper

This version of Cinderella in fact started with the Prince, who, finding the preparations for the masked ballet tedious, changes places with his equerry Dandini; and as in the current production, an instant bond is kindled between Cinderella and the Prince, despite the disguise. As Percival emphasises “Cinderella knows real worth when she sees it” (“A Scottish Cinderella” 20). Once again, nature plays an integral part in the staging, with Exotic Birds, Fire Fairies and Dew Fairies listed in the cast, and Cinderella arriving at the ball in an exquisite cloak resembling butterfly wings.

Concluding thoughts

Choreographers past and present have drawn on different sources and ideas in order to make their particular Cinderella fitting for their context.

Yet, no matter which adaptation you see, Cinderella is a ballet about different kinds of magic, love and beauty, as well as the everyday miracle of nature, with its message of hope and faith in the constant renewal of life. As such it as an ideal Christmas ballet, as well as a ballet for all seasons.

This post is dedicated to Kelly Kilner, Rosie’s Angel of Islington – a living example of everyday magic.

We would like to thank Graham Watts for his help with our research on Christopher Hampson’s Cinderella.

Next time on British Ballet Now & Then … It’s an exciting anniversary season for English National Ballet, so we must take a look at the history of the company – its directors, repertoire and dancers.

References

Anderson,Zoë. “Cinderella, Festival Theatre, Edinburgh, review: Romantic production combines glamour and liveliness”. The Independent, 24 Dec. 2015, http://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/theatre- dance/reviews/cinderella-festival-theatre-edinburgh-review-romantic- production-combines-glamour-and-liveliness-a6785011.html. Accessed 22 Dec. 2019.

Jennings, Amanda. “Cinderella”. Dance Europe, no. 244, Nov. 2019, pp. 35-37.

Lowes, Susan. “Cinderella”, All Edinburgh Theatre, 8 Dec. 2015, http://www.alledinburghtheatre.com/cinderella-scottish-ballet-review-2015/. Accessed 22 Dec. 2019.

Percival, John. “A Scottish Cinderella”. Dance and Dancers, vol. 30, no. 12, 1979, pp. 18-22.

—. “She knows a good ‘un when she sees him”, The Independent, 17 Dec. 2019, http://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/dance-she-knows-a-good-un-when-she-sees-him-1191878.html. Accessed 22 Dec. 2019.

“The Story of Cinderella”. Scottish Ballet, 2019, https://www.scottishballet.co.uk/tv/the-story-of-cinderella. Accessed 22 Dec. 2019.

Tovey, Bramwell. “The Music for Cinderella”. Cinderella. Programme. His Majesty’s Theatre, Aberdeen, 1979.