'Romeo and Juliet' at the Royal Opera House

Last week I went to see 'Romeo and Juliet' at the Royal Opera House, the ballet that made me fall in love with the art form and, luckily, the dancer who played Romeo in that production six years ago was dancing again. Steven McRae danced Romeo in 2015 and I was in the audience when he snapped an Achilles tendon in 2019 so I had to be there to see his triumphant return to the stage last week, once again dancing Romeo, with Sarah Lamb as Juliet. What a privilege to see this joyous ballet with such great and graceful dancers as my re-introduction to the main stage of the Royal Opera House. The Royal Ballet dance Kenneth MacMillan's version of this eternal story - I've also seen John Cranko's version in Boston and, more recently, Matthew Bourne's re-imagining of the tale, but I prefer the Royal Ballet. Prokofiev was having a good month when he wrote the score for this ballet. 

We all know the story behind the work, the rivalry between the two houses of Capulet and Montague in Verona, how Romeo falls for Juliet and pursues her to marry secretly while she is supposed to marry another nobleman. She feigns suicide to avoid the marriage but Romeo believes she is dead so commits suicide himself and when she finds him dead she follows him into death. Whenever we get to the marriage scene I can't help but wish they don't marry since marriage signs their death warrants, but they always do. Maybe one day the friar will refuse to marry them...

Needless to say, I loved it. It was great to see the excitement of the sword-fencing scenes again, see the Happy Strumpets strut their stuff and see Romeo and his mates enjoying themselves before tragedy strikes. There were a few tense moments when Steven McRae took off to fly across the stage but he was on top form and seemed to revel in performing again. It's what he does, after all. He received huge cheers when he strode on stage at the start of the performance and an even louder ovation at the end, with Sarah Lamb pushing him forward for bows at the end and to accept the cheers and love from the audience. The bows at the end are usually led by the ballerina but that night it was all for Steven, and rightly so. 

And I still love that ballet.

'Poussin and the Dance' at the National Gallery

There's a small exhibition at the National Gallery at the moment about Poussin's dance paintings in the ground floor galleries. I'm not a huge fan of Poussin or that 'French academic' style he inspired but he is a great painter. He left France for Rome in the 1620s and that is where he studied the antiquities there, the statues and other objects, seeing how the artists of the past portrayed movement in stone and that's what he tried to reproduce in these paintings. 

The exhibition probably contains more sketches and drawings than it does paintings, but that's bonus for me. I love seeing great painter's drawings and preliminary sketches, see how they played around with positioning characters in the scenes of the paintings and how they might've changed their minds. I find it all rather fascinating. Poussin seems to have preferred ink for his drawings which gives nice lines and makes them longer lasting. I think my favourite was a study for 'Dance to the Music of Time', a detail from the painting which is the poster for the exhibition.

I admit to not paying much attention to most of the paintings on show - that's pretty, that's colourful - but three paintings that did grab my attention were all painted for Cardinal Richelieu and they were hung together, the 'Triumph of...' Pan, Silenus and Bacchus. Each of them are rather raucous scenes of drunken debauchery as you'd expect from the protagonists. There's a lot going on in these paintings and they're full of movement with lots of dancing, leering, drunken collapses, people loosing their clothes, they're joyous celebrations of life. Look at the detail in the paintings and decide what's happening, like in the 'Triumph of Pan' one man is trying to pull a satyr to his feet after he's drunkenly collapsed - who would put that at the front of a painting? Poussin, obviously.

Apparently, the urn just in front of the pair is a copy of an actual urn that was recently found and was creating a stir in academic circles at the time.

The final painting of the show is 'Dance to the Music of Time' on loan from the Wallace Collection for the first time, and it gets a room to itself. It's a very allegorical painting and is, oddly, quite relaxing. It shows Time playing his lyre and Poverty, Labour, Wealth and Pleasure holding hands and dancing together. Unlike the other paintings, there isn't a crowd around them, just them in a pastoral landscape. Above them in the clouds, we see Apollo and Dawn crossing the sky.

The exhibition was quite busy when I was there so I'll go back again in a few weeks time when it should be calmer. I'd like the opportunity to see the three 'Triumph' paintings again to focus on the detail. 

'L'Heure Exquise' at the Royal Opera House

'L'Heure Exquise' is a work by Maurice Bejart based on Samuel Beckett's 'Happy Days'. In the play, the lead character is buried up to the waist in rubble so in this dance version, she is buried in pointe shoes. The lead was played by the ever-graceful Alessandra Ferri partnered by Carsten Jung. Ferri has a long relationship with the Royal Ballet, training at the Royal Ballet School and joining the company in 1980, achieving the rank of Principal dancer and later becoming Prima Ballerina Assoluta. And she's still dancing. 

The performance was in the Linbury Theatre, much smaller and more intimate than the main stage, and it's great to be so much closer to the dancers. Ferri tells her stories of her past through words, song and, of course, dance. It starts with her buried to her waist in ballet shoes and then the mound of shoes opens up and she steps onto the stage to sift through her memories. One minute she's singing then the next she's riding Jung like a childhood rocking horse. He was a very able partner, morphing into whatever Ferri needed.

The most tense and puzzling section for me was when Ferri discovers a handbag full of memories - a compact, a pair of ballet shoes - that she takes out one by one, and then she pulls out a gun and holds it up in the air. What is that for? Why is it there? What happened in her past to make a handgun such an important memory? Especially when she points it at Jung and he slowly takes it from her. Clearly an important memory and, like the rest of the show, a puzzlement...

For most of the show I had no idea what was going on - just like when I saw the 'Happy Days' play a few years back - so I just let it wash over me. You don't always have to understand everything, sometimes just experiencing it is enough. It's always a delight to see Alessandra Ferri and admire her skill and art and I look forward to the next time.