Review by Raphael Kohn
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It’s 2024, and the Birmingham Royal Ballet is remounting a 1960 production, originally from Covent Garden, of La Fille mal gardée. It could seem a bit old-fashioned, but sometimes, shows speak for themselves and justify their longevity. La Fille really is no exception to this rule – a pantomime-cum-ballet which balances the amusing comedy with the exceptional dance brilliantly.
I don’t think calling it a ‘pantomime’ is an insult, either. It’s a compliment, believe me. In a world where Romeo & Juliets and Swan Lakes offer less-than-happy endings, and Cinderellas and Nutcrackers amaze and inspire, but offer little laugh-out-loud amusement, La Fille mal gardée seems a perfect counterpoint. There’s very little in the way of plot or emotional engagement here – no deeply-felt emotions and shock twists. More than anything, what exists of the plot only serves to take us from set-piece to set-piece.
Such moments find themselves on what can only be described as a picture book blown up into a stage, on Osbert Lancaster’s provincial town-inspired sets. They’re a bit cartoonish, a bit silly, and absolutely nowhere near realistic. But that’s the point; in a (brilliantly) deeply unserious ballet, there are deeply unserious sets to present a deeply unserious story.
And so, loosely constructed around this deeply unserious narrative of a young woman in love with a man, but whose mother wants her to marry another man in the town, comes a genuinely funny ballet. Perhaps in 2024 there’s an argument that the controlling of a young woman, forcing her to marry someone against her will, is a bit outdated and not politically correct, but this is a work of its time after all. The story of its creation could be an entire book in itself – this production is the work of Sir Frederick Ashton, who took a story originating back to the 1700s, and reverted back through multiple iterations of a score to Ferdinand Hérold’s 1828 construction.
Frankly, none of Hérold’s music really matters that much. There are multiple versions of La Fille’s score, mostly formed from pastiches of French ballet music. Ashton deliberated over different versions of the ballet’s score and eventually chose a particular one, but his choice has little to say for itself. The music is best described as ‘light’ – fluffy, superficial stuff that never gets boring or deep, but at the same time doesn’t really bring a heart rate up by much or stick in the memory. It’s entertaining, but not of any real consequence.
Thankfully however, under the baton of Wolfgang Heinz, it sounds fairly terrific. The Royal Ballet Sinfonia, an ensemble proudly boasting to be ‘Britain’s busiest ballet orchestra,’ provides the live accompaniment, and they are on fine form, with lush textures billowing out of the pit to underscore the action on stage. Their claims may seem to be a boast, but they’re well-deserved by the talent in the pit.
At the end of the day, though, this is about the dance. Ashton’s choreography darts back and forth between folk-styled dances (look out for multiple maypole-inspired moments, and the all-too-famous ‘Clog Dance’) and more traditional ballet stylings. It’s almost a feat of endurance and athleticism for its performers, especially a jaw-dropping moment using ribbons and nothing else to create an almost unbelievable feat of balance and precision.
But such a feat is easily undertaken by the company of the Birmingham Royal Ballet, with Beatrice Parma (in her debut as a principal) as Lise undertaking the majority of these awe-inspiring moments. La Fille is famous for a number of feats, not least the ‘bum lift’ (BRB’s Director Carlos Acosta’s words, not mine!), in which Lise is lifted high into the air by Colas (her lover) balanced on one palm. It’s a strong debut indeed for Parma, a dancer whose future can be expected to be very bright indeed.
She’s lifted, twirled and flung around by Colas, danced on press night by Enrique Bejarano Vidal. Luckily he gets his own moments too, soaring across the stage so lightly you could swear that he is capable of flight. He is opposed by the reluctant Gus Payne as Alain, a man more in love with his umbrella than he is with Lise but whose father attempts to marry him off nonetheless. It’s a difficult task to balance the awkward, jerky movements the choreography demands with genuinely excellent dance, but he manages it well indeed.
Ultimately, this is a comic ballet – and the ‘comic’ really does take centre stage. It’s not just the recurring cockerels who introduce the first two acts and reoccur periodically to the amusement of the audience, nor is it the hilariously madcap Rory Mackay as the closest thing ballet has to a pantomime dame, Widow Simone. The slapstick is constant and precise, only ever lifting to allow the dancers opportunities to demonstrate their raw talent. Even if you’ve never seen a ballet before, there’s very little chance you won’t find yourself amused.
So beyond the falling-down-stairs moments, the tap of the clop dance, and the silliness of the plot, there’s really just a great night out at the ballet here. Sure, it’s a bit light and fluffy and lacks much substance, but really, that’s the point. It’s not life-affirming or heartstring-pulling – it’s a right laugh performed by exceptional dancers. You won’t leave without a smile on your face, that’s for sure.
La Fille mal gardée is touring in Birmingham, Plymouth and London until 26th October 2024. Full dates and tickets from: https://www.brb.org.uk/shows/la-fille-mal-gardee
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