Giselle: Royal New Zealand Ballet

Isaac Theatre Royal, Christchurch, August 23

Every traditional Giselle is drawn in the same broad strokes; it’s the myriad finer details that distinguish one production from another, making yet another Giselle not just another Giselle, but a vivid and immediate experience.

At the end of the first act, for instance, Giselle lies dead, literally heartbroken by Albrecht’s betrayal. She is usually seen in her mother Berthe’s arms, although a director might let Albrecht cradle the girl. In anguish and with various degrees of violence, Albrecht and Hilarion, Giselle’s discarded rustic lover, accuse each other of causing Giselle’s death. Albrecht is customarily pulled away from the scene by his attendant Wilfred and may rush off in a panic, or may keep trying to return to Giselle’s body and has to be restrained.

In Maina Gielgud’s greatly admired staging, revived last year by The Australian Ballet, the very last seconds of the first act etch themselves on the memory. Berthe’s attention is not fully on her daughter but drawn somewhere into the beyond. She looks around in terror: the Wilis are coming. The connection has been made back to Berthe’s earlier description of this encroaching supernatural world and a bridge has explicitly been built to the world of the second act.

In Ethan Stiefel and Johan Kobborg’s 2012 production for Royal New Zealand Ballet, the connection made is that of love. The Giselle who saves Albrecht from the wrath of the Wilis is the girl who dies with Albrecht’s kiss on her lips, an intimate touch I don’t recall seeing in other stagings.

Lucy Green as Giselle. Photo: Bill Cooper

Lucy Green as Giselle. Photo: Bill Cooper

At every point in every production choices are made – choices that one hopes accumulate into a coherent, satisfying whole.

The Stiefel-Kobborg staging is astutely tailored for RNZB’s medium-sized forces (there are 34 unranked company members). Act II is essentially as danced by most companies, albeit with a reduced number of Wilis, but Act I is substantially and persuasively altered. We see more clearly how Hilarion fits in to this little community. He isn’t an outsider who skulks in and out and who is unregarded. He is present much of the time, watching from the edges as his love gives all her attention to another man. Giselle’s isn’t the only heart that’s broken.

Stiefel and Kobborg fruitfully abbreviate Bathilde’s visit to this neck of the woods, having the upper-crust party stop only briefly for a drink before going back to their outdoor pleasures. The salient point is made. Bathilde is engaged to be married, as she lets Giselle know; Giselle admits to being in love. We know they are both referring to Albrecht. Then Bathilde is gone. It’s a good call – one always wonders why she would stay inside Giselle’s little cottage as long as she does in most productions. With the haughty Bathilde not settling in, there’s no need to entertain her. The usual peasant pas becomes a dance for a Wedding Couple, their celebrations entered into by Albrecht, Giselle and Hilarion at various points. Hilarion, who usually doesn’t dance in the first act, is given his moment to shine as he tries to win Giselle’s attention. That Giselle caught the wedding bouquet makes him an even more poignant figure.

A downside is that Bathilde no longer gives Giselle the gift of her necklace, thus robbing us of the powerful moment when Albrecht sees it around Giselle’s neck and knows well ahead of time that his game is up. But there are other pleasures. Giselle’s admiration of Bathilde’s gorgeous gown – the style is Victorian – is enriched by our knowledge that she knows a thing or two about dressmaking: the wedding gown worn by the bride has been made in Giselle’s home. The more fluid approach to the peasant pas section (it rarely feels well-enough integrated dramatically) spills over into the group dance conventionally performed by the women. The Wedding Couple dances here too, as do Albrecht and Giselle.

I saw Giselle in Christchurch with the first cast, Lucy Green and Qi Huan. This production suits Green exceptionally well. She has the gift of appearing fresh and natural in a staging that puts a premium on storytelling. Whether it was an astonishingly swift set of backward bourrées in the second act, a beautifully simple floating half-turn in the first, or anything in between, every step added to one’s store of knowledge about Giselle. Qi is an elegant man of deep experience whose retirement from the stage in 2014 – he teaches at the New Zealand School of Dance – has happily proved to be negotiable. (There is Australian interest in this production too, with former Australian Ballet principal Daniel Gaudiello guesting as Albrecht at some performances with Mayu Tanigaito as his Giselle.)

Giselle

Qi Huan and Lucy Green in Giselle. Photo: Stephen A’Court

The experience of visiting Christchurch, the largest city on New Zealand’s South Island, was somewhat more sobering than I had expected on this first visit. The city centre is a forlorn place, with many buildings still needing restoration or complete rebuilding after the 2011 earthquake in which more than 100 people died. Recovery is a long process.

The city, however, was determined to save the Isaac Theatre Royal. Designed by Australian brothers Sydney and AE Luttrell, it opened in 1908 and had the not-uncommon history of being adapted for use as a cinema in the late 1920s and being in danger of demolition in the 1970s. Apparently this fate was fended off with only 48 hours to spare.

Then came the February 2011 quake and significant aftershocks in which the theatre was drastically damaged. The pragmatic – cheaper – choice would have been to build a modern replacement. It has instead been exquisitely restored (and strengthened), retaining its opulently decorated dome, marble staircase and ornate plasterwork. (You can read here about the extraordinary amount of work it took.) Not surprisingly, Giselle looked perfect there.

It was heartening to know that when it was devastated, the city understood the need to revive this beautiful place of art and community.

Giselle continues its national tour in Auckland, August 31-September 3; Rotorua, September 6; and Palmerston North, September 9.

Francesco Ventriglia and Royal New Zealand Ballet

A year into his artistic directorship, Francesco Ventriglia talks about his goals for Royal New Zealand Ballet and his first program for the company

 “My life is where I can have a theatre, where I can have dancers, where I can have a space to express my creativity. I don’t care if it’s Milan or Florence or Wellington or New York.”

Not everyone would mention Wellington, New Zealand, in the same breath as New York and Milan, but Francesco Ventriglia is more than happy to. And why not? We’re sitting in one of the New Zealand capital’s fine restaurants, drinking excellent local wine and talking, amongst other things, about the impending Royal New Zealand Ballet’s world premiere of Liam Scarlett’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. (It opened in late August.) Life is good.

Francesco Ventriglia, Royal New Zealand Ballet artistic director. Photo: Stephen A’Court

Francesco Ventriglia, RNZB’s artistic director. Photo: Stephen A’Court

Then there are all the things he wants to do as the company’s newest artistic director, a position he took up late last year after former American Ballet Theatre star Ethan Stiefel decided to return to the US after three years at the helm. Even when seated Ventriglia throws out megawatts of energy, face alight with enthusiasm and wreathed in smiles. He talks a million to the dozen in charmingly accented English which he says is improving but is already excellent – not entirely idiomatic, to be sure, but pouring out fluently and vividly. (“I feel more comfortable now, even with the Kiwi accent, which is a little bit different,” he says.)

Essentially it comes down to this. When he arrived in New Zealand he was warmly welcomed. People liked his outgoing nature and his vibrant optimism. “They like me and I really like them. I try to put things on the table in a very honest way, no strategy. I am what I am, I’m here. We can work and make the future. Everyone gives me the space to do that. So I feel free.”

Lucy Green, an Australian dancer with the company, says Ventriglia is very passionate. “You really get that enthusiasm and energy every time he’s in the studio. He loves to push us very, very hard, and that’s exactly what we need. He’s always telling us: ‘more, more; more body, more emotion, more heart’, which is really lovely. ‘More turnout, more quality.’ He loves quality. I love the way he describes things – ‘be royal, be expensive’. From day one he was fully here and fully committed. ‘I’m here for everyone and I’m here for the long haul.’ That’s really nice.”

Ventriglia inherited the 2015 season from Stiefel, including the gift of the full-length Scarlett that proved to be a very big hit and which will feature on RNZB’s 2016 Asian tour (it is a co-production with Queensland Ballet, which will perform it in Brisbane early next year). The 2016 season, his first full program, was announced this week.

Sonia Looker and MacLean Hopper in A Midsummer Night's Dream

Tonia Looker and MacLean Hopper in A Midsummer Night’s Dream

He spent his first year getting know the dancers, bringing in a series of guest ballet masters and mistresses before deciding who he wants to hire permanently, and getting acquainted with other companies and dance directors in the region (The Australian Ballet’s David McAllister, Queensland Ballet’s Li Cunxin, Sydney Dance Company’s Rafael Bonachela). “Very nice and open” is how he describes his early encounters and he is keen for connections, collaborations and exchanges in this part of the world as well as in Europe.

“New Zealand arrived at a moment of my life and career where I was really ready to jump into a new thing, a new energy, even in the dark a little bit,” he says. Ventriglia was working at the Bolshoi last year, staging his Boléro and Carmina Burana, when he got the message that RNZB was trying to get in touch with him. They called and said he was their choice to succeed Stiefel. He’d got the job.

Naturally he’d thought seriously about his application. The life of an artistic director is very different from that of a freelance choreographer who also occasionally likes to design sets and costumes. There’s time in that life for personal study, deep immersion in scores, lots of travel. But RNZB beckoned and he said yes. In Moscow, “at that moment I thought, that’s not my choice; it’s what life chooses for me”.

Ventriglia, who is in his mid-30s, made his dance career at La Scala. It was a good one. When he was just 19 Natalia Makarova came to stage her version of La Bayadère and chose him for the virtuoso Golden Idol solo; when he was even younger and newer to the company, William Forsythe hand-picked him to be in In the Middle, Somewhat Elevated. He danced Hilarion to Sylvie Guillem’s Giselle and appeared in ballets by Neumeier, Bejart, Preljocaj, Kylian, Mats Ek, Nureyev, “always in the lead role”. He retired at the early age of 31, becoming artistic directorship of Florence’s MaggioDanza. The company closed abruptly in 2013, a victim of funding cuts.

RNZB is in a happier situation as the country’s much-admired national ballet company. Ventriglia understands the importance. “What is great from my point of view is that the company can spread ballet culture through the country, from tiny, tiny cities to Auckland. This is a great, great responsibility.” There is also an imperative to tour internationally, “because it’s quite important to spread the New Zealand brand”. This year’s tour, from October 27 to early December, takes the production of Giselle created for the company by Stiefel and Johan Kobborg in 2012 to the UK and (naturally) Italy, along with a mixed bill. “We do one tour a year, and we hope two in the future.”

Ventriglia is also keen for the company, which has 37 dancers (they are unranked), to be seen at festivals. “We could send just a group – 10 to 15 dancers – and the other group can dance here,” he says. “We can be present in the same moment in an international place and national place. That’s what I want to do. It’s great – a national company. National! It’s a big responsibility. It’s for all New Zealand, not just your city.”

The first festival in Ventriglia’s schedule is the 2016 New Zealand Festival, and it will be the first time in a dozen years that RNZB has appeared at the event. The program, called Speed of Light, is an exuberant one: In the Middle, Somewhat Elevated; Alexander Ekman’s Cacti and Andonis Foniadakis’s Selon désir, which is also being seen on this year’s northern hemisphere tour.

The year continues with a world premiere, Ventriglia’s family-friendly The Wizard of Oz, which was to have been seen in Florence but “between the dress rehearsal and the opening night the theatre was closed. So after five years the ballet will be reborn in New Zealand.” Giselle will again be seen on home soil, and the Asian tour of A Midsummer Night’s Dream will follow. Ventriglia also talks obliquely about a further project, something very big, but will give no details at this stage.

The RNZB dancers are an international lot – New Zealanders, of course; a handful of Australians; a group of Americans, part of the Stiefel era (they were all still there a year later despite Stiefel’s departure); and now some Italians. There are dancers from the UK, Japan and China. “Artists don’t have any passports. They don’t have any nationality. They are good artists or bad artists,” Ventriglia says robustly. “Dancers want to dance the right choreographers – Forsythe, Ekman, Naharin. If you have the quality you attract the dancers. If you have the best choreographers in the world the best dancers want to come.”

 Royal New Zealand Ballet’s 2016 program

Speed of Light: Forsythe, Ekman, Foniadakis

The Wizard of Oz, Ventriglia

Giselle, Stiefel/Kobborg

A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Scarlett

Lucinda Dunn, Cojocaru and Kobborg

The Australian Ballet, Sydney Opera House, April 22 and 23

AS the curtain came down on Lucinda Dunn’s farewell performance for The Australian Ballet she wept, the streamers flew, the audience roared and an era ended. Dunn has been with the AB for 23 years, longer than any other ballerina, and was a principal artist for more than a decade.

As she danced the title role in Kenneth MacMillan’s Manon she looked as if she could dance for another 23 years, so immaculate was her artistry and technical command. But she is 40 in an art form that exacts a brutal toll on bodies. As much as balletomanes would wish it otherwise, she had to choose a moment to call it quits.

Lucinda Dunn and Adam Bull in Manon

Lucinda Dunn and Adam Bull in Manon

Dunn did it while at the pinnacle of success and with her formidable gifts intact. She has long been the AB’s prima ballerina, the best of the best. That’s why fans queued in the dawn light (or earlier) on the day of her last show to secure standing room tickets, and why there was a lengthy line for box office returns in the evening. There were doubtless few. The Joan Sutherland Theatre at the Sydney Opera House was, of course, over-flowing.

That Dunn has had a special relationship with her audience was borne out by the long and tumultuous ovation she received. As she waved goodbye, many in the house tearfully waved back. Dunn has been an old-school star, always dressed immaculately to greet her fans and conscious of her obligations. She has given them great respect and they have loved her in return. Dunn was officially recognised this year when awarded the Medal of the Order of Australia.

Dunn had all the major classical works in her repertoire, having a particular triumph as Aurora in Stanton Welch’s version of The Sleeping Beauty when the AB toured to ballet-mad Tokyo in 2007. The role of Clara in Graeme Murphy’s Nutcracker – The Story of Clara was one of Dunn’s favourites and she was superb in contemporary work as well. There was nothing she couldn’t tackle with distinction as she proved last year when appearing in works by George Balanchine and Wayne McGregor, choreographers who could not be more different.

She was fortunate, too, in having one of ballet’s holy grails: she shared with Robert Curran, who became a principal artist on the same day as Dunn, a long and exceptionally fruitful artistic relationship. Curran retired from the AB in 2011 with a reputation as a stellar partner.

Lucinda Dunn and Robert Curran in The Nutcracker. Photo: Jim McFarlane

Lucinda Dunn and Robert Curran in The Nutcracker. Photo: Jim McFarlane

Dunn has been a role model for younger dancers in many ways, but perhaps none more potent than her return to performing at the highest level after two periods of maternity leave. Dunn’s husband, Danilo Radojevic, brought young daughters Claudia and Ava onstage to share Dunn’s final moments as a dancer.

Dunn’s retirement doesn’t end her association with ballet. She was recently announced as artistic-director designate of the Tanya Pearson Classical Coaching Academy and Sydney Youth Ballet. She takes up the position on January 1.

The night before Dunn farewelled an audience that didn’t want to let her go, Alina Cojocaru and Johan Kobborg were guest artists in Manon and showed a wildly appreciative full house why they form one of ballet’s most treasured partnerships.

As leading dancers roam the globe to work with different companies, the building of a special artistic relationship that endures and deepens is increasingly rare and precious. At the most fundamental level Cojocaru and Kobborg look as if they belong together, as if they are constantly drawn to one another and that they understand one another profoundly. They undoubtedly do, as they are also offstage partners, but such a relationship doesn’t necessarily translate to the stage.

It did here. Myriad piquant individual details within a seamless overarching interpretation built a picture of a steadfast, deeply anguished lover and a sweetly innocent woman whose sensuality is awakened and is her downfall. It was fascinating to see Cojocaru transformed by Manon’s initiation into sexual delights. She danced as if in a dream, quietly intoxicated. The sumptuousness of her upper body was exquisite, yet there always remained something of the youthful radiance of the girl who rushed into a courtyard to spend time with her brother before she entered a convent.

The artistry was of the highest order. Those audiences lucky enough to see one of Kobborg and Cojocaru’s two performances with the AB were greatly blessed.

Cojocaru and Kobborg

WHEN Alina Cojocaru and Johan Kobborg join The Australian Ballet in Sydney for two performances of Manon in April it will be their first appearance with an Australian company, but their second time in Australia together and Cojocaru’s third visit. She danced in A Midsummer Night’s Dream with Hamburg Ballet in Brisbane in 2012.

Cojocaru and Kobborg in Manon during the RB's Tokyo tour last year. Photo: Kiyonori Hasegawa

Cojocaru and Kobborg in Manon during the RB’s Tokyo tour last year. Photo: Kiyonori Hasegawa

In 2002 the Royal Ballet visited Sydney under the directorship of Ross Stretton – he was David McAllister’s predecessor in the equivalent role at the AB – when the dancers were relatively new members of the company. Cojocaru had just turned 21 but was already a principal dancer and considered one of the most wondrous artists to grace the international stage. Because of her youth she still had important roles to add to her repertoire, and it was in Sydney that she danced her first Odette-Odile.

Her partner in this Swan Lake, as it was in Giselle that season, was the Danish-born Johan Kobborg, himself a dancer of rare grace and artistry. They were not at that early stage the partners in private life they would become, but their chemistry was palpable. In my review of Swan Lake for The Australian, published on June 14, 2002, I wrote: “[Cojocaru’s] Prince Siegfried, the warm and sympathetic Johan Kobborg, looked as if he couldn’t believe how precious a creature had flown into his arms …

“The tiny Cojocaru is an Odette made of spun glass, one who might break if Siegfried were to hold her too tightly, but in need of his protection. She created an unforgettable image of sweet and sad fragility, expressed via a sweeping back, exquisite placement, mime delivered with a touching sense of being new-minted and a melting quality that saw her float rather than fall into Kobborg’s embrace.”

In the following 12 years reviews for the pair have only got better. Kobborg, now 41, is still dancing at the highest level with the best companies – he guested with San Francisco Ballet in January, partnering Maria Kochetkova – but is diversifying his talents widely. He also stages ballets, choreographs (including a captivating Giselle co-choreographed with Ethan Stiefel last year for Royal New Zealand Ballet) and a month ago took up the post of artistic director of Romanian National Ballet. At 32, Cojocaru is in her prime. The current standing of both is testament to their ferocious commitment to the art of ballet. They do not submit to the status quo.

Ballet knows no borders these days. There have, of course, always been artists who have accepted guest roles around the world, but activity in this area has become a whirlwind – at a certain level. The starriest names in ballet are pursuing fresh inspiration and experiences around the globe. If one company can’t provide everything these superlative dancers need, they’ll find others that can.

Last year the AB hosted American David Hallberg, widely considered the world’s reigning male classicist, and stratospheric Russian pair Natalia Osipova and Ivan Vasiliev. This year those fortunate enough to be in Sydney at the evening performance of Manon on April 19 and on Tuesday April 22 will see Cojocaru and Kobborg. Riches indeed.

Cojocaru and Kobborg caused a huge stir in the UK last year when they abruptly left the Royal Ballet after more than a decade. Their departure was announced just two days before their final London performance (a Tokyo tour shortly afterwards marked the absolute end), causing consternation among fans and ballet critics. The dancers are deeply loved and their longstanding stage partnership – an increasingly rare phenomenon – is hailed as one of the art form’s greatest.

Cojocaru was swiftly snapped up by English National Ballet, a company that appears to allow the flexibility she desires. Writing via email, she says she has just been working in London on new pieces by the young turk Liam Scarlett and contemporary great Russell Maliphant, which she will perform just before coming to Sydney, and is about to dance Onegin with Hamburg Ballet, with which she has a strong association. In addition, Kobborg, speaking by phone from Bucharest about the AB visit, said he considers Cojocaru part of his Romanian company. “I consider this one of her homes. Of course I want to involve Alina as much as possible.” (She was born in Romania.)

Cojocaru’s craving for such variety and for new work impelled her to leave the RB. “The artist in me became starved for inspiration and challenges,” she wrote in her email. “I have so much more to learn and experience in this amazing art form!”

‘The artist in me became starved for inspiration and challenges’

Kobborg says the RB could offer security and that he could potentially have stayed another five years, “but it just didn’t really do much for me any more. And if Alina wasn’t going to be there … She wanted to do something different and I support her. You have to put yourself in situations where you don’t feel too secure. To experiment, if that’s the right word. It’s about art, not about recreating the past.”

Despite her eye being equally focused on the future, Cojocaru’s Sydney debut in Swan Lake remains a treasured experience. “I was very lucky and happy that Ross Stretton had asked Natasha Makarova to work with me on this role. And for me it is [the] most special memory of this ballet ever.

“After that tour, we had a few attempts to come back dancing in Australia … but I guess things do happen when they are meant to and it looks like now is [the] right time for it. I am really very excited about coming back to a place where I have such wonderful memories of our shows there with Johan!

“And Manon is of course such a masterpiece that we are very much looking forward to work on this ballet with The Australian Ballet. Especially as each person in the ballet brings their energy and way of performing that I am sure it will be very inspiring journey of discovering and developing a connection with everybody.”

While his artistic directorship is his priority, Kobborg said he is able to plan around the job to continue his onstage career. “I started a month ago and had known about it for about two months before that,” he says. “It was not something I applied for, it was not something that was planned.” For that reason he still had – and has – dancing commitments in the diary for up to 18 months. He may withdraw from a few things, but says of the AB visit: “Manon is a ballet very close to me and Alina. There was no question about it,” says Kobborg.

“I’m not saying goodbye to dancing; [but] I only have to say yes to the things I really want to do. I want to be realistic. I’m getting old” – Kobborg gives a little laugh at this point – “but there are still definitely some things I find interesting and I can bring something to.” He doesn’t necessarily plan to dance with his Romanian company but doesn’t close the door either. “If there is a need, of course … if I can help by being on stage then I will do it.”

This year the AB doesn’t have the superstar power all to itself. Performances of Kenneth MacMillan’s Romeo and Juliet by the resurgent Queensland Ballet in June and July will feature RB principals Carlos Acosta and Sydney-born Steven McRae as well as Tamara Rojo, who also happens to be Cojocaru’s boss at ENB. Like Kobborg she is an artistic director who continues to perform. Further proving ballet’s current fluidity, Brisbane-born AB principal artist Daniel Gaudiello also guests with QB.

“We not trying to out-guest the guests,” McAllister says about the conjunction of stars. “More ballet and better ballet from everyone makes everyone better. It’s certainly great to see QB developing and growing, as it is with West Australian Ballet. It builds an excitement around ballet.”

The Sydney season of Manon runs from April 3-23. Cojocaru and Kobborg appear on April 19 and 22. The Melbourne season of Manon runs from March 14-24.

A version of this article ran in The Australian on March 3.

Swan Lake, RNZB, change of cast

St James Theatre, Wellington, July 19

A SECOND viewing of Russell Kerr’s Swan Lake for Royal New Zealand Ballet introduced two new young leads and further illuminated its strengths and a few weaknesses.

Last night the mature, high-octane opening night pairing of Gillian Murphy and Pacific Northwest Ballet guest Karel Cruz gave way to the sweet anguish of youth with Lucy Green and Kohei Iwamoto, both members of RNZB since joining in 2010. Both were trained in Melbourne, Green at the Victorian College of the Arts and Iwamoto at the Australian Ballet School.

In the short time they have been at RNZB Green and Iwamoto have formed a fruitful partnership, dancing together in the lead roles in Giselle (by RNZB artistic director Ethan Stiefel and Johan Kobborg) and in Stiefel’s Bier Halle, and they are a good match. Their ease together shows up in many little details of timing that add so much to add texture and meaning to a moment. Take, for instance, the Act II mime in which Siegfried precipitately wants to tell Odette he will save her. Iwamoto has started to stretch his hand high above his head with fingers pointed, ballet speak for “I promise you”, but it’s too soon for Green’s fearful Odette, who understands the dangers much better than Siegfried does. Just at the right moment she pulls his arm back. It’s these split-second moments that make a gesture seem naturally impelled by the drama rather than dutifully learned.

Green is only 22 and her art is not one of grandeur but of touching emotional openness. There was anxiety and uncertainty at her first meeting with Siegfried, and deep anguish near the end when Siegfried returns to the lake after his betrayal of Odette. Green’s gestures and expression of forgiveness had a most affecting tenderness.

As Odile Green doesn’t have, or at least not yet, a way of being entirely convincing as a heartless and duplicitous siren although she handled the choreography with aplomb. And it was lovely to see her reaction when Rothbart gives her some whispered tips about how to reel Siegfried in. Odile starts to mimic some of Odette’s signature movements and Green’s face lit up. It was probably too big a gear shift, but also a reminder of just how many tiny choices, adjustments and decisions go in to making a seamless performance.

Iwamoto has a lovely clean line, impressive elevation and he partners nobly, although he can sometimes let the tension of performance show too clearly in his expression. His Siegfried is particularly young, the kind of man who really is extremely happy with his birthday gift of a crossbow and who is pretty easy game for Rothbart. One of the weaknesses of Kerr’s production, one I referred to in yesterday’s report, makes Siegfried look pretty hapless, and Iwamoto wasn’t able to overcome the inherent problems. The opening of Act III, in which various princesses present themselves as prospective brides, lacks a strong sense of shape and purpose. Who is presenting these women? Have they just turned up with their girlfriends? Do their predominantly black tutus mean they are somehow aligned with Odile and therefore Rothbart, who enters a little bit later? There are possibilities there simply not addressed.

The other problem is with the ending. If you miss the all too brief moment in which Odette indicates to Siegfried that they must kill themselves you might think the power of love had vanquished Rothbart and we were in for a Soviet-style happy ending. In the tussles with Rothbart there’s plenty of time for a more detailed and therefore affecting journey towards the lovers’ fate.

Elsewhere, the second cast pas de trois cast of Mayu Tanigaito, Ginny Gan and Jacob Chown was extremely attractive, with Tanigaito’s buoyancy and elevation a particular delight. Dimitri Kleioris made an impact as Rothbart, and again the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra under the baton of Nigel Gaynor added immeasurably to the occasion.

Next week RNZB adds another cast to the mix, with Abigail Boyle and Qi Huan. I regret I won’t be able to stay to see them.