Mayerling, Royal Opera House, London
Friday, 19 March 2004
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Kenneth MacMillan took plenty of risks in his ballet Mayerling. In telling the story of Crown Prince Rudolf, the heir to the Austro-Hungarian empire, he dealt with historical events that come close to melodrama.
Kenneth MacMillan took plenty of risks in his ballet Mayerling. In telling the story of Crown Prince Rudolf, the heir to the Austro-Hungarian empire, he dealt with historical events that come close to melodrama. He crammed in social and political detail, letting his story sprawl. What brings it off is the depth of characterisation, and MacMillan's theatrical imagination.
The ballet, set to John Lanchbery's arrangement of Liszt, shows Rudolf from his marriage to the suicide pact with his 17-year-old mistress, Mary Vetsera. He's a violent, morbid hero, obsessed with guns and suicide. She's an obsessive heroine, ready to mould herself to his fantasies. The court around them is full of scheming and intrigue. MacMillan's triumph is in explaining the motives and needs of these selfish, desperate people.
MacMillan's hero is on stage for most of the ballet: dancing duet after duet with current and former mistresses, breaking into anguished solos. Jonathan Cope's Rudolf is best when at his most vulnerable, his long-limbed body ready to collapse in on itself. He clings to Tamara Rojo's Mary as they run off to die, a lonely man seeking assurance.
Cope could be more savage in the confrontations with his wife and mother, but he has moments of pointed insight. The first act ends with Rudolf's wedding night, a brutal pas de deux in which he terrorises his wife Stephanie and prepares to rape her. MacMillan, who isn't above prurient shock, brings the curtain down as he throws her on the bed. Cope gives Gemma Bond's Stephanie an almost petulant oh-get-on-with-it-woman shove. It's casually cruel: in one gesture we see his self-absorption, his indifference to a political marriage.
Rojo is an avid, lavish Mary, with a bright greedy face and a sweeping quality of movement. You can't miss her fixed intent, her unstoppable focus on Rudolf. In their first pas de deux, she makes straight for the gun on the desk, knowing that this will make her irresistible.
The ballet's third great role is Marie Larisch, Rudolf's former mistress. Jaimie Tapper dances cleanly, but she doesn't have the dramatic clout for a woman who introduced Mary to Rudolf as a means of keeping her power over him.
There are plenty of gaps in Mayerling. MacMillan often didn't know when to stop. The court intrigues are brilliant, but scenes of political wrangling are just confusing. But the Royal Ballet dance Mayerling with stylish conviction.
Nicolas Georgiadis's designs are both stylised and vividly in period. The 1880s costumes look heavily constrictive, but allow real freedom of movement; the sets are ornate but flexible. The tavern scene - yet another MacMillan brothel - is still dull, but Deirdre Chapman is a knowing, ironic Mitzi. The ballet is full of small roles, and full of good performances: as Rudolf's mother, Zenaida Yanowsky goes from formal dignity to pain with a tiny move of her head.
In repertory to 16 June (020-7304 4000)
