Arts: A touch of St Vitus' dance

Ballet: SWAN LAKE; COLISEUM, LONDON

WE HAVE seen some bizarre productions of Swan Lake over the years, so while Vladimir Vasiliev's new treatment for the Bolshoi is a drastic re-reading, there is no reason to be alarmed, even if one might be disappointed that he has not achieved the "traditional, classical, Russian manner" he says he aimed for.

Odile, the wicked impersonator of the heroine, has been banished. Instead, the hero brings his Swan Princess to the ball; her big number there is Tchaikovsky's beautiful Russian dance, often omitted in western stagings. She also gets a duet (during which all the guests oddly wander away - surely not for supper?) and the famous 32 fouettes.

The other major change is the introduction of a new character, Siegfried's father, who takes over some of the Queen Mother's functions of nagging their son, as well as those of the evil spirit Rothbart. Surprisingly, he turns out to love truly (and vainly) the heroine he has bewitched - sad for her, him, his wife and his son: an original and strikingly dramatic idea.

In the first half, the princess loses her usual touching solo for a longer, showier, less meaningful one. Vasiliev seems to suffer from St Vitus' dance, as if steps were judged by quantity rather than quality. Nobody must walk or stand, though it might give a much wanted touch of poetry. It is running and jumping all the time for the men, balances, high kicks and turns for the women.

Most of the audience applauded enthusiastically; purists complained bitterly. I found this Swan Lake certainly as acceptable as the Yuri Grigorovich version it replaces, although nowhere near as good as the older production that Grigorovich killed off.

Anyone who dislikes the production can, of course, shut their eyes and listen to Tchaikovsky's music, richly played by the Bolshoi Orchestra under Alexander Kopylov. But it would be a shame to miss the dancers. The Swan Princess suits tall, blonde sensuous Anastasia Volochkova, and Konstantin Ivanov supports her earnestly as the Prince. But it is Nikolai Tsiskaridze, powerful in technique and in presence, who dominates as the noble villain.

John Percival

A version of this review appeared in later editions of yesterday's paper