Review: let’s learn ballet with Don Quixote
Choreography by Rudolf Nureyev, music composed by Ludwig Minkus and orchestrated by John Lanchbery
Review by Ceridwen Bush
Are you a weird nerd who chose a very specific niche to constantly talk about with your friends? Do you know every painter from the Modernist movement but haven't read a book in years? Maybe you're really interested in the branches of proto-European languages? I am a weird horror film nerd who is counting the days until Ari Aster’s new film comes out. Let's practise some interdisciplinary research and learn about ballet together!
Ballet: a theatrical form of dance, revered for its highly technical style, formal precision, and artistic visual/scenery/costumes/staging
The recent production of the ballet Don Quixote, by The Australian Ballet, is an opulently coloured, effortlessly skilled performance. Ballerinas (feminine) are known for their grace. It feels uncouth to gender professions like this in English, and as such the ballerinas’ masculine counterparts are known for not having a reasonable noun to identify them – try “premier danseur” or “ballerino”.
This version of Don Quixote is pulled from the 1973 film by Rudolf Nureyev and Robert Helpmann (boy ballerinas, directors, and choreographers), which is pulled very loosely from the 1605 novel by Miguel de Cervantes (boy writer).
Pas de quatre: a group or “step” of four
I attended the ballet in a pas de quatre – a “step of four”. Three out of four of us have miscellaneous arts degrees, but does the woman sitting next to me think it is a waste to study creatively? Would the men in suits think I'm stupid because of my creative writing major in my Bachelor of Arts? Would they tell the ballerinas, that they've paid hundreds to see, that a Master's degree in dance is useless? The anti-arts vanguard certainly does some mental gymnastics when it comes to deciding what is “worth” it.
Consumption has never been enough to keep the arts alive. How could a show so wonderful let a single seat sit empty? I know this seems redundant in a world where houses sit empty while people are homeless – but don't we deserve homes and ballet? Bread and roses?
There’s one universally known fact about ballet: it is incredibly difficult. With the combination of athletic expertise and formal perfection, there’s a documented correlation between ballet and eating disorders. Top practitioners start extraordinarily young: The Australian Ballet School offers after-school classes from age 10, then full-time studies from age 14. Just four years will cost $30,100. Ballet dancing may be a closed practice, but why should enjoying it be? If you’re not already part of it, the formalities and French alone may make you feel like you’re not welcome. Ballerinas have dedicated their bodies and lives to their craft, it’d be a shame to let their art be lost to a pretentious vanguard.
Jeté: to jump from one foot to another
Act 1 of Don Quixote, or Don Q as it is affectionately called by those who know things about the ballet, is set at ‘The Port of Barcelona’. The stage is tightly lined with the signature Romanesque architecture of Barcelona; tall, white, columns, and big open windows. The stage flashes green, orange, and red as the corps fill the stage. When the dancers jeté – jump from one foot to another – their legs match the long masts of the docked ships in the background. Their colourful costumes and bubbly movements make them look as if they danced straight out of a storybook.
Corps de ballet: the body of the ballet, or the ensemble
The corps are the body of the ballet, or the ensemble. Throughout Act 1, the ambient organs of this corps act passively in the background. They sharpen blades, trade fruit, and occasionally observe the commotion from their terrace balconies. Despite their separation from the core dancers, they bring a surprising amount of life to the scene. The passive imitation of life is at the forefront during Act 3, ‘A Tavern Outside of Town’, where the cast merrily drink, toast, and mime conversation.
Mime: a theatrical technique that relies on gesture rather than speech to portray story
Mime is integral to ballet. Of course, with no script, directors rely on the audience to interpret scenes through the emotion of dance and music. There is also a philosophy of layers that is built into ballet. The basis of each motion is on the positions of feet and arms, and it is in the absolute perfection of each position that dancers appear to be effortlessly graceful. From the bottom up, Don Q is seamless.
Pas de deux: a duet
We’re introduced to Kitri (Benedicte Bemet) and Basilio (Marcus Morelli), the principal dancers, and the flirtatious couple perform a pas de deux – a duet. They weave throughout the corps, playfully attempting to make each other jealous. The lovers wish to marry, but Kitri’s father pushes her to be with the Gamache (Paul Knobloch), a rich nobleman instead.
The stars of the show are Kitri and Basilio, not Don Quixote, who also falls for Kitri. Despite Adam Bill being perfect for the role of Don Q (he has a lanky valiance about him) he is sidelined for most of the performance. We rarely see him dance, but his vague arm and hand gestures are fitting of the character's romantic nature. Gamache, with his garishly camp outfit and ridiculous wig, is easy to mock, but Don appears to revere Kitri and is drawn to protect her in a knightly passion.
Comédie-ballet: a comedy ballet performance
With all its elegance and grace, ballet has a knack for the silly. Don Quixote is a comédie-ballet, where grace quickly becomes slapstick humour. The dorky nature of Sancho Panza (Timothy Coleman), Don’s balding siege, makes him a target for the townsfolk. The corps toss him into the air, his legs and arms flailing. Even the goofball of the play never once appears odd or jerks out of place, every movement flows. Slapstick comedy is at its finest when the cast is resolutely perfect.
The stakes are high in ‘The Plain of Montiel’, Act 2. A cracking whip sets the scene while Kitri and Basilo seek disguise at a Romani camp. The situation is elevated to absurdity when the community puts on a puppet show, mocking Lorenzo and Gamache. The stars of the puppet show are kids – baby ballerinas! The audience meets them with audible delight, wearing mini versions of their counterparts' costumes. Tensions continue to rise and Don Quixote charges forward to slay his enemies, the windmills. Injured and exhausted, Don collapses with the set.
Pas de bourrée couru: small travelling steps
The scene reappears as ‘Dulcinea’s Garden’ and Don is surrounded by fairies and their queen, (Sharni Spencer). Carrying a tiny bow is Cupid (Yuumi Yamada), who mimes a shooting arrow to Don's heart. Yamada moves with such delicacy that she must be a real-life fairy. With their tiny steps, pas de bourrée couru, the fairies appear to be fluttering just above the ground. There’s very little action in this dreamy scene, so the beauty of the dancers really steals the show. The corps are dressed in soft pink and cream, with puffy sleeves and floral details along their corsets. Their ethereal qualities are subtle, there are no fairy wings and glitter, but the scene conveys the same sense of magic seen in the art of Cicely Mary Barker (of “the Flower Fairies” fame).
Don Q never stops being beautiful. As a ballet, the literary aspects of the source text have been abandoned. Kept instead is the humour, romance, and warm Barcelona aesthetic. The dancers are masters of their craft, and it is a privilege to witness their skill.
Guilt: an internal feeling of blame for a perceived wrongdoing
This ballet was a luxury – why do I feel a sense of betrayal for seeing it? I want to make it extremely clear that I could not afford to see this, and you likely can't either.
The seats around me cost between $234 and $333. If you’re a student or under 30, you may be able to afford the same view for $187. You can also snag a “restricted view” for $49 – but if that’s too risky, C reserve seats are priced from $102-127.
You deserve to see this. If you can afford it at all, do it. Put on your nicest dress and don't shave your legs. Smoke cigarettes on the balcony until the Opera house staff use their nicest rich-person voice to ask you to stop. After all, there’s no reason why you shouldn’t be the kind of person who drops a week's rent on a ticket to the ballet.
Don Quixote plays at the Joan Sutherland Theatre, Sydney Opera House until 25 April 2023. Find tickets here.
Images by Rainee Lantry, collage by Ceridwen Bush
Ceridwen loves things that are disgusting. She talks really fast and doesn’t mind a space balloon in the park. Find her ranting and raving on Instagram @scrridwen.
This review has been generously donated by Ceridwen.
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