An American in Paris is a lightfooted antidote to gloom, filled with lovers of Chagall-like airiness. Even the scene-changing involves ballet – bentwood chairs twirled overhead like dancing partners. Christopher Wheeldon, director and choreographer, has done a fabulous job. The evening opens with a golden piano on an empty stage, the Arc de Triomphe behind. Bob Crowley’s set becomes ever more gorgeously complicated – with charcoal sketches of Parisian apartments, rippling French flags and cubist art galleries – Paris in 1945.
Based on the 1951 film, the show includes more Gershwin (I’d have liked more still) and gives Milo, the American heiress (played with impermeable glamour by Zoë Rainey), a fuller role, as she discovers money can’t buy her love.
Principal dancer Leanne Cope, as Lise, dances impeccably and sings The Man I Love sweetly. Three men are at her disposal: Jewish composer Adam (staunch David Seadon-Young), Henri (deliciously danced by Haydn Oakley) attempting to overlook his homosexuality, and Jerry, played by the astonishing Robert Fairchild, principal dancer with New York City Ballet, who moves with such athletic grace that even a minute watching him justifies the price of a ticket – although it takes Lise longer to see that the man she loves has come along.
