La Fille mal gardée features a real live pony, so it’s probably the best ballet ever. Some friends of mine were so enamoured of the previous incumbent of the role, a snow-white scene stealer called Peregrine, that they organised a veg-forward bouquet (cabbage, carrots, the odd apple), presented to him by Dame Darcey Bussell.
Peregrine has now retired to Scotland, so the mantle passes to Oscar – also snowy, also cute, also prone to doing a poo on stage. Pity the ambitious young dancer who spends the night trailing a pony with pan and brush. But it captures the appeal of this endearingly bucolic show. Unlike most classics – fraught tragedies or fairy tales – Frederick Ashton’s 1960 creation is an everyday ballet of country folk.
It’s harvest time – nominally in 18th-century France, but inspired by Ashton’s cherished Suffolk. Lovely Lise adores young farmer Colas. Lise’s mum wants her to marry a wealthier dimwit. The course of true love barely stumbles.
Everything here is pleasure: Osbert Lancaster’s bright, cartoon-adjacent designs. A lilting patchwork score, lovingly conducted by Jonathan Lo. The panto stylings (dancing chickens and a male dancer as the dame). And Ashton’s skein of steps, tripping and skipping with a top layer of dazzle for the lovers. Lise’s mum even does a dappy clog dance: Thomas Whitehead’s beady-eyed widow relaxes into a little moue of pride at reliving her youth.
It’s hardly a horny ballet, but takes unapologetic pleasure in physicality. Even Lise’s luxuriant early morning stretch on her first entrance tells us she’s fully in her body. Later, she enjoys a mime reverie about her future – marriage, three babies. She’s briefly mortified to realise Colas is watching – but he’s delighted, even a bit turned on by the prospect. He’s a keeper.
Pink ribbons are the couple’s love language: twirling, twining, putting a bow on it. These are the ties that bind, tokens of a lifelong love. When they go full maypole and all the harvesters join in with ribbon games, it’s like a public declaration.
Everyone here has good intentions. Even the unwanted suitor is sweet, if unready for adulthood – a capering Luca Acri is briefly downcast but clutches his emotional support umbrella. It couldn’t be more wholesome.
And the buoyant lovers are teasingly in tune. Opening night showcased Marianela Nuñez’s heart-meltingly sunny Lise: bumping downstairs on her bottom or speeding across the stage with footwork so soft it would barely dent a pat of butter. Laddish isn’t really in Vadim Muntagirov’s wheelhouse, but he delights in Colas’ bravura – he never looks happier than when hanging around in midair.
As they revolve in each other’s arms, they’re clearly each other’s fairy tale ending – what more do they need. Maybe a pony?
Royal Ballet and Opera House, to June 9, 2026; rbo.org.uk
