When Kenneth MacMillan choreographed Winter Dreams for Darcey Bussell and Irek Mukhamedov in 1991, their mutual chemistry seemed to be permanently embodied within the ballet's leading roles. Mukhamedov - the older Russian, whose Vershinin wore his soul, smouldering, on his sleeve - appeared the definitive foil to Bussell's very young, English Masha, a girl almost suckered into the whirlpool of her lover's desires.
Yet no ballet is static, and when Bussell revived her role last week with the much less exigent Inaki Urlezaga, she was forced to do much of the running herself. This time, the drama of the piece unexpectedly shifted away from the lovers' thwarted passion and focused on Masha's shame at betraying her husband and her anguished contemplation of her now empty marriage.
On Wednesday, a very different cast rewrote the ballet once again, with Sylvie Guillem portraying a Masha much less innocent than Bussell's. When we first saw Guillem, the ennui that hollowed out her eyes was that of an older woman, and her feelings for Vershinin were more knowingly sexual. Nicolas Le Riche, guesting as the latter, was less emotional than Mukhamedov had been, but more erotically focused. Every phrase he danced was a seduction, its momentum directed inexorably towards Guillem's body. Such was the charge of their attraction that it tipped the ballet in a new direction. The atmosphere of sex aroused and disoriented the other characters, yet at the same time held the ballet together as a coherent drama.
Wednesday's cast for Frederick Ashton's Scènes de Ballets also provided different views of the choreography. First-night ballerina Alina Cojocaru had flared through the ballet like a free spirit - challenging each move to the limit, treating the work as a party she was poised to leave. Miyako Yoshida, by contrast, was the queen bee who kept the ballet humming tautly around her.
Scènes de Ballets was created in 1948 and its design as well as its choreography promised a return to pre-war elegance. Yoshida, far more experienced than Cojocaru, looked like a woman who knew about hats and lipsticks. At the same time, she paid far more attention to the movement's style. The elegant snap of her head gave chic definition to a phrase, the flick of a wrist pulled the thread of the music tight, the undulation of an arm stirred up currents of perfumed elegance. Cojocaru's brilliance showcased herself; Yoshida's showcased the ballet.
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