Cathy Marston is one of the few choreographers of her generation committed to remastering the story ballet, and Wuthering Heights represents her most exciting attempt to date. Ignoring previous melodramatic attempts on Emily Brontë's novel, Marston goes straight to the eye of the narrative storm, paring it down to emotional and symbolic essentials.
Using a semi-abstract score by Dave Maric and an equally reduced set - slabs of free-standing rock and a hanging mesh of rope - Marston's approach may appear cool, but from the opening scene, where Cathy and Heathcliff tumble freely on the moors, surrounded by a chorus whose dancing evokes both elemental solidity and airy wildness, Marston uses all her choreographic intelligence to portray the passions of her characters. Her use of the chorus is central. When Heathcliff is forced to leave Cathy, his violent, angular reactions are echoed by the three men who surround and box him in.
Yet Marston can be equally good at focusing the dramatic spotlight. The trio of Cathy, Heathcliff and their victim Isabella displays a dense drama of abasement, desire and revenge. There is brilliantly original material here, given fine performances by Switzerland's Bern:Ballett, yet it doesn't quite fulfil Marston's mission of delivering a new style of narrative ballet.
The problem is that she doesn't know how much of a storyteller she wants to be. At times, she gives us too much plot - the character of Hindley makes confusing and unnecessary appearances - or too little, skimping on pivotal moments, such as Cathy falling for Edgar. This only works as a Wuthering Heights ballet for those who have read the novel.
