Matthew Bourne's SWAN LAKE

You may have seen it on Broadway a decade ago or more than likely you’ve seen the DVD of the original London production, but Matthew Bourne’s version of SWAN LAKE is worth it right now at the New York City Center––a real thrill. The only bone to pick with this perfect work of art is that the music isn’t live. In fact there were members of the musician’s union handing out flyers outside to sort of protest the production. The truth is that this huge barn of a theater has a union price tag too huge for the dance companies. SWAN LAKE is certainly not the first to decide to go with canned music or non-union musicians. Paul Taylor, for example, claims the musician’s union has simply priced him out of using union musicians and that the union is unwilling to negotiate for something reasonable. So be it. Lucky for this SWAN LAKE that the star is the unique production itself and as soon as the curtain rises it hardly matters that the great Tchaikovsky score is recorded (and beautifully recorded it is). Matthew Bourne’s story telling takes over.

The entire first act is mainly focussed on story and there is more blocking than dancing––a kind of silent movie treatment. Then Act II kicks in and we are in that ultra famous section of music, so familiar to all whether or not you’ve ever seen a production of SWAN LAKE, with the ensemble of swans doing their variations of solos, smaller groups and full company dances. This Act II would all seem practically traditional if it weren’t for the main point of the production that the swans are not young ladies in white tutus. These swans are fierce, dangerous, masculine men. Their costume is no more than a pair of feathery knickers and their otherwise naked bodies painted white with a frightening jab of black across their foreheads. The movements are all inspired by the natural movements of actual swans and these studied attributes make these dancers intricately nuanced wild creatures. Leading the pack as The Swan, was Jonathan Ollivier the night I saw it (Richard Winsor dances The Swan on alternate performances). Mr. Ollivier is intense, long, tall and powerful. His concentration and discipline are amazing. His occasional stillness can be the most powerful of moments. The entire Act II is a sequence of the most thrilling ballet theatre anywhere and far more electric than any traditional staging I’ve seen.

The old story was one of a girl turned into a swan by a witch’s magic spell where she can only be human at night when she meets a lonely prince. Bourne’s telling is psychologically complicated by comparison. His prince is trapped in the struggles of being a royal celebrity. He is struggling with his sexuality as well and one fateful night, disguised as a commoner, he gets drunk and beat up at a bar and stumbles to “the lake” where he has every intention of committing suicide by drowning. Then The Swan appears to stop him. This is a bird, mind you, not a man. The Swan is no princess temporarily relieved of a spell––he is a big, beautiful, potentially dangerous bird. The Prince (danced by Simon Williams who has been with Bourne’s company since the original production) is mesmerized by this creature and somehow there is a connection with this animal. The Prince is temporarily freed by his communing with nature and he leaves the scene exhilarated.

After an intermission, ACT III is centered at a ball. Bourne makes it modern with paparazzi and fans watching the celebrity guests arrive, but sticks to tradition as the various exhibitions of dance are reviewed. In the middle of all this comes The Swan again, but although he arrives through the window, he is now a real man, still dangerous in leather. He seems to seduce the female guests, as well as the Queen, but in a hallucinatory moment, the Prince sees this stranger as his Swan and they dance together. It’s only an unfulfilled wish and the feeling of insanity that overtakes the Prince causes the Queen to send him away for treatment. After shock therapy, the prince is bed-ridden. He hallucinates again and the full flock of swans come to torment him and pick him apart, even as The Swan arrives to try to save him in the most exciting and dynamic dance of the production, capping the excitement of Act IV. This isn’t your grandmother’s SWAN LAKE.

It is difficult for me to go back to traditional stagings of SWAN LAKE with the dainty dancers in tutus and the storyless scenes filled with dance exhibitions and fairytale costumes. Lez Brotherston’s costumes are some sort of today meets mid-twentieth century and depict being raised as a royal prince as being more of a burden than a blessing. Brotherston’s sets operate like a Broadway musical, full of majesty and enough wit to truly aid in the telling of the story. This design is not just decor, it is the further expression of the Prince’s nightmare.

This is a unique, career defining work for Matthew Bourne. This should be seen live if at all possible, even though there is a beautiful record of the production available on DVD as well. New Yorkers should get down to the City Center right away––this SWAN LAKE is not to be missed.