My Take on the Royal Ballet's La Bayadere
The Royal Ballet’s La Bayadere November 2018 in Conversation with Luke Jennings’ review for The Observer
Exhilarated by the spectacular Christmas tree lighting I had just witnessed with my friends moments before, I now stood alone, rosy-cheeked as I took in the brisk November air sharply and gazed up at the Royal Opera House in Covent Garden, London, a moment I had dreamed about my entire life as a former aspiring ballerina turned dance aficionado. I was simultaneously over-and-under-whelmed as I marveled curiously at what seemed like a mere small corner of the large public market at first glance. However, the authority of the stone edifice, a place where world-class dance performances occurred nightly, left me feeling like a pilgrim in awe of what awaited them at the end of their long journey. About to see the Royal Ballet’s production of the classic three act story ballet La Bayadère, I stepped cautiously inside. I immediately felt unworthy of existing in the space as immaculate marble floors, expensive and luxurious gift shop items, and elegant arts patrons dressed to the nines swirled around me, feeling small and irreverent in my usual leggings and sweater ensemble with my beat-up Timbs, which had seen everything from a twelve mile hiking trail at the White Cliffs of Dover, a club floor in Brighton, and of course the everyday rainy sidewalks of London. The innards of the Opera House proved to be quite a bit more extensive than I thought. In search of the nosebleed seat that my thinning wallet as a study abroad student was barely able to manage, I wandered through a labyrinth of sophisticated bars from which only the most important and wealthy patrons could afford to sip a glass of the finest champagne and shining display cases of famous artifacts from historical performances past (that I may have taken illegal pictures of). The mirrored walls and impossibly large and glimmering chandeliers that projected a soft, golden glow on the excitingly chaotic scene made me feel like I was an alien navigating a different planet of much more civilized, refined peoples. At the same time, I was inspired by how much esteem the arts hold in British society and how much more accessible ticket prices are in Europe. I sighed as I sank into my seat at last, longing for American society to regard the arts, especially dance, in this devoted way. A familiar sense of anxious anticipation I always feel on behalf of the performers before a show rose in my chest as the lights dimmed and the curtain rose to reveal an eerie, dimly lit Indian temple.
Royal Ballet’s Principal Dancer Marianela Nunez played a riveting Nikiya, a temple dancer (bayadère) who is in love with Solor, a warrior spectacularly danced by Vadim Muntagirov that night. The plot thickens as the High Brahmin is interested in Nikiya as well, and the Rajah convinces the High Brahmin to kill Nikiya as a punishment for her rejection of the High Brahmin. Gamzatti, a sassy princess to be married to Solor flawlessly brought to life by Royal Ballet Principal Natalia Osipova, tries to convince Nikiya to give up her love. When Nikiya refuses, Gamzatti teams up with the Rajah and facilitate Nikya’s death by snake bite during the wedding festivities. Sick with heartbreak, Solor smokes opium and one of the most beautiful hallucinations of the spirits (shades) of Nikiya and other bayaderes in The Kingdom of Shades ensues. Compelled by the misty melancholy of the stage enveloped in fog and mysterious blue light, I drew forward in my seat and could not take my eyes off the intricate, well-known corps de ballet feat that was unfolding before me. One by one, the dancers entered the scene in a complex diagonal formation, alternating between two simple movements to create a stimulating pattern. The sharp synchronicity and pure technical mastery of each and every dancer made what would otherwise be a mechanical scene magical When he awakes, Solor cannot continue the ceremony, which angers the gods and causes them to destroy everything and everyone in the temple to avenge Nikiya’s murder. In the afterlife, Solor and Nikiya are united at last and perform the most passionate pas de deux I have ever seen (even more so than that of Romeo and Juliet, which is saying something).
Still reeling from the dazzling spectacle and history I had only experienced moments ago, I stared dumbfoundedly at the thick program booklet I splurged three extra pounds on as I sped home on the tube. Back at my flat a few days later (a miserably spartan scene compared to the lavish Opera House I had recently inhabited), I was curious to see what others had to say about the production and came across a particularly interesting performance review by long-time dance critic Luke Jennings. Having witnessed the pure artistry and deep emotion of Marianela Nunez in the role of Nikiya in person for the first time, I quite agree that her performance gave the 1980s choreography of ballet icon Natalia Markarova a “newly minted gleam.” Having seen the explosive virtuosity of Natalia Osipova as the fiery Kitri in Don Quixote as well as a contemporary work or two, however, I disagree with Jennings’ statement that “If Osipova is to convince as a classical ballerina, however, longstanding issues need to be addressed, particularly her erratic arms and often imprecise line” regarding her performance of Gamzatti. Although it seems Osipova has indeed been increasingly interested in contemporary work in recent years and her athletic powerhouse physique thrives in this mode of ballet, her rigorous Vaganova training at the prestigious Bolshoi Ballet Academy cannot be shed at the drop of a hat. Her classical technical prowess shines through the more unconventional, slinky hip movements, snaking arms, and fierce, exacting gaze. Despite my slight deviance from Jennings’ Osipova opinion, I respect his lens as a former professional dancer for ten years with Rambert Ballet and the experience he has developed through thirteen years as a dance critic for The Observer, a major British news outlet. A factor on which I agree with Jennings is the overwhelmingly intricate beauty of Pier Luigi Samaritani’s sets, which Jennings flawlessly describes as “dizzying Himalayan vistas, misted valleys suffused in violet light, distant rose-lit peaks.” These detailed nature scenes make a visually stimulating canvas on which the dancers expertly perform, their already stunning movements accented by luxuriously embellished, colorfully seductive costumes.
However, there is more to this three act classical story ballet than just the sets, costumes, and other foundational elements of the show that initially meets the eye. As Luke Jennings points out, La Bayadère is a “deeply problematic ballet” as its obsession with and appropriation of various Eastern religions and cultures is reminiscent of the hugely misinformed imperialist opinion regarding different, foreign countries. There are many historical, cultural and social trends at play in this work. It was first choreographed by Marius Petipa in 1877, a time when the Russian colonization of Central and Eastern Europe was in full swing. Although the Soviet Union called itself an anti-imperialist power in the 1960s, a mere twenty years prior to Natalia Markarova’s reinvention of the classic, many claimed that the Soviets were carrying on the Russian tradition of colonial expansion under the guise of socialism. We have frequently discussed how dance is a reflection of culture in my current Dance History class I take as a dance major at Gonzaga University, and La Bayadère is a perfect example of this phenomenon as the work reflects the nineteenth century imperialist, orientalist attitudes rendering the countries they sought to subdue different, foreign, exotic, and thus undeserving of rights and respect. Jennings claims this appropriation is accomplished by the inclusion of “inanely capering fakirs, lustful priests and blithe appropriation of Hindu, Islamic and Buddhist religious and cultural motifs.” I believe that the style of dress and affected movements are also appropriations of Indian culture. The fact that Jennings produced and directed a Channel 4 documentary filmed in Bombay and has learned the Indian language points to his passion and intelligence surrounding the subject of cultural appropriation.
What happens now that all these unfortunate facts about an otherwise beautiful work of art have been uncovered? I agree with Jennings yet again as he claims the importance of keeping La Bayadère in the canon of ballet classics not as disrespect to the cultures it portrays, “but as a reminder of the repeated failure of colonial powers to comprehend civilisations older and subtler than their own.” Changing historical, cultural, social, or locational aspects of the ballet would be hiding decades of gruesome mistakes, whereas getting rid of the work altogether would obliterate the cultures in question completely, which would be decidedly worse. Audiences must go into the theater aware of all the historical, social, and cultural forces at hand and possess a willingness to be uncomfortable and more self-aware as they learn from the events transpiring onstage. It is frightening to consider the fact that American imperialism is very real today and that a ballet capturing this forever could be created. However, contemplation of these questions is necessary if we ever wish to move forward as a society.
