Such Sweet Sorrow
February 29, 2008
The tale of the two star-crossed lovers has manifested itself in numerous and various ways — initially, of course, we think of Shakespeare’s written play, meant for the stage and performed in thousands of theaters in almost every country in the western world. But the play has never been limited to Shakespeare’s stage version; the ancients had Pyramus and Thisbe, and our generation has Baz Luhrmann’s 1996 film starring Leonardo Di Caprio and Claire Danes. Somehow, the plight of the two lovers is timeless — even our parents’ generation had Zeffirelli’s infamous film rendition of the scenario. Maybe we’re all so familiar with it because it’s required reading in most high school curricula, but regardless of its legibility, it really is one of the greatest love stories of all time.
The Boston Ballet premiered John Cranko’s Romeo and Juliet on Valentine’s Day. According to a New York Times review from the 1969 premiere of Cranko’s staging, “Many choreographers have attempted [Prokofiev’s] score… but it has been left to Cranko to give the work its complete fulfillment.”
And truly, Cranko’s Verona is at once vivacious and insular, both peaceful and hostile. Although there is no spoken word, the dialogue is certainly evident in Cranko’s choreography — even with a vague familiarity with the plot, the viewer is able to associate the choreography with the storyline of the tragedy. The movements are so filled with emotion, and it’s easy to imagine the conversations in the pas de deux of the ill-fated couple. Both the group and solo scenes are beautifully rendered, and the iconic balcony scene is so expressive that the dancers seemed to speak a certain wordless language — that sounds cliché, but it was actually more effective that a traditional dialogue.
The choreography is complemented by an elaborate set, one which certainly aids in the legitimacy of the production. Without the set, Cranko’s choreography would seem less convincing, and the ballet would be less evocative overall. The piazza of Verona is quite believable, and the Capulets’ ballroom is both grand and ornate. In general, the wardrobe and sets are in line with Boston Ballet’s impeccable production record. This past fall’s La Sylphide took place largely in a grandiose forest, which undoubtedly enhanced the choreography, and a ballroom similar to that of the Capulets is created every year for The Nutcracker.
But needless to say, the set and the choreography would cease to exist without the actual dancers. I was lucky enough to witness the celebrated Larissa Ponomarenko as Juliet. Lovely as always, Ponomarenko has this way of conveying both passion and anguish in a manner unparalleled by any other female company member. Maybe she is aided by her perfect arches and inconceivable extensions, but she has a certain je ne sais quoi that makes her perfect for the role of Juliet. Nelson Madrigal played the part of Romeo, and was a perfect companion to Ponomarenko’s Juliet. Their pas de deux at the end of Act I was so poignant, and even their mutual death at the ballet’s end could be described as harmonious.
Simply put, there was something about this ballet that was incredibly moving. Prokofiev’s three suites oscillate between haunting and jarring melodies, and in a certain way stand in the place of any words that the ballet is lacking. By virtue of the fact that there is no real dialogue, the experience somehow becomes simultaneously more ephemeral and more profound. The emotions are real, and they are manifested in the human contact of the characters. The physical interaction and movement of the dancers is perhaps more of a substantiation of love than any other version of Romeo and Juliet that I’ve seen. It’s almost more convincing in that it’s more evocative — the viewer doesn’t have to work to absorb the profundity of the tragedy; it just happens. Having now experienced Romeo and Juliet as a ballet, I almost prefer the timeless tale in the context of dance to the context of dialogue. Because really, even without choreography, Romeo and Juliet are doing a dance. Their love, their tragedy, their death — it’s all one big dance.
I have only one criticism of the production: the ending. Of course, we all know how the play ends — Romeo thinks Juliet is dead, and takes his own life at the exact moment that she wakes up from her death-like sleep and sees him dying. When she subsequently takes her own life, it’s excruciating to watch. Only in this production, it wasn’t. Admittedly, it must be difficult to stage a dramatic death and reach every member of the audience. But even the final notes of Prokofiev’s were somewhat anticlimactic. Romeo and Juliet died gracefully, not mournfully. Which, I suppose, is appropriate, but I would have felt more committed to the production if the ending had provoked a stronger reaction.
All in all, however, the ballet was an aesthetic masterpiece. The set, the music, the choreography, and the dancers were beautiful. In this case, parting from the Wang Theater was such sweet sorrow.
Romeo and Juliet is playing at the Citi Wang Theater until March 2. Student Rush tickets are available the day on the same day of the performance for $20. See www.bostonballet.com for more information.