Dance
The Prince of the Pagodas (Covent Garden)
Problematic revival
Deirdre McMahon By the mid-1950s The Sleeping Beauty was indelibly associated with the Royal Ballet. However, there was also criticism that the company was too conservative in its musical tastes and as a result it was decided to commission new scores. In this way it was hoped to kill two birds with one stone, creating the prospect of a modern score which might rival Tchaikovsky and a contemporary three-act ballet which would be the modern equivalent of The Sleeping Beauty. The results of this policy were seen in The Prince of the Pagodas (1957), composed by Benjamin Britten and choreographed by John Cranko, and Ondine (1958), composed by Hans Werner Henze and choreographed by Frederick Ashton.
There are striking parallels between the two works. Both disappeared from the repertory, both suffered from an inadequ- ate scenario and both had composers who, however distinguished, had little under- standing of the particular demands of theatrical dance. Ondine, successfully re- vived last year, has fared better than The Prince of the Pagodas, mainly because of Ashton's choreography and the luminous central role for Fonteyn. Pagodas, on the other hand, was not an experience that either Cranko or Britten looked back on with much enthusiasm. The score, the only one Britten ever composed for dance and his longest piece of music, has only been published this year. For well over a decade there has been talk of a new production and this has finally been realised by Kenneth MacMil- lan, who was a close friend of John Cranko. But the problems apparent in 1957 have not disappeared. The story, about two sisters, one good, one evil, who struggle for their father's kingdom, has Lear-like undertones and reverses the roles in The Sleeping Beauty. Here it is the princess who searches for her enchanted prince. The narrative is impossibly thin and practically disappears in the second act which drags interminably. MacMillan tries desperately to fill the music but the vacuousness of the story is all too obvious in his choreography. He enlisted the ser- vices of Colin Thubron to help him revise the libretto but Thubron makes clear his frustration in a programme note, and no wonder. The Prince of the Pagodas is a textbook case of the problems that arise when a score and a libretto are so umbili- cally joined. In attempting to iron out the problems MacMillan has very little room to manoeuvre.
MacMillan tries to surmount these diffi- culties by staging the ballet as a grand and conscious homage to The Sleeping Beauty and the inspiration it has given the Royal Ballet (he produced the Petipa classic for American Ballet Theatre in 1987 but this has not been seen in England). There are also references to Ashton's Cinderella and The Dream, The Firebird and - Cranko's The Taming of the Shrew, as well as to some of MacMillan's own works such as Romeo and Juliet, Manon, Mayerling and La Fin du Jour. MacMillan is celebrating his 60th birthday this week and it was canny of him to try and locate The Prince of the Pagodas so firmly within the context of Royal Ballet tradition. After a decade of variable work, he is also reasserting his own position within that tradition.
MacMillan has not worked in such a classical idiom since the early Seventies. The best part of Pagodas is the Act Three divertissement, particularly the section for the Clouds led by Deborah Bull and Nicola Tranah who revel in the demands of the choreography. Of the principals, the danc- ing honours go to Fiona Chadwick, sultry and seductive as the wicked sister Epine, and Tetsuya Kumakawa in the virtuoso role of the Fool.
This new production of The Prince of the Pagodas is dedicated to Margot Fonteyn, to whom MacMillan pays touching tribute in the programme. Despite all the current hype, I don't think he found Darcey Bussell much of an inspiration. As the good sister Rose, she has a sunny, jolly- hockey-sticks manner. Her technique is competent but she is a. dull dancer. Her phrasing is plodding and she gives every step the same weight and stress, as was evident in Rubies earlier this year. MacMil- lan tries to make her arms and torso more expressive by giving her lots of epaulement. Elsewhere he emphasises her tall, long- legged physique and high extensions with endless arabesques and battements which become rather a monotonous signature by the end of the ballet.
After a decade of turgid expressionism, it is good to see MacMillan stretching himself again. He has been absent from the Royal Ballet for too long.
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