7 AUGUST 1999, Page 39

Dance

New era

Nicholas Dromgoole

he last two ballets in the welcome Bolshoi season at the Coliseum were Swan Lake and Don Quixote. (And spare a drop Of gratitude that we have gallant impresar- ios like Victor Hochauser prepared to undertake the financial risks in bringing this noble company to London for our delectation.) 'Oh, Swan Lake,' you cry. Not that ancient classic yet again. Well, not really and not quite, because this was an entirely new version freshly chore- ographed by the man now in overall charge of the Bolshoi Theatre, Vladimir Vasiliev, the very hero who thrilled us all those years ago as the first unforgettable Npartacus.

In this country we had the luck, and Ninette de Valois's good judgment, to col- lar the original Petipa-Ivanov 1895 version, staged for what has become our Royal Bal- let by the Imperial St Petersburg Russian Ballet's former ballet master. We grew up With it, we love it and, to be honest, we hate to see it messed about. By the time we got it, the Russians had already discarded it, and they have continued to stage fresh 'yersions, so for them there is less a sense of le,so-majesty at tampering with a master- Piece, even cheerfully altering TchaLl,ovsky's original running order to suit themselves (just as, to be fair, Petipa and Ivanov had done). , The plot of Swan Lake, whatever the ver- sion, has always tended to defy serious .iialysis. Fonteyn said to me with a twinkle In her eye, 'Don't talk to me about the plot of Swan Lake. I have never understood it. I just dance it.' (After all, who fathered the cygnets? Does this mean Odette is in no virginal state to plight her troth to the Prince?) Vasiliev has changed the libretto yet again. In the Bolshoi version at the Colise- um, the Prince's father is alive and well, and at night transforms himself into the evil magician, Rothbart, who turns maidens into swans and presumably they cease to be maidens anyway as he clearly has his evil way with them. Our heroine, the Swan Princess, meltingly well danced by Anasta- sia Volochkova, untypically rejects his amorous advances, and unhelpfully falls in love with his son, our Prince, thus dragging us into very dubious Freudian territory, as the son challenges the father, each compet- ing with each other for the Swan Princess. Konstantin Ivanov, dancing superbly as the Prince, succeeds over his father, Nikolai Tsiskaridze, whose splendid jump and dra- matic authority should surely have given him an edge.

Youth and true love triumph as the father crashes senseless to the ground, and a new era dawns, aptly symbolising the new era at the Bolshoi with Vasiliev and Alexei Fadeyechev. The company are dancing with a crisp authority and confidence that are a joy to see, and are looking in remark- ably good shape. Is Vasiliev really as good a choreographer as Petipa and Ivanov? Unfortunately this is a very easy question to answer. No, he is not. But if we have to have a new version, then this is a very acceptable one, even if it does away with the blackpas de deux, or most of it, keeping the Princess in white, and giving her a long and enchanting solo, before lumbering her with the fouettes after all. Oh, and the cygnets are still there, paternity unmen- tioned.

Those with long memories will recall that epitome of aristocratic elegance, Nikolai Fadeyechev, when the Bolshoi first came to London. His son, Alexei, was himself a dis- tinguished principal dancer in the compa- ny, and is now its director. How other companies must envy such continuity and tradition. Alexei Fadeyechev gave us his 1999 version of Don Quixote (first chore- ographed by Petipa for this very company in 1869, there's tradition for you) and a very satisfying production it was too, com- bining the best of what had gone before, rather than breaking new ground. Just froth and colourful fun, it needs superb dancing to keep at its best, and with Nina Ananiashvili at her starry finest, that is exactly what a delighted Coliseum audience got, ably supported by Andrei Uvarov jumping as if laughing gravity off the stage as her Basil, and Mark Peretokin exuding charisma and eroticism at every opportuni- ty as a sultry toreador.