Bird-Watching
pERHAPS the craft or cunning of ballet criti- cism has something in common with bird- watching. Certainly the thrill it can provide for its practitioner—that of unexpectedly coming across a rare specimen—appears to be remark- ably similar. Eight years ago, stealthily hiding myself in a clump of bushes called the Sadler's Wells Theatre, I observed a new ballet, House of Birds, by a very young choreographer, Kenneth MacMillan. It was not quite unexpectedly brilliant. Although this was only MacMillan's second professional flight of fancy, a couple of experimental take-offs had already shown his quality. But the final confirmation that the national ballet had a new choreographer of limitless potential came with House of Birds.
Based on a grim Grimm fairy-tale of a witch who captured children and changed them into birds until the hero rescues his girl-friend and gives the old witch her deserts, the story has enough symbolic echoes to satisfy the highest-minded. But the ballet was most note- worthy for the fluency of MacMillan's choreo- graphy, his depiction of summer-day innocence, his horrifying picture of the birds having taken over, the macabre fantasy of the witch's death, and the final resolution of triumphal lovers. The sweetly-menacing music of Federico Mompou and the peacock colours and boldly splodgy out- lines of Nicholas Georgiadis's designs added to the ballet's peculiar pungency.
Now, after a long absence from the repertory, MacMillan has brought House of Birds into Covent Garden for the first time, completely revised and much refurbished. It is in effect a brand-new ballet, and in comparison with its predecessor there have been losses and gains. The chief loss (and paradoxically the chief gain) is the tacking on of a divertissement at the end.
Apart from restoring the shattered creative fortunes of the Royal Ballet (which has given us Elektra, Toccata and Le Bal des Voleurs in pain- fully quick succession) this new House of Birds was clearly also intended to show off its male dancer, Christopher Gable. The new divertisse- ment gives Gable a chance to shine, but comes as a prolonged anti-climax after the drama. Ironically this new finale, with its whirring' dancers, is choreographically the most exciting thing in the ballet, but it still takes away half the effectiveness of what has gone before.
Today, MacMillan has outgrown the inhibi- tions of his puritan youth, when he seemed un- able to bring himself to use virtuoso choreo- graphy, and for Gable and the rest he has now charged in with a powerfully conceived display piece. Yet what remains from the ballet's first version is still impressive. The realisation of the birds as grim, sinister creatures, strutting with ferocious pecking movements, and the dances for the lovers which are light, buoyant and eloquently lyrical, all provide happy testimony to the young MacMillan's quality. The work also gives the Royal Ballet's touring section a belated chance to show its paces.
After weeks of wading their way through un- suitable ballet after unsuitable ballet, the dancers were here given an even break and did extremely well. This touring company is over- worked and underprivileged but, as I have always maintained, its dancing standards are much closer to those of the resident Covent Garden troupe than most people realise.
CLIVE BARNES
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