'Sylphide' leaves you wanting more
Boston Ballet's gorgeous new production of ''La Sylphide" may be short, but it's deliciously sweet. Running just over 90 minutes, including intermission, the ballet's only disappointment is that it leaves you wanting more dancing.
As with most Romantic ballets, ''La Sylphide" sets out a rather silly, fantastical plot. A wistful sylph seduces a feckless cad away from his innocent betrothed on their wedding day, and a slighted witch in a mysterious forest uses a magic scarf to wreak havoc on them all. Love and loyalty are countered with deception and trickery. However, in the skilled hands of the great Danish choreographer August Bournonville, whose bicentennary Boston Ballet honors with this production, the 1836 ballet became the cornerstone of the Romantic ballet tradition.
Boston Ballet's new restaging of Bournonville's choreography by Sorella Englund, one of the foremost experts in the choreographer's style, is beautifully distilled and vividly theatrical. While Peter Cazalet's scenic design is unremarkable in the first act castle interior, the second act Scottish forest is stunning. Illuminated by Pierre Lavoie's exquisite lighting, the beautifully painted backdrop has such depth and dimension it looks almost as if one could wander past the trees and down the hills to the river below. And in the stunning final tableau, when the Sylph ascends to the heavens, she seems to glow with a spectral brightness, as if lit within.
Opening night's Sylph, Larissa Ponomarenko, embodied the character with a delicate, ethereal brilliance. Though the role barely taps her great dramatic skills, Ponomarenko gave the tiny Sylph a persona of sweet, ebullient mischievousness. She danced with crystalline clarity and impossibly liquid arms that seemed to float on currents of air. Kathleen BreenCombes displayed terrific control and impressive buoyance in the rather understated role of the jilted Effy.
It takes awhile for the men to get to really dance. There's a great deal of miming, and as James, the talented Roman Rykine mostly stormed around brooding or acting rashly impetuous. When he and Reyneris Reyes as Gurn did get solo moments, however, they made the most of them, with excellent footwork and big bravura leaps, kilts flying.
While the Sylphadagio was nicely done, some of the small corps groupings looked a little under-rehearsed. However, the ensemble character dances, especially the first act Scottish Reel, were totally charming, with quick footwork, rousing kickstomps, and alluring ensemble patterns.
The scene was nearly stolen by a small cadre of impressively skilled children from Boston Ballet School, who kept up with the adults step for step.
But the real scene stealer was Englund herself, who portrayed Madge the witch with dramatic flair and physical vigor. Instead of making the crippled Madge a caricature of evil, she underplayed the sharp edge of menace until the character was goaded by mistreatment. Then, she became all hard angles and coiled anger, vented in an upper body that seethed and roiled and a vivid cane-aided shuffle skip that was almost saucy.
The Boston Ballet orchestra did a commendable job with the lovely but largely unmemorable score, which Bournonville commissioned from Herman Lovenskjold. 