Swan Lake, New Adventures

15 male dances stand in a triangle formation. They are all topless and wearing white tasseled trousers. They are standing on one leg, the other leg is raised and bent. Behind them you can see the moon and white metal gates.

Matthew Bourne’s Swan Lake. Jackson Fisch (The Swan) and Company. © Johan Persson

One moment in dance history I would love to travel back to would be opening night of Matthew Bourne’s Swan Lake in 1995. To see the looks on the critic’s faces when the curtain closed on one of the most legendary pieces of dance of the last 50 years, and one of the few dance works to break through into public consciousness.

The first time I saw this production, I didn’t like it. I left confused and befuddled, unable to fit a narrative to what I had just seen. Was it a man coming to terms with his sexuality? It definitely wasn’t the traditional Swan Lake story. Was there a story at all? Wikipedia was no help. I had entered excited and left disappointed.

With this in mind, I entered this second watch with lower expectations and an open mind.

And if I give you any advice before you see this work, it’s to leave all narrative expectation at the door and let the piece wash over you. When you do, you are truly in for a treat. Because I get the hype now.

A male dancer (The Swan) in white tasseled trousers jumps towards another man (The Prince) in a white top and trousers who is shuffling back on the floor.

Matthew Bourne’s Swan Lake. Harrison Dowzell (The Swan) and James Lovell (The Prince). © Johan Persson

Bourne’s choreography has long been a favourite of mine (his Sleeping Beauty is in my top five), and it really shines here. The bobbing waltzes, the long lines and sweeping feet. The animated, almost caricaturish way characters walk and act during balls and royal official duties. Bourne certainly has excellent comic timing, with a series of “huzzahs” jeered during statue unveilings by the Queen (Nicole Kabera) and a bumbling, socially-inept girlfriend (Kurumi Kamayachi) bringing some light relief from the darker moments.

And dark it certainly gets. There was an underlying storyline about deteriorating mental health, from the Prince receiving no love from his mother and drinking away his feelings at a sleazy bar, to him being treated by doctors after trying to shoot his own mother (again, this is not Petipa’s Swan Lake).

The Swans are his light, saving him from taking his own life in the local lake. These are no leith, poised Swans of 19th-century ballet, but strong, territorial beasts who hiss (no really!) at outsiders and run in packs. Their arms flex with precision, their legs bend at angles, their necks roll. It’s so effective that you forget there are only around 15 dancers on stage (the cast is surprisingly small). However, as a lead Swan, I found Harrison Dowzell to be occasionally timid when more strength of movement or feeling of the music was required. This was especially noticeable when dancing with his emotional and lyrical Prince (Stephen Murray), or when dancing as the sexy, flirtatious Stranger in Act 3.

A line of women in black dresses and white aprons and hats raise one arm up in the air. Behind them in a giant white bed with a gold crown on the headboard.

Matthew Bourne’s Swan Lake. Stephen Murray (The Prince) and Company. © Johan Persson

There are few choreographers with such a signature style, and Bourne’s is weaved through every point of this. Yes, the choreography is undoubtedly his own, but the costumes and sets (Lez Brotherston) are clearly under his direction too. They have that trademark cartoonish, kooky nature that transports you to a parallel, fantasy world and compliment his quirky, contemporary dance style so well.

If I ever have the privilege of meeting Matthew Bourne one day, the first question I will ask is how he can take such a well known story and reinterpret it with such originality. Or, more specifically, how he finds balance between reinvention and nodding to the original work (a blink-and-you-miss-it box split lift between the Queen and the Stranger, taken from the original Black Swan pas de deux, made my balletomane heart very happy).

Although I left with a clearer understanding of the story, I still couldn’t tell you exactly what happens and will likely forever grapple with whether this is the work’s genius (in that it’s open to interpretation) or downfall (weak storytelling). However, there is no denying that Matthew Bourne’s Swan Lake continues to have the gravitas of a groundbreaking work, and will move you, whatever narrative you decide to take away.

 

★★★★

Swan Lake by Matthew Bourne, performed by New Adventures

Sadler’s Wells, London / 7 January 2025

Ticket purchased with my own money

Touring the UK until 7 June 2025. Visit website

 

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Beatrice

Hi I’m Beatrice, creator of Like Nobody’s Watching and all around ballet nerd.

Like Nobody’s Watching’s aim is to raise the profile of dance in the UK and encourage more people to engage with this incredible and fascinating art form, one step at a time.

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