In the wake of festive Bacchanalia, January is recognised as a time of austerity and abstemious resolution. But if you have allowed yourself to fall off the wagon this month, I hope you did it in style and gorged yourself upon Ashley Page's interpretation of Cinderella, presented by Scottish Ballet.
This re-imagining of the ages-old fairy-tale is performed with Baz Luhrmann intensity against awsome sets that might be described as 'acid-baroque' or seem to reference the chic and comic designs of Fornasetti. The costume design, too, has invited comparison to Westwood and Galliano. A visual feast is certainly delivered. In fact some viewers - and not just those still recovering from recent wassails - may find the action and fervent stage-business so dense that, at times, nuanced performances are lost. This, however, is really the only criticism I have. It's an issue largely confined to Act 1, and one which only serves to make me emplore Scottish Ballet to consider recording performances for general release - one viewing is simply not enough to appeciate the fine detail.
Because, despite the element of cariacature, this ain't no Panto! Even as a ballet-layman I was struck by how the company's skill and athleticism in dance was easily matched by the strength of the acting; the characterisation and story-telling was suberbly communicated in the movement of every dancer. The formal court-dancing of Cinderella's Stepmother and Father, for example, was always subtly aggressive, off-kilter - even abusive - belying their dysfuntional relationship and and attempts to keep-up appearances.
And theirs was not the only partnership which felt totally convincing. The ballet features numerous double-acts who work together in perfect comic synchronicity: the obsequious Equerry and the charismatic Dance Master and their frissons of sexual tension, and the saucy antics of the Ugly Sisters, particularly, stood out.
Prior to the night the music had been an unkown quantity to me. But unlike the sing-along ditties of Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker (performed by Scottish ballet last year under Page) or even his own Romeo and Juliet, Prokoviev's score was unecpectedly and refreshingly dissonant. Perhaps it is this ageless sound which lends it so successfully to contemporary interpretation? To me the plaintive rise and fall of the Introduction connoted the themes of The Godfather or Bond films - not entirely inappropriate for a tale of dark, family politics and stylish soirees?
Even the grand waltzes and lovers' themes are strained and askew. It is a bittersweet score of strange contrasts which is reflected in the drama; no character without their own flaws and attributes. The Prince does not disguise his vanity, before she blossoms Cinderella is a gawky, awkward teen and the rambuntious Sisters do not seem so very deserving of their fate.
Our Prince was performed by Adam Blyde who injected the role with enough Brandon-Flowers-elan as to keep the hero feeling immediate and modern but, above all others, Vassilissa Levtonova commanded as the beautiful and frightening supernatural Godmother.
As my initiation into epic, narrative ballet Cinderella delighted as nuanced, ingeniously crafted and, above all, visually astonishing. I would exhort anyone with any preconceptions of the medium to see it. It is an effervescent tonic to the January Blues.
( Cinderella is playing Inverness 26th - 29th January and Belfast 2nd - 5th February. Artistic Director: Ashley Page, Production Design: Anthony McDonald)
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