Review: Matthew Bourne's Swan Lake simply sensational as it takes to Aberdeen's HM Theatre
I vividly remember the first time I saw Matthew Bourne's Swan Lake, and I was convinced it was the best production I had ever witnessed on stage.
And last night, as it took to the Granite City for its 30th anniversary tour, I became an even bigger believer.
I am a huge ballet fan, especially for someone who stopped wearing a tutu when I was about 8.
But nothing compares to the feelings this piece of art evokes from the audience.
I'm not sure, but I do believe last night's performance was the first time I've ever experienced the audience audibly cheering at the end of act one.
It is almost hard to put into words just how good this is.
From the first haunting note to the final dramatic moment, it was a performance that utterly consumed me.
This production broke new ground when it first premiered in 1995 by replacing the traditionally female swans with an all-male ensemble.
Three decades on, that decision still feels revolutionary — not just for its boldness, but because it works so completely.
The male swans bring a physicality, ferocity, and rawness to the stage that mirrors the power and elegance of real swans more closely than any ballet I've seen.
The dancers' movement is animalistic yet artistic, and impeccably portrays both beauty and threat.
There's also something visceral about the way the swans move. They ripple across the stage with wing-like arms that strike out in bursts of strength and sudden grace.
Rather than the typical portrayal of dainty little swans, these dancers are intense, proud, and untamed — and in that, they feel astonishingly real.
The central Swan, played by Rory Macleod, was utterly mesmerising. But the magic happened when the swans came together and dominated the stage, it was uttlely breathtaking.
The choreography is powerful, emotive and funny. Contemporary to its core, yet it stays utterly true to the traditional Swan Lake in so many ways.
From the use of shadows to the vocal hissing of the swans the tiny intricate details brought a whole other dimension to the Tchaikovsky classic.
As the curtain went down for the final time the audience was clearly in agreement with me. An immediate standing ovation was more than deserved.
The last time I was fortunate enough to see this masterpiece was in 2018 and I am seriously considering purchasing tickets to watch it again this weekend. I don't want to wait another seven years before the opportunity arises again.
I could not recommend this more highly.
You can buy your tickets here.
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The Guardian
4 hours ago
- The Guardian
Ballet Preljocaj's Swan Lake review – dystopian twist sucks the breath out of you
Swan Lake isn't one of those stories that connects hard with current events or the world around it. You can say much the same for ballet itself. As a form, it usually doesn't have much to say. Ballet Preljocaj's production, which debuted in France in 2020, is something of an exception to the rule. Making its Australian premiere within days of Woodside receiving the federal government's (election-delayed) green light to extend the life and colossal climate impact of its North West Shelf gas project until 2070, and the Woodside boss Meg O'Neill's clumsy attempt to shift responsibility to supposedly Temu-addicted gen Z consumers, this staging from has a bit of a kick to it. A Swan Lake for the ecocide era, if you like. It's not the first reworking of Marius Petipa and Lev Ivanov's 1895 classic, of course. Choreographers including Alexei Ratmansky, Matthew Bourne (his famous all-male Swan Lake) and Mats Ek have all ruffled the feathers of this tutu favourite. Here though, Angelin Preljocaj manages to entirely rework the choreography while honouring the narrative spine of the original and some of its structure. He doesn't throw the cygnets out with the lake water. For music, he draws principally on the Tchaikovsky score (played here in this QPAC exclusive season by the Queensland Symphony Orchestra under the sensitive baton of Johannes Fritzsch) cut with extracts from Tchaikovsky's Second and Fourth Symphonies and dark-toned slabs of electronica and EDM by the French studio 79D. Fans of the original will not find the story hard to follow. Here, the royal court is dystopian-corporate but the broad sweep of the story still has a young Prince Siegfried (Antoine Dubois on this occasion, alternating the role with Leonardo Cremaschi) chafing against expectation and falling for Odette (Théa Martin/Mirea Delogu), a woman who has been transformed into a swan by the sorcerer Rothbart (Redi Shtylla/Elliot Bussinet). In this version, Rothbart is a rapacious property developer whose city-building scheme is eagerly supported by Siegfried's wealthy parents, who play a much larger part in the drama than more traditional versions. Siegfried has an exceptionally tender and close relationship with his mother, for example, and his father appears to be in bed (sometimes literally) with Rothbart. Early on, plans for the transformation of the kingdom are waved around in paper form. A trolley is wheeled on bearing an idealised model of the proposed venture. Neither makes a visceral impact, it must be said. Later, however, huge monochromatic digital projections by Boris Labbé start to loom large, filling the space with images of rising city skylines, stock market trends, excavators and, eventually, an industrial plant with a throbbing life of its own – one that spells a grim death for Odette and her swan kind. Preljocaj's athletic choreography is full of swagger, strength and sass, and does not incorporate any of Petipa's dreamy original sequences. But, for lovers of Swan Lake, there are plenty of beautiful lines and bird-like movements, particularly in the white swan sections. The women/swans sometimes embody the whole bird stretching their own necks into beautiful arched shapes, and at other times use their arms as swan necks with hands for heads. The high-impact ensemble routines echo some of the set pieces of the Petipa original, including its court scenes. The Dance of the Little Swans gets a winking update with pelvic wiggles and a sharp weaving of the dancers' arms. Siegfried and Odette deliver an audience-pleasing romantic pas de deux with inventive lifts. There's no interval between the 'white' and 'black' acts of the story. Swan Lake plays straight-through for two hours and its 26-strong cast don't get much downtime. Preljocaj's choreography looks demanding with its rapid switching between planes, knifing arms and legs and intricate unison work. The women perform barefoot in short, loose dresses; the men wear suits and pumps (with leather trousers for the bad guys). The highly gendered prettiness and prissiness we associate with Swan Lake is rinsed out. Everyone looks strong, athletic and grounded. From the fourth act, a febrile energy starts to take hold, especially when the swans react en masse to Siegfried's betrayal. The final image is a striking one, as Siegfried searches for the dying Odette among the twitching, writhing bodies of her kind, all poisoned by the obscenely pumping industrial plant that now surrounds them. Rather than leaving you breathless, this bleak ending sucks the air out of you. Swan Lake is performed in the Lyric Theatre, Queensland Performing Arts Centre until 7 June. Watch the production for free on Digital Stage from 6pm, Friday 13 June to 6pm, Sunday 15 June
Press and Journal
4 days ago
- Press and Journal
Review: Matthew Bourne's Swan Lake simply sensational as it takes to Aberdeen's HM Theatre
I vividly remember the first time I saw Matthew Bourne's Swan Lake, and I was convinced it was the best production I had ever witnessed on stage. And last night, as it took to the Granite City for its 30th anniversary tour, I became an even bigger believer. I am a huge ballet fan, especially for someone who stopped wearing a tutu when I was about 8. But nothing compares to the feelings this piece of art evokes from the audience. I'm not sure, but I do believe last night's performance was the first time I've ever experienced the audience audibly cheering at the end of act one. It is almost hard to put into words just how good this is. From the first haunting note to the final dramatic moment, it was a performance that utterly consumed me. This production broke new ground when it first premiered in 1995 by replacing the traditionally female swans with an all-male ensemble. Three decades on, that decision still feels revolutionary — not just for its boldness, but because it works so completely. The male swans bring a physicality, ferocity, and rawness to the stage that mirrors the power and elegance of real swans more closely than any ballet I've seen. The dancers' movement is animalistic yet artistic, and impeccably portrays both beauty and threat. There's also something visceral about the way the swans move. They ripple across the stage with wing-like arms that strike out in bursts of strength and sudden grace. Rather than the typical portrayal of dainty little swans, these dancers are intense, proud, and untamed — and in that, they feel astonishingly real. The central Swan, played by Rory Macleod, was utterly mesmerising. But the magic happened when the swans came together and dominated the stage, it was uttlely breathtaking. The choreography is powerful, emotive and funny. Contemporary to its core, yet it stays utterly true to the traditional Swan Lake in so many ways. From the use of shadows to the vocal hissing of the swans the tiny intricate details brought a whole other dimension to the Tchaikovsky classic. As the curtain went down for the final time the audience was clearly in agreement with me. An immediate standing ovation was more than deserved. The last time I was fortunate enough to see this masterpiece was in 2018 and I am seriously considering purchasing tickets to watch it again this weekend. I don't want to wait another seven years before the opportunity arises again. I could not recommend this more highly. You can buy your tickets here.
The National
11-05-2025
- The National
Review: Matthew Bourne's swans are still flying high
Thanks to its brilliantly bold re-envisioning of the piece – complete with a bevy of glorious and dynamic male swans – the choreography has, deservedly, achieved the status of a classic of modern ballet. The basis of the show's extraordinary success is that it is a ballet constructed from the ground upwards. Of course it keeps Tchaikovsky's magnificent score – and it maintains structural elements of the famous 1895 choreography by Marius Petipa and Lev Ivanov – but Bourne's choreography is a work of startling originality. From the moment that The Prince is visited in his dreams by a beautiful male swan, we know that we are encountering what was, in 1995, a distinctively new version of the ballet. As in Tchaikovsky's original, The Prince is condemned by his officious mother to select a bride at the forthcoming royal ball. However, in Bourne's choreography, the protagonist's aversion to these arranged nuptials is connected boldly and humorously to the ballet's homo-erotic dimension. In an early scene, for instance, the Prince is observably captivated by an exquisite male nude sculpture (which is represented, back to the audience, by a real-life performer standing on a wheeled dolly). The show sparks constantly with such imaginative innovations, which are assisted always by stunning set and costume designs by Lez Brotherston. One dare not take one's eyes off the show for a moment, lest one miss some delightful detail. The Prince (played with an appropriate sense of distractedness on opening night in Edinburgh by Leonardo McCorkindale) finds himself saddled with the dreadful Sloane known only as The Girlfriend. She, in turn, was danced with marvellous hyper-activity and vulgarity in Edinburgh by Bryony Wood. Brotherston's design work comes into its own when the action shifts to a disreputable nightclub up a backstreet in the Soho district of London. Here, the clubbers come and go in a dazzling array of costumes, while video designer Duncan McLean's projection of a huge, painted advert for Swan Vestas safety matches takes glorious flight. READ MORE: Kathleen MacInnes captures magic of Tradfest in live album recording The great, pioneering German choreographer Pina Bausch famously relegated the significance of traditional pointe ballet shoes. Bourne dispenses with them entirely. Nonetheless, there is a sense in which – in its impressive solo dances, pas de deux and ensemble dances – Bourne's choreography bridges the space between traditional ballet and contemporary dance. Like much great art, this Swan Lake is simultaneously robust and poetic. The ballroom scene towards the end of the ballet is a case in point. The character of The Stranger (danced in Edinburgh with an undeniable, testosterone-fuelled swagger by a leather-clad Rory Macleod) rolls together the characters of the sorcerer Rothbart and his daughter Odile. Here – as The Stranger seduces everyone in the room, including both The Prince and his mother, The Queen – the universal eroticism of Bourne's choreography charts a direct course into the tragic heart of Tchaikovsky's ballet. At His Majesty's Theatre, Aberdeen, May 28-31; and Theatre Royal, Glasgow, June 3-7:
