Minimalism With a Heart
PARIS – In the course of one weekend here, the Opéra National de Paris offered two successful contemporary story ballets. On Friday, German choreographer Sasha Waltz's "Romeo and Juliet" opened at the Opera Bastille, and then on Saturday, former principal dancer Kader Belarbi's "Wuthering Heights" had the final performance of its run at the Palais Garnier. Though vastly different works, both are examples of minimalism with a heart — and both are more evidence of why New York desperately needs New York City Opera's incoming director, Gérard Mortier.
Ms. Waltz's "Romeo and Juliet" is set to the 1839 score by Hector Berlioz, which includes an onstage dual chorus and three soloists, though only Friar Laurence is given a voice in song. The choreography is best considered within the context of the set created by Pia Maier-Schriever, Thomas Schenk, and Ms. Waltz. In the middle of a black stage sits a gently sloping white platform. At its highest point, it is 3 feet tall, and its only decoration is two cables that connect it to the rafters. Over and around this, the townspeople arrive with manic speed, wiggling, karate chopping, and fighting each other with choreographed ninja slices of the arms and legs. Their costumes are minimal, perhaps even excessively so: There are not two distinct groups here. It's a jumble instead of a neat fight of white against black. Two male dancers in black shirts fight one another. The women appear to be wearing gray dresses. This doesn't do much in terms of storytelling, but it does sweep us into the action immeditately.
The Capulets' party takes place with the female guests wearing tutus crammed with ruffles underneath and the men in evening dress. Later, Romeo (Hervé Moreau) comes to Juliet (Aurélie Dupont), who sits on the back edge of the white platform changing into a flowing nightgown. Their love duet uses a contemporary vocabulary to express all the excitement and emotional tenderness that classical ballet usually does. By the end of the duet, the platform is raised about 6 feet up, with Juliet on it, as if she is a prisoner of her parents' Frank Gehry-designed home.
The platform is later raised to become a wall, and Juliet's grave is a shallow depression in the floor. When she is placed there, men in suits come along to position piles of small stones all over her. Romeo arrives, and pushes away the stones. In this version, he takes a poison and she wakes before he dies — giving the lovers one last dance. It is a cruel, heartbreaking moment rendered in movement that reflects the love duet. In short order, he dies, then she stabs herself.
The production's high point comes when Friar Laurence appears in duplicate. A singing friar, the bass Mikhaïl Petrenko, and a
dancing friar, Wilfried Romoli, communicate the foolish man's efforts at the same time. In doing so, they double his guilt. The friar's dance is soulful, and Mr. Romoli digs in deep. The music ends with the chorus and orchestra in a full-throttle moment that is so full of despair, it seems to soar.
This is a production with excellent parts that add up to a magnificent whole. The use of Berlioz is a choice that allows song and dance to share the stage with equal passion and power. And this set is a thorough departure that will make the modern art world salivate. If Mr. Mortier brings anything half as compelling to New York, there are fine days ahead.
"Wuthering Heights," by contrast, is a contemporary ballet with no additional vocal performers. There more scenery, but it is strictly modern in conception. Freestanding windowpanes are rolled around by performers, as is a group of couches. One gnarled tree implies the windy moors, and to indicate a meadow, this production uses a most startling visual effect: As Catherine (Laëtitia Pujol) and Heathcliff (Nicholas Le Riche) tumble at the center of the stage, about three dozen rubberized stones fall down from the sky. Attached are pretty colorful flowers, but the effect of the loud sound on the audience is fear, which is appropriate for the dangerous emotions ahead.
Mr. Belarbi's choreography is within the contemporary ballet idiom, which plays to the strengths of these dancers. Ms. Pujol was lusciously fluid with her upper body in the balletic passages, and unafraid of the silly, childlike running around at the introduction. Though principal dancer Jean-Guillaume Bart — in the role of Edgar (who marries Catherine, thus sparking the life-altering anger of her childhood love, Heathcliff) — was beloved by this audience, the ballet is Mr. Le Riche's. He owned the swooping ronde de jambs en l'aire, barrel jumps, and the smoldering quieter moments.
The success here lay in the swift, smooth transformation of Catherine from a playful girl into Edgar's wife. It's unclear why this happens with Heathcliff onstage wrestling around with the half-wit Hindley (Stéphane Bullion), Catherine's brother, but we're clearly meant to witness the passage of time. The rest of Act I succinctly moves the story along, but Act II, much like a classical ballet, is spent mainly in the netherworld. The spirits, girls in white and on pointe, whirl about. The final scene is devoted to the fall of Heathcliff and the lovers' reunion in death. This takes a considerable amount of time and rolling around on the floor. But when you've got eternity ahead, what's the rush? As with "Romeo and Juliet," there are quibbles to have with the storytelling. But in its intelligent choices and smooth, beautiful choreography, this "Wuthering Heights" shows how ballet can move into the future — without causing everyone to cringe.
