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Cinderella
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Kemp, Wildor, Cooper.
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By Hoyt Hilsman
British choreographer Matthew Bourne, whose version of Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake was a hit in London, New York, and Los Angeles, returns with a subdued and ultimately unsatisfying rendition of Prokofiev's Cinderella. Bourne, who has been called the "Noel Coward of Choreographers" for his light-hearted, often tongue-in-cheek approach to the serious endeavor of ballet, sets this Cinderella in London during the Blitz, a decision that brings decidedly mixed results.
Taking the nightly bombardment with its explosions and air raid sirens as a kind of sound cue, Bourne and set designer Lez Brotherston construct a haunting and often beautiful world of muted grays and somber blues, punctuated only by the occasional red flash of a bomb going off, or the strip of bright accent on a dancer's costume. The visual tone takes over the characters, who are portrayed as the kind of hideous family that might have stepped right out of Edward Gorey. The evil stepmother and her brood have darkly lined faces and cartoonish Addams-family expressions, which lends a dark, broadly comic air to the proceedings that is often fun.
So far, so good. The problem comes with Bourne's choreography itself, which is decidedly earthbound. By stressing the narrative and richness of character, Bourne lets the choreography be chained down by his storytelling dynamic. No more soaring ballerinas or leaping, athletic men. Everyone in this piece seems tethered firmly to the ground by Bourne's restrictive vision. They all seem to be carrying heavy weights on their shoulders, and forever struggling to push them off.
This kind of choreography is not new. Twyla Tharp and others began doing this nearly a generation ago with marvelous results. Bourne has simply taken the narrative of the ballet a step further by enlivening the characters and giving the production a visual and theatrical reality. However, he does not deliver the essential ingredient, which is, in fact, what most audiences come to the ballet for -- dance.
His principals, Sarah Wildor as Cinderella and Adam Cooper as the Pilot, are wonderful and expressive dancers; however they rarely get a chance to soar. When they do, as in Wildor's mostly solo "pas de deux" or their lovemaking scene, it is a real treat. However, for the most part, they seem to be fighting the gravitational pull of Bourne's mundane choreography.
Isabel Mortimer as the Stepmother, Heather Habens and Sarah Barron as the Stepsisters and Andrew Walkinshaw, Scott Ambler and Ben Wright as the Stepbrothers are also good at finding and projecting their characters, but don't get much chance to shine as dancers. Will Kemp as the Angel (the current incarnation of the Fairy Godmother), does get a chance for some brief solos, but doesn't do much to impress.
While it may be unfair to either Bourne or Noel Coward to label the choreographer "the Coward of Choreographers," it points up the pitfalls of Bourne's approach. After all, this is ballet, not theater. And although Bourne may create delightful caricatures, they are ultimately mute and must express themselves through dance. When the choreography is as limited as Bourne's is here, there seems little worth expressing. At least the characters in Noel Coward's plays got a chance to talk.
Cinderella, Center Theatre Group/Ahmanson Theatre,135 N. Grand Ave., Los Angeles. (213) 628-2772. Tues-Sat at 8, Sat & Sun at 2. Closes May 23. $25-60.
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