reviews

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reviews 〰️

Before I can get into why The Sleeping Beauty performed by The English National Ballet was an absolutely transformative experience for little old me, I first must tell you about what it cost me to get there.

This was my first time at the Royal Albert Hall. I wanted to look nice— I like looking nice when I go out, no matter what it’s for, even groceries— so I was wearing a nice short and white summer dress with a delicate blue flowers pattern, and my go-to high-heeled black boots for that nice contrast. Top it off with the black leather bag and some sparkly eyeshadow and I was good to go.

I left my house early. It was a hot summer day (literally the middle of a heatwave). But what I did not account for was that the heatwave would cause disruption with public transports. The itinerary that was supposed to get me to the Royal Albert Hall ten minutes before the start of the ballet, got me to the station 10 minutes before the start of the ballet. The station was 13 minutes away from the Royal Albert Hall.

So I did what any reasonable person would, the second I got up from my seat in the underground, I ran. My pink quartz bracelet broke the second I stood up. No time to pick up the pearls, I salvaged the 5 that remained on my wrist and held them in the palm of my hand as I left the station. No time to put them in my bag.

One thing you need to know about me is that I have terrible cardio. I will happily walk for hours but ask me to run for more than ten seconds and you will find me knees down on the side of the curb coughing out my lungs.

So I was doing a very approximative sprint. Run for thirty seconds. Walk a minute to catch my breath. Run for thirty seconds. Walk a minute to catch my breath. So on and so forth.

The funny thing is that I noticed I wasn’t the only one doing this. There were numerous women around me, young and old, posh and grunge. All of us doing that speedy walk you do when you’re in a hurry but can’t afford to do a proper olympic run because your outfit doesn’t allow it. All going in the same direction, passing by each other, like an odd team-race. All victims of the heatwave.

I finally reach the Royal Albert Hall. By that point, I’m sweating like a pig. All the glamour I was hoping for got washed away under the unforgiving rays of the sun. There’s a man yelling something along the lines of “If you’re not in the building withing the next 2 minute we’ll only let you in for Act II!!” At that point, I start running to the door, relieved. I check the door number.

Not my door. In fact. The opposite of my door.

I end up running again, around the building this time. Praying I can make it to the other side in 2 minutes. My hair that was in a Wattpad-type messy bun now looked like absolutely nothing so I just took off my hair tie and accepted my hair was going to cook me alive. Also, may I remind you, I was in heel for this entire thing.

I reach the door on time. I show my ticket to the woman. She says, “You’re on the third floor. Take the lift,” she points at a fully packed lift just as the doors of it close, then adds “… or you can take the stairs.”

I don’t want to risk missing Act I. I take the stairs. By the second floor my head starts spinning and I realise I haven’t eaten yet (I wasn’t on a diet, I literally just forgot). I pray I won’t pass out before reaching my seat.

I finally get to the person supposed to guide you to your seat. She looks at me and asks “Are you alone?”

“Yes?” I say, out of breath.

“Here. There are available seats down in the stalls.” She vaguely points at seats down near the stage and hands me a ticket.

“But will I get there on time?”

“Maybe, if you run.”

So down the stairs I go. I approach one of the doors but can’t see a number so I show my ticket to the man “Is it this door?”

“No, the next one.”

I run to the next one. The woman is closing it, “Wait!” I go.

She shakes her head, “Too late, go to the previous door.”

I go back to the man, and get in before he closes it. Success. All the lights are off. The visuals have started but no one is on stage yet. I find my row, and realise that because they made me go through that door, I have to pass in front of about 30 people before getting to my seat. I don’t think I’ve ever said “Sorry” so many times in a row.

But finally. I am in my seat, pearls in the palm of my hand, sweat running down my temple, and the first performers enter the stage.

The seat I ended up getting felt like a blessing. Yes, I wasn’t facing the main part of the stage BUT I was close enough to see the details in all of the costumes. I was appaled by the amount of detail there was on the outfit of each performer. There was so much variety of shape too. Some had longer dresses that I never expected to see in ballet. Costumes I would have expected in a theatre or a period drama. Most people are only familiar with the classic tutu.

There was one male performer who was one of Aurora’s suitors, and I genuinely kept staring at him. I didn’t mean to, but I was in admiration of his costume. The way the shape worked made him look like he was out of an animated film. There was a cut at each “armature” : wrist, elbow, shoulders, knees, ankles. Like a puppet. Typically the type of design you would use in animation if you want a character’s movements to be easy to read for your audience.

At that point I was staring because I was trying to memorise as many details as possible. I was convinced I would not be able to see that costume up close ever again (I forgot the internet existed and this was a big production). As soon as the first part finished and people started getting out of their seats to grab a drink, the first thing I did was get my iPad out and sketch it out very broadly (I did get a snack afterwards, brownie and pink lemonade, in case you were still worried about the fact I hadn’t eaten).

I also really enjoyed how many of the costumes sparkled. You probably remember I mentioned a sparkly eyeshadow earlier, I can’t explain it but lately I have been very drawn to glitter and sparkles. Like a magpie to shiny things. Or a dragon. On my way to the show, I had grown wings. It did feel like fate in a way. Not in a dramatical “This is inevitable.” way, but in a “Here let’s trade.” type of way. I broke a pearl bracelet (and nearly fainted in the stairs) and in exchange, I got a better seat to witnessed a wonder. As if the Good Fairy had accepted my pearls as payment.

Talking about wonder, I must mention the scale of this production. So far I had been to maybe two to three ballets and all of them were of small productions with maybe 3-4 dancers. But that night? There were so many people that when they all came to bow at the end, I made a point to count them. Forty. Forty dancers! And that’s without counting the people of the orchestra. The people who had worked on the props and decor. The people in charge of lights. The people who made the costumes. So many people put all their talents and efforts in common to give a splendid spectacle. I will say, I was observing every tiny detail of this show I could catch like a child discovering a disney film for the first time. As someone who grew up on fairytales, I cannot even express in words the way this ballet made me feel.

Of course I was also impressed with the perfomance of the dancers, I wasn’t just looking at the costume (although I did stare a lot for inspiration). During one of Aurora’s dance (her birthday scene I believe?) my jaw literally dropped. And I don’t mean “omg my jaw literally dropped” as an exaggeration or a figure of speech. It. Actually. Dropped.

Why you ask? Let me tell you why. During that dance, Aurora had 4 suitors and at time would perform the same move with each of them in a row. There was one where she stood in pointe, one leg up, one arm up. Her legs were literally perpendiculars. Okay, what’s so impressive you ask?

One suitor approaches, takes her hand, and spins her around right where she is. Her pose does not move an inch and she lets herself be turned like a ballerina in a music box. She doesn’t leave that pose as he puts her back in her original position. The second suitor arrives, he spins her around. The third suitor arrives, a third spin. The fourth suitor arrives, and you guessed it, a fourth spin. She did not move a single muscle. She was like a doll. I don’t think any of us can comprehend how much of a physical perfomance that is, unless you do ballet yourself.

And the best/worst part of it? She made it look effortless. When in truth, that probably took weeks, if not months, of practice and years of hard work.

And it made me think. Ballerinas are usually labelled as graceful, delicate. Why does no one talk about how metal they actually are? The fact they manage to make themselves be remembered as graceful and delicate, almost fragile, while performing moves that defy what should be physically possible, is an accomplishment in itself. They are such masters of their craft, they make it look so easy, that people don’t associate ballerinas with athletes.

And I’m sorry, I’ve seen them all up close. I’ve seen their body shape, these people are ripped. And yet they manage to keep all that muscle mass elegant.

Truly, they should be studied because I’m starting to think they are fantastical beings dancing on the strings of our reality.

But no. Because considering them an element of fantasy would denature their talent as something innate that they didn’t have to work for. They worked. They worked hard.

My seat was near the entry and exit, meaning I could also spend all the time I wanted staring at the people who were at the back of the stage to pose as the crowd while waiting for their turn to shine. It was almost a second spectacle, because since they were more in the shadows, some of them would break character and make faces at each other, a secret language I wasn’t a part of but could appreciate nonetheless. And a nice reminder that while I saw a fairytale come to life on a stage, they were human beings performing a show they had practiced for months and were probably nervous about. Who knows how many things went wrong backstage and that they fixed without anyone ever knowing it. (Don’t tell me nothing happened. I’ve worked in plays and dance shows, there is ALWAYS at least one problem at each performance.)

Regardless, I think if there is one thing I wish you’d take from this, is that if you ever have to run… Run like a ballerina, by jumping meters off the ground in absolute elegance.

PS : The guy playing the Carabosse fairy was iconic.

PPS : And yes I looked what their next perfomance would be (Swan Ballet) and booked my seat at the front of the stage this time. I’ve tasted the luxury of being close to the stage, I can’t go back.

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