Archives mensuelles : Mai 2026

par Les Balletonautes | 18 Mai 2026 · 12 h 17 min

Roméo et Juliette Kang-Legasa : vues croisées

Fenella et Cléopold ont tout deux assisté à la représentation du 30 avril où Pablo Legasa dansait son unique date en Roméo aux côtés d’Hohyun Kang en Juliette. Ils vous racontent tout dans leur idiome respectif.

Cléopold : La Passion et l’Action

Roméo et Juliette. Représentation du 30 avril 2026

Après une représentation à haute teneur émotionnelle le 25 avril dans l’interprétation d’Inès McIntosh et de Jack Gasztowtt, on retournait à l’Opéra Bastille en se demandant si on serait capable de se passionner pour un autre couple.

Les attentes étaient néanmoins réelles. Pablo Legasa est sans doute le soliste masculin issu de l’Ecole de Danse du ballet de l’Opéra qu’on aura préféré cette dernière décennie : une ligne impeccable à la grâce presque féminine contrebalancée par une présence indéniablement virile, un phrasé musical somptueux et une singularité dans l’interprétation toujours captivante. Hohyun Kang, formée hors des murs de Nanterre, nous a conquis par sa volonté d’assimiler le style maison mais aussi par son charisme particulier. Legasa et Kang, distribués pour une unique date en Roméo et Juliette, avaient déjà été associés avec succès en début de saison dans le Rhapsodies de Mthuthuzeli November. Le couple fonctionnait mais on attendait de les voir dans un ballet plus abouti. Le moment était donc venu.

A l’acte 1, Pablo Legasa fait une première entrée presque discrète. Il incarne un patricien de Vérone aimable et léger lorsqu’il flirte avec Rosaline. Il est bon camarade avec Mercutio-Benvolio et autres comparses lors de la scène devant la demeure des Capulets.

Mais le danseur élégant rencontre sa partenaire et il se révèle soudain un interprète passionné. Cette première scène entre Roméo-Pablo et Juliette-Hohyun est palpitante. Les baisers sont goulus de la part du damoiseau. Dans les jeux, qui sont comme aimantées, les deux interprètes introduisent des variations de rythme. Legasa accomplit des doubles ronds de jambes qui sont à la fois ciselés (comme on peut l’attendre d’un danseur de l’Opéra de Paris) mais fiévreux (ce qui est plus rare dans la maison). De même, ses coupés-jetés prennent la dimension d’envolées spirituelles. De son côté, Hohyun Kang joue parfaitement l’indifférence polie à l’égard de Paris (Corentin Dournes) et l’attraction irrépressible qui la porte vers Roméo. Le partenariat des deux danseurs n’est en aucun cas uniforme. Il s’y loge des accélérations, de petites hésitations presque empruntées puis des moments d’accord spontané, de plénitude amoureuse. On a assisté à un parfait pas de deux de la découverte.

La scène du balcon capitalise sur ces belles prémices. Legasa paraît presque hésitant au début puis prend confiance. Il développe ses longues lignes et phrase sa variation comme un poème de l’aspiration. Les baisers sont désormais voraces. Kang se jette dans le pas de deux sans se ménager. Elle est une Juliette instinctive et résolue.

A l’acte deux, on se laisse porter par le badinage entre Roméo et ses amis. En Mercutio, Rubens Simon intègre la pantomime et la danse de manière naturelle et dessine un vrai personnage, mélangeant la facétie avec une certaine forme de réflexivité. On a presque du mal à dissocier Francesco Mura de ce même rôle alors qu’il joue Benvolio. Mais le trio que les deux danseurs forment avec la nourrice Sofia Rosolini est plein d’énergie et de drôlerie. La variation à la lettre de Roméo-Legasa montre toute l’exaltation amoureuse par la célérité de la danse. Là encore, on apprécie les variations de rythme et de phrasé qui communiquent l’état d’esprit du héros. On sort de la simple perfection technique grâce à une liberté et un naturel dans les ports de têtes parfois décentrés.

La scène de mariage réunit nos deux héros dans un unisson d’impatience amoureuse avant que le drame ne se noue. Les combats sont saisissants. Nicola Di Vico est un Tybalt concentré d’autorité. Il exsudait la haine des Montaigu dès sa première apparition sur la place de Vérone. Le combat avec Mercutio, très bien réglé, est donc violent à souhait. Le facétieux trublion meurt avec panache. Legasa dépeint très bien sa reluctance face au combat vengeur puis s’y jette avec rage. Tybalt poignardé s’écroule au sol d’une manière presque vériste tandis que Kang termine l’acte par une scène de folie au lyrisme presque russe.

L’épisode de la chambre qui ouvre l’acte 3 trouve nos deux héros dans un état d’esprit divergent. Tandis que Roméo-Pablo, qui a conscience de l’aspect inextricable de la situation, se jette de manière désespérée dans le pas de deux comme s’il avait la prescience qu’il ne verrait plus sa bien-aimée vivante, Juliette-Hohyun s’exalte d’une manière positive, semblant tirer sa force de la présence de son partenaire. Il y a quelque chose d’extrêmement poignant dans ce quiproquo. Le doute s’instille chez Juliette qu’après que Roméo ait sauté le parapet. Elle rencontre alors l’incompréhension furieuse de sa famille. Plus surprise que dévastée, elle se jette avec détermination dans la suite funeste de l’histoire.

Le rêve à Mantoue prend avec Pablo Legasa et Hoyhun Kang une vraie dimension de scène de rêve d’un grand ballet classique. Le désespoir qui suit n’en est que plus vibrant. Legasa se jette en arrière sans précaution dans les bras de Benvolio-Mura qui le rattrape magistralement, surtout si on considère la différence de gabarit entre les deux interprètes.

De la scène finale, qu’on a vu, reconnaissons-le, l’esprit un peu embué par l’émotion, on se souviendra de ce Roméo mystique débouchant avec tendresse le flacon du poison, viatique vers l’aimée qu’il croit défunte. Moins spirituelle mais assurément charnelle jusqu’au bout, Juliette passe sans transition de la joie sur le corps de Pâris au désespoir éperdu sur celui de son amant supplicié. Tout l’acte aura ainsi été sur le mode du malentendu et pas seulement la lettre de frère Laurent qui n’est jamais arrivée à bon port. On peut parfois s’aimer authentiquement et prendre des directions divergentes.

On aura en tous cas assurément été conquis par ce Roméo Passion et cette Juliette Action.

Roméo et Juliette. Soirée du 30 avril. Saluts.

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Fenella : No flies on our patty-cakes!

Roméo et Juliette, Paris Opera Ballet, Opera Bastille, April 30, 2026. Choreography by Rudolf Nureyev, Music by Sergei Prokofiev, Sets and Costumes attributed to Ezio Frigerio.

“Foreswear it, sight, For I ne’er saw true beauty till this night.”

This cast kept the music dancing in my mind’s eye for more than a week. This time, the dancers wooed us by not performing as if they were still in the rehearsal studio. We were invited in to their club. This gang of youngsters was all about flirts and jokes, about how pattycake can become a serious game and, most of all, about how each kiss can evolve into its own narrative.

“Watch her place of stand, And touching hers, make blessed my rude hand.”

About five seconds after Pablo Legasa’s Romeo, ”quick to haste,” entered softly on cat’s feet, he set the stage for what was to come. I stuffed my notebook back into my bag. This performance, I knew, would be the one I remembered down to the last detail for a very long time. Critical distance begone! Even the cheapened “made to go on tour” decor stopped bothering me.

Pablo Legasa’s lissome Romeo kept opening his arms out and up from deep inside his chest. His dance unfurled in beautiful lines and balances that reached the limits of off-balance. He reminded me of Giambologna’s Mercury if only it could have started to move…but without any fuss or mannerisms. I’m having a hard time to describe the movement and persona I was watching: Opalescent? Limpid? Most of all he made dancing classical ballet look as if it were the way we all move, as if ballet were just another way of communicating a feeling, just like talking aloud.

Legasa was lucid about his Rosalind: yet another crush, but not much more. And Aubane Philberts‘s leisurely and delicately ironic Rosalind with a very “hey, girls, he’s not as bad as the other dorks” vibe, proved him right.

Nurse: “Thou wilt fall backward when thou comest to age.”

Hohyun Kang’s Juliet started out as a lively tomboy. No flies on her patty-cake with her cousin. Nicola Di Vico’s Tybalt clearly cherished her headstrong spirit – obviously he has seen her getting into mischief before – and he does not worry all that much that this Juliet is a bit all over the place, unimpressed by this other man/arranged marriage/wedding dress. You get the feeling that Tybalt agrees with her and thinks Paris is a stick.

Things really started to go “boom” in the ballroom scene even as Legasa and his soul-mate, Hohyun Kang, a dancer who has been catching the light and my attention ever since she joined the corps de ballet –remained aristocratically well-bred and seemingly reserved, at first… How to say it: hints of all the drama that was to come were subtly and deftly planted with every gesture and every response from the start.

Every time he encountered Kang’s Juliet – his first solo in the ballroom, the first moments of the balcony scene – Legasa/Romeo’s phrasing would accelerate to almost just beyond the music. It was if his heart, as his legs, had started beating faster.

Juliet: “For saints have hands that pilgrim’s hands do touch. And palm to palm is holy palmer’s kiss.” Romeo: “If I profane with my unworthiest hand/ This holiest shrine, the gentle sin is this.” Stage direction: “Takes her hand.”

Legasa and Kang just fit and flow together. Everything about their partnership could be described as relaxed acceleration. A kind of call and response of weightless yet weighty lifts evolved. This couple’s interaction and manner of using points of physical contact to coil inwards and then spring forth pulled me into their narrative. Here, the leads gave us the illusion of spontaneity that had been lacking the three previous performances I saw. You can over-rehearse, you can under-rehearse…or you can rehearse just enough to feel free on stage. Nothing here was over-thought. Legasa and Kang’s duet was definitely in the vein of that never-forgotten first night where you discovered that you just could not stop talking to each other.

Romeo: “See! How she leans her cheek upon her hand/O! that I were a glove upon that hand/That I may touch her cheek.”

Her hands. Her face. I was drawn to the way Hohyun Kang took the initiative, something Nureyev himself imagined for his Juliet. She does not just lean in for kisses, she sparks them. More than that, she etched the theme of “palm to palm” into highlighting her every interaction with Romeo, the Capulets, as well as the Paris, in different measure. Each time nuanced, the pressure of Kang’s hands upon anyone she was interacting with shaped and defined the situation at hand.

Tybalt: “Mercutio, thou consort’st with Romeo.”

Mercutio: “Consort! What? Dost thou make us minstrels? […] here’s my fiddlestick, here’s that shall/make you dance.”

Of all the Mercutios I’ve seen so far this run, Rubens Simon’s luscious and ribald Renaissance man took “extraverted” to a new level and gave a sly gift to the audience.

Here’s the beauty: you in the audience could adopt this Mercutio into whatever your worldview and root for him. A macho straight bloke always about needling Tybalt for being a closet sissy [word used advisedly]? A dear who has been so out and so loud and so proud in the city square for so long that by this point everyone in Verona takes his fabulousness for granted?

So what was Nicola de Vico’s Tybalt, a vivid princox [aka “conceited ass.” I confess, I used a dictionary to look up the meaning of Shakespeare’s evocative word] supposed to do with a guy that everyone said was cooler than he was?

When Simon’s Mercutio, about to die first, lurches into Romeo’s arms and kisses him feverishly, it’s obvious that this guy’s guy loved his pal no question. And made you wonder about the subtext. The mystery – just how far did they go in their love for each other? — made us all the sorrier to see Mercutio go. The ambivalence is in Shakespeare, too, but it takes refined scenic intelligence to craft such a multifaceted and bewitching creature. Here, one act early, Rubens Simon’s Mercutio stole that famous line, “Thus, with a kiss, I die.”

“Arms, take your last embrace.”

Legasa’s Romeo just wanted to be left out of all this dueling ego family honor crapola. The manner in he responded to the call to battle and then in which he thrust aside Tybalt’s – and his own – swords was no way as pacific as my prior Romeos. No hint of “why can’t we still be friends?” It was definitely “è basta with all of your stupid nonsense.”

The only thing that slightly bothered me early on had been Francesco Mura, miscast as Benvolio. As Mercutio on April 7^th, he played a bewitching scamp. But Shakespeare’s Benvolio is slightly older than these messy boys. Yet Mura’s boyish Benvolio, step by step, grew into his own form of of gravitas.

Nureyev had devised an athletic scene of despair, an insert that does not appear in any other ballet productions using the Prokofiev score : a long scene where Romeo, having fled to Mantua, first dreams of Juliet and then abruptly reacts to being told by Benvolio that Juliet is “dead.”

During the backwards hurtling leaps and falls that ensue, Mura proved a masterful and reactive partner to Legasa. The pain flowed, spewed, and anchored the drama to come.

“O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright […] beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear […] Did my heart love till now?”

At the start of Act Three, waiting on her bed and trying to think it though, all the glorious light had gone out of Juliet’s face. And then her determination to not to let her fate be dictated by others took over. Hohyun Kang’s enormous eyes set sight on all that she wanted and then upon all that she hated, with a startling and magnetizing intensity. She fought back against all of this, against all of them, right up until the end.

2 Commentaires

Classé dans Retours de la Grande boutique

Tagué Aubane Philbert, Ballet de l'Opéra de Paris, Francesco Mura, Hohyun Kang, Nicola Di Vico, Opéra de Paris, Pablo Legasa, Paris Opera Ballet, Prokofiev, Roméo et Juliette, Roméo et Juliette de Noureev, Rubens Simon, Rudolf Noureev, Rudolf Nureyev, Serge Prokofiev, Sofia Rosolini

par Cléopold | 9 Mai 2026 · 10 h 18 min

Roméo et Juliette : Noureev pas mort!

Inès McIntosh (Juliette) et Jack Gasztowtt (Roméo). 25 avril 2026.

En ce 25 avril, Jack Gasztowtt et Inès McIntosh, tous deux premier danseurs, se voyaient donner l’opportunité d’aborder les rôles de Roméo et Juliette au milieu d’une distribution de seconds rôles tous issus du corps de ballet.

Curieux de découvrir une jeune distribution très attendue, on s’est résigné à prendre de très vertigineuses places en deuxième galerie. Ce choix par défaut s’est avéré positif. En effet, depuis un point plus proche de la scène que les premiers rangs de premier balcon mais de côté, on ne voit pas au-delà des marches en fond de scène et les nombreux retranchements dans les décors ne viennent pas contrarier l’oeil comme lors de nos premières soirées.

Si on a pu avoir des doutes sur Jack Gasztowtt, notamment à l’époque de sa promotion de premier danseur, sans passage par la case concours, on est vite rassuré. Dès sa première entrée, celle du badinage avec la suite de Rosaline (la très déliée Aubane Philbert), il caresse le sol du pied à la manière d’un chat : une approche qu’aurait sans doute approuvé Rudolf Noureev. La ligne est belle et dans l’aspiration. Mais surtout, un vrai cap technique semble être passé. Ce Roméo exécute des pirouettes rapides finies en arabesque suspendue avec aisance et ses tours en l’air aériens (un point d’achoppement de sa technique lors de saisons passées) sont parfaitement maîtrisés. On peut alors se laisser séduire par la présence chaleureuse du personnage.

Ce qui marque d’ailleurs dans ses soirées, c’est l’individualité et la singularité des différents interprètes. En Tybalt, Isaac Lopes Gomes est comme un enfant qui serait trop vite monté en graine et se serait investi prématurément de la mission familiale vengeresse. C’est touchant et tragique. En Mercutio, Chun Wing Lam, qui on l’apprend mettra un terme à sa courte carrière à la fin de la saison, est un petit chef d’oeuvre de vitalité facétieuse notamment dans la scène de diversion du bal. Manuel Giovani, déjà remarqué lors de la soirée du 8 avril, est une présence chaleureuse et rassurante dans le monde de violence crue concocté par le chorégraphe.

Chun Wing Lam (Mercutio). 25 avril 2026.

Corentin Dournes (Pâris). 25 avril 2026.

Inès McIntosh nous offre une Juliette enfantine lors de sa première scène (dans son jeu avec Tyblat, elle glisse sur le derrière de manière réjouissante, offrant un rare moment de légèreté dans une atmosphère qui ne cessera de s’alourdir). Déjà, elle exprime parfaitement son indifférence à l’égard du noble Paris interprété par Corentin Dournes, jeune artiste sorti depuis peu de l’Ecole de Danse, très beau mais ce qu’il faut réservé.

La première rencontre au bal entre Roméo et Juliette est subtilement orchestrée. McIntosh reste d’abord comme interdite face à l’inconnu au regard intense puis joue parfaitement l’attirance presque à son corps défendant. Le premier pas de deux utilise bien le registre de là découverte. Entre les deux danseurs, il y a cette oscillation entre le badinage enfantin et l’attraction physique adulte. Lors de la reconnaissance de la couleur du pourpoint, Juliette-Inès rassure Roméo-Jack avec une désarmante spontanéité.

Le pas de deux du balcon est quant à lui un mélange de lyrisme, d’urgence et de gourmandise. Le partenariat joue la carte tactile. Les baisers sur le baisser de rideau sont déjà ceux d’êtres matures.

Avec un acte 1 si bien dessiné et des personnages si bien plantés, l’acte 2 coule donc vite et bien. La badinerie des Romervolio sur la place de Vérone est remplie s’énergie et la scène avec la nourrice est drôle. L’épisode du mariage dégage une tension d’urgence et de désir presque palpable. Cela fait monter la tension dramatique et prépare à la rixe entre Mercutio et Tybalt, très bien réglée. La scène de combat entre Gasztowtt et Lopes Gomes est très intense. On apprécie la façon dont Roméo utilise la cape rouge, gommant l’effet toréador du passage qui fait parfois ricaner des membres du public.

Isaac Lopes Gomes (Tybalt). 25 avril 2026.

Inès McIntosh clôt l’acte par une saisissante scène « de folie ». Juliette, entre tremblements et imprécations rageuses à l’encontre des Capulet puis des Montaigu, fend le cœur lorsqu’elle se traine aux pieds de Roméo désespéré.

On pense sans doute avoir atteint le climax dramatique ultime. Pourtant l’acte 3 offre encore une progression dans ce registre. Le pas de deux de la chambre est charnel et désespéré. Juliette-Inès semble avoir un dos comme aimanté au poitrail de son partenaire. Assise sur le bord du lit après son départ, elle pleure nerveusement. La violence de la confrontation avec les parents n’en parait que plus authentique. Lorsqu’elle reçoit la gifle de sa mère, Juliette se fige : il ne s’agit pas vraiment d’une attitude de défi ni de haine, mais on sent une forme de détermination implacable. La Juliette de McIntosh prend désormais les choses en main. La croix, ombre du poignard sur son cou, un hasard de notre angle de vision, semble ici intentionnelle et détermine, plus que la pantomime des bras, la décision de l’héroïne d’aller chercher les conseils de Frère Laurent. Quand des artistes parviennent à nous faire croire à leur rôle, une production entière, même comme ici rabotée, peut devenir semblable à une mise en scène de cinéma. Juliette-Inès implore le prêtre du regard lorsqu’elle tient la main de Paris. La Pavane familiale qui suit est comme désincarnée. Juliette semble déjà ne plus être de ce monde, ce qui créé un préambule subtil à la scène des poignards avec les fantômes ensanglantés de Tybalt et Mercutio.

Gasztowtt n’est pas en reste. Sa scène du rêve, beau moment de respiration, contraste violemment avec le duo qu’il forme avec Benvolio. Il se jette brutalement dans les bras de Manuel Giovanni qui le rattrape vaillamment. Sa rage meurtrière au tombeau n’a d’égal que son désespoir sur le corps inanimé de Juliette. Il parvient à déboucher le flacon du poison d’une manière signifiante. McIntosh de son côté est comme ensauvagée à la réalisation de la mort de Roméo. Son cri bestial peut-être seulement mimé, il nous a résonné dans les tympans.

On ressort sonné et heureux de cette soirée en pensant à la phrase de Noureev : « Tant que mes ballets seront dansés, je serai vivant ».

Quand ils le sont ainsi, assurément oui.

5 Commentaires

Classé dans Retours de la Grande boutique

Tagué art, ballet, Ballet classique, Ballet de l'Opéra de Paris, Chun-Wing Lam, Corentin Dournes, Danse, Inès McIntosh, Isaac Lopes-Gomes, Jack Gasztowtt, Manuel Giovani, Paris Opera, Paris Opera Ballet, Roméo et Juliette, Roméo et Juliette de Noureev, Rudolf Noureev, Rudolf Nureyev

par Fenella | 1 Mai 2026 · 10 h 44 min

Paris Opera’s Romeo and Juliet : leave the studio, fill the stage!

Roméo et Juliette, Paris Opera Ballet, Opera Bastille, April 7, 8, and 17, 2026. Choreography by Rudolf Nureyev, Music by Sergei Prokofiev, Sets and Costumes [sort of] by Ezio Frigerio

Not one of the three evenings I attended was “bad.” But not one couple pierced me to the core, either. I realize I made a weird note during one performance: “Why is this ballet just not happening?”

Perhaps I could not concentrate because another tragedy was playing out on stage at the same time. What has the Paris Opera management done to Ezio Frigerio’s claustrophobically textured and vivid scenic environment? I thought I was hallucinating. No fountain? All the rich backcloths and detailed carvings replaced by what were basically sky templates enlarged off the internet? A cheap showroom bed plonked in the middle of an empty warehouse is now the crypt? Speaking of cheap, the regilt mobile flies were way too flashy.

The lighting design remains unchanged, yet the sets that the lighting refracted off have now mostly disappeared, along with about half the extras. The downstage “alea jacta est” dice players were rendered invisible both at curtain up and curtain down. The Duke of Verona, who appears upstage to force the warring clans to put down their swords was literally invisible all three nights. On the other hand, the guests entering the Capulet doors, who once had become shadows behind a scrim, are painfully visible as they head for the wings obscured by…nothing. Can it get worse? Yes. During the balcony scene, a spot hits the couple. Without the fountain, it lofts the shadow of their heads onto the bland backdrop that now only consisted of an out-of-focus polaroid moon. The result look exactly like an upside down “wow” emoticon. Do better next time, guys.

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April 7th

Paul Marque and Sae Eun Park Performance on April 7th.

I have come to like Sae Eun Park, the performer. I have come to like Paul Marque in the same vein. I continue to dislike seeing them dance together. When Park/Marque is cast they continue to radiate the calm of their clearly pleasant rehearsal room relationship. When they are alone or with others they can glow, they react. Germain Louvet catalyzed a striking vulnerability in Park’s Giselle. In Sylvia, you just yearned for the wildly ardent Marque to end up happily ever after with Bluenn Battistoni…

They are very much “in like,” but their chemistry lacks radiance, abandon. There is no electric “spark” between them, only a comfort zone. Yet they continue to be scheduled as dramatic leads together …

Maybe something was off from the start because the first real potential girlfriend you had already seen — Sylvia Saint-Martin’s icy, dry, and monotone Rosalind — made you already wonder what was wrong with this Romeo. Why would any young man in his right mind waste time trying to flirt with a humorless poppet? Overheard during intermission: “there was no Rosalind tonight, just a bunch of identical girls.” Ouch.

Sae Eun Park’s Juliet was light and quick and warm, but soon you could see how she was always being carefully managed by Tybalt and Romeo – and even her father — when it came to sliding her down or manipulating her in any way whatsoever. The fact that she offered up the same gracious smile to each and every person quickly started to bore me. There was no sense of shock in her first encounter with Romeo in the Ball Scene, which came off as more of a hello. Park does lean into Marque with soft grace, but even when his mask falls off Park’s Juliet remains the same well-bred girl. His first kiss doesn’t light her up with more than a “that was nice.” Nor did the second.

In the balcony scene Marque’s Romeo was full out at first, open-bodied and visibly inspired to impress Juliet (that recklessly precise manège of double tours)… and then he reversed gears and became the “I won’t break this glass unicorn” careful partner. Why? Honestly, Park looks as if she is in perfectly fine shape and uninjured. Despite the restraint, a certain soft charm did manage to evolve. Was I moved? No. Act Three just seemed endless until Marque’s Romeo, alone, began to storm his way unto his death. Park’s death scene was moving in equal measure. How odd, isn’t it, that both their most passionate moments occurred while the other was inert?

All the more pity as so many on stage April 7th had energy and wit to spare:

Jack Gasztowtt, aware and alert, fully present on stage as Benvolio.

What’s not to like about Francesco Mura’s bouncy and sly Mercutio, except for a terrible hairdo?

Jérémy Loup-Quer’s observant and actually likeable Tybalt definitely knows how to swish and slash his sword with relaxed authority. He was very much amused and reactive in the early scenes. Never a villain in the making. And that proved interesting: his courtly restraint as bad guy made Mercutio’s (and his own) fate all the more surprising.

Andrea Sarri’s Paris quickly evolved from fatuous plot device into husband material early on. He gave this dead-end role heft and elegance.

Sara Kora Dayanova’s Lady Capulet was a vortex of emotions, born out of the wisdom distilled by her years of on-stage experience. Most haughtily Shakespearian whilst she handed out swords during the ball scene, Dayanova’s later howl of desperation, not anger, stilled the house. Splendid and deeply alive on stage even when just walking – Dayanova doesn’t get a picture or a bio in the illustrated program. As if she were an extra? That’s just wrong. I heartily wish the Paris Opera Ballet would show more respect for those soloists who have given their lives to this company as they age gracefully and evolve more fully into character roles.

A young friend, who saw exactly the same cast a week later, hesitated when I interrogated him. “Oh it was excellent, so well-performed, the couple was really nice and then…At the end when he threw her body around, it was very aesthetic.” Alas he used code words for: your brain is on, not your heart. You are observing the process. He spoke too much about how he loved the costumes, bad sign. He was more captivated by the chemistry between Gastowtt’s Benvolio, Mura’s Mercutio, and Quer’s Tybalt. Now there he saw sparks flying, now there bloomed a galvanizing subtext he couldn’t shake out of his head.

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April 8th

Bleuenn Battistoni and Thomas Docquir. Performance on April 8th

The next night, after another impeccably danced performance, again I left the theater hungry for more. Unlike American critics, I have not so far felt I’d experienced what they sneeringly call the “too perfect” performances of the Paris Opera Ballet. But on the second night I started – for the first time ever – to muse that the principals just might have been over-rehearsed. Is that possible?

Even before Juliet’s entrance, I’d been tempted by what Hohyun Kang’s fluffy and flirty Rosalind had to offer. Kang is one of those soloists who keeps catching the light. Pablo Legassa’s limber and graphic Tybalt could have been naughtier (on the 17^th, Nicola di Vico will carve out a splashily dashing silent movie villain who really has the ear of Katherine Higgins’s chillingly ambitious Lady Capulet). Andrea Sarri’s Mercutio had joyous energy to spare. Keita Bellali used the role of Paris to display his silky control and gorgeous lines as a peacock would. Bellali even managed to indicate that he might have some secret passions simmering just below the surface, too.

Everything Bluenn Battistoni’s Juliet does flows so naturally that you take her unforced – but powerfully developed — technique for granted. Her Juliet on April 8th accelerated, decelerated, nuanced little flicks of leg or hand, slowly loosened up. Her dance is beautifully silky…but it wasn’t until the third act that she took over the narrative and made it impossible not to watch her.

Her Romeo was Thomas Docquir. His trajectory in this company has been awkward. Every time I’ve seen him over the years he’s clearly been concentrating on extending his lines and technique, especially in the service of the tricky syncopations and changes of direction in Nureyev’s ballets. But something never quite happened. Endlessly cast as a perfectly acceptable Rothbart “de service” one season, then miscast as a mild Frollo, with a Prince Desiré in between (where he seemed petrified by imposter syndrome). And here? …here he was deeply sweet and finally relieved from whatever it was that had been holding him back. So I was rooting for him.

Docquir’s Romeo is very much in the vein of Tony in West Side Story, a passionate pacifist. He really draws in the audience when he pleads “I don’t, I won’t, I can’t” when prodded by his friends or by Tybalt. But with his Juliet, alas, once again, sparks just didn’t happen until the last act. Thomas Docquir – like Paul Marque the night before – kept disappearing into partner mode.

* *

April 17th

Romeo & Juliet. Performance on April 17th.

And then, unexpectedly, Thomas Docquir was thrust into a new partnership with Valentine Colasante on April 17^th due to Guillaume Diop cancelling due to injury. And maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea.

While this couple also didn’t make me cry, the fact that they had been working in different directions with equal intensity in rehearsals gave their interactions a spontaneity that had been lacking in the other pairings.

Colasante’s playful “don’t worry, I won’t break” Juliet just wants to dance with her besties and no one, not even this rather cute Paris (Bellali again) was going to make her simply smile at everyone and obey. I sighed along with her easy loping pensive walk out onto the terrace and into the Balcony Scene. Docquir’s “Maybe Tonight” attitude made her visibly brighten. The duet on the 17^th had an amplitude that was lacking on the 7^th or 8^th,perhaps due to the fact that when a new partner comes at you with a different center of gravity, then you are forced to concentrate on getting through the moment, rather than perfecting the look. So what if a few landings are hard, some lifts a bit short, and maybe timing is sometimes half a beat away from in-sync? In a dramatic ballet is partnering supposed to be predictably pretty? Imperfection creates a sense of spontaneity. When Docquir’s Romeo struggled both intentionally and unintentionally with Colasante’s drugged body near the end, it felt raw. This drama was happening here and now on stage, not copy-pasted from a rehearsal studio.