At the Royal Ballet, Taking the Measure of Ashton’s Genius
Dance, people like to say, is a universal language. But ballet isn’t. Rather, it’s a language with many sharply contrasting dialects. Tradition, training and temperament all shape distinctive styles, and the English style of classical dance, embodied by the Royal Ballet, was largely shaped by Frederick Ashton (1904-1988), the company’s founding choreographer.
Ashton’s work is still regularly performed at the Royal Ballet and vital to its identity. British critics may grumble both about which ballets are performed and about a loss of nuance in their execution. But it would be hard to grouse much during the past two weeks of Ashton Celebrated, a mini-festival of work, running through Saturday at the Royal Opera House, which put the choreographer’s genius — and the English classical dance style — on abundant display in often remarkable performances. (Ashton Celebrated also included performances by the Sarasota Ballet of small-scale Ashton rarities at the smaller Linbury Theater.)
Like his contemporary George Balanchine, who shaped a very different aesthetic at New York City Ballet, Ashton developed his Neo-Classicism from the 19th-century heritage of Marius Petipa and Lev Ivanov, the choreographers of “Swan Lake,” among other things. But unlike Balanchine’s pared-back, direct physicality, Ashton cultivated a pliant lyricism paired with intricate footwork and a complex use of épaulement — the contrasting angles of the head, shoulders and hips. Well-mannered and witty, the best of his ballets are also full of emotional subtlety and vitality.
Monica Mason, a former director of the Royal Ballet, said one of the principal challenges of performing Ashton now is capturing the flavor of the work. “Fred wanted expression through your whole movement, how you offer your hand, how he puts his arm around your waist,” she said. “The tiny, subtle things are the challenge.”
Those nuances were wonderfully evident in “Les Rendezvous,” Ashton’s first substantial classical piece, created in 1933 and back after a 19-year absence from the Royal’s repertory.
Set to irresistibly melodic music from Auber’s opera “L’Enfant Prodigue,” the ballet, which opened the first program, evokes a bygone world of long-elbowed gloves, cream teas and chivalrous escorts. It’s a rush of heady delight, full of unobtrusive virtuosity and filigree nuance.
