A Showpiece

“A Swan Lake”
Semperoper Ballet
Semperoper
Dresden, Germany
December 17, 2023 (online since December 28, 2023)

by Ilona Landgraf
Copyright © 2024 by Ilona Landgraf

Do not expect the Semperoper Ballet’s new A Swan Lake to be the well-known classical swan story. True, it’s still danced to Tchaikovsky’s score, but it eschews the greatest part of its traditional personage. Vladimir Begichev’s original libretto of Swan Lake (1877) wasn’t what the Swedish choreographer Johan Inger had in mind. He took inspiration from the German author Johann Karl August Musäus’s folk tale The Stolen Veil (1784), which is considered to be one of several possible sources that Begichev used.

For those familiar with a traditional Swan Lake, a few names of the characters, Inger included, ring a bell. One of them is Benno, the original Prince Siegfried’s friend. Dresden’s version has no Prince Siegfried, and Benno is the lover of Queen Zoe, the unhappy spouse of King Zeno. Thanks to a magic veil, she’s able to transform into a swan and fly to a faraway lake. There, she takes a rejuvenating bath once a year and lives out her secret love affair with Benno. Zeno, however, finds out about it and, tearing up the veil, puts an end to further escapes for Queen Zoe. Act II features Zoe twenty years later.
She is now widowed and cannot keep her son, Kallisto, from going to war. He gets wounded and is nursed back to health by Benno, of all people, near the Swan Lake.
Benno teaches Kallisto about the swans’ bathing ritual. Shortly after the swans’ return, Benno dies, disappointed that Zoe still isn’t among them. However, another beautiful swan woman -Odette – attracts Kallisto’s attention. He falls in love with her and steals her veil to prevent her from leaving. Both settle down to family life. Years later, events take a tragic turn when Odette discovers the veil. Deeply disappointed, she leaves Kallisto and their child to reunite with the swans. Zoe, having observed the scene, takes care of her son and his child.

It sounds as if the story has the potential for a great ballet. Inger, however, delivered an utterly tasteless interpretation. His King Zeno (Christian Bauch) is a wanton creep strutting around as stiffly as Don Q. Zeno believes himself hot but is disgustingly primitive. The beating he deals to Benno (Jón Vallejo) and Zoe (Zarina Stahnke) is unsuitable for children’s eyes (inexplicably, the production has no X-rating) and is only topped by the fact that Zeno pees toward the side wing during court ceremonies. To what lows has the Semperoper fallen?

Inger draws on limited creative resources, often recycling old ideas and movements. His unorthodox style cartoons the classical vocabulary; that is witty at times and quirky at others. In Dresden, he made most of the dancers look like fools. Zeno’s court either stands idly by or parades like a bunch of dimwits. Perhaps that’s why movable prison-like fences surround them (set design by Leticia Gañán and Curt Allen Wilmer).
Zoe’s solo following her first encounter with Benno began with an abrupt freeze, then her arms moved as if running by themselves. She briefly covered her face, was shaken twice by what might have been a hiccup, stepped left and right, flailed her arms like a boneless puppet, and finished with a desperate glance. Then she repeated the same routine.
Benno, during his search for Zoe, first ran into a Pippi Longstocking-like woman who was eager to find a match. Her behavior testified to her dim wit. As his journey continued to southern lands (the spacious arena depicted on a huge circular mirror hanging from above hinted at Spain), he met toreadors and Hungarian folk dancers, who taught him some steps.
Thanks to Vallejo’s talent for slapstick and folk dance, both of the latter numbers were funny. Besides, Inger’s style suits him. Salvador Mateu Andujar’s costumes for the Spaniards and Hungarians brought some color onto the otherwise gray-ish stage.

Like his father, Prince Kallisto (Skyler Maxey-Wert) was a braggart prone to violence. He looked for applause after a single tour en l’air (the only serious ballet turn in the entire piece), and the audience responded accordingly, stomping in approval. Armed with sticks, Kallisto and his warriors set off for war. Their heroic actions consisted of running in place (one of Inger’s favored choreographic modes) and a slow-motion stick fight with an enemy army accompanied by the music for the dance of the cygnets. I assume that the slow-motion mode was chosen for reasons of safety and lack of training. Light effects made it appear spectacular.
The male and female swans, wearing hooded, skin-colored full-body suits, resembled prehistoric earthlings but actually portrayed souls who transformed into swans the moment they covered their heads with a shimmery white veil. Their movements were reflected in a mirror hanging above, which made their otherwise indiscernible patterns visible and the stage busier.
In Act II, Odette (Ayaha Tsunaki) became pregnant the moment Kallisto inflated a balloon (with the help of a foot pump) that had been sewn into her dress. Odette’s animalistic scream heralded the birth. Thankfully, the baby was delivered during a blackout.

The piece gathered strength during the last ten minutes or so when Odette realized Kallisto’s deceit, which broke up their relationship. Apart from that, Inger’s A Swan Lake is an embarrassment of the highest order. To ensure that Semperoper Ballet is the laughingstock of a large audience, a mid-December performance is broadcast on Arte TV for free until March 16^th.

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