The Winter’s Tale dance review — Christopher Wheeldon’s ballet breathes life into the story’s passions

They don’t call The Winter’s Tale a problem play for nothing, but Christopher Wheeldon’s 2014 ballet version tells this bleak, complex story with exemplary clarity and breathes life into the ugly passions that set the tragedy in motion. 

The grim tale of a jealous husband who drives his wife to her death and casts away his newborn daughter offers chewy roles for stars and soloists. Bob Crowley’s imaginative designs and Joby Talbot’s cinematic score are equal partners in storytelling, guiding us through the narrative and intensifying the emotional highs and lows.

The latest sellout revival opened at the Royal Opera House with a splendid cast led by Cesar Corrales making his debut as King Leontes. The Mexican-Canadian star’s six years with the Royal Ballet have been interrupted by injury. He was a dastardly Lescaut and an eye-catching rebel chief in Wheeldon’s Like Water for Chocolate but Leontes is his finest role to date.

Wheeldon’s writing for the King shows us a man “in rebellion with himself” — with spiky legwork, a contorted torso and furious turns. Corrales’s sudden fit of psychopathic jealousy seems to surge through his body like a draught of poison. This physical transformation is reinforced by a sudden chill in Natasha Katz’s clever, expository lighting and by Talbot’s shrill woodwinds and ventral blasts of brass.

Leontes’ brutish manhandling of his heavily pregnant wife is downright disturbing, a perfect match for Shakespeare’s pitiless invective. Lauren Cuthbertson, with her pure line and serene manner, is a fine Hermione, although the role of Paulina, the moral touchstone of the play, might suit her even better. On Friday the Queen’s loyal champion was superbly danced and played by Melissa Hamilton, whose gliding pas de bourrée and knotty, semaphoric port de bras gave physical expression to the character’s quiet rage.

All this pity and terror is leavened by the bohemian festivities of the ballet’s second act, exquisitely furnished by Crowley with a “raised-root” wishing tree. The Balkan-ish folk dances (fustanellas will be worn) are essentially a job creation scheme for the corps de ballet and introduce the long-lost Perdita and her princely suitor Florizel, danced by Francesca Hayward and Marcelino Sambé. The beautifully matched couple frisked weightlessly through their sunny solos and tricksy duets. Wheeldon’s playful, intricate choreography shows off every facet of their technique — windblown jetés from Hayward, feathery beaten steps and languorous slo-mo turns from Sambé.

Wheeldon deals equally generously with the minor roles. Gary Avis was a benevolent, light-footed Shepherd and Marco Masciari dazzled as the Clown. The 2020 Prix de Lausanne gold medallist was clearly having the time of his life with Wheeldon’s challenging solos, swooning vertiginously into bendy, Ashtonian pirouettes. Quick, witty and vividly alert to everyone on stage, Masciari is a dancer who shines even when relegated to the ensemble — like a rogue tulip in a municipal flowerbed: crisper, brighter, lovelier. What a glorious Mercutio he would make — or Lensky. Both roles feature next season. Fingers crossed.

★★★★★

To June 1, roh.org.uk