Monte-Carlo Ballet presented two premieres – “Les Nuls” by Jeroen Verbruggen and “Firebird” by Goyo Montero

The Monte-Carlo Ballet presented two world premieres on the stage of the Grimaldi Forum – modern readings of the historical one-act ballets “Russian Seasons” to the music of Igor Stravinsky. “Les Nuls” by the Belgian Jeroen Verbruggen is a free interpretation of “Pulcinella”, “Firebird” is a no less free version of the “Firebird” created by the Spaniard Goyo Montero. Maria Sidelnikova.

Igor Stravinsky’s creative union with the Russian Seasons began in 1910 with The Firebird. The one-act ballet, staged by Mikhail Fokin based on Russian fairy tales, made the Diaghilev case a trendsetter in avant-garde fashion not only in the choreographic field, but also in the musical field. Contacting Diaghilev, Stravinsky, who, unlike his client, had an impeccable reputation, did not yet know that along the way he would also have to pull the spendthrift entrepreneur out of debt. In Pulcinella (1919), Diaghilev, inspired by the commedia dell’arte, persuaded Stravinsky to take the Neapolitan music of Giovanni Battista Pergolesi as his starting point. It came out charming. Reviewers noted the rare harmony of all components – Stravinsky’s music, Picasso’s set design and Myasin’s choreography. Unfortunately, this cannot be said about the premiere of the Monte-Carlo Ballet.

The Belgian choreographer Jeroen Verbruggen, a former artist of the troupe and a favorite of Jean-Christophe Maillot, has no imagination. He puts a lot, visually catchy, chaotic and without reverence for the originals. He resolutely transferred the action of Pulcinella to our days. Behind the Neapolitan masks, Verbruggen saw modern outcasts, representatives of various minorities rejected by society and victims of harassment, both moral and physical. Hence the new name of the ballet “Les Nuls” (zeroes, outcasts, invisibles). French designer Charlie le Mindou, who has a hand in flamboyant hairstyles in the fashion world and has previously worked with Verbruggen, came up with voluminous costumes that imitate in detail naked bodies, disfigured by ugly growths. Grotesque folds of fat, like yeast dough, climb from all cracks and hang either like a cow’s udder or some other dangling limbs.

The choreographer contrasts the physical imperfections of the inhabitants of this “court of miracles” with their beautiful heart – and literally. The anatomical picture dangles throughout the performance like an instructive decoration: on the face, they say, they are terrible, but inside they are kind. In addition, there is nothing on the stage: a curtain made of black cellophane, hinting at a puppet theater, and a neon circle-lamp – either the moon, or a photo frame, or the notorious zero, and countless audio speakers, from which the outcasts build and rebuild their wild world, so sympathetic to the choreographer.

The plot twists and turns of Fokine’s original in Verbruggen by themselves fade into the background, he is more interested in images. Including movement ones: the limping Pulcinella hobbles just like professional beggars in the Paris metro, great experts in “disabled” plastic. The bodily oddities of the heroes correspond to the oddities of dancing – acrobatic somersaults, antics and falls (fortunately falling gently) they perform from the heart. These mass scenes, demonstrating the daring and desperate freedom of outcast people, turn out to be the most expressive in the end.

The choreographer chose microphones as the main requisite and at the same time as a simple metaphor for the helplessness of his “nulls”. They broadcast their voice, which the powers that be do not want to hear (the cutting creak of vocal improvisations made the premiere audience quietly run out of the hall), they also play the role of gags or phalluses. The vulgarity of Pulcinella by Verbruggen can only partly be justified by artistic goals. The line between burlesque and stupidity is so thin that the choreographer, intoxicated with his own ideas and notions, without noticing it, very quickly crosses it and is no longer able to return back.

Against the backdrop of this rampant kitsch, Goyo Montero’s Firebird looked like an example of consistency, logic and choreographic harmony. The Spanish choreographer retained Fokine’s division into a female group and a male group, but his dancers are not captive princesses at all: wrapped in overalls, they looked like a powerful animal crowd of Amazons. Montero’s men, in turn, are not just courageous, but rude. Their aggressive desire to dominate is gaining momentum in the course of the performance, and it is not surprising that the leader of this gang, Ivan, also bears little resemblance to the fairy-tale prince.

Two worlds are constantly colliding – sometimes in love, sometimes in hatred, break up, unite, look closely at each other, change roles, undergo tests of loyalty and betrayal. Montero staged the episodes of battles so densely and intensely that one gets the feeling that there is a whole company on the stage, and not two dozen troupe artists working for wear and tear. Things were worse with the central parties. The role of Ivan sat perfectly on the charismatic Christian Assis. A powerful artist with a bright appearance turned out to be predictably good in victories and unexpectedly subtle in defeats. He painfully surrendered to the hands of the Firebird, numb to the last muscle of his powerful back from the horror of forced submission. However, it was not easy to believe that it was Anna Blackwell who caused the defeat. The soloist without outstanding data, with a lively infantile disposition and a penchant for lyrics, radiated a pioneering fuse in crowd scenes, and melodramatic humility in duets. Which, however, did not prevent her from being remembered in the climactic scene of the “resurrection”. As the beam of the spotlight, which aimed at her heart, grew brighter, her struggle-torn body came to life. The stronger this light became, the more determinedly she gathered herself piece by piece in order to take a quiet revenge on her opponent. Inner strength turned out to be stronger than brutal threats in the end – at least on stage.