Of swans and men: Matthew Bourne’s Swan Lake

Before he turned his attention to Swan Lake, Matthew Bourne had long been making work that poked fun at classical ballet’s conventions, more often than not putting men in female roles. But it was when he turned his attention to the ballet classic of all ballet classics that people really sat up and took notice.

That was just over twenty-nine years ago. Today, contemporary, innovative takes on Swan Lake are commonplace. Some have been very successful. A mix of male and female swans, even black and white swans, is no longer so unusual.

But back in 1995, Bourne’s Swan Lake really was something different; something that made people really think differently about the male dancer. Despite the work’s then topicality in one or two areas, it hasn’t dated at all and remains a ‘must see.’

Bourne’s approach to swans starts even before the curtain rises, the audience witness to a projection of a huge, powerful bird flying through the air. While he’s inserted plenty of humour and pastiche into the work, when it comes to the swans, there’s not a hint of either.

His swans, all men, are proud, feisty creatures, much closer in many ways to the real waterfowl than almost anything else you will see on stage. They move with power and presence. A really clever touch is to incorporate their breath, which comes across as hissing, into the choreography.

Bourne gives the narrative plenty of twists. James Lovell gave a perfect depiction of a tormented Prince, a somewhat tortured soul looking for himself and his place in the world. He’s bored in just about every sense of the word until he sees a statue of a nude male unveiled, which sparks his sexuality in particular. He also yearns for attention and approval, given only grudgingly by his mother.

A solo outside a nightclub at a time when he’s as deep in the well of anguish as it seems possible to get is a remarkable expression of despair. But dawn follows even the darkest night and when he later dances with the swans, there’s a sense he’s found his spiritual home.

Far from being the somewhat dour and overbearing mother of most balletic productions, Bourne’s Queen (Nicole Kabera) is a very modern woman in an immodest red dress (what other colour could it be?) who quite happily flaunts herself at men. While quite commanding, she’s also not averse to a little scheming. Given when the work was made, you can’t help but wonder if it’s an extension of the late Princess Diana.

Look out too for the over-the-top and full of herself blonde floozie (The Girlfriend, played by Katrina Lyndon) who attempts to impose herself on The Prince. It is rather noticeable, perhaps significant, that while all the work’s female characters are funny, most are also negative stereotypes, however.

Elsewhere, I also rather took to The Private Secretary (Cameron Flynn), a man who you suspect has a few secrets of his own.

Even though the usual narrative and characters get plenty of twists, Bourne’s Swan Lake is actually not so different. The essentials are all there. They’re just seen through a looking glass that distorts for sure, but also makes things a whole lot more interesting.

And most interesting, most compelling and most magnificent of all, is Harrison Dowzell as The Swan, who first appears to The Prince in a dream. He was quite unforgettable. Whether in bird form with The Prince, effectively Odette, or in human form as The Stranger at the Act 3 ball, where he combines the very best of Rothbart and Odile.

There’s an echo in the latter of Cillian Murphy’s Tommy Shelby from Peaky Blinders, someone clearly dangerous but who women especially just can’t help but be drawn to, much to The Prince’s angst. As he dances with pretty much everyone including The Queen, the force of his presence and personality needs to be seen to be believed. It says much that Rothbart’s absence a separate character is not missed at all.

And then there’s the flock of swans that emerges not from some gloomy expanse of water set in a dark forest, but from a lake in a royal park. In stark contrast to the white tutu-ed flocks of classical ballet, these swans ooze strength, fierceness and independence. They bow to no-one. The way they bob their heads and twist their necks is remarkably close to the real thing. And the way they slither out from under The Prince’s bed in Act 4 is powerfully otherworldly.

Act 1 in particular has a lot of humour. A corgi on wheels that later snaps at someone is mildly amusing but best is his ballet-within-a-ballet, a very clever send-up of Romantic ballets, featuring a very overly melodramatic Moth Maiden (Kurumi Kamayachi) being chased by a clueless, graceless man with an axe who battles with an evil Troll along the way. But as all this unfolds, keep an eye on the comedic goings-on in the Royal Box too.

Matthew Bourne’s Swan Lake is an evening not to be missed, in London or when it then heads off on tour. The whole cast, the ‘Next Generation’ as the work’s subtitle calls them, apart from the leads, all taking on multiple roles, are terrific. And there’s even live music courtesy of the excellent New Adventures Orchestra.

David Mead
Sadler’s Wells, London
Matthew Bourne’s Swan Lake is at Sadler’s Wells, Länk till annan webbplats. London to January 26, 2025, before touring nationwide Länk till annan webbplats. to June 7.

Published in co-operation with Seeing Dance. Länk till annan webbplats.