Once upon a ballet

A usual Saturday night in the life of a 19-year-old would normally consist of eating out, watching movies, going to the bar, and partying as if there’s no tomorrow. Of course, being the eccentric that I am, my Saturday nights are happily spent snuggled up to my girlfriend, watching our weekly dose of downloaded shows, catching up after a tired week of school, and being in the comfort of a home. One Friday night however, Cam and I decided to have a little night of culture – a little night of ballet. Upon seeing the small announcement in the 24/7 manual of events et al, we headed off to the CCP theater to watch Philippine Ballet Theater’s restaging of the popular fairytale, Cinderella.

Ballet has always fascinated me as an appreciator of the arts. Growing up with a sister who once rehearsed the balançoire, the adagio, and other such techniques, I have been a spectator to her showcases at the end of each ballet workshop; not to mention, watching cartoons with interpretations and allusions to The Nutcracker and Swan Lake – timeless classics that spawned from the said art. Most vividly though, my ideas and memories of ballet stem from movies such as Center Stage and its more recent colleague, Save the Last Dance. From the bold to the beautiful, modern-day ballet has woven elegance with contemporary elements to create something that is totally out of the ordinary – something like the November staging of the Grimm Brothers’ timely masterpiece.

As I sat through the show, having patronized plays all my life, I waited for the prima ballerinas to burst into song when the scenes best called for it. Such as when Cinderella fends off her evil stepsisters, whimsically portrayed by two male ballerinas, I legally anticipated A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes to come pouring out of her mouth. Likewise, with an orientation to Disney and its imaginative ability to festoon classic tales with furry, talking creatures and plot twists, I expected the dashing rat prop to come to life and take Cinderella’s side. I was wrong.

The trick in watching this celebrated art is to detach yourself from custom theatrics and vocal orientation as a theatergoer, astounding cinemagic as a movie aficionado, and appreciate the ballet for what it is – a visual spectacle that grounds itself firmly betwixt the tenets of the performance art genre. Of pirouettes and skillfully prolonged tiptoes, of Tchaikovsky-inspired musical scores and a theater backdrop that is simple yet elegant, one must sit back, relax, and expect the unexpected.

The said performance was choreographed by Jean Paul Comelin, a French ballet master who has worked with company greats such as the Ballet Gothenberg in Sweden, Athens Opera in Greece, and Zurich Ballet in Switzerland. Evident in the two-act show was his genius in interlacing opportunities for synchrony and flexibility with specific dance sequences. It sure was a sight for sore eyes – especially in certain scenes where the Fairy Godmother would summon her fairy consorts to bequeath Cinderella with the artifacts to her long-awaited ball. I’m not really one to judge, but it was definitely a delight to see a company of ballet dancers swaying and prancing to the same intricate beat.

Of course, the experience of watching Cinderella couldn’t help but encounter a few rough waters along the way. I specifically wasn’t very fond of certain dancers in the chorus whose movements and demeanor lacked the confidence that ballet presupposes. A few times, there were substandard mistakes in the supposed synchronized choreography that were very noticeable from my right side, second row point-of-view. In other aspects, the silent pauses between or during each scene were a far stretch if the show aimed to pioneer new flavor or style to modern-day ballet. The occasional silence in place of conventionally flowing music was uncomfortable rather than functional for art’s sake. But these were nevertheless slight detours to this good ship lollipop that was all revved up and good to go.

All in all, Cinderella was fun, delectable, and definitely worth my P500 and Saturday night time. It wasn’t a regular quench for the musical craving of every Tito, Vic, and Joey but it was definitely one for the books. Some can consider it a risk, or a wildcard, even for the use of precious weekend time after a torrid workload in the bluer or greener side of town. Others – a ridiculous idea in place of say, an all-out drinkathon in Ponti or sitting through the next Harry Potter installment. But hands down, for something different and truly worth your while, Cinderella was a risk well worth it.