This article first appeared in THE SUNDAY INDEPENDENT

24th August 2008

If, like me, you barely know your pas de basque from your pas de cheval or your entrechats from your échappés sautés, a trip to the ballet can be a little intimidating. Will you notice the minute details of poise and movement that (to the better informed) so clearly elevate the principal dancers above the corps de ballet? Will you follow – and believe – the twists and turns of the storyline? Will you have the stamina to keep applauding through all those curtain calls?

Fortunately, however, the pageantry, spectacle and high drama of top-quality ballet can be enjoyed by cognoscenti and philistines alike; and this is precisely what the South African Ballet Theatre (SABT) provides in La Traviata – The Ballet, which runs at the Civic Theatre until 7th September.

La Traviata, Verdi’s famous opera, is itself based on Alexandre Dumas’ La Dame aux Camélias: a novel (and, by the same author, a play) about love thwarted by class divides and jealous misapprehensions. Camille (Violetta in the opera) is a courtesan who – not unlike a certain Nicole Kidman character in a certain Baz Luhrmann film – is dying slowly of a lung disease, despite her public exuberance in the salons of Paris. She falls in love with the son of a nobleman, Armand (Alfredo in the opera) and they escape the dangerous hedonism of the city to live together in a country house; but Armand’s father, Monsieur Germont, meets with Camille in secret to insist that she leave his son as their relationship is tainting the family’s honour.

She does so, reluctantly, without telling Armand why – and he, in true misogynistic fashion, falsely assumes it is because of her desire for another man. When he learns the actual cause of her departure, Armand is contrite; but it comes too late, as Camille is fatally ill. They are reconciled, but she dies in his arms.

There is a long tradition of adapting this narrative to ballet, but for South African audiences, the version choreographed by Veronica Paeper is the most significant. It has been performed by various companies (CAPAB and subsequently the Cape Town City Ballet, before SABT and England’s Northern Ballet Theatre added it to their respective repertoires) at intervals since 1990. Now, First National Bank has sponsored its return to Johannesburg for a three-week run.

On opening night, I asked Paeper if she had found it difficult to adapt a famous operatic work such as La Traviata, given the choreographic demands of matching the rhythm, pace and tone of such well-known music (Verdi’s score is played by the Johannesburg Philharmonic Orchestra, under the baton of Allan Stephenson). The answer: “Not at all” – coming from someone else, that might seem a little nonchalant, but Paeper’s modest bearing precludes such judgements – “It’s a story that is perfectly suited to ballet.”

This becomes evident when one compares the pathos evinced by the dancers in La Traviata – The Ballet to SABT’s previous offering, Don Quixote. Whatever the skill of the individual dancers, and whatever the merits of the choreography, that production’s depiction of episodes from the errant knight’s comic travails failed to ignite this reviewer’s imagination. By contrast, I found the tragedy of Armande and Camille both aesthetically gratifying and emotionally invigorating.

Perhaps this was also because, despite the melodramatic gesturing germane to ballet – it’s a form, after all, that depends heavily on audience members suspending their disbelief – there was a refreshing degree of realism in the interpretation of Paeper’s choreography. The principal dancers conveyed a convincing affection, from flirtation to earnest declarations of love and passionate rage.

At times, Angela Malan’s Camille (the role will also be danced by Burnise Silvius, Anya Carstens and Lauren Summerley during the run) seemed so desperate that she broke the decorum typically associated with a prima ballerina. In the final scene, dishevelled and ravaged by illness, she was partnered by Christian Tátchev’s Armande (also to be performed by Andries Weidemann, Lee Fennell and Michael Revie) in a devastatingly beautiful duet. This was not the kind of incongruously energised death-dance often parodied by ballet-bashers; rather, Malan managed to appear spent and passive, Tátchev anguished and frenzied, even as they both applied the remarkable control and physical strength required by their metier.

Although this doomed love affair dominated the audience’s attention, and Malan’s exquisite pointe work constantly caught the eye, the ensemble work was also impressive. Occasionally the synchronisation of the pas de trois or the pas de quatres faltered, but this was easily forgiven as the rich textures and colours of costuming and scenery – a grand set making full use of the height of the Civic’s Nelson Mandela stage – created a series of visually arresting tableaux.