`ARTHUR': BINTLEY FINISHES DARK RENDERING OF CAMELOT.

`ARTHUR': BINTLEY FINISHES DARK RENDERING OF CAMELOT

BIRMINGHAM ROYAL BALLET SADLER'S WELLS THEATRE LONDON, ENGLAND, U.K. MAY 8, 2001

Remember how hard it was to go back into the water after seeing Jaws? Well, after the vivid scenes of rape, torture, grueling childbirth, and grotesque progeny in the ballet Arthur, Part I (see Reviews, Dance Magazine, April 2000, page 79), it was challenging to return to the second (and thankfully last) part of this story of Camelot (a very far cry from that of the saccharine-sweet Hollywood musical). Within moments of curtain-up on Arthur, Part II, there were chilling scenes of child slaughter and a rape--all historically accurate, but a bitter pill to swallow all the same. This ballet/play (very Shakespearean in its anarchy, war-mongering, and gore) related the breakup and complete destruction of Arthur's utopian vision of an idyllic, peaceful kingdom. The sorcery of his half-sister, the adultery of his wife and best friend, and his incestuously conceived son who becomes his nemesis all play their part in its, and his, doom.

As with Part I, Birmingham Royal Ballet director/choreographer David Bintley thoroughly researched the era's history. He tells his tale in graphic detail, using short, action-packed scenes--so filled, in fact, that audiences fell silent before the start and again at intermission, while they crammed on the program notes! However, his diligence paid off, as the ballet left strong impressions and evoked admiration for his handling of the gritty epic.

His choreography gave the company's male dancers many opportunities to show off their muscularity and strength in true Soviet-style bravura, either as knights or as Arthur's three frolicking country nephews. There was a huge Spartacus-like battle scene in Act II, complete with plumed Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, who prance energetically in and out of the carnage. And two armored knights with slit-eyed helmets lashed out at each other with leaden swords (carefully shadowed by other dancers to make sure they didn't fall off the stage).

There were also reminders of the Romeo and Juliet ballet, when Margause, Arthur's sister, had histrionics h la Lady Capulet over the body of her son Gareth, whose dying moments lingered like Mercutio's. Queen Guinevere and her pink-tarlatan-dressed maidens employed true classical ballet technique as they daintily gathered hawthorn blossoms in the woods. Bintley created a fluid and graceful pas de deux for Guinevere and Lancelot (the elegant Wolfgang Stollwitzer), filled with deep lunges, challenging high lifts, and passionate but tender couplings. Alas, all else in Camelot was not that lovely and Morgan Le Fay, danced by . Leticia Muller, was back to her evil tricks. Muller, a tiny, slim dancer dressed in black (except when she made magic, and then she appeared in a startling green shimmy), ignited her fiendish character by attacking the choreography through every sinew in her body. Her steps were forceful and sharp, and clearly conveyed her troubled mind. She was the first rape victim. She developed her magical powers to conjure up fires, make deadly potions, and cause horrendous evils; she and her son Mordred committed the horrific murder of Merlin by battering him with a rock and then knifing him.

Bintley's Merlin was not a Harry Potter-type wizard; he had wild, curly hair and wore a long frock coat (by fashion and costume designer Jasper Conran). Joseph Cipolla conveyed Merlin's power and presence, moving stealthily about the stage; he was especially effective as the murdered Merlin, who returned as a dusty-gray specter to haunt Arthur and Mordred. Robert Parker, as Mordred, hobbled well and danced like a dream--Arthur's evil son was supposedly lame, as Parker's black leather leg brace implied. He limped impressively across the stage when chasing his cousins, but at other times, unimpeded by his handicap, he took flight with beautiful, long-lined movements and dashing spins in true English style.

John McCabe's contemporary score, often not easy on the ear but charged with intense feeling, depicted the dark and deadly doings in the fateful kingdom.

The sets by Peter J. Davison were stark and simple--a bare vast castle wall in Act I, which doubled as background for both outside and inside, with a central opening at the back. In this spot, the dancers were unlit and thus silhouetted before their appearance on stage--most effective. In the second act, the walls were replaced by scaffolding that moved in and out according to the need. The famous Round Table first hung as a huge illuminated ring above the dancers, then descended to encase the King in the middle, knights taking their places on the outside.

In the finale, the adulterous couple met up after their banishment. Guinevere lay on her deathbed, attended by two nuns. In came Lancelot, and the couple managed a truncated version of their pas de deux until she died. Then, as Lancelot grieved at her bedside, a vision of Camelot at its most golden appeared high behind him.

There was Arthur in our last view of him, shining in his silver-polished armor and encircled by the Round Table, holding Excalibur aloft.