A `SPRITELY' ASHTON CLASSIC.

A `SPRITELY' ASHTON CLASSIC LA SCALA BALLET TEATRO ALLA SCALA MILAN, ITALY APRIL 21-MAY 3, 2000

REVIEWED BY SILVIA POLETTI

The Italian premiere of Frederick Ashton's Ondine (1958) offered Italian balletgoers a precious opportunity to rediscover the refined neoclassical style of this great choreographer, whose work is seldom performed in this country. It also gave Alessandra Ferri a new, complex role to bring to life.

The water sprite Ondine, a typical superhuman creature of the Romantic literature created by the German writer Friedrich de la Motte Fouque in the early nineteenth century, fulfilled Ashton's need to devise a vehicle for ballerina Margot Fonteyn. The story also provided a homage to Romantic ballet, the structure of which he maintained in the traditional three acts and in the development of the plot. Indeed, it is full of the Romantic motifs Ashton loved to tuck in.

What is really amazing in the choreographic shape of the ballet is the steady, marvelous evocation of water, translated in The Lord of the Sea's swirling movements, in the waterfall grouping of the ondines and, above all, in the dancing of the principals. Everything in Ondine's choreography tells us she is a water creature: the swift rivulets of her pas de bourree, the darting movements of the shoulders and torso, the wonderful aquatic port de bras Ashton invented and carefully defined even to the fingertips. But he did not create a choreographic stereotype: As the story runs to its dramatic end, Ondine turns from the playful lightheartedness of her first appearance to the guilty awareness of being the cause of Palemon's death.

There were great expectations for Ferri's debut in this fascinating role; for a long time the Italian ballerina has been looking for new characters to expand her repertoire and Ondine seemed to offer a great challenge. In the first part of the ballet, however, Ferri was unable to express the nymph's spontaneity and freshness, and so appeared affected, and her interpretation of Ashton's style seemed neither accurate nor fluid, least of all in her arms. As the story proceeded, she became more successful, immersing herself in the role thoroughly; she appeared as a wonderful, tragic icon in the impressive last act, culminating with the moving, dramatic duet in which she desperately tries to resist her desire to bestow upon Palemon the fatal kiss.

Adam Cooper of The Royal Ballet was her ardent Palemon. (Famous for his Swan in Matthew Bourne's Swan Lake, he left us with the desire to see him in a more interesting role.) Sabina Galasso was Berta and lively Biagio Tambone was Tirrenio.

Trapped in its chronic artistic crisis, La Scala's ballet company danced mechanically and without appearing to understand Ashton's meaningful choreography. In the demanding technical part of the ballet--the divertissement in the third act--dancers had problems with the speed and the petits batteries and they lost rhythm. One soloist actually fell on stage, creating a very funny picture with bottom down and legs up.

Much better was the acclaimed La Scala Orchestra, under Patrick Fournillier's baton, which gave the audience all the iridescent tunes of Hans Werner Henze's eclectic score. However, I could not help feeling a striking discrepancy between Henze's music--more conceptual than emotional--and Ashton's lyrical, delicate narrative. It is a contrast that, after more than forty years, still makes Ondine an incomplete masterpiece.