LES BALLETS DE MONTE-CARLO.

LES BALLETS DE MONTE-CARLO CITY CENTER MAY 12-16, 1999

Jean-Christophe Maillot's new Romeo et Juliette for his Monaco-based Les Ballets de Monte-Carlo is all about beautiful, opinionated women. First there's Juliette (Bernice Coppieters), less a girl than a vibrant, sexy woman--as dominant as a lady can be over a lovesick boy like Romeo. Fiery Lady Capulet (Paola Cantalupo), barely older than Juliette, seems to lust after both Tybalt and Paris (both Lords Capulet and Montague are missing in the action of this version). And it can't be said that the Nurse (Veronique-Dina Jean), a more teasing than tender figure, could be considered a mother substitute for Juliette while her own is off flirting.

Luckily, there are plenty of good reasons for these modifications to the familiar plot. As the choreographer noted in a recent interview, "Today Juliette would tell her family to go to hell and ride off on her bicycle with Romeo." Maillot has a point. Still, he hasn't taken that contemporary idea too far. Essentially, he has succeeded in updating a classic without destroying its original fire. This new version is as raw and sexy as Maillot's slightly modern, neoclassical choreography has proven to be in the past, but it's also intrinsically theatrical. Maillot never abuses the inherent sexiness of his dancers, but forces them to rely upon dramatic tools. Because of that, passion comes from internal motivation instead of from melodramatic gestures.

The unfortunate exception can be found in one of Maillors biggest plot tinkerings. Making Friar Laurence (Gaetan Morlotti) the ballet's narrator, while certainly an intriguing notion on paper, just doesn't work onstage. For one thing, why bother with a narrator? The deep love and inevitable misfortune between the two lovers should create enough tension on its own (and in the case of Coppieters's Juliette and Chris Roelandt's Romeo, it does). Whenever Friar Laurence appears--after, say, a failed attempt at making peace between the two feuding families--his solos are a little too tortured and overwrought to be believed. Morlotti is a beautiful dancer, but his grim-reaper rendering of this Friar--complete with heartfelt leaps and pained looks toward the heavens--sadly serves as a distraction to the otherwise gripping story.

Maillot's romantic sensibility shines in his pas de deux between the lovers. Coppieters is incredible--her long limbs can't help but devour space, yet she never glosses over seemingly quieter gestures. Her movement always seems to extend miles past her elegant body. She's a strong, postmodern Juliette who is not the least bit afraid to use her size to her advantage. Roelandt, gradually swept up by desire, is boyish at first; his all-too-brisk initiation into manhood is equally tender and heartbreaking to watch.

It's impossible not to be dazzled by the updated costumes and sleek lighting and set. Extravagant sixteenth-century clothing and decor have been replaced by Jerome Kaplan's wispy slip-dresses and strapless gowns; the lighting, by Dominique Drillot, is simply gorgeous--during the bedroom scenes, the stage seems to be bathed in a romantic gold sunset. Ernest Pignon-Ernests white futuristic scenery is ingenious: in this rather cold setting (instead of a balcony, a ramp rises and lowers), the dancers are forced to rely on their emotions rather than Renaissance wrappings.

The only piece of conventional furniture is a bed. It's a bit of a shock to see that when Juliette gets under the covers with Romeo the audience doesn't have to suspend its disbelief for a moment. Coppieters is wearing only a slip--neither pointe shoes nor tights grace her feet. For once, the bedroom scene is real! It's always invigorating to see a choreographer, for better or worse, take a chance. In his sophisticated three-act production, Maillot has bravely done just that.