As a long-time admirer of the Royal Ballet, I approached their recent performance of *La Fille mal gardée* with the usual anticipation for its signature charm and effervescence. Yet, I left the theatre with a curious sense of something missing. The Stage's review hit the nail on the head—this production, while still beautiful, lacked its characteristic fizz.
There's an undeniable magic to *La Fille mal gardée*. It's a ballet that thrives on joy, on the playful energy of young love, and on the comedic chaos of a barnyard. When done right, the audience is swept away in a whirlwind of peasant dances, clog steps, and the infectious spirit of Lise and Colas. This time, however, the bubbles seemed to have gone flat.
The dancers were, as always, technically proficient. The steps were there, the lifts were clean, and the familiar mime sequences were executed with clarity. But technique alone cannot sustain this ballet. It needs a certain *je ne sais quoi*—a spark of mischief in Lise's eyes, a roguish charm from Colas, and a genuine sense of playfulness throughout the corps. Lately, I've observed a tendency towards perfection over personality. The dancers seem so focused on precision that the organic, spontaneous heart of the work gets lost.
Perhaps it's familiarity breeding a kind of comfortable routine. After countless performances, the freshness can fade. The comic business, especially with Widow Simone, felt more rehearsed than spontaneous. The laughter from the audience came, but it was polite rather than uproarious. We missed that edge-of-your-seat anticipation for the next gag or the next beautiful pas de deux.
This is a call, not for change, but for re-invigoration. *La Fille mal gardée* is a masterpiece of classical comedy, but it demands performers willing to be a little messy, to take risks, and to let the joy be the star. I hope the Royal Ballet finds that lost sparkle soon. Because when this ballet has its fizz back, there is truly nothing else like it.
