Last night I watched the last episode of the documentary series on the English National Ballet in which the cameras were allowed full access as the company strove to put on a new version of The Nutcracker. Never was the title of a piece more apt! I don't think I have ever witnessed such a car crash of a production, it was a shambles of such epic proportions that it stands as a visible demonstration of chaos theory. The inept, Tommy Cooper-like magician who wafted through this self-made travesty in a cloud of ineffectual pipe-smoke was the once great dancer, Wayne Eagling, who was, and I am trying hard not to giggle, the 'artistic director'. I can say now, with absolute authority, that this man might be tremendously 'artistic' but he couldn't direct traffic! I don't like to say this because I am deeply grateful to Wayne Eagling for opening my eyes to ballet when, many years ago, I caught by accident on TV a recording of his performance with the delicious and delightful Alessandra Ferri (and she nevers answers my letters, either!) in Romeo and Juliet with music by Prokofiev and choreography by McMillan. I have never seen anything so sublime in all my life, I think it is better to watch than Shakespeare's play. So there is no doubt the man can dance but judged by what I saw last night he is incapable of creating and then driving a production through to completion. To give but one example, up until the day before opening there were several minutes of dancing which Eagling had failed to choreograph! He was surrounded by dancers, assistants, dress-makers, shoe-makers, stage managers, scene shifters et al, all of whom were in various stages of hysteria as opening night approached and so many things had not been decided or completed.
As an old veteran of many an AmDram theatrical production I began by sniggering quietly to myself and thinking, well, at least we're not as totally useless as these pros are, but then the smile froze on my face when the Managing Director of the ENB appeared and told us that this Christmas production was critical to the company's future because it produced roughly a third of their income and also they could expect visits from all their main sponsors along with some politicians and members of the Arts Council. Oh my God, I shrieked silently (the 'Memsahib' was dozing), please don't tell me that my money is going into this monstrous bonfire of the vanities! Well of course it is, by the bucketful, I reckon given the colossal waste that this programme showed; for example, the lady who hand-makes all the shoes had made and painted some special boots for the chorus dancers. Eagling decided that these wouldn'tdo and that the dancers should wear ballet shoes. Later, apparently, he had decided that the tops of the boots should be cut down shorter. Reaching for my third Glenmorangie I began muttering about some of the things I would like to see cut off short, starting with their Arts Council grant and ending with Wayne Eagling's balls!
I think BBC4 will be repeating this programme later in the week and I urge you all to make an effort to watch it. I guarantee it will make your eyes water and your wallet seek asylum in the freezer cabinet. The world of state-subsidised ballet management, as opposed to the skilled, dedicated and endlessly patient dancers and back-stage people, is a grossly swollen, distended monstrosity of inflated egos combined with an equal dash of stupidity and cupidity.
A quick scan of the reviews for The Nutcracker can best be described as polite but luke-warm - which is more than you can say about my temper at the moment!
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