Don Quixote

Don Quixote is a long-time happy crowd-pleaser, nothing too unconventional but, given its profound association with the Australian Ballet, David Hallberg appropriately revives it for the company’s 60^th anniversary.  

The genius Russian choreographer and showman Petipa created the ballet 150 years ago. Petipa largely ignored the old knight errant lancing at windmills, and focused instead on a minor subplot of the Cervantes novel, about two young lovers battling to be together. 

A few versions later, the young Russian dancer Rudolf Nureyev excelled in the role of Basilio, just before he absconded to the West and made his own prestigious production of Don Q with Sir Robert Helpmann for the 1970 Adelaide Festival. It was a hit, and so were Nureyev and Lucette Aldous as the lovers.  

Helpmann and the world’s most famous dancer then took the production into an Essendon Airport hangar and, in a heatwave, shot a remarkably earthy and vibrant dance film in 1973.  That too was a hit, and in homage the Australian Ballet has revived and reworked the film’s set, its choreography and dazzling costumes.  And now it’s a new hit – fresh, exuberant and parading a company distinctly in their prime as virtuosic dancers.  

The story is still paper thin.  Our self-proclaimed knight sets off on his quest with his comic side-kick, Sancho, but they’re soon swamped in Barcelona’s port-side square, as the locals flirt, squabble and dance up a storm.  Kitri and Basilio want to marry but he’s a poor barber, and her father, the innkeeper Lorenzo – in the classic romance trope – demands that instead she must marry the aristocratic fop, Gamache. 

The lovers elope, pursued by Lorenzo and Gamache, with Quixote and Sancho running behind. The race runs through three acts, although everyone periodically reassembles to watch what is superlative dancing.  The ensemble energy is so kinetic and boisterous, as groups in waves surge around the principals, that some other plot points are crushed in the rush.  We almost miss, for example, when Quixote (a wistful if wooden Adam Bull) does his famous tilt at the windmills, and collapses. 

Barry Kay’s original film design, reworked here by Richard Roberts, wins applause for its architectural 3D detail and Symbolist hints.  Kay’s splendid remade costumes use glowing autumnal hues (it’s the brown ‘70s after all!) for the locals, and sharp sexy lines for the matadors (led by Callum Linnane) who compete for the girls, especially the seductive Street Dancer (Amy Harris). Kay used glorious flourishes of character and wit in dressing the featured roles. 

Marcus Morelli has the challenge of leaping after Nureyev as Basilio but he powers through the show-off leaps, lightning fast footwork and aerial turns, just as Benedicte Bemet as Kitri cheekily matches him, the two achieving a precise yet tender shadowing of bodies. Their many pas de deux are exquisite and sensual, one notable where Bemet includes her shawl.

Nureyev’s Don Quixote avoids the trap of campery and pantomime nonsense thanks to his earthy ironic eye and the real wit around characters like the foppish Gamache (Paul Knobloch) and the opportunistic Sancho (Timothy Coleman), to say nothing of the constantly varied dance styles.

As the ensemble dancing speeds into Spanish, with stamping, clicking fingers and abrupt twists, Quixote’s pursuit of Kitri suddenly lands in a dream world. Here she and the Dryard Queen (Shani Spencer) and Cupid (Yuumi Yamada) led an immaculate line of classical dancers in sparkling tutus. Sure, it’s a bit absurd, but our disbelief evaporates in admiration of the beautiful easy precision of Spencer and her Dryards. 

This revival is underpinned by John Lanchbery 50 years ago achieving a major reworking and new orchestration of Ludwig Minkus’ original melodious score for Petipa. It was Minkus’ first score – and became his most remembered.  

Martin Portus

Photographer: Rainee Lantry