An Akane Takada Triumph
Takada’s virtuosity and the Royal Ballet’s striking new design inject fresh life into Ashton’s classic, elevating its magic to new heights.
by Alessandro Bizzotto
Sir Frederick Ashton’s Cinderella has always been my favourite ballet from the classical repertoire. It was also the first production I experienced live at the Royal Opera House, making it a work I have admired and revisited over the years.
This timeless fairy tale returns to the Royal Opera House this season in a splendid new production, co-created with the National Ballet of Canada last year, following its previous redesign in 2003. The revamped staging boasts expansive sets by Tom Pye, which make fantastic use of projection, and sumptuous, vibrantly coloured costumes by Oscar-winning designer Alexandra Byrne (Elizabeth: The Golden Age). The result is a production that breathes fresh magic into the beloved classic while remaining faithful to its roots.
Entering the Royal Opera House on New Year’s Day to see Akane Takada in the title role, I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect, as I knew Cinderella would feature a fresh new staging incorporating innovative visuals. Yet, reimagined by Pye and Byrne, Ashton’s ballet emerges even more enchanting. Every aspect of the design – from the breathtaking transformation scenes to the ballroom, set in the palace gardens with a stunningly crafted façade – offers a visual feast, reminding the audience why this ballet endures as a cornerstone of the Royal Ballet’s repertoire.
Akane Takada and Joseph Sissens in Cinderella © Andrej Uspenski
Akane Takada’s portrayal of Cinderella captures the character’s transformation from a mistreated servant to the enchanting belle of the ball with unexpected depth. In Act One, she exudes such warmth and generosity that it is almost impossible to foresee how she will later emerge as an imperial ballerina, displaying exceptional technique and charm in the Act Two ball.
Takada’s exceptional footwork, essential to Ashton’s choreography, stands out. Her intricate, whimsical, and sometimes elusive movements demonstrate an impressive command of the style, which demands both precision and fluidity. With impeccable poise, she navigates Ashton’s complex steps with apparent ease. Her performance of the challenging second-act variation is a masterpiece: her balances are remarkable, and every detail is executed with astonishing clarity and technical brilliance, showcasing not only her technical prowess but also her deep understanding of Ashton’s unique artistic language.
Joseph Sissens is not an imposing prince, nor a dancer who likes to proudly show off his technique – he portrays quite a modern male lead whose attitude is more understated than princely. Yet he somehow has the confidence of a prince and the clean, precise technique of a principal dancer.
At the same time, he is a solid and attentive partner. Takata and Sissens’ movements complement each other effortlessly, as though guided by an invisible force. They flow smoothly from one step to the next, seamlessly merging into each other’s arms, creating a gentle charm that enhances the light-hearted spirit of the ballet.
Téo Dubreuil strikes the perfect balance of snobbery, disbelief, and comedic timing in the role of the dancing master, adding a distinct dandy flair to the character.
The four fairies who dance against projected backgrounds in Act One are all a delight: Bomin Kim as the fairy spring, Yu Hang as the fairy summer, Annette Buvoli as the fairy winter, and especially Amelia Townsend as the fairy autumn, who spins through the choreography with commanding authority.
In Act Two, Caspar Lench leaps with youthful energy as the jester, showcasing a display of athleticism and strength.
The finale, with its glittering branches and unnaturally large stalks standing at the sides like extensions of the scenery, and a moon projected onto a starry, occasionally misty sky, could feel vaguely disconcerting, almost magically unorthodox for the fairy tale of fairy tales.
However, the suspended staircase, stretching endlessly and seemingly merging with the stars, upon which Takada and Sissens walk towards the fulfilment of their dream of happiness, exudes more poetry than science fiction. It remains the perfect symbol of a future yet to be written, but one that, as all fairy tales dictate, will be bright and hopeful.