An Italian Straw Hat
February 27-March 2, 2008
National Ballet of Canada, Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts
By Leandra de Valois-Franklin
Thanks to DanceBreak, the National Ballet of Canada’s new strategy to lure the aged 16-29 crowd into attending classical ballets for a mere $20, I enjoyed a first row seat at James Kudelka’s revision of Eugene Labiche and Marc Michel’s 19th century play The Italian Straw Hat. Kudelka, who now serves as the company’s artist in residence after stepping down from the position of artistic director in 2005, has irked me in the past with his irritating tendency to rework (*ahem*, destroy!) major classics such as the Nutcracker and Swan Lake. After experiencing this brilliant ballet however, I gladly oblige to eat my words, and my hat. Pass the salt!
Hugely popular since its inception in 1851, Labiche and Michel’s play has inspired a silent film, Broadway musical, opera, and most recently the full-length comedy ballet which premiered in spring 2005. The reincarnation remains faithful to the work’s focus of caricaturizing the French Bourgeoisie and their petty consumerist pursuit of “brides, pleasure and money.” Setting it in the 1890s Belle Époch rather than original 1850s, Kudelka successfully creates a highly decadent, whimsical atmosphere. The plot, which includes hilarious twists and turns in accord of classic cliché farce, is driven by Ferdinand, (danced by Guillaume Côté), the wealthy hubby-to-be of Hélène (danced by Chan Hon Goh), who is busy taking a stroll through a park with his horse, danced by the equine Noah Long. Nearby, Anaïs (Greta Hodgkinson), a married woman, is participating in a springtime tryst with her lover Emil (Patrick Lavoie), unvirtuously removing her delicate hat. Along comes the hungry horse, which gobbles up the hat. Anaïs is horrified to find the hat missing, and in fear of having her affair exposed, a frantic Benny Hill worthy chase ensues across Paris and up the Eiffel Tower for said chapeaux. Among the slew of eccentric characters participating in the rat race are wedding guests, a vampy milliner jilted by Ferdinand (Jennifer Fournier), a burly Baroness, and a full police force angry at the disturbance all these shenanigans are causing – sacre bleu!
Detail is a major factor in the effectiveness of the production, and meticulous attention has been paid to every aspect. The choreography includes inventive, acrobatic pas de deux bordering on dangerous, while crowd scenes are busy and chaotic, demanding the spectators’ absolute attention. Santo Loquasto’s lavish costume design comprised of extravagantly patterned black and white garments and over 65 hats, each one unique, allows for a rare and appealing individuality among the corps members. The duo tonality of the costumes is juxtaposed by the exquisitely vibrant punk-inspired cartoon sets that would make Betsey Johnson’s boudoir jealous. The original score composed by Michael Torke, who previously collaborated with Kudelka in The Contract (2002), acts as a binding element. Influenced by a quirky combination of Rossini and Bugs Bunny, the music closely reflects the speed, precision and timing of the choreography and flows effortlessly from the classical genre to a range of tango, salsa and mambo.
Hats off to Kudelka for this visually spectacular sexy satire, and to the company’s comedic characterizations. Special mention goes to the randy maid and valet of Anaïs and Ferdinand, exuberantly danced by Rebekah Rimsay and Piotr Stanczyk, who stole the show with their hysterical unrelenting humping in adventurous positions only a dancer could perform. Of course a ballet review by this critic would not be complete without its fair share of gender-bending, which is satisfied by Joseph Welbes’ channeling of his inner queen as the Baroness en pointe, while character legend Victoria Bertram dances double duty as the chubby Toulouse-Lautrec-stature butler and chief of police. Ah, gay Paris! The comedy resolves itself in the final scene, which displays more naughtiness as the Priest and maid flirt, wedding guests cancan with cops, and the newlyweds float off in a hot air balloon over the dazzling lights of Paris. This cheeky romp finely layered like a French pastry is filled with plenty of sex, both implied and blatant, with sweet plot twists leaving you craving more. Paris, je t’aime!
