Ballet Shoes at the National Theatre ~ review
When actress Noel Streatfield put pen to paper to write her seminal children’s book Ballet Shoes, she did so at the most exciting time for the evolution of national Ballet in England, and it is this pioneering spirit that is captured in the NT’s creative adaptation.
For a book that focuses on the alternative family of the three orphaned ‘Fossil Sisters’ and their similarly abandoned guardian, ‘Garnie,’ it is interesting that the action opens on the seafaring daring-do of ‘Great Uncle Matthew’ – the benefactor whose privilege sees him globe-trotting the earth as a now defunct creature – a professional explorer. Justin Salinger Plays this role with the suitable gusto of a self-absorbed maverick academic.
However, the illumination of an isolated door on the stage, quickly invites us into the world of the Fossil women and that staple of all middle-class households of a certain era – a long-suffering, jack of all trades, Nanny.
Rising up from this magical ‘wardrobe’ of a door, is a towering hodgepodge of rooms, feathered taxidermy, a landing and suggestions of dubious plumbing. The effect is an invitation not unlike a visit to Hogwarts – only more scrappily British and impoverished. This is part of the magic of the book – the depiction of 1930s London, where resources are thin and there is an abundance of smoke, theatre and illusion.
And indeed, characters – You would be a pretty feelingless adult not to be moved to tears by the ambition and naïve determination of: Pauline, Petrova and Posy Fossil, as Streatfield and her adaptor, Kendall Feaver, take us by the hand on that rare trajectory – of childhood dreams satisfied in a world of advocating adults and brilliant role-models.
In this version, the role of Theo Dane, the down-at-heal review dancer and lodger of the Fossil household, is played by Nadine Higgin with a singing American accent. This adds another layer of story to the role – of a woman whose experience traverses oceans. The role of the lodger-mechanic who nurtures little Fossil, Petrova’s passion for engines, is also creatively interpreted as migrant, ‘Jai,’ whose characterisation as a hard-working tradesman from the sub-continent, by Sid Sagar, makes fitting reference to the socially mobile Asian workforce in Britain. Both are played with chutzpah and good humour.
Perhaps the most touching figure of all is Madame Fidolia, the exiled Russian Princess and Ballerina who becomes Posy’s mentor until she shuffles the mortal coil in a sequence that sees her dance with her younger self in a mirror. To my mind, this is the most interesting character of the novel as she tells the plight of some of the most influential dance teachers of the twentieth century. One of whom, the Princess Astafieva, was mentor to Margot Fonteyn and many other members of our burgeoning Royal Ballet company before passing into the ethereal realms in her London studio. Played by a man, Justin Salinger, this subversive choice brought to life the diva-like qualities of these personalities who made modern ballet and existed in the urban melting pot of the more popular, ‘review’ theatre of the thirties.
The girls themselves, played by Daisy Sequerra as Posy, Yanexi Enriquez as Petrova and Grace Saif as Pauline, have been well cast, demonstrating seamless intention and garrulous desire to ‘survive and thrive.’ This sentiment being particularly illustrative of the show’s use of modern maxims.
Choreography from Ellen Kane and Jonathan Goodard is, by turns, triumphant and curious, including a slick take on a ‘modernist’ Midsummer Night’s Dream decked out, Metropolis style, in spikey and tubular costumes, and Posy’s audition for Madame Manov’s Paris school. The latter seemed oddly repetitive and modest for the character’s final flourish, even if it holds true to an eleven-year-old’s repertoire. Suggestions and exaggerations of ballet technique and style ripple throughout with a kind of robust humour as the play’s children get to grips with it. This did, at times look a little jarring for a piece about the pursuit of excellence among other desires.
But as a lavish, exuberant and dreamy whole, this ‘classic’ adaptation traces the passages and emotion of a globally loved story with fine-tuning and flow. There were also interesting editions, such as a focus on the professional community of high temperaments, spit and sawdust during the Fossil’s engagement on a Midsummer Night’s Dream. One omission was a personal blow – the playwright’s erasure of ‘The Bluebird of Happiness.’ This mythical creature which featured in the Fossil’s performances of Maeterlinck’s classic had flown from this adaptation, but has served as symbol of aspiration, innocence and freedom in others, including the lovely BBC serial of 1975, which included actors with living memory of pre-war theatre.
The NT’s Christmas offering serves to reignite childlike hope and adventure while reanimating a pocket of British history that is fading fast from living memory, not least the characters who stoked the engine of nineteen thirties theatreland.
