Swanky Swans

Nearly a dozen years after their original triumphant Broadway sighting, Matthew Bourne’s powerfully elegant male swans have flown back into town, landing this time on the [City Center stage]. Yes, his seminal—and dramatically persuasive—version of Swan Lake has returned for four weeks, danced mainly by a new generation in a production—rehearsed and to some extent revised by Bourne—that once again is vivid and revelatory.

The iconic imagery of Bourne’s 1995 take on the Tchaikovsky classic remains: the fierce, proud swans who shatter the traditional imagery of swan maidens in white headpieces, tutus and pointe shoes. Bare-chested and wearing brilliantly designed fluffy knee-length leggings that cleverly evoke feathers and flight, Bourne’s swans are both alluring and dangerous. They are wild, heedless creatures, not reined in by any enchanted spell. Rather, they—and especially their leader, performed with exceptional power and intensity by Jonathan Ollivier (alternating with Richard Windsor)—swoop in as the ultimate fever dream of the Prince’s repressed, confused mind.

The hypnotic swan scenes are just one aspect of Bourne’s inventive, idiosyncratic—and occasionally irreverent—production, which follows the four-act structure and includes most of the familiar score (heard here on recording). Most impressive is the cinematic sweep and swift pacing. Act One alone—which in traditional stagings is one continuous scene at which the prince celebrates with his populace and learns that it’s time to choose a wife—encompasses seven different scenes. Thanks to the evocative, sleekly efficient sets by Lez Brotherston (whose also designed the brilliant costumes), we are quickly drawn into the prince’s world as he progresses from a boy in an oversized bed, clutching a toy swan and dreaming of the turbulent encounter that lies ahead, through the endless routines of royal life, as he trudges dutifully alongside his mother the Queen. (Dad is nowhere in the picture—as is the case in just about every Swan Lake.)

Bourne deftly, and often wittily, portrays the world of this royal cipher, who exists to do everyone else’s bidding and lives at a distant remove from the gawking masses at whom he and his mother stiffly wave. His early encounter with a voracious, crass and clueless blonde (an entertainingly over-the-top Madelaine Brennan) would be enough to turn him off women for good. And he certainly can find no connection with the strutting vamps and glamour girls (in Brotherston’s to-die-for array of black gowns and ensembles) who attend the Act Three royal ball. But then there’s no need—the devastatingly sexy, disdainful and subtly brutal Stranger has crashed the party—igniting the hormones of every woman in the room—notably the Queen—while driving the poor Prince to distraction. No wonder: In Bourne’s deft parallel to the usual Odette/Odile scenario, the same dancer as the Swan who threw the prince’s life into turmoil in the previous act portrays him. His long tapered legs clad in black leather, his intensely focused gaze sending palpable vibes across the stage, Ollivier was a delectably sensual and ominous figure here, and showcased formidable partnering as well as dramatic skill.

Since it premiered in the era of Princess Diana, many found intriguing and amusing parallels to the royal family of that era. Certainly Bourne’s conception of the Queen (Nina Goldman, in a smartly layered performance)—and her initial prim late-’50s/ lavender outfit—suggest Queen Elizabeth. The prince seems to come of age during the swinging ’60s as he finds his way to a club, the Swank, where all kinds of sexual possibilities and fetishes are available.

Since this Swan Lake’s four-month, Tony Award-winning Broadway run, both local major ballet companies have introduced unsatisfying new productions of the ballet that at best hold intermittent interest. (And the major twist in ABT’s Kevin McKenzie staging—the dual portrayal of the evil sorcerer Von Rothbart, who transforms into a magnetic, suavely assertive figure who ignites the party in Act Three—clearly owes a debt to Bourne.) Bourne’s theatrical sophistication and musical insights are so original and persuasive that his few miscues stand out in relief. The ballet-within-the-ballet—a simpering divertissement for butterflies, a clunky sylph-wannabe and a prancing woodsman carrying a hatchet that the royal family attends—takes on easy targets and isn’t sharp or stinging enough to merit its duration. And the appearance of guns as Act Three reaches its climax carries the action into unnecessarily melodramatic territory at odds with the sophistication and savvy of all the rest.

This Swan Lake—both consistently entertaining and psychologically probing—is so enduring because it operates on multiple levels. The Prince is very much the central figure here, and Simon Williams (who alternates with Dominic North) blended dancing and acting seamlessly as he made this journey from vulnerable passivity to exhilarating liberation to wounded helplessness and betrayal.

Through Nov. 7. [City Center], 131 W. 55 St. (betw. 6th & 7th Aves.), 212-581-1212; times vary, $25 & up.