A tragic flaw is one thing — every hero should have one — but Mayerling’s Rudolf, a syphilitic drug addict with a mother fixation and a death wish, is a very hard man to love.
Kenneth MacMillan’s 1978 ballet, currently being revived at Covent Garden, tells the complex tale of the Crown Prince of Austria-Hungary and his 1889 suicide pact with his teenage mistress. The narrative unfolds in flashback with cinematic sweep to a cunning patchwork of 30 Franz Liszt compositions invisibly mended by John Lanchbery. The grandeur of the Viennese court is deftly sketched by designer Nicholas Georgiadis. Vast interiors are evoked with a swath of fabric and the women’s gowns suggest the bulk of bustles without cramping MacMillan’s style.
Edward Watson, who danced the lead at last Friday’s opening, was never a natural prince — none of the three Tchaikovsky ballets is in his repertoire — and Rudolf’s adagios have always stretched his technique to the limit, but any rough edges only add to our sense of a personality in meltdown.
Watson’s partnering style is expertly tailored to each of the six women in the Prince’s life, culminating in the searing encounters with Mary Vetsera.
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