Onegin at the Royal Ballet review: a passionate tribute to longing and regret
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Woulda coulda shoulda. The low hum of regret runs through Onegin, as a summer idyll turns to sorrow. John Cranko’s 1965 ballet is based on Eugene Onegin. Less spiky than Pushkin’s original poem, less plush than Tchaikovsky’s opera, it’s a romance gone wrong. Two sisters enjoy country life – Tatiana has her story books, Olga her poet fiancé, Lensky. Then Lensky’s jaded pal Onegin arrives. Soon, he has spurned Tatiana’s crush on him, messed with his friend’s happiness, fought a pointless duel and ruined his own chance of joy.
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Cranko set his ballet to a patchwork of bittersweet Tchaikovsky – even the merriest melodies have a backnote of sorrow. His choreography is striking and elegant, but not deep – it depends on the dancers’ clean lines and feel for nuance, and the Royal’s first night cast did him proud.
Reece Clarke’s Onegin slopes disdainfully onto the stage, raising a quizzical eyebrow. He smirks unkindly at Tatiana’s novel, sits ostentatiously apart at parties, and idly plays at flirtation like a cat testing its claws on your sofa. Tatiana, one of Marianela Nuñez’s best roles, draws out her gift for unforced feeling. You can almost feel her blush. Dreaming of an idealised Onegin, she’s all breath-catching turns of speed and ecstatic arches, danced to a rippling harp. It’s a blissful imaginary conversation: he hoists her on his shoulders to show her the world of adult passion.
Actual Onegin shoves Tatiana aside with a hand in the small of her back, rips up her love letter and hands back the shreds. She’s a gentle soul who deserves better. Even so, Clarke hints at real anxiety lurking beneath his fake ennui, and Nuñez finds the steel to stare him down and shame him.
