It was a damp Wednesday night in October, and I sat on the edge of my seat at the Royal Opera House, anticipation building like a gathering storm. "Fool on the Hill," a ballet to the music of The Beatles, premiered in 1976, and I had heard whispers, hushed and filled with both reverence and trepidation. Would it be a triumph or a travesty? Could a musical icon like John Lennon be translated effectively onto the stage, stripped of its rock 'n' roll energy and amplified by the silence and the elegance of ballet?
From the opening notes of "Being for the Benefit of Mr Kite!", I was captivated. The stage was bathed in a warm, amber light, like the setting sun illuminating a Victorian fairground. The dancers, dressed in whimsical costumes inspired by the lyrics, pirouetted and leapt, their movements fluid and expressive, mirroring the fantastical nature of the music. The sheer energy of the piece, infused with the relentless forward momentum of The Beatles, pulsed through the auditorium. This was not simply ballet mimicking music, it was a marriage of two distinct artistic expressions, finding resonance in their shared power to evoke emotions and transport the audience to other realms.
The narrative, as I interpreted it, focused on a lone, misunderstood individual, a "Fool on the Hill," ostracized but unperturbed, who seeks solace in his own unique perspective. The choreography, crafted by the legendary Frederick Ashton, echoed this sentiment, creating moments of quiet introspection punctuated by bursts of joyous abandon. There were moments of startlingly innovative use of space and staging, like during "She's Leaving Home," where the dancers became shadows of their former selves, gliding through the darkened stage like ghosts, their movements a haunting echo of loss and regret.
As the piece progressed, we traversed the expansive Beatles' catalogue, from the playful melodies of "Yellow Submarine" to the melancholic introspection of "Strawberry Fields Forever". Each movement felt like a chapter, unveiling a different facet of the music and its inherent storytelling potential. In "Here Comes the Sun", the dancers, dressed in vibrant yellow, formed a radiant sunbeam, its warmth and optimism cascading across the stage, while "Eleanor Rigby," performed with heartbreaking precision, was a study in solitude and loneliness.
There was, however, a certain undeniable element of theatrical irony in interpreting the lyrics of a band known for its outspoken rebellion against social norms, within the highly structured framework of classical ballet. But Ashton embraced this tension, infusing his choreography with an underlying element of subversion, a constant reminder of the inherent theatricality and performance in the music. The choreography wasn't a mere interpretation of the music; it was a dialogue, a playful exchange between the lyrical structure of classical ballet and the vibrant, impulsive spirit of The Beatles' rock 'n' roll energy.
Then, came the climax - "Hey Jude," the quintessential Beatles' anthem. The music filled the hall, the emotion, raw and pure, echoing in the dancer's expressions, in the way their movements stretched and contorted, reaching for something just beyond their grasp. And, in the end, it wasn't just the music that held us captive; it was the powerful and poignant dance that unfolded before our eyes, an artistic triumph that left the audience enthralled. The applause was thunderous, as though the entire Royal Opera House had breathed as one.
The DancersThere is, of course, a reason why a performance of "Fool on the Hill" remains etched in my memory, more vividly than any other ballet. It was the dancers who made this ballet come to life, breathing their souls into every pirouette and arabesque. Leading the company, radiating effortless elegance and exquisite technical prowess was, of course, the legendary Margot Fonteyn. She played the enigmatic "Fool on the Hill," a role she seemed born to portray, with an unassuming grace and understated intensity that had me entranced from the moment she appeared on the stage.
Alongside her, the talented young dancer, Anthony Dowell, portrayed a kind of idealized Beatles fan. In his interpretation of the music, there was a youthful exuberance, a passionate intensity, which was mirrored in the breathtaking athleticism of his performance. Their synergy was tangible, their performance a testament to their unwavering technical abilities and their ability to weave a narrative purely through their bodies.
Other standout performances came from the talented corps de ballet, each member contributing their own unique expression of the music. There was a beautiful, ethereal quality to their dancing in "Strawberry Fields Forever", while the energy in "Revolution" was raw and unbridled, a kaleidoscope of whirling bodies and chaotic beauty.
Watching the entire company dance together, they felt like extensions of the music, their bodies moving with the same seamless ease and flowing rhythm. Their presence wasn't just a physical one; they were embodiments of the energy, the emotion, the storytelling inherent in The Beatles' music.
The Music
To discuss the music is to discuss The Beatles, a band who redefined the very landscape of popular music, leaving an indelible mark on music and pop culture. Their melodies, infused with both lyrical tenderness and gritty power, are an inextricable part of our collective consciousness.
The use of "Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite!", a musical tapestry of whimsical sounds and circus imagery, as the opening of the ballet was pure genius. It was the perfect bridge between the abstract realm of music and the physical world of ballet.
The musical selection for the ballet was not just a collection of hits but a careful curation of songs, each chosen for its capacity to be translated into dance. The Beatles' iconic anthems such as "Hey Jude" and "Let It Be," echoed through the hall, their uplifting melodies resonating in every ripple and swirl of the dancer’s bodies.
But it wasn’t just about the hits. Tracks like "Eleanor Rigby," "She's Leaving Home," and "Blackbird," chosen for their poetic beauty and haunting melancholy, added layers of depth and introspection to the ballet. They were not mere background music but integral to the narrative.
A Triumph of Artistic Collaboration
"Fool on the Hill" was a triumph of artistic collaboration. It was a ballet that not only celebrated the music of The Beatles but also pushed the boundaries of dance, bringing to life the hidden narrative and storytelling potential within their music.
For the audience, it was an unforgettable experience. The performance was an amalgamation of musical brilliance and masterful choreography, creating a spectacle that transcended language, cultural barriers, and generations. It was, perhaps, the ultimate expression of the shared power of art and music, to evoke emotions, spark imagination, and unite an audience in a shared experience of wonder.
It was more than just a performance. It was a reminder that the human experience is a complex tapestry of emotions and experiences, all worthy of celebration, and that the truest expression of ourselves lies in our ability to connect with each other through music and dance.