Ballets 56

A Midsummer Night’s Dream: Where Magic and Music Meet The Bolshoi Theatre in Moscow. A whirlwind of tutus, tights, and testosterone, I was standing in the wings, ready to take on my role as one of the fairies in the legendary ballet “A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” The score – a vibrant, swirling, playful melody by Felix Mendelssohn - thrummed around me, preparing the air for something magical, something otherworldly, something truly transcendent. It wasn’t the Bolshoi, of course, but our tiny studio, and we were no famous Bolshoi dancers, but that was the magic of the stage – in our world of stretched tights and bruised feet, the stage allowed us to be anyone, anywhere, and transported us beyond ourselves. And for those ninety minutes of the ballet, it felt like the whole world could come alive through a dance. I stepped out onto the stage. It was almost like walking through a veil, leaving behind the reality of my everyday and entering a dreamscape - an almost imperceptible mist floating just above the stage, an otherworldly scent, a sense of ethereal beauty in the air that hung like the scent of honeysuckle. The air around me vibrated with a heightened energy, and even with the stifling humidity, I could sense the anticipation from the audience; that electricity, that tangible energy in the room, waiting to explode in the magic of a night under the summer moon. It felt surreal, impossible – an experience that could be described as nothing other than pure, magical, beautiful theatre. That sense of magic didn’t come just from the carefully-constructed scene or the shimmer of the lighting on our costumes; it arose, for me at least, from the power of music and dance to communicate on an unspoken, deep level, to awaken a truth that existed beneath the surface, like the murmur of a hidden stream in a silent wood. The magic that Mendelssohn creates with his music for this ballet – a piece that remains relevant even in our own world – is remarkable. The soaring melody, like a bird's flight, at times feels almost chaotic; it sweeps you up in the swirl of the energy, mirroring the capricious and chaotic nature of both human emotions and nature. Yet even within the whirlwind of emotion, the beauty, the tenderness, and the fragility shine through; like the moonbeams falling on a dew-kissed blossom, each delicate sound of the symphony speaks with profound resonance of the power of love, sorrow, anger and ultimately the transcendent joy of life. This was true not just of the music but of the choreography too. I had long studied ballet. My father was a former dancer who used to teach me some steps. Now, watching our studio come alive, my heart raced as the dancers, even those less experienced than me, stepped onto the stage and transformed. Their movements – seemingly effortless and elegant, yet strong, powerful and fluid – made me ache to be more skilled. I imagined I felt like Puck; he had never lived this life until Oberon gave him the opportunity, just like the chance we all have on stage – a magical moment that made each performance feel unique and real. A Dance of Two Worlds The core of Shakespeare's Midsummer Night’s Dream lies in the contrast, in the tension between two worlds: the earthy and the mystical, the everyday and the extraordinary, the human and the fairy. This tension is masterfully conveyed in the ballet, through the interplay between the lyrical grace of the fairies, the playful human characters and the sheer athletic power of the dancers. It was this power that both captivated and frustrated me; we weren't on the grand stage of the Bolshoi; the space felt more constricting. Our leaps were less dramatic; there was no dazzling costume for us. But the music - its beautiful melody, like a river that could either cradle a ship or tear it asunder - still brought a sense of reality and made this world, this studio stage, real and alive. As the music swelled, the story of A Midsummer Night’s Dream unfolds. We saw the humans’ passions clash; the clash of wills, the pangs of unrequited love, the pangs of misunderstanding, the desperate, yearning passion of Titania for Bottom - it was all beautifully and painfully rendered in the balletic interplay between our dancers and actors, and then of course the fairies: Titania, Oberon, Puck, the courtiers - all those beautifully rendered characters from Shakespeare's text. The performance made real Shakespeare's original work, breathing new life into it. For a fleeting moment, during rehearsals, the whole thing was a jumble - confusing costumes and conflicting interpretations - a jumbled and messy world; much like the lives of the Athenian nobles whose fates are thrown into chaos by the antics of Puck, in our own way we too had been led around by the noses of Puck's capricious spells, made to do a series of nonsensical dances, but each moment as the music grew and the costumes glittered, I understood more and more what it was to tell this story; it was to embrace the chaotic, yet still seek the harmonious. It was to laugh and cry, to experience joy and pain and above all to make a moment of time something beautiful and magical. The Power of Dance and Music On stage, everything seems possible, nothing is impossible – anything can happen, from the seemingly improbable romance between a young woman and a clumsy donkey to the hilarious love triangle between the fairies, Helena, Hermia and Demetrius. It’s as though in this fairy-filled forest, our perceptions shift; our sense of logic fades, and instead of asking "why" or "how" we surrender ourselves to the delight of simply experiencing something, feeling something, knowing that this moment in time – this performance – this play, is alive, breathing and beating with a wild, unruly heartbeat. At that moment – under the gentle gaze of the stage lights, feeling the thrum of Mendelssohn's music echoing in my very being – I understood why people have flocked to ballets for centuries: because dance is both a universal and a profound language; it is a language that transcends words, cultures, and even time, and that expresses truths, emotions and dreams with an intensity that words alone cannot match. And then there was Mendelssohn's score: its melody like a soaring, swirling tide. Its ability to paint sonic portraits of nature’s delicate beauty, the tumultuous energy of passions, and the fleeting moments of happiness gave the dance its energy, its structure and ultimately its sense of power. It's a ballet about transformation; the transformations of a simple working man (Bottom), the transformations of two lovers’ desires for one another, the transformation of a group of people - the Athenian Court - into chaotic beasts. But for us, the dance troupe of a small local studio, it was our own chance at transformation: from dancers and performers to storytellers and weavers of dreams. This was the magic we created on stage, that transformative energy, a powerful force that carried us all away – dancers, performers and audience - into the magic, the madness and ultimately the sheer wonder of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. The magic lingered for long after the last notes of the music died down. I walked out into the darkness, leaving the studio behind, and my mind was still humming with the melody. I walked through the moonlit streets, thinking about the dance, the stories, the transformations, and I understood that a true appreciation for the power of music and dance requires a sense of awe; a kind of willing surrender, where we allow ourselves to be swept away, and in that magical space, for those fleeting, transformative moments, everything feels possible, a dreamscape becomes reality and beauty takes flight. Mendelssohn: Music of The Magical As I left the theatre, my thoughts wandered back to the musical heart of A Midsummer Night's Dream. Felix Mendelssohn’s music – a whirlwind of sound and colour, at once whimsical and majestic – perfectly captures the delicate, shifting emotions that weave their way through Shakespeare's timeless tale. Every note of Mendelssohn's score resonates with the essence of this fairytale: the playful, mischievous melody of Puck, the tender and yearning love between Oberon and Titania, and the ethereal quality of the fairies – each has its own unique colour. Each note is imbued with a magical, transformative quality, the music almost pulsates with the same sort of wild energy that fuels the magic in Shakespeare’s story. From the initial soft and gentle opening of the "Overture" – almost an echo of the fairies whispering on the wind - through the soaring harmonies and powerful climax of "Wedding March", the "Overture" to the "Intermezzo," and "Nocturne", the whole work is an absolute masterclass of musical story telling, where the music becomes not just the backdrop to the dance but a full and authentic language. The dance itself - a stunning, mesmerizing mix of graceful and powerful movements – brought the magic to life. There are moments where the movements are so light and free - almost weightless - that it felt as if we, the audience, were levitating alongside the fairies in an otherworldly realm; in other moments the dance is a breathtaking show of strength, agility, and passion, just like the emotions that drive Shakespeare's characters. But whether it’s the light, dancing movements or the energetic, explosive bursts of the dance - Mendelssohn’s score never fails to elevate each movement, giving them emotional resonance, emotional depth and adding layer upon layer of emotional nuance and colour, And finally there's the "Scherzo." I loved this. The way the notes play around and bounce and create a playful energy - a little bit cheeky, a little bit naughty and a little bit mischievous, which perfectly embodied the nature of the magic that shapes the story. And there is a magical touch to the whole score - as though Mendelssohn had somehow managed to weave the delicate enchantment of fairies, the passion of the lovers and the chaotic humour of the forest sprites directly into the very fabric of the music itself. And this was truly what A Midsummer Night’s Dream, to music by Felix Mendelssohn was; an exquisite testament to the transformative power of art and its ability to awaken a sense of the extraordinary, the surreal and the wondrous – even in the midst of our mundane reality. The ballet was an elegant dance through a world of moonlit magic. I had a role in creating something magical, a moment of beauty. The night itself became a stage, the world itself a realm of magical beauty and boundless possibility. And it made me truly understand that beauty was more than what you saw; it was something you had to find within the dance, within the music, and most importantly within yourself.