La Strada with Alina Cojocaru – “ingenious” choreography and “excellent” dancers in an “incoherent” production [Review and Photo Albums]

From the publicity image of Alina Cojocaru’s appealing face in clown makeup, you’d assume she would be playing a cute gamine role in her company’s production of La Strada, based on Fellini’s 1954 film. Yes, she is Gelsomina, the poignant heroine of the film, memorably portrayed by Guilietta Masina, Fellini’s wife. But there’s nothing cute about Cojocaru’s interpretation of Gelsomina’s plight.

Cojocaru had long wanted to turn the film’s haunting story into a ballet (as others had done before). Her plans were disrupted by the pandemic and by the need into find the right collaborators. Now 42, she pursues a freelance career as a ballerina and producer, after leaving as a principal dancer with the Royal Ballet and then English National Ballet. She has close ties as a guest artist with John Neumeier’s Hamburg Ballet (many of the 11 dancers in La Strada have come from his company). Much loved and admired as a performer, she has set up her own charitable foundation and production company Acworkroom Ltd. La Strada is her first full-length commission, with Natalia Horecna, Slovak former dancer, as its choreographer.

Together, they have reimagined Fellini’s story about a travelling circus troupe as a depiction in dance of the main characters’ thoughts and feelings ­– motivations that they themselves might not understand. It’s a tall order. First of all, you need to know the basic plot of the film. Naïve young country girl, Gelsomina, is sold by her widowed mother to a brutal Strong Man performer, Zampano (Mick Zeni, ex-La Scala principal dancer). She is required to collect money from spectators in her bowler hat – the cute bit, all smiles and admiring gestures. Zampano abuses her but she depends on him and maybe needs to love him. He kills her admirer, tightrope walker Il Matto (Johan Kobborg) and abandons her. Broken-spirited, she dies (probably).

Not much of a plot, but even so, the ballet doesn’t tell it clearly enough. A flashback prologue in which Zampano learns of Gelsomina’s death is baffling. In what way does he abuse her, other than obliging her to do supported pirouettes with him? In the film, he rapes her, sleeps with her and goes off with other women. We see none of this for most of Act I: she appears trusting and cheerful, enjoying the antics of the circus folk in their eccentric costumes. (Designs are by former dancer Otto Bubenicek, who also did the spare but vivid set). She doesn’t engage with the performers; her companions are two angels (Marc Jubete and David Rodrigues) in white shirts whose billowing sleeves resemble wings. They assist her in soaring lifts as she experiences her new life, eager and curious.

 Il Matto arrives on a unicycle (instead of a high wire) to applause from the circus performers. Gelsomina is entranced by his skilful tricks ­– juggling and deft batterie in his show-off solo. Unaware that Zampano is resentful, Gelsomina learns how to be partnered by Il Matto, who has taken a shine to her. She lies down invitingly, arms above her head, just like Manon in Kenneth MacMillan‘s ballet. Il Matto backs away and leaves on his unicycle. Why? She is bewildered, as are we. In the film, Il Matto (the Holy Fool) tells her that her purpose is to be loyal to Zampano, who might love her. The ensuing choreography for Gelsomina with the two angels shows that she is conflicted, pulled this way and that: does she want to be with reluctant Il Matto or is she co-dependent on Zambano’s violence? Fine actress though she is, Cojocaru can’t reveal the complexities of her dilemma.

Act I ends with sinister revels by the circus folk, involving horrifying giant clown puppets. Gelsomina is disillusioned with circus life, no longer an innocent. Abruptly, she sits in silence, clutching her little trombone, as the curtain falls. It’s a weak ending to what has been an intriguing first half.

Choreographer Horecna’s choice of music by Fellini’s favourite composer, Nino Rota, from many different films (The Leopard, Casanova, La Dolce Vita, as well as La Strada) is sometimes ironic, contrasting Gelsomina’s distress with jaunty excerpts or accentuating the sweetness of her encounters with Il Matto. Although the recorded compilation serves as a filmic ballet score for Act I, abrupt transitions in Act II distort the development of the tragic story, with unnecessary padding.

The second act starts with a long and lovely dream sequence for the angels and Gelsomina, in which Cojocaru, all in white, appears to be flying weightlessly. Then Zampano, drunk, gets into a fight with Il Matto, who taunts him. Both wear striped outfits, indicating that there are two sides to their characters, bad and good. They are attended by the two angels, serving as their consciences. Zampano kills Il Matto. The circus entertainers, watch as a kind of chorus, bearing witness but uninvolved. Gelsomina grieves, along with the attendant angels, and Zambano thrashes about in remorse. The time scale becomes confused, with apparitions by dead Il Matto, including a fine solo recalling his glory days as a performer. Kobborg, at 51, is a riveting presence, in command of the stage and the audience, his dancing as lithe and sharp as ever.

Cojocaru seems ethereal as she mourns, her eloquent body more like that of a spirit than a traumatised woman. According to the synopsis, the angels are preparing her for a journey: is it to compassionate forgiveness in the afterlife? How can we tell? The last act drags on until there’s a baffling epilogue, apparently years later. Zampano returns to his old haunts and memories. The circus folk are now visitors in ordinary street clothes. Gelsomina is present, as are her angels. Alone at the end, she smiles at the audience. Has she survived or is she a ghost? Has she redeemed Zampano? How can we tell?

The production loses its way in the second half by focusing on the saintliness of Gelsomina, losing track of Zampano. Fellini’s film ends on him, crushed with regret. Though Zeni is able to imply that Zampano is more than a brute, his character makes no ‘journey’ to insight in the ballet. Kobborg’s enigmatic Il Matto has no context and the circus folk are stereotypes. That said, the dancers are excellent, committed to their roles. Horecna’s choreography for the intrusive angels, Jubete and Rodrigues, is an ingenious combination of ballet and contemporary movement, making them truly otherworldly. A pity that the ambitious production is ultimately incoherent.

La Strada – photo gallery by ASH

La Strada – photo gallery by Andrej Uspenski

Jann Parry

Jann Parry, former dance critic of The Observer (1983-2004), has written for many publications as a freelance, and has contributed to radio and TV documentaries about dancers.

She is the author of the award-winning biography Different Drummer, the life of Kenneth MacMillan (2009).