
Marta Mele sees the bright colours and the tragedy of unattainable love in La Bayadère at Rome Opera House with Iana Salenko and Bakhtiyar Adamzhan.
| Title | La Bayadère |
| Company | Rome Opera Ballet |
| Venue | Teatro dell’Opera di Roma |
| Date | 7 and 13 February 2026 |
| Reviewer | Marta Mele |
From the vibrant colours of a non-philologically reconstructed India – where sumptuous drapes, majestic elephants, and tigers reign supreme – to the dreamlike evocations of the Kingdom of the Shades, Marius Petipa’s La Bayadère continues to enchant contemporary audiences. Originally created in 1877 in St Petersburg, this continues to enchant contemporary audiences.
In Rome, the audience witnessed a new version by choreographer Benjamin Pech, who had previously performed Solor at the Paris Opera in Rudolf Nureyev’s version. Marius Petipa’s brilliance reached Western audiences primarily thanks to two defectors from the Kirov, the ‘Flying Tartar’ and Natalia Makarova. While the former concluded his version with the abstraction of the Kingdom of the Shades, the latter reconstructed the original drama conceived by Sergei Chudekov, coauthor with Petipa of the libretto, with a fourth act inspired by the Wrath of the Gods.
Pech inherits Nureyev’s attention to the male character, observing with renewed attention his inner struggle between fidelity to love and the seduction of power. He also expands the figure of Gamzatti and consolidates the ballet into two acts, contrasting reality with dreams, grandeur with melancholy.
The production is dominated by an abstract figurative symbolism conceived by the artist Ignasi Monreal, embodied in an imposing golden sphere designed to facilitate the characters’ entrance through a central opening. This allows for much free stage space for the dances, which see the expressive dynamism of the bare-chested fakirs intent on celebrating the fire ritual, in contrast with the statuesque rigidity of the fighters in military uniforms and the Indian priests, their heads covered in cinematic golden helmets designed by Anna Biagiotti, director of the Rome Opera’s Costume department.
The dancing of the bayadères is imbued with Arabian seduction, evident in the design of their arms, open to the sides and palms facing upward. Solor’s grand jetés appear imperious, especially when played by Bakhtiyar Adamzhan, principal dancer of the Astana Opera, trained in Almaty and heir to the Soviet male dance tradition. Nikiya’s entrance is solemn, her head covered by a veil. Guest performer Iana Salenko, principal dancer of the Staatsballett Berlin, reveals from the opening port de bras the tragic impossibility of giving voice to true love. Despite being a privileged figure consecrated to temple service as a devoted lover of the god, she is often destined to self-immolation, as described in Goethe’s ballad The God and the Bayadère. The bayadère possesses a refined dancing ability, and this is what prima ballerina Marianna Suriano, with her distinctive sensuality imbued with sweetness, suggests in another cast.
When Nikiya and Solor join in a duet, their elegant, vaporous lifts reveal the flight of dancing emotions, but their love is destined to collide with the Brahmin’s wrath, expressed through powerful pantomime movements reminiscent of contemporary gestures. The second scene is reserved for the world of Gamzatti and her father, the Father: the colours yellow and red prevail, symbols of royalty, luxury, and heated passions. It is the act reserved for palace intrigues and the brutal violence of the clash between Solor’s betrothed and her rival. Here, Federica Maine’s regal and restrained performance as Gamzatti alternated with Susanna Salvi’s flamboyant spectacularity in an alternative cast.
The full extent of the majestic and surreal character of the grand processions characterises the third act, inspired by influences from opera. The great virtuosity of Simone Agrò’s dance in the role of the Golden Idol is followed by the pressing rhythm of the Indian drum dance, while the dance with the jug is meticulous (the lively participation of the students of the theatre’s Ballet School is noteworthy in these dances).
The imposing grand pas de deux borrows from other ballets, and Gamzatti’s change of costume evokes the Black Swan. When Solor hints at arm motifs reminiscent of the bayadère Nikiya, Gamzatti captivates him with the language of his grand developpés.
Finally, the moment arrives for Nikiya’s double variation. The languid lyricism of the port de bras and cambrés alternates with the unbridled rhythm of the emboîtés during the basket dance. Enraptured by the scent of the flowers, Nikiya finds herself furiously struggling against a snakebite. Taking the antidote proposed by the Brahmin would save her, but Solor is too involved in the official engagement, and Nikiya lets herself die, bitterly.
The second act is introduced by a variation of Solor, in the throes of opium-induced hallucinations. Giant poppies descend from above, while bayadères advance in procession from the back of the stage. To the elegiac music of Minkus, beautifully conducted here by French conductor Fayçal Karoui, we witness the triumph of the purest dance symphony, anticipating the twentieth-century experiments of Fyodor Lopukhov and George Balanchine.
The colour red returns to characterise the finale. In Pech’s contemporary vision, Solor’s inner drama is reconstructed in the pragmatism of a marriage geared to social advancement, while Nikiya’s shadow is reduced to a dreamlike background figure.












I wish the Royal Ballet would revive their beautiful production of La Bayadère.
The ballet is long overdue a revival.