Review: TAM Ballet’s Don Quixote – Anna Tsygankova and Giorgi Potskhishvili shine in Milan

A confession: despite many invitations, I have avoided attending a TAM Ballet performance. TAM stands for Teatro Arcimboldi Milano (the theatre built to house La Scala during its extensive renovations at the beginning of the millennium), which announced this new ballet company less than two years ago.

Well, it’s a ‘sort of’ company, born from a partnership between TAM Teatro degli Arcimboldi and Accademia Ucraina di Balletto (the Ukrainian Academy of Ballet). The Ukrainian Academy offers an eight-year course for students aged 10 to 18, and is an alternative to La Scala’s school. The TAM Ballet is an additional three-year course with several productions each year. Its site describes it as “a company founded with the ambition of becoming a benchmark in the dance scene in Italy and beyond.” Well, hardly. But it is certainly a springboard for young dancers (several alumni are already dancing with companies abroad, such as Rambert), and when the invited principals are of the calibre of the Dutch National Ballet‘s Anna Tsygankova and Giorgi Potskhishvili, it is a superb opportunity.

It was the presence of Tsygankova and Potskhishvili that prompted me to accept the press office’s invitation, and, guess what, I ended up having a hugely enjoyable evening.

The company’s Don Quixote was not a watered-down version, but the complete ballet, prologue and all. In fact, there was even a jarring (though fun) Sailor’s Jig in the tavern scene, one of many Soviet-era additions, this one composed by Vasily Solovyov-Sedoy.It gave three talented young men the chance to show off, though the effect, visually and aurally, was bizarre, especially as they were joined by a young woman in a flamenco dress – On the Town meets Carmen.

The dancers were well drilled, some more physically suitable than others, and several soloists danced with secure technique in variations where even seasoned dancers come a cropper.

Among the company’s own dancers, Marco Rodella, as Espada, was virtuosic and exciting; Yurin Kanasugi, as the Queen of the Dryads, was assured; and, as Amour, Sara Giubergia was delightful. Kitri’s two friends were danced by Greta Cattaneo and Federica Spiga with confidence and charm.

There was some underacting – Don Quixote moved as though in a trance throughout – and some delicious overacting from one of the young boys of the corps that made my day.

However, the evening was inevitably dominated by the two guests, though their performances were not merely slotted in at the last minute: there were various moments of interaction between them and the company.

There are more than twenty years between 25-year-old Potskhishvili and Tsygankova, but it didn’t show – she’s found her Nureyev, and the couple dance together frequently.

Tsygankova has an incredibly reliable technique, and she found balances whenever the music gave her the chance, including, excitingly, just before her descent for the final pose at the end of the grand pas de deux. Her fouettés were straight from the dance manual: shoulders down, arms rounded, maintaining her vertical axis and straying very little from her starting spot. Her smile was radiant, and in this 2,400-seater house, she always included the upper gallery. I hope the young ballerinas behind her were drinking in all they could of her performance.

Potskhishvili is a marvel. He looked thrilled to be on stage – I believe he was expressing not only his character’s delight but also his own, as a dancer revelling in the opportunity to show a new audience what he could do. His Basilio had a charming, cheeky swagger, with his hair flopping around as if it had a life of its own. The first-act humour between Basilio and Kitri was well judged; he remained on stage (without panting) after his solo to watch Kitri’s variation, and he had an easy rapport with the audience.

Of course his physical fireworks were fun and impressive – he’s like a tall Ivan Vasiliev: not always precise, but thrilling. He loves finishing a series of turns like an ice skater, bringing down the working leg into a coupé, and when he holds Kitri aloft (as long as the music allows) he slyly rises up to demi-pointe. Tsygankova trusted him totally, with her leg whipping up into retiré in a flash in the fish dives (instead of the slow-motion version that is now customary) and his arms shooting out to the sides just as quickly, holding the pose.

They received a standing ovation.

This wasn’t ABT or POB, but it worked. Yes, the scenery was wrinkly, with flapping painted cloths, but when the curtain opened (La Scala’s old burgundy curtain, which once formed the backdrop to Fracci and Nureyev taking their applause), it had a strong effect. When the final, predominantly sky-blue scene was revealed, the audience gasped.

The blurb on the company’s site states that the project aims to offer ‘young ballet talents… a prestigious platform to express their art’. Mission accomplished.