An Insidious Cultural Erosion

“La fille mal gardée”
Ballet of the Teatro dell’Opera di Roma
Teatro Costanzi
Rome, Italy
May 06, 2023 (matinee and evening performance)

by Ilona Landgraf
Copyright © 2023 by Ilona Landgraf

Two performances of Frederick Ashton’s hilarious “La fille mal gardée” in sunny Rome – doesn’t that sound irresistible? Laughter is inevitable when Lise, the wayward peasant’s daughter, mischievously arranges tête-à-têtes with her lover Colas. That’s how I’ve experienced “La fille mal gardée” previously.
This time, though, the laughter stuck in my throat. Too much did the overexcited quirks of Lise’s mother Simone – a role traditionally danced in drag – remind me of reality. A reality that – at least in some of the western countries – has been shaped by the LGBTQ+ community’s persistent effort to be celebrated within mainstream culture. Bearing in mind some of their avid advocates (the transgender model Dylan Mulvaney, for example, or the drag queen Joshua Kelley who recently was appointed the US Navy’s first digital ambassador), I don’t find Simone funny anymore. And worse, the moment a sense of reality sneaks into Ashton’s village folk, the characterization of Alain (Simone’s favorite son-in-law) as the village idiot becomes unbearable too. Though of marriageable age, he clings to his wealthy father’s coat-tails like an infant. Lise disdains him; the village youth laughs down at him – and so do we. But isn’t he actually the victim of nasty bullying?

Let’s be clear, western societies have changed to various extents and some of the trends that have spilled over to my home country, Germany, have been less influential in Italy. In fact, the Romans I talked with described Italian society as being traditional. For them, “La fille mal gardée” was prime entertainment – especially at the evening performance, which starred guest dancer Daniil Simkin.

Simkin, performing for the first time at the Teatro dell’Opera di Roma, had given his debut as Colas three days earlier on May 3rd. Still, Simone’s farmyard seemed slightly unfamiliar to him, causing him to snap into polished poses with almost military accuracy. Soon, though, Rebecca Bianci’s Lise, made Colas soften into a boisterous fellow who was madly in love. The after-work party at the wheatfield boosted Colas’s high spirits so much that he (to the disapproval of Valerio Marisca’s rooster) started to pinch the hens. Simkin has a strong technique and talent for acting. I admired his clear lines, sharp turns, and rock-solid balances. His brio was so infectious that the village youth harvested (and partied) with oomph.

Though often in brazen opposition to her mother, Bianchi’s Lise was at her core a kind, buoyant young woman – the one you’d love to have as a daughter-in-law. In her all’s-well-that-ends-well pas de deux with Colas, she had become as soft and lightweight as a sylph. The Lise of Susanna Salvi at the matinee was more defiant when fighting the policy of her mother (Michael Morrone). “Revenge is sweet” seemed to be Salvi’s motto when darting spiteful glances. Unfortunately, her Colas (Michele Satriano) appeared insecure from the beginning. Despite trying to play safe, his grip on the choreography worsened during the wheatfield scene. However, after the break, he wooed Lise with restored confidence.
Michele Morrone’s Simone at the matinee was more testosterone-fueled (and fond of tippling) than Guiseppe Depalo’s in the evening. Both widows knew how to feature their feminine charms and (believed to know) how to keep the reins on their farm and daughter tight. But parental principles were quickly sidelined when there was a chance of a jaunty clog dance.

At the matinee, Walter Maimone’s Alain froze as if traumatized beyond recovery when discovering that his bride-to-be smooched with Colas. He made me think of a British version of Petrushka but, being a human rather than a puppet, a heart-wrenchingly pitiful one. Mike Derrua’s Alain in the evening seemed to overcome his shock when reunited with his beloved red umbrella which, in all circumstances, served as his emotional crutch. Though playing the ballet’s klutz, Maimone’s and Derrua’s dancing prowess was unmissable.
Alain’s father, the wealthy Thomas, was portrayed by Damiano Mongelli (at the matinee) and Alessandro Rende (in the evening). Giordano Cagnin was the village’s benevolent notary, whose persuasive power mollified the dour Simone.

While dramatically colorful lighting heralded stormy feelings (and a true thunderstorm), the score – adapted and arranged by John Lanchbery from a composition by Ferdinand Hérold – evoked a lightsome countryside idyll. Philip Ellis and the orchestra of the Teatro dell’Opera di Roma gave it a vivid rendition.

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