Midori:
Matthew Bourne’s Swan Lake is a triumph … and an unforgettable erotic experience.
Matthew Bourne’s narrative can be read as a classic romance. Lovers meet, their passions intertwine, grim forces of the world tear them apart, and in the end they are united in death and redemption. On another level, though, what we have here is one big tragic queer coming-out story, complete with a rejecting parent, the obligatory girlfriend and desperate attempt to conform to social expectation … followed by depression, the first gay hookup, elation, hope, brutal bullying and finally, suicide. The attacking swan troupe, descending upon and tearing apart the lover Swan was as horrific as a lynching. I felt helpless and heart wrenched.
Far too many suffered their fate in silence and invisibility. Although debuted in 1995, this performance seems particularly timely now, given the recent media attention on homophobic bullying, youth suicides, and new efforts of outreach such the “It Gets Better” project.
Lest you think this piece is just about the boys and their swinging masculine prowess, as it can be in many homo focused works, I happily testify that the women and their roles are fiercely and unapologetically sexual as well. The Queen, richly played by Nina Goldman, is a complex mix of regal, cold, lustful, glamorous and dramatic. In one scene she chooses an evening’s lover from the ranks of military men she inspects. In another she allows the Stranger to give her pleasures, despite her son’s conflicted protestations. During the Ball, the stage is so full of mini tableaux of couples dancing entwined in lust, jealousy and struggle of wills that it’s hard to know where to focus one’s attention. I clearly recall one woman carried off stage by a group of men … possibly to be the queen bee of an orgy?
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