Swan Lake, Birmingham Royal Ballet

Last Updated on October 29, 2026

Sir Peter Wright’s Production of the Much-Loved Classic

3.0 out of 5.0 stars

Have you ever wondered why Prince Siegfried is so deeply miserable? Different productions of Swan Lake hint at the reason, but Sir Peter Wright’s leaves you in no doubt: in his production of the perennial classic, he uses the famous prologue of Tchaikovsky’s score to show a dark, ponderous funeral courtège, with a group of black-clad mourners processing behind a coffin on which rests a large crown. It’s the funeral of the king, Siegfried’s father, and this deeply mournful mood colours the whole of the ensuing Act I, set in the courtyard of a Palace still very much in mourning, where Siegfried’s 21st birthday is miserable indeed, despite the best efforts of his equerry Benno.

Sir Peter Wright’s productions are never less than thoughtful and theatrical – 100 years old this year, Sir Peter has accumulated a considerable portfolio of ballets, best known of which, perhaps, is The Royal Ballet’s The Nutcracker, a sell-out staple of every Christmas season in London, as indeed is the different version of the same ballet he created for Birmingham Royal Ballet.

His 1981 Swan Lake, though, based on the original choreography by Petipa/Ivanov and crafted in collaboration with the ballerina Galina Samsova for BRB’s predecessor, Sadler’s Wells Royal Ballet, where Sir Peter was Director, is less widely known: its revival this season is part of BRB’s celebration of Sir Peter’s centenary. After opening in Birmingham, Sir Peter Wright and Galina Samsova’s Swan Lake is now at Sadler’s Wells for a six-performance run.

I’ll come right out and say it: I didn’t really like it. I found the deep gloom that enveloped Act I and seeped into an uncommonly dark Act II rather depressing, though things lifted considerably in Act III, where Philip Prowse’s designs gave us a sumptuous Palace ballroom, all burnished gold and dark red velvet, dominated by an ornate high window and a grand staircase down which the guests made their lively entrances. I particularly like the way in which the production links the national dances to each of the foreign princesses, so that the Czárdás are danced by the Hungarian princess’s retinue and so on. I rather like it when things make sense.

The predominant mourning tones of Act I were accentuated by the brutish dark columns and towers that framed the stage, and were only lightly masked by some foliage in the darkly-lit white Acts II and IV, where no lake is visible. Act IV, though, opens with a crowd-pleasing coup de théâtre, when, hidden by a dense mass of dry ice, the swan corps suddenly emerges, wings beating – it was met with “ohs” and “ahs” in the performance I attended. The pervading gloom is accentuated by Peter Teigen’s subdued lighting.

Swan Lake tests any company, with the white Acts in particular requiring the kind of uniformity that characterises great ensembles: movement coordinated to the minutest detail, arabesque lines exactly the same as each other, the arms/wings of 16 swans beating as one. Good as the BRB corps is, that uniformity is not quite there yet, and on opening night the famous cygnets pas de quatre was painfully strained.

There was, though, some very good dancing from the soloists: Riku Ito was an excellent, boisterous Benno, his soaring jumps exciting, his beats sharp and clear, conquering the space with attractively flowing movement. I was impressed, not for the first time, by Katherine Ochoa, BRB’s newish Cuban arrival, both in the pas de trois of Act I, and especially as the Italian princess of Act III, making short work of the constant, swift changes of direction, her strong feet seeming to needle the floor, absolute assurance colouring her every step.

On opening night the ill-fated lovers were danced by Yu Kurihara and Yasiel Hodelín. It’s often said that ballerinas are either Odette or Odile, few being as convincing as both the saintly white swan Odette and her deceitful twin Odile. Kurihara was a good Odette, her lines pure, mime crystalline, phrasing delicate, though I have to say I found her on occasion a little mannered. I did, however, love her Odile, the mocking way in which she relished the deception she was perpetrating on Siegfried, sometimes throwing a knowing glance at the audience.

Yasiel Hodelín looks endearingly young, which makes his Siegfried immensely vulnerable. He is elegant and his dancing, if not always perfect, is capable of exciting moments; his jump is sharp and his landings mostly feline, and he is a reliable, self-effacing partner, lifting his ballerina as if she were as light as feathers.

Some productions stand the test of time better than others; I would suggest that this Swan Lake, for all its virtues, could perhaps do with a rethink. A final word of praise for the Birmingham Royal Ballet Sinfonia, conducted by Paul Murphy, which gave a sensitive, very danceable account of Tchaikovsky’s glorious score.

Birmingham Royal Ballet, Swan Lake is at Sadler’s Wells 28 – 31 October at 7.30 pm Thu & Sat mats at 2 pm
Dur.: 2 hours 45 mins inc one pause and two intervals. Tickets: £15 – 95

Sadler’s Wells
Rosebery Avenue
London EC1R 4TN

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