Founded in 1974, dancers from all over the world united to form Les Ballets Trockadero De Monte Carlo. This all male professional dance troupe perform highlights from classical ballet in a way in
which we may never have seen before.
Before the performance began at Nottingham’s Royal Concert Hall, we were teased by the humour of what was to come as the announcer told us that Madame Notgudinuv would sadly not be
performing. This joke name, among others, made us eager to see what was behind the concert hall’s heavy red curtain. As the curtain drew back, a sea of delicate white tutus glistened as floating arm
movements whispered across the stage from seated ballet positions. The dancers’ heads lifted and there was a wink and a flutter from underneath huge false eyelashes, which immediately got a titter
from the audience.
Les Sylphides was the Entree, a perfect introduction to the style of ballet we were about to have the pleasure of viewing. The star-gazing male was the focus of the humour, a principal dancer who
was incapable of being a sturdy prop for his glamorous leading ‘lady’ in her arabesque and en pointe turns; she, in fact, had to lead him across the stage. Facial expressions from her and the background
dancers told the story, as we watched them mimic all the cliché dance show disasters that are all too familiar to us; from the back-biting to the fight for centre stage. This competition among female
dancers was perfectly played out around a technically brilliant, well rehearsed and cleverly choreographed routine, and clearly to full effect as the audience was left in hysterics.
The control and grace from these captivating dancers had me engrossed to the point that I almost forgot I was watching an all male troupe, hey certainly had the ‘port de bras’ but perhaps without the
We sat through classic after classic in awe of these dancers’ explosive athleticism, panache, and camp representation.
When Tchaikovsky’s Dying Swan was performed by Ida Nevasayneva (Paul Ghiselin) his fabulous solo performance was not going to come to an end that easily. The flapping of his arms and shedding of a flurry of feathers from his tutu, the odd knee tremble, and his final dying moment, milked the performance for all he its worth, resulting in a huge laugh from the audience and an even larger applause at the end.
The Trocks seem to have tremendous fun both on the stage and in the make-up and costume box, but you cannot forget that without this firm knowledge of dance and disciplined rehearsal they
would not be able to perform their so-called fumbled routines.
You could tell by the mix in the audience that their aim to reach out to a wide audience has been achieved, from the ballet expert to the average theatre goer, both old and young. Their show is thoroughly entertaining; the only worry is that I may never be able to watch a ballet in the same light again.