Barre Fight

Prologue

AUSTRALIAN NATIONAL BALLET’S NEW STAR HAS SHINE, BUT LITTLE SUBSTANCE

by Ivy Page, Sydney Morning Sun junior arts reporter

The Sleeping Beauty is a notoriously difficult ballet for the ballerina dancing the titular role.

Quite apart from the considerable technical skill required to dance the infamous Rose Adagio, which demands long balances on a single pointe-shoe-clad foot, the dancer playing Princess Aurora must dance both with girlish exuberance and the maturity of a grown woman who has woken from her long, cursed slumber and found her one true love.

The role is so challenging that it can be easy to lose sight of Aurora’s partner, Prince Désiré.

But the prince is always there, and his role is challenging, too.

In Sunday’s performance of The Sleeping Beauty by Australian National Ballet at the Sydney Opera House, principal dancer Katarina Antonov was up to the challenge.

The same cannot be said for her partner, newly minted principal dancer Justin Winters.

Winters has several gifts that make him a good fit for the role of the prince.

His thick golden hair screams “royalty,” and when he and Antonov danced their several pas de deux, his prince appeared wholly smitten by Aurora.

Antonov appeared comfortable and secure as they moved together, suggesting that Winters is an adequate partner; no small thing in an artform where women must place their bodies—their livelihoods—entirely in the hands of their male coworkers.

Above all, Winters has the natural gift of exquisitely arched and articulate feet, something that all aspiring dancers long for.

“Good feet”—steep arches that snap into tight curves whenever Winters points his toes—mean that when he dances, he seems to add half a foot to his already above-average height, and when he extends his legs, he creates long, seamless lines from hip to toe.

His feet, simply put, are the stuff of dancers’ dreams.

But good feet, a nice head of hair, and adequate partnering do not a principal dancer make.

In Sunday’s performance, Winters danced his solo combinations with technical proficiency coated with a vapid charm, an emptiness that the most aspirational of arches could not make up for.

At times, he seemed to get swallowed by the ballet’s sumptuous set and his sparkling brocade costume, disappearing into the role and not in a good way.

A more substantive dancer would not merely have looked the part of a prince, but would embody the gravitas and self-assuredness one expects to find in a member of a royal family.

Winters, while sparkly, wholly lacked that substance.

In its recent promotions, Australian National Ballet has demonstrated its commitment to promoting promising dancers early and giving them a chance to grow into their new ranks.

Winters’ performance, however, raises the question of what he brings to the stage: true artistic promise, or merely a pretty face and a pair of freakish feet?