In Hamburg, then: Groundhog Day greetings. Seating arrangement, audience structure, intermission conversations— everything as usual. John Neumeier sits in the first row, far right, for the premiere. Silver hair dominates the stalls. What marks the conversations is praise of the refined classics which long-time director Neumeier—himself a magnificent storyteller and portraitist of souls—defied. Meanwhile, no one seems to care why his successor, Demis Volpi, failed amidst scandalous uproar.
Coming to terms with what happened has so far been a non-event; instead, an ensemble is on stage, performing the expected under the motto Romantic Evolution/s: namely, Auguste Bournonville's La Sylphide, the 1836 version by the Danish choreographer, who learned his craft in Paris and throughout his life ...
