Category: wolfgang

spinmelikeyoumeanit:

dancershrapnelography:

spinmelikeyoumeanit:

Before you ask, no, I do not take constructive criticism. 

(P.S. This is based on Nureyev’s Swan Lake. Go watch the 2005 or the 2016 version and tell me I’m wrong.) 

I didn’t understand until I watched the finale of nureyev’s version and…yeah you hit rothbart on the nose, like if siegfried wasn’t a nuisance to him he woulda abducted both him and odette at the end like the horny bastard he is

I, personally, always like to add on my own epilogue after the finale, where Rothbart comes back and just… picks Siegfried up from where he dropped him and carries him away, because it wasn’t like the kid is intending to go ANYWHERE

@spinmelikeyoumeanit Good lord, girl, STOP!

Also – Rothbart or Wolfgang, though…?

everythingplus-thekitchensink:

strechanadi:

spinmelikeyoumeanit:

spinmelikeyoumeanit:

Before you ask, no, I do not take constructive criticism. 

(P.S. This is based on Nureyev’s Swan Lake. Go watch the 2005 or the 2016 version and tell me I’m wrong.) 

@strechanadi  Made some slight adjustments because I realized that it’s a crime against humanity to lump Alu!Wolfgang with Paquette!Wolfgang. 

Also I might be considering doing another one of this with Karl’s characters throughout the years…

I would probably put Jérémy right in the middle between Karl and Francois (OK, maybe slightly bit closer to Francois), but that’s just me and my mind that literally cannot stop thinking about Wolfgang 24/7…

However @spinmelikeyoumeanit one day I’ll find you and… shower you with gifts or cupcakes or anything you like. Be prepared!

This is amazing!

But who the heck is Wolfgang?!?!?!!?

@everythingplus-thekitchensink

Nureyev’s gift to humanity…

spinmelikeyoumeanit:

strechanadi:

Dear @spinmelikeyoumeanit … this is yet again yours and yours fault only.

(And yes, once I start I physically cannot stop myself, which leads to… err. THIS!)

(I sincerely apologize. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Truly.)


Well, I
promised, didn’t I? And it literally took me just about a lifetime! (On the
other hand – academic life happened. Don’t do postgrad, kids, it’s just not
worth it…) (Or maybe just dont try to write a dissertation in a MONTH! FFS!)

One would
think I would be over it. That after so many Swan Lakes nothing would have the
ability to shake me. That after so many sleepless nights spent thinking over
every little think here and there, I would know almost everything, therefore
would be prepared for anything thrown at me. And yet here we are! Once again,
blown away by Swan Lake of all ballets. I mean… could there be anything more
cliché?

However, I
already made peace with one thing (and you should probably too, saves lives and
all that) and that’s the genius of Nureyev, of his Swan Lake and of the duality
of Wolfgang/Rothbart.

As many of
you remember, I’m sure (and slightly horrified), even recording of Nureyev’s SL
is more than able to put me out of
service,
to prevent me from living what even the tiniest group of people
would call a normal life. Or something. So, what the hell was I thinking when
buying the ticket to see the ballet in question live, I have literally no idea.
(Well. I have, actually. He may even have a name…) But yes, I did saw Swan Lake
with POB live on stage. From the first fucking row, because that’s how extra I
have to be. (Yes, my diet consists solely of bread and water since… seems like
forever now.) I saw it, I died and that’s about it. However, my being dead is
not something anyone would be particularly interested in, so let’s just move to
the only thing you (the whole lot of exactly one person) are here for.

I did write
a
review
on said performance. And usually I’m trying to translate them (even
though I’m not exactly sure why, because it causes me almost physical pain and
at the end I feel endlessly stupid, since I have to search every second word in
dictionary, which is slightly pathetic, also I love my Czech sentences too much
and with my pitiful knowledge of English I simply cannot make them justice, so
they look utterly weird in the end and they deserve better than that), however unlike
with my
first POB SL review
3 years back this time I’ve decided to just don’t give
a shit and dive into the story head first consequences be damned, so I think
with writing this thing here I would have everything important covered (i.e. no
need for the actual review) (the first half was basically just me showing off
my endless knowledge on SL music score, which is plain boring, let’s be real,
plus I wrote all that in my first review).

/AN – This
is actually longer than the review
itself. I think I feel a little bit sick…/

Keep reading

*dial tone* 911? Yes, I would like to request immediate medical assistance because this piece KILLED me. 

@strechanadi I just adore the way you pick up every single detail on the stage, and I will have you know that the part about Mathieu/Siegfried’s fingers twitching in time with the music literally gave me heart palpitations. And that description of the Act 1 pas de deux? That was like a shot of endorphins straight to the heart, buddy. 

(Also it made me crazy nostalgic about José and Karl’s duet, because the urge to rewatch 2007 Swan Lake is not a whim; it’s what defines me as a person.) 

Another thing I love about your reviews is how you always discuss Wolfgang in relation to Siegfried. Most reviews mention him as if he could ever be analyzed as an individual character, but here’s the thing: Wolfgang can never exist without Siegfried. Wolfgang is never EVER seen without Siegfried. Siegfried might not be able to function socially without Wolfgang, but Wolfgang’s function IS Siegfried. Every glance, every gesture, every discreet turn at the corner of his lips is inextricably linked to Siegfried. You can’t have Wolfgang without Siegfried, period. 

(I love how you smuggled Wolfgang back in Act 4. That part killed me, too.) 

There’s no way to overstate this: your reviews are what made me fall in love with Mathieu Ganio’s Siegfried. At first I was a bit blinded by the perfection of his footwork to notice his acting, but once you pointed out the nuances in his performance, there was no going back for me. Mathieu Ganio fleshed out Siegfried in a way that is unmatched by any of his peers; José gave us his melancholy, Germain emphasizes his naivety, Nicholas Le Riche highlighted the emotional vulnerability, but Mathieu manages to be all of that and portrays this complex and compelling character who disintegrates so tragically and beautifully you have no choice but to see it through. 

*blushing virgin mood – activated*

Thank you…

You know, sometimes I wonder what the dancers themselves would say reading what I’m able to see them doing on stage. (My secret top tip is them running for their life screaming, but who knows.)

I think Siegfried and Wolfgang are defined by each other. That’s why I love the short interview with MG from 2016 recording, where he specifically said Nureyev’s SL is not just about the Siegfried/Swans relationship but also about Siegfried/Wolfgang. (All right, he said Rothbart, but let’s forgive him, since it’s not exactly his fault that’s how the character is named in programs, which, all right, may be killing me more than I’m prepared to admit, but whatever.)

And honestly, if I made you love MG (in one role or another, I don’t particularly care) (and you are not the first person telling me this, which warms my cold, little heart almost too much, because it means I probably do have my ways with words and am able to use them the way I want, to make them convey what I need, at least to some extent, and that’s just… wow), my job in this world is done.

(Also – I have to smuggle Wolfgang anywhere and everywhere I have the slightest chance to… Twice, if it’s Karl or Jérémy here, because he really was that good.)

Dear @spinmelikeyoumeanit … this is yet again yours and yours fault only.

(And yes, once I start I physically cannot stop myself, which leads to… err. THIS!)

(I sincerely apologize. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Truly.)


Well, I
promised, didn’t I? And it literally took me just about a lifetime! (On the
other hand – academic life happened. Don’t do postgrad, kids, it’s just not
worth it…) (Or maybe just dont try to write a dissertation in a MONTH! FFS!)

One would
think I would be over it. That after so many Swan Lakes nothing would have the
ability to shake me. That after so many sleepless nights spent thinking over
every little think here and there, I would know almost everything, therefore
would be prepared for anything thrown at me. And yet here we are! Once again,
blown away by Swan Lake of all ballets. I mean… could there be anything more
cliché?

However, I
already made peace with one thing (and you should probably too, saves lives and
all that) and that’s the genius of Nureyev, of his Swan Lake and of the duality
of Wolfgang/Rothbart.

As many of
you remember, I’m sure (and slightly horrified), even recording of Nureyev’s SL
is more than able to put me out of
service,
to prevent me from living what even the tiniest group of people
would call a normal life. Or something. So, what the hell was I thinking when
buying the ticket to see the ballet in question live, I have literally no idea.
(Well. I have, actually. He may even have a name…) But yes, I did saw Swan Lake
with POB live on stage. From the first fucking row, because that’s how extra I
have to be. (Yes, my diet consists solely of bread and water since… seems like
forever now.) I saw it, I died and that’s about it. However, my being dead is
not something anyone would be particularly interested in, so let’s just move to
the only thing you (the whole lot of exactly one person) are here for.

I did write
a
review
on said performance. And usually I’m trying to translate them (even
though I’m not exactly sure why, because it causes me almost physical pain and
at the end I feel endlessly stupid, since I have to search every second word in
dictionary, which is slightly pathetic, also I love my Czech sentences too much
and with my pitiful knowledge of English I simply cannot make them justice, so
they look utterly weird in the end and they deserve better than that), however unlike
with my
first POB SL review
3 years back this time I’ve decided to just don’t give
a shit and dive into the story head first consequences be damned, so I think
with writing this thing here I would have everything important covered (i.e. no
need for the actual review) (the first half was basically just me showing off
my endless knowledge on SL music score, which is plain boring, let’s be real,
plus I wrote all that in my first review).

/AN – This
is actually longer than the review
itself. I think I feel a little bit sick…/

So. Right.
Swan Lake.

I’m not
gonna pretend there’s anyone else in whom I am more interested than Siegfried. And
it’s not just because Nureyev made him a main character of the story. It’s because
it makes sense. Who is on stage from start to finish? Through whose eyes we are
watching the whole story? We should be able to sympathize with Siegfried, we
should be able to see his point, to understand him, to get what he’s doing and
why – sort of at least. And that’s probably why I am so annoyed with
traditional SLs where it mostly looks like the choreographers/dancers/ballet
masters/whoever don’t even try and go with some bland hero, because whatever,
we are all waiting for the 2nd act and the Swan anyway.

So, it’s clear
I love Nureyev’s story with passion (you wouldn’t tell, would you!) and the
moment the curtain raises I’m drawn to Siegfried no matter who’s the dancer.
And, OK, if it’s Mathieu Ganio, I’m kind of helpless, I admit (it would be
cute, I guess, were I not be way over 13 yo).

I will try
to stay as reasonable as I could and not to embarrass myself. Too much. So I
would not write about the stupid little things that nobody in their right mind would
(or could!) notice (or at least not at the first sight), because, dear god,
literally no one gives a damn about the way his fingers twitched during his
Prologue‘s nightmare in perfect synchrony with the music and action on stage…
Can I get to the point?! Preferably on this day!

Normal
person would be probably unable to talk about Siegfried without Odette/Odile.
But I think we have already established I’m by no means a normal person. So, I am
not able to talk about Siegfried without Wolfgang. (Yes, we are finally getting
somewhere!)

I love
their relationship in any shape and form and I would gladly watch every single cast
and every possible combination of dancers in those two roles as I’m sure each
time I would get something new (you cannot stop my brain, believe me, I tried).
There was the oddly depending, blurred, yet intense José/Karl take. The terrifyingly
creepy, what-the-fuck-happened-or-is-still-happening-behind-the-close-doors
Mathieu/Francois one (that still makes my hair stand whenever I think about it,
because… holy shit, that one moment between 1st and 2nd act!). The clueless
puppy/slightly perverted, obsessed mastermind vibes from Germain/Francois. So
what about Mathieu/Jérémy this time, hm?

/AN – I’m gonna
probably end up mixing dancers‘ names with their characters‘, so… Yeah. I have
no excuses, it’s just going to happen anyway, no matter how hard I would try to
prevent it./

It was
clear from the very first moment, Siegfried was much more mature this time,
much more the young adult than barely 18yo adolescent. He looked reasonably
confident, sure of himself, a true aristocrat, a crown prince ready to be a
king (almost to the point where I was thinking – oh, where’s my lost, Asperger’s
child? I want my lost, Asperger’s child! Spoiler alert – I got my lost, Asperger’s
child eventually, do not worry. Just wait for it). However, watching him during
the opening dance scene it was becoming more and more clear everything’s not so
smooth as it may seem. He grew impatient, the whole situation slowly but surely
becoming unbearable, and he was fighting against it with all he had, trying to
stay calm, trying to play the role he was expecting to, his nervous, involuntary
fingers tapping against his throne the only thing out of place. But there was
always Wolfgang for him in those moments. Wolfgang, who was the constant,
never-changing presence. Wolfgang, who could be standing on the other side of
the room and the connection between him and his prince almost palpable, magnetic,
electrifying. Always there. Always sure.

They look
like best friends, no matter their different social status. Wolfgang casually
showing Siegfried one girl or another (funny how he didn’t need to bring
Siegfried’s attention to men, since he was happily watching them on his own
accord), whispering something to his ear (A court rumour? An inside joke? A reassurance
to keep Siegfried in his right mind?), hand casually on his shoulder. When they
were walking together, Wolfgang was positively hugging Siegfried with his arm
around prince’s shoulders. And then you saw him standing side stage, watching
Siegfried being crowned, watching him dance, watching his inner struggle started
by queen’s mention of marriage, watching him trying to act all casual and „oh, it’s nothing, I’m all right“ while
knowing his autism and insecurities and all the good stuff is kicking, trying
to break free and took over his mind and soul again. Because Siegfried may be
more in charge now, but once autistic, always autistic… The mental issues were
there. Waiting. As well as Wolfgang. Watching, waiting, calculating,
manipulating without anybody knowing, using the Machiavellianism to the point.

And I
wanted to scream, because hell, Siegfried, you look like a reasonable, mature
human being. You are not the lost child with puppy eyes, you have to know
something’s off! Tell me, what do you know! But then they were together and it
was painfully clear he simply believed they were at the same page, he had no
reason not to think so, they were in this together. Take the moment at the end
of the „dance lesson.“ José himself leant towards Karl, believing him
implicitly, automatically, without question and on top of that he actually
looked him in the eye, and there was the brilliant moment where Karl looked
away like – oh no, stop, this is too
much, that’s not right”
and also “I’m
not affected by this at all.”
Francois just grabbed Mathieu’s arm and
pulled. The gesture strong, harsh, leaving no doubts and literally no space between
the two of them, because “oh no no, my
prince, you have no personal space
, no free will, I am the one who will tell
you what to do, I am the one in charge, don’t forget that, I certainly not let
you forget, ever.”
With Mathieu and Jérémy the movement towards each other
was mutual. Mathieu leaned back, Jérémy went slightly forward whispering into
his ear.

However just a few seconds earlier, during the actual dance lesson, was a
moment that couldn’t be more out of the realm of things OK even if it tried. I
remember someone did something similar in one of the older videos I saw through
the years of my healthy social life, I, however, do not remember it being quite
like this time. I’m talking about the moment nearly at the end with Siegfried kneeling
on the floor with Wolfgang walking around him. Some Wolfgangs simply put their
hand on prince’s shoulder and squeeze, some let their hand stay there for a bit
(too) long, some doesn’t touch Siegfried at all for one reason or another. And
then came Jérémy. He did touch Mathieu’s shoulder. Let his hand there. Heavy,
grounding. And then, slowly, intentionally, almost proprietary traced his chest
from one collar bone to the other. Touching the bare skin. Not in some
delicate, subtle, almost-not-there motion with fingertips barely touching. This
was open. Possessive. Claiming. I inhaled so sharply people on the balcony must
have heard it. I almost gave myself a brain concussion. Or got high on oxygen
overdose. Or something. Being at home alone (or maybe even with my family
around) I would be screaming myself hoarse and/or swearing profusely. But since
I was sitting in a theatre with 2,5 thousands other people completely clueless
of my inner battle, I had to… just keep breathing and acting cool. Not that I
was particularly successful or anything.

How the 1st
Act was going, it was more and more clear Siegfried depended on Wolfgang. And
what was even more painful, it was his own decision. Surely, he was manipulated
into it to some extent and at some point, but with this prince I believe if one
asked him, he would say he believes Wolfgang. “Because he’s a friend. Because he’s helping. He’s good. Stop asking stupid
questions, I’m not an idiot!”
You had to admit this Wolfgang did a fucking good
job without actually showing it (and showing off, looking at you, Francois).
Because at the end of Act 1 all he had to do to stop Siegfried from following
the running boys was turn his head. He didn’t step to stay in his way, he didn’t
cross his arms or shake his head disapprovingly. He just stood there, then
looked slightly over his shoulder and Siegfried stopped. Like that. And then,
just before he was about to start his andante sostenuto variation (during which
I most definitely died, because there was simply no other option, since this
monster of a man, while doing his manege of jetés entrelacé, decided to turn
the palm of his front arm up to make the landing pose in arabesque a cry, with
his arm desperately reaching towards something, to fill every fucking detail of
his movement with intention and meaning and who the hell asked this from you?!
I can scarcely cope even while you are just
dancing and feeling the music in ways that are too close to mine, could you
please tell me, why you had to even do THIS to me?! Am I not dead enough?), he
looked back at Wolfgang. Like if I could forget about their connection…!

But what was
between the two of them exactly? I don’t have a clue. I know what I see in
José/Karl interpretation. I know how I understand Mathieu/Francois relationship
(because I am a bad person, my mind is poisoned and my brain is sick!). But
Mathieu/Jérémy? There’s so much going on but I for the love of all that is holy
cannot put a finger on it. (And that’s probably one of the reasons I almost
went to the stage door to tell them I love them. I didn’t. I am an adult. I do
not fangirl. I just go home and deal with all the feelings like the emotionally
repressed person I am. I would make an excellent posh Englishman.)
Let’s just say it was for the first time that Wolfgang was taller then
Siegfried. Significantly taller. So whenever Siegfried wanted to looked him in
the eyes, he had to look UP. And this stupid, tiny, little detail made me feel so
many things, it’s not even funny anymore (which falsely indicated it WAS funny
once, which most definitely was NOT). But just imagine the Siegfried/Wolfgang
duet between act 1 and 2 with Siegfried coming to Wolfgang, to looking up to
his eyes, and try not to see the vulnerability in it. Try not to see all the
cards changing. Because it should have been Siegfried over Wolfgang because of their
social status. During act one they were at the same level – because Siegfried
wanted so. And now, suddenly, it was Wolfgang over Siegfried. And when he put
the prince on the ground in the end, Siegfried looked yet again completely lost,
devastated and abused… You just didn’t
know how exactly this time. Or you did, but it was still just a wild guess, you
couldn’t be completely, absolutely, 100% sure.

What was
sure – Siegfried was broken. He took the offered crossbow as if not knowing
what he is doing, as if not knowing it’s his hands that is holding it.  And then he stood up, turned and wanted to go
to Wolfgang, because obviously. He made two steps, and Wolfgang was just
standing there, centre stage, looking (not with the arms dismissively crossed
as Francois, mind you) and Siegfried stopped, tripped over his feet, looked and
promptly turned back. And there was something so unbelievably hurt in him. Because
he knew what the crossbow means, figuratively. And that’s what hurt him most.
Seeing Wolfgang with it. Seeing Wolfgang pushing him towards the edge, knowing
he’s helpless, knowing that it would be him who would jump, he himself, nobody
would actually push him, just bring him so near the edge, there would be no
other choice.
It was like an accusation. Because “I
believed you. I trusted you. I thought we were friends. I thought you would
help me. And you pushed me back towards my illness, pushed me into those dreams
that we both know will be the end of me.”
You could almost touch the moment,
the last flicker of consciousness, the hurt creeping from the deep of Siegfried’s
soul but it was too late already. It was late the moment he took the crossbow.
And you were watching him losing the somewhat sane part of his mind, the part
that knows, and falling to his
dreams, to his forbidden world. Because giving the poor Asperger’s little
prince a bit of schizophrenia is a way to go. Hello, this is me, nice to meet
you.

Yes, partly
this whole mess of a situation was the Queen’s fault. Her mentioning marriage
and crowning and you know, the adult stuff, made Siegfried quiver in his so
painfully hard-won stable mental state of sorts, that seemed more stable than in
other SLs, but was still too fragile. But Wolfgang was the one who made it
happened, who was the vital help, who
was the final cause. Because who else could have been more successful? Who
would have been better for such job? Who could have managed such thing if not
him…?

I’ll give
you a break and am gonna talk about 3rd act for a bit. Because
Mathieu Ganio’s Siegfried in act 3 is a fucking piece of art and someone give
the man an award for it!

There was an
achingly apparent difference between Act 1 Siegfried and Act 3 Siegfried. While
during the 1st Act he was able to hold himself together to the point
one would not tell he had any mental issues, in 3rd Act he was loosing
his contact with reality from the start. And of course he was, with no Wolfgang
behind his back whispering to his ear, keeping him in check, distracting him
while things become too tedious and tiring, calming him by his mere presence. So
his standing up and leaving the stage during character dances made so much
sense. He refused the princesses with pleasure and right then he threw
everything, his control, his mind, his consciousness out of window, and just
jumped, leaving his illness in charge and Odile with Rothbart appeared. And if
Odette and the lake was a dream, this was much more a fantasy. I’m going to repeat
myself, but I stop when there would be more than one Siegfried like this in 3rd
Act. Because this Siegfried was not dragged across stage by Odile, he was not
simply following her with heart eyes, smiling and thinking rather stupidly she’s
Odette, the pure, fragile girl from the lake even though she’s acting almost
completely different. This Siegfried was confident, self-assured, constantly
trying to convince Odile of his power and to prove himself. He grew impatient
with her constant escaping, there was anger and sharpness in some of his
movements. We all know the moment when Siegfried is standing behind Odile and
she’s taking his arms to hug herself, right? So Mathieu Ganio leaned in and
kissed. Her. On. The. Neck.

(I let that
information sink.) (And while it would be sinking, I take a little walk to ease
some of the tension and calm my inner voice that is screaming profanities,
cause HOLYFUCKINGSHIT, can you imagine the dreamy, pure, innocent prince from
previous act to do such thing?!)

I would also
like to mention the black adagio. You know, the one where Siegfried is supposed
to be fascinated by Odile who is seducing him? The one, during which this time was
not quite clear if the prince was watching the enchanting black swan or
Rothbart with the same intent, with the same intensity in his eyes and tension
between the two of them…? Yeah.

(Also – Jérémy before his Rothbart variation, sitting on Siegfried’s throne
like it belongs to him. Good grief!)

The end of
act 3 wasn’t as much of a mad scene as it was in 2016. However Siegfried fell
down on the floor completely unceremoniously, lying on his back and while the
curtain opened and we were in the 4th Act he lied there in the exact
same position and it looked almost like he’s in his bed. Like he completely
lost it during the ball (and lost it he did) and was escorted to his chambers,
put to his bed and now his poor, tortured mind sent him yet again to the woods,
to the lake side.

Odette in
act 2 was a complete figment of Siegfried’s imagination, appearing suddenly
from nowhere, made from thin air, sharing Siegfried’s pain and deep grief. (Yes,
even in act 2, because this time there were no heartfelt love confessions, no
big romance, no sunny smiles and promises of happily ever after. But there was
a bond. Strong and deeply felt.) In 4th Act she was resigned. She
knew she’s about to die and there’s nothing she could do about it. Because
Odette is Siegfried. In this performance and interpretation more then ever. She
was his innocence that was somehow betrayed and violated by the act 3 fantasy. She
was his integral part, she was his childhood, she was his hope, she was the
last piece of his sanity, she was him. And Siegfried came to her guiltily,
ashamed of himself, afraid to look herself in the eyes and see what became of
him. Because he was dying. And he knew it.

And then
Rothbart appeared and took Odette from Siegfried. Took his hope, his mind, his
soul – like the mental illnesses, Siegfried’s ultimate bane and his final doom.
And then came the last moment. When Siegfried turned around and there, in the
middle of the mists stood someone. With arm held forward, palm up as in an
invitation. And then… magnificent, ethereal Wolfgang spread his arms wide. Opened
them for his prince, to let him jump into. And Siegfried run and jumped with
his last breath and last desperate cry of arched back to the arms of death.
That is nor evil, nor kind. That simply is.

And it makes
you wonder – what if this was in the end the best option for Siegfried after
all? What if Wolfgang was doing what he was doing having his prince’s good in
mind? Was it something he himself believed in? That he was helping? Or was it
just something he would say, if anybody asked? And was he ever even real?

Hello. This
is Nureyev’s Swan Lake for you. Causes many questions. Answers none. Gives you
bunch of other instead.

Please, do
feel free to tell me I should find a professional help.

Hugo Marchand with Thomas Docquir

Le lac des cygnes

Photo: Julien Benhamou

Paul Marque, Thomas Docquir

Le lac des cygnes

photo: Julien Benhamou

Marianne Garnier on Instagram: “Souvenirs d’un lac des cygnes inoubliable avec @dorotheegilbert et @humarchand qui, grâce à leurs immenses talents et leur alchimie…”:

All right.

I am obsessed with the end of Nureyev’s Swan Lake.

And I am very much determined to watch every single fucking cast in this scene.

Here with Hugo Marchand and Thomas Docquir.

Germain Louvet, Francois Alu

Le lac des cygnes

photo: scenelibre

Karl Paquette

Le lac des cygnes – THE Wolfgang/Rothbart in all his glory

photo: Ondine D.

Watching every recording of POB Swan Lake I own, because this is me and my life we are talking about, reviving Monday’s memories of the same thing and I have but a one tiny question.

Did Mathieu Ganio actually decided he would finally kill me for good?!