SWAN'S WAY

By Martha Duffy

Anyone who has ever been chased down the shore by an enraged swan knows that swans are powerful birds--nothing like the delicate figments of Tchaikovsky's lakeside vision. The swan as predator is also the inspiration for Matthew Bourne, 37, a young British choreographer, whose radical recension of the ballet classic Swan Lake opens this week in Los Angeles. "I began with observation of the bird," says Bourne, "its wildness, huge beating wings." He also felt that "something more could be done with Swan Lake, particularly with the swans themselves." There have been hundreds of productions, but all based on the 19th century romantic interpretation of the story.

In Bourne's version, the Prince is both bored and lonely, growing into manhood largely confined to the palace and without much direction either from his remote mother or the various courtiers. (Bourne built the character in part on what he has read about Prince Charles' disastrous childhood.) The Swan Lake Prince gives debauchery a try but finds he's no good at it--too gullible, no head for liquor.

The swans appear during the young man's turbulent dream. No tutus, no toe shoes, no hand flutters. These are robustly built men, clad in feathered trousers and wearing black makeup on their foreheads that suggests a swan's beak. As a signature move, the men use a wholly mesmerizing gesture coming from the torso up through the shoulders out into extended arms.

One reason for these birds' effectiveness is the genius of their leader, played by former Royal Ballet principal Adam Cooper. His Swan possesses a witchy, sinewy quality that fascinates the Prince and leads him to yearn for personal freedom. As the night continues, the Swan gains the young man's trust. He has, as it were, seen magic and believes in it.

The heart of the Tchaikovsky score is the pas de deux in the lake scene, and it was for Bourne the biggest challenge. Not wanting to alienate some members of his audience by making it homosexual, he turned it into a dance for man and bird. The device works, but that won't completely eliminate the snide remarks about guys on pointe. Even so, this version soars on the surprise and exhilaration it engenders, and has received the recognition of last year's Olivier Award.

There is a slight similarity in the mentoring relationship between the swan and the Prince to that of Bourne and Cooper. Cooper, 25, the Royals' most adventurous, vibrant dancer, began by working with Bourne occasionally. Swan Lake changed all that. Cooper became the toast of London when the show ran there nightly for 21 weeks last fall. He left the Royals and committed himself to Bourne's company, Adventures in Motion Pictures.

Bourne has become something of a specialist in inspired dance recensions. He has done The Nutcracker set in a workhouse so that Clara's transport to Sweetieland is more dramatic, and his La Sylphide (called Highland Fling) takes place in modern Glasgow. A new Cinderella debuts in London this fall. Bourne may be free with the classics, but never with the score. "I come to music as a fan," he says. "It's why I do these things." Perhaps that's also the reason that Cooper, who could have any dance job in the world, came to Bourne: "He has the gift of getting right to the heart: he makes you feel you're part of the emotions of the story."

--By Martha Duffy