Le Jeune Homme et la Mort/ La Sylphide, English National Ballet, London Coliseum, review: Ivan Vasiliev is a rocket-powered virtuoso

Roland Petit’s 'Le Jeune Homme et La Mort' stars Tamara Rojo’s as Death who takes pleasure in tormenting Vasiliev’s self-destructive artist

Tamara Rojo and Ivan Vasiliev in 'Le Jeune Homme et La Mort' (Laurent Liotardo)

English National Ballet’s double bill is an evening of fatal glamour. The company first unveiled its new production of La Sylphide alongside Kenneth MacMillan’s Song of the Earth. For the second part of its London season, the sylph sits alongside Roland Petit’s Le Jeune Homme et la Mort, in which Tamara Rojo’s Death takes voluptuous pleasure in tormenting Ivan Vasiliev’s self-destructive artist.

With a libretto by Jean Cocteau and choreography by Roland Petit, the 1946 ballet Le Jeune Homme et la Mort is a highly theatrical mix of post-war existentialism and chic. It has an explosive star part for a male dancer, all soaring jumps and writhing gymnastics, and a vampish figure of death.

Vasiliev is a very starry guest for this ballet, a rocket-powered virtuoso who came to fame with the Bolshoi. He has a muscular ease in the twisting moves, and a bounding jump: in one sequence, he seems to lie face down in the air, depression claiming him even as he soars upwards.

Rojo, the company’s artistic director, moves with luscious brightness as Death, lingering over a high sweep of her leg or stubbing out a cigarette with a vicious pointe shoe. Together, she and Vasiliev create a lurid, sadomasochistic chemistry. She walks all over him, and he leans right into it, waiting for the next kick.

He accepts death like a fated sleepwalker, while Rojo produces a great Hammer Horror face when she reveals herself as death, leading her victim away over the rooftops. One quibble: on opening night, the neon lights of Paris were missing from Georges Wakhévitch’s set.

For all its melodrama, Le Jeune Homme makes a better partner for August Bournonville’s La Sylphide – a tighter focus on related themes, and a more swiftly-paced evening. La Sylphide is an airier view of supernatural romance, but still brings Aitor Arrieta’s superb James to his doom. Leaving his sweet fiancee to chase after an unattainable sylph, he has himself to blame when it all goes horribly wrong. Arrieta sails through the intricacies of Bournonville’s choreography, with musical timing that makes every step and gesture look just right. His first act solo was particularly fine, with a high jump, bright footwork and easy, open upper body. Arrieta is also well inside the drama, a man making good resolutions and crumbling at the first temptation.

Alison McWhinney made an unusually mischievous sylph, consciously naughty as she lures him away. Francesca Velicu has a wide-eyed vulnerability as Effy, the abandoned fiancée, while Stina Quagebeur brought both delicacy and anger to the role of Madge the witch.

Until 20 January (www.eno.org​)