Beauty Reawakens

Vous les voyez, les étoiles dans la salle?” the woman next to me whispered as the lights dimmed. And indeed, the stalls glittered with former stars of the Paris Opéra Ballet—dancers I recognised, visibly moved and deep in conversation during the interval. Their presence made the evening feel all the more like a gala: a moment when the company came together to awaken its “Sleeping Beauty” after more than a decade of slumber.

Rudolf Nureyev’s “Sleeping Beauty” is one of the most remarkable gifts this legendary artist left us—a tangible mark of his enduring presence, still putting the entire company to the test, just as he did during his tenure as director of the Paris Opéra Ballet. The corps de ballet, the soloists, even the orchestra—all are pushed to their limits by Tchaikovsky’s virtuosic and marvellous score, beautifully conducted by Vello Pähn, and visually enriched by the splendour of Ezio Frigerio and Franca Squarciapino’s costumes and sets.

Performance

Paris Opera Ballet: “Sleeping Beauty”

Place

Palais Garnier, Paris, France, March 8, 2025

Words

Elsa Simonetti

Inès McIntosh and Thomas Docquir in “Sleeping Beauty” by Rudolf Nureyev. Photograph by Agathe Poupeney | OnP

The premiere was danced by two of the most recently appointed étoiles. Bleuenn Battistoni was a radiant Aurora: dazzling and fully immersed in the role. A beloved dancer at the Opéra, she imbued the tale with wonder and composed spontaneity. She placed her trust in her prince, Guillaume Diop, who brought to the role virtuosic vitality and wide-eyed energy, reaching for the emotional depth it demands. Also much loved by the Paris audience, Diop was sweet and protective towards his Aurora. His generous agility and undeniable—if still maturing—talent moved and delighted in equal measure. The pair surrendered to moments of romance with lyrical charm: sparkling and precise in their allegro, poised and present in their adagios.

The second performance was entrusted to the promising premiers danseurs Inès McIntosh and Thomas Docquir. McIntosh was delightful and precise; Docquir, graceful and confident—almost evoking a young Manuel Legris—excelled in the role. Together, they made a beautifully paired and wonderfully regal couple.

Nureyev’s forty-minute prologue flew by on the wings of seven luminous fairies. On the first evening, Elizabeth Partington and Hortense Millet-Maurin were perfectly synchronised as the “twin” fairies, while Clara Mousseigne’s vibrant passion enchanted the audience as the fifth fée. Camille Bon, who danced the final variation (traditionally the Lilac Fairy) on both evenings, was met with great applause for her exquisitely long lines and poise.

Bleuenn Battistoni’s entrances and port de bras were striking—clearly emotional on opening night, still breaking the ice. Inès McIntosh, with the advantage of having followed the first night, was more at ease on stage, light as a feather. Battistoni was regal and sublime; McIntosh, airy and fleeting. Especially noteworthy were McIntosh’s épaulements and sweeping cambrés in the famous emboîtés sequence—absolutely breathtaking.

Bleuenn Battistoni and Guillaume Diop in “Sleeping Beauty” by Rudolf Nureyev. Photograph by Agathe Poupeney | OnP

The scenes that open Acts Two and Three were enriched by Nureyev with historical court dances. Particularly notable is the Sarabande, which features in the third act as Nureyev’s tribute to, and affection for, French danses baroques. On both evenings, Act Three was greeted with a collective gasp of awe from the public, followed by applause: the interior of the castle was sumptuous and elegantly composed. This fairytale palace set the stage for a sparkling series of dances. Among the wedding guests’ pas de deux, Marine Ganio and Antoine Kirschner stood out as Princess Florine and the Bluebird—she with ease and maturity, he with impressive elevation. Andrea Sarri (8 March) and Nicola Di Vico (11 March) were both magnificent in the leading male role of the Precious Stone. Battistoni embodied the spirit of an étoile in the wedding variation, with piqués of remarkable control and timing. The wedding festivities culminated in the final Polonaise—one could almost feel the weight of the corps de ballet’s well-earned fatigue.

Perhaps it’s the youth of the performers (not out of place for a juvenile tale, after all), but at times, the interpretation felt somewhat overly guarded and perhaps a little formulaic. (It will be interesting to see more mature étoiles, including Dorothée Gilbert and Léonore Baulac, scheduled to take on the role in the coming months.) Still, the Opéra’s corps de ballet, pushed to its limits, rose admirably to the demands of Nureyev’s style: unnatural sequences, altered symmetries, broken rhythms, and sudden changes of direction and spacing—hallmarks of the choreographer’s distinctive language. The corps delivered remarkable synchrony and stamina, even if, here and there, a line momentarily slipped from overall precision. With over sixty dancers required on stage, support came from members of the Opéra Junior Ballet, the recently created offshoot of the main company. Among them was the striking Eve Belguet, whom regular Opéra-goers may recall as the exquisite Flûte soloist in Serge Lifar’s “Suite en blanc” during the school performance in 2024.

Inès McIntosh and Thomas Docquir in “Sleeping Beauty” by Rudolf Nureyev. Photograph by Agathe Poupeney | OnP

Yet, part of the ballet’s difficulty lies not just in moving us through technique, but in moving us into meaning. “Sleeping Beauty” is demanding not only of its dancers, but of itself—because we ask it to be a vessel for values, dreams, and ideals we still want to believe in. In this, both performances succeed: it truly felt like being transported across time and into a non-place of poignant beauty, a place where what does not exist still matters to us—oneiric and profoundly real.

And here comes the surprise: with subtle genius and mastery, Nureyev subverts the original narrative. What could have been a tale of a woman lying dormant, awaiting rescue, becomes a drama entirely guided by the true éminence grise who moulds the narrative with quiet majesty: the Lilac Fairy. This pantomime role was performed skillfully by Fanny Gorse (8 March) and Camille de Bellefon (11 March).

The Lilac Fairy is a radiant, sovereign presence—autonomous and unwavering. Embodying a figure of gentle intensity and restoration, she anchors the ballet’s emotional and moral centre, offering clarity, steadiness, and charm while shaping the plot with serene authority. Replacing the traditional dancing fairy, she holds the dramaturgical reins: she softens Carabosse’s curse, not through dance but through powerful gestures, becoming her total and symmetric counterpart. She shepherds the dazed prince in Act Two after his vision of Aurora in the forest and delivers him to the enchanted realm where all are asleep.

Thus, the princess is no mere prize to be claimed; the prince is tormented, introspective, almost lost in his inner world. Even the choreography resists hierarchy, with steps and motifs passed fluidly between men and women, echoing a deeper sense of equality and collective presence—Nureyev’s unmistakable mark. And so, “Sleeping Beauty” becomes the perfect fairytale with which to mark 8 March: breaking free from images of passivity and rescue, and instead embodying shared power and grace.

Elsa Simonetti

Elsa Giovanna Simonetti is a Paris-based philosopher researching ancient thought, divination, and practices of salvation at the École Pratique des Hautes Études. With over a decade of ballet training, she studied History of Dance as part of her Philosophy and Aesthetics degree at the University of Bologna. Alongside her academic work, she writes about dance.

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