There is much innovation in the ensemble work too, where men and women are dressed equally and are often dancing the same choreography—no sheepish alterations between the sexes here. Lopez Ochoa’s chorus of words from Lister’s diary swoop about like dark, fragile birds in the moody northern skies. They lift Lister and hold her dearly as no one else in the ballet does. The miners are a little less convincing, though references to traditional long sword dances provide a Tyke-ish charm. Repetition of movement does also weaken some of the kinetic impact, particularly cabrioles off the side of set pieces. What really impresses however is just how much Lopez Ochoa is able to pull out all the passion, tension, and humour from Lister’s life and keep it snappy. No scene is overwrought and long, even those concerning land disputes which could prove snore-inducing in less capable hands. Peter Salem’s excellent score underlies the action suitably.

While “Gentleman Jack” is a strong addition to the modern canon of story ballets, what makes it a real triumph is its impact as an all-too-rare Queer story. Lopez Ochoa does not shy away from the harsh realities of the period for Queer people but equally doesn’t wade in the sorrow. The moments of passionate flight are luxurious—especially when Lister heads to permissive Paris to sample the local fare—and Lister’s tenacity and audacity act as unwavering anchors to the storyline. In an audience noticeably filled with lesbian couples, butches, and trans folk, we see in action how ballet is still entirely capable of reaching audiences far and wide. With Lopez Ochoa at the helm, the possibilities of what can or cannot become ballet seem endless.