Traditionally, Hansel and Gretel is a tale of tasty delight and grisly dread. Northern Ballet’s new version for young audiences chucks out the gingerbread cottage and the witch who has unsavoury plans for the siblings. Rather than fearing the forest, the duo learn to love and respect green spaces in a breezy, 40-minute eco-fable with as little jeopardy as the company’s sugar-spun version of Little Red Riding Hood a few years ago. But this peril-free, meandering story is often witty in its compositions (by Colin Scott) and choreography (by Harris Beattie and George Liang), both with a helping of music-hall tomfoolery. The show also has an attractive, economical patchwork design by Ali Allen that matches the environmental message and creates a collage of town and countryside.
This Hansel and Gretel live in an urban apartment with their father – there’s no stepmother in sight – and are glued to video games. Dad despairs of them so takes them for a walk in the woods: cue a relatable scene for parents in the audience as he bounds out into the fresh air, with the kids dragging their heels behind him. Andrew Tomlinson, dressed in a dandified business suit that matches the monochrome cityscape, stands with chest stretched and hands on hips like an adventurer surveying awe-inspiring terrain. Archie Sherman’s Hansel and Julie Nunès’s Gretel are a kerfuffle of huffs and shrugs, arms folded and lips pursed.
Left alone, the duo encounter characters that shift their perspective. The first are a pair of birdwatchers – greeting them with great rippling hand shakes – whose beloved birds are represented by rod puppets and accompanied by fleet notes on flute (Sarah Bull) and clarinet (Joanna Rozario), from a quartet directed by pianist Ewan Gilford. The ensemble sits at the side of the stage so young audiences can enjoy the musicians’ characterful movements, too, and identify the sounds of each instrument.
Alexander Volpov’s cello is best at conveying the weary melancholy of a rubbish monster (Bruno Serraclara) who shuffles along with glowing eyes, weighed down by a coat of litter, looking as if a bottle bank’s innards have been spewed out. A pirouetting nature spirit (Mayuko Iwanaga) appears under Abbi Fearnley’s emerald lighting and, like a disappointed teacher, rebukes the siblings when they carelessly toss their sweet wrappers away. Instead of a witch, the children encounter the Lady of the Wood (Gemma Coutts) who shares the joy of gardening.
The dancing can at times appear as didactic as the plot, with the siblings mimicking first the scampering, feet-flicking birdwatchers and finally their green-fingered host. There is an over-extended jig of a finale, and an overwhelming sense that the original story has got as lost as Hansel and Gretel themselves, but there are appealing performances and even the sorrowful rubbish monster is treated to a fairytale transformation.
