It is hard to think of a Romeo and Juliet more physically handsome than Roberto Bolle and Darcey Bussell. Aside from the extreme elegance of their bodies and faces, both possess the kind of Rolls Royce-engineered techniques that allow them to move more smoothly and powerfully than anyone else on stage.
During the first act this luxuriance is sharpened and deepened by passages of fine-tuned artistry. Bolle will never be a big personality or a passionate actor. But swanning around with Tybalt and Mercutio, his Romeo has a sociable charm, while his love for Juliet is fuelled by genuine hunger. When he partners Bussell their dancing is filled with moments of wonderfully reflex daring, reaching a pitch when Bussell leaps backwards into his arms on a trajectory of pure, heedless bliss. Even their kisses look real.
Bussell, for her part, is very good at exploring the interface between Juliet's childishness and her awakening sexuality. During the ball scene her eyes constantly rake the stage, alive with curiosity, desperate for reassurance, while her self-conscious limbs keep trying to adjust themselves to adult manners. Yet within her character's volatility, Bussell's dancing is simply superb. She has hit a peak where she is able to live in the moment of every step. She searches out the possibilities of each choreographic detail and the process seems to be as thrilling for her as it is for us.
Unfortunately, though, the Bolle-Bussell partnership lacks the juice to scale the heights of the third act. With Bolle it is clear that his emotional range is too narrow, either to raise the tragic stakes of his own character, or drag anything deeper and darker out of Bussell. With the latter, however, her limitations are harder to analyse. It is always evident what Bussell is trying for in her acting - her gestures and reactions are visibly thought through. It is admirably apparent that she strives for real physical distress in the poison and death scenes. Yet, however hard she tries, the acting does not register on a gut level. Her stomach does not churn, her nerves do not shred, and neither do ours.
You only have to watch William Tuckett, a natural actor, to see the difference. Tuckett has all the right physical qualities to perform Tybalt: a thuggish build and murderous pale blue eyes. But there is that extra chemical reaction in his performance that makes it viscerally compelling. When Tybalt dies, flailing around in pain and bitter frustration, it is as fascinating and horrible as watching the death throes of some rabid beast.
In rep until May 23. Box office: 020-7304 4000.
