A tale of two queens: Badisches Staatsballett in Maria Stuart

Staatstheater, Karlsruhe
July 14, 2023

England, 1587. Elizabeth I is debating whether to finally commit Mary, Queen of Scots to the scaffold. A situation that had been brewing quietly since Elizabeth I’s coronation in February 1559, and that of Francois and Mary, Queen of Scots in France later that year, following which they laid claim to the English throne, has finally come to a head.

Two queens. Two women at the centre of events, but were either of them really in control? Following Friedrich Schiller’s verse play of 1800 on which it is based, Bridget Breiner’s ballet, Maria Stuart, suggests not. Neither Elizabeth nor Mary was above scheming and manipulating but ultimately, and as Breiner makes clear, this was a very male-dominated world; one full of politics and intrigue.

Schiller’s play all takes place in the last three days of Mary life, those between her conviction for treason and her execution at Fotheringhay Castle. Breiner follows his drama closely, similarly opening with Elizabeth debating whether to sign Mary’s death warrant. An executioner’s axe swings slowly from side to side reflecting the ‘should I, shouldn’t I’ doubts in her mind.

The story is then played out in retrospect with political and personal conflict at the forefront, including the possibilities of love affairs for both, which provides for pas de deux opportunities. Everything is depicted clearly. You do not need to read the programme to work out what is going on.

While Sophie Martin is a commanding presence as Elizabeth, albeit someone aloof and alone, someone racked with doubt, it is Bridgett Zehr as Mary who stalks every scene. Slender and in a simple blue dress, she appears in stark contrast to the jewelled Elizabeth. Breiner emphasises her position as the shadow queen. For most of Act I, she’s a haunting presence; there but not there.

That is seen perfectly in a scene involving a group of travelling acrobats. Each takes a crown in turn, each finishes up dead, with more than a hint they were killed by the others. It’s impossible not to see them illustrating Elizabeth’s thoughts, especially when the ghostly Mary emerges from the crowd to take the crown and go to the throne with it.

At the centre of everything is Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, the ballet’s most deeply drawn character, played by the charismatic Ledian Soto. A close friend of Elizabeth from childhood, Leicester was frequently thought of as her lover. Breiner shows this beautifully in a pas de deux that just does enough to hint at a relationship. Away from the public gaze, she takes off her finery and they meet in a dance of intricate lifts, long arabesques and lingering glances. Yet, the strong impression is that while he has feelings for her, she is somewhat distanced and detached.

Time and again Breiner hits the right note, although Maria Stuart is very much a ballet where imagery counts as much as dance. There are other pas de deux, including for Leicester and Mary, but there are no big set-piece ensemble numbers. While the ballet is in some ways not unlike the darker works of Kenneth MacMillan, in look and feel, the closest I can think of is David Bintley’s Edward II.

One of the most dramatic images comes in a scene when the nobles meet around a table. What they are discussing is depicted by the ghostly Mary lying on it, face down, her head off the end, as if on an executioner’s block.

While firmly rooted in real events, Breiner’s Maria Stuart takes the same historical liberty as Schiller, showing us the fictional meeting of the two queens set up by Leicester. Whether that was in the hope of keeping both women in his life alive or playing a double game to ensure he finishes up on the winning side is unclear. Very apparent is the tension, however. It crackles. Martin (Elisabeth) in striking yellow trousers, Zehr (Mary) in her usual plain blue dress, eyeball each other. Lying on the floor then kneeling they appear like two big cats. Opposites in every sense, fingers point as they argue. A gesticulating dance of hands turns into a full blown set to.

Far from Leicester’s hoped for rapprochement, the meeting sets in motion a chain of events that sends the story hurtling towards the end. The tempestuous Mortimer, impressively played by Leonid Leontev, who had already revealed himself to Leicester as a staunch Catholic in one of the work’s slightly heavy-handed and overly-drawn out scenes, attempts to assassinate Elizabeth. The ballet bursts into life hunt for him that follows although, before he can be arrested, he commits suicide.

The music for the ballet is mostly by Benjamin Britten, his War Requiem, Symphonic Suite from Gloriana featuring heavily alongside extracts from A Ceremony of Carols and ‘Four Sea Interludes’ from Peter Grimes. Topped up by extracts from James MacMillan, it all underlines the drama, emphasising scenes without overpowering them. The onstage Baden-Württemberg State Opera Chorus are skilfully integrated into the action, boosting crowd scenes, as well as singing.

Designer Jürgen Franz Kirner combines ancient and modern in both sets and costumes. His moveable curtains of chains (all 3.5km of them) evoke both the huge drapes of the period but feel truly foreboding, also hinting  at confinement and imprisonment, in the mind as well as physically.

His costumes for Elizabeth I run from the period dress to modern outfits that would grace any catwalk. Mary, in contrast, is dressed plainly. Apart from the acrobats a brief appearance by a gaudily-dressed French prince (Pablo Octávio) Elizabeth rebuffs, they provide the only splashes of colour amid the black that is the order of the day elsewhere, the men coming in various quilted or leather-look outfits that strongly suggest power and menace.

The only time there is brightness in a setting is when Mary is allowed to walk outside with her maid. It’s the only time in the ballet we see her happy.

The penultimate scene sees her at her most dignified. More a victim of the noblemen than Elizabeth, she slowly mounts the scaffold, a long, symbolic, blood-red train unfurling behind her. It is one of the ballet’s most powerful scenes.

Given the political machinations and possibility of rebellion, she may well have had little choice if she was to survive, but it ends with Elizabeth alone, just as she has always been, but now left to live with what she has done.

It would be easy to complain that Breiner could have dug deeper in the character of the two queens but the ballet already runs two hours plus an interval. A few things are a little drawn out but there’s not much you would want to cut. She certainly leaves you with questions about guilt and innocence. Controlled, by people and events, as much as controlling, there is also a sense that Elizabeth was a victim in some ways too, although it was of course only Mary who paid the ultimate price

Maria Stuart. A dramatic story, told dramatically.