Northern Ballet: Gentleman Jack

Theatre Royal, Nottingham
May 16, 2026

Having previously created ballets that celebrated the lives of Frieda Kahlo, Coco Chanel and Maria Callas, choreographer Annabelle López Ochoa has now turned her attention to someone closer to home: Anne Lister, the 19th-century Yorkshire landowner, better known as Gentleman Jack. Her ballet is a triumph in every respect; one of the most compelling new full-length narrative works that I’ve seen in a long time

Gentleman Jack is not only a masterful piece of storytelling in the true Northern Ballet tradition, it’s full of well-defined characters that are easy to connect with and care about.

The whole creative team deliver. Chrisopher Ash’s sets are sparse but evoke time and place. It’s amazing what you can achieve with a table and chairs, and a few movable bookcases that double as video screen that indicate the work’s shifting locations. Louise Flanagan’s costumes are pitch-perfect, as is Peter Salem’s at times near-cinematic, always tuneful and easy-on-the-ear score, which comes with occasional brass and folk influences.

Born into a wealthy landowning family, Lister managed their Shibden Hall estate from 1826, fully inheriting it in 1836. She threw herself into its management, both the farms above and the coal mines below. As if that wasn’t defying gender expectations of the time enough, she also largely dressed in ‘male’ clothing. Considered by some as the first modern lesbian, in 1834 she took sacrament in York with Ann Lister, often regarded as the first same-sex marriage in Britain.

But while the gender aspects of story are always present, and sometimes bubble over in a couple of very sexually-charged duets, López Ochoa doesn’t overly push them, doesn’t obviously strive to put them at the forefront of everything. Rather, she lets the story do the talking. And what a story it is.

Right from the opening scene, Gemma Coutts as Anne presents a powerful, lithe figure. Armed with her cane, she almost seems to be conducting neighbouring landowner Christopher Rawson, other business figures and miners. As Rawson, George Liang delivered a strong performance that added real presence to every scene he was in. Their attitude of the men towards her is evident in the choreography, but as she challenges them and their authority, it is they who you imagine dancing to her tune.

On stage almost the whole ballet, Coutts delivers what will surely be an award-winning performance. Physically, she captures the character perfectly. She moves differently from the other women and the men. But what really strikes is how confidence oozes from every pore. As she shrugs her shoulders or flicks her hat, and with her green-lined tails swishing behind her, she has a beautiful light swagger about her.

But it’s not only her dance. Her face speaks volumes. Every look, every glance is made to count. Time and again she connects with the audience, a sly glance here, a cheeky look there. And often, I’ll swear, with a twinkle in her eye.

There are several lightly comedic moments in the choreography too. Watch out for teacups, saucers and spoons become part of the dance

Anne’s first love, Mariana Lawton, danced by Saeke Shirai, eventually marries a man, but not before a wonderfully intimate, suggestive duet on and around a table. It’s not a virtuosic, explosive pas de deux, but it doesn’t need to be. This is a couple very happy and very comfortable in each other’s company. It sounds the simplest thing, but when Anne tenderly runs a small bell down Mariana’s body, the sexual charge goes through the roof. The comparison with Mariana’s later moments with her husband, Charles, all formality and restraint, are stark indeed.

Lister left a series of diaries, some written in code, that provide detailed discussions of her life and her relationships with women. It’s about here that they come to the fore for the first time in the designs, projections of her writings gradually covering the stage floor. The code and text also come to life thanks to the inky grey Chorus of Words. In body suits inscribed with scribblings, they swirl around her in support, consoling her and the loss of Mariana. To see the effect to the full, sit upstairs.

Having been attacked and left battered by a group of men, Act Two sees Anne first go to Paris, her journey indicated by the best used of a treadmill, also used elsewhere to walk purposefully between scenes. The liberalism of the city provides some lightness and contrast to the norms of Yorkshire.

Back home, miner unrest leads to an unexpected deal with Rawson, who invites her to his home. Mistake. For him, anyway. Anne explodes into their sitting room, the animated conversation between her, Rawson, his wife (Alessandra Bramante), and Ann Walker, his niece, depicted in movement in a clever game of musical chairs.

It’s very quickly obvious that Anne and a nervous Ann, played skittishly by Rachael Gillespie, are attracted. A secret rendezvous leads to another deliciously sexy but tasteful pas de deux, although it doesn’t make the spine tingle in quite the same way as that between Anne and Mariana. As the two attend a ball, it’s obvious that the Rawsons can’t even start to comprehend the couple, let alone come to terms with their partnership.

Anne and Ann’s walking out, walking to a future together could have been the end. But the wedding scene, with both now on pointe and very properly and demurely veiled, does close things neatly. Almost. But this is Anne’s, Gentleman Jack’s ballet, and it feels right that the last word is hers as we see her back on that treadmill, striding onwards before being outlined in a huge gold portrait frame. Quite an image to take away.

Gentleman Jack by Northern Ballet continues on tour to Sadler’s Wells, London; Theatre Royal, Norwich; Lowry, Salford; and Alhambra Theatre, Bradford. Click here for dates and booking links.