Stepping into the regal grandeur of Sydney’s State Theatre, you’re immediately transported into a truly magnificent bygone era. Sweeping marble staircases, sparkling chandeliers, lavish velvet drapes and exquisite copper detailing… with even more surprises as you arch your neck to survey the intricacies of the vast ceiling. What better backdrop for the world’s most famous ballet, Swan Lake? And even more fitting to see it performed by the Imperial Russian Ballet Company, with Russia home to the first ever Swan Lake, premiering at the Bolshoi Theatre in Moscow in 1877.

A gothic tapestry shields the stage before curtain-up, in moody greys. The performance is presented in four scenes over two acts – opening to a party in the garden of Prince Siegfried’s castle, to celebrate his coming of age. Flowing dresses with embroidered bodices in soft lemon, and later apricot and olive tones, fluttered across the stage in this cheerful scene. The dancers displayed excellent control, lightly skipping across the floor with silent landings out of jumps. The Jokers are a crowd favourite throughout, performed by Denys Simon and Ruslan Soengoshev. As the cast surrounded the stage sipping from grand chalices, Simon executed a series of straight-legged barrel roll turns, becoming increasingly horizontal to the floor – met with robust applause. The jokers whipped themselves around in springy double-turn jumps… the speed and silliness of these much-adored characters giving the audience a chuckle.

The arrival of the swans is one of those exhale moments – it’s what we all came for, a sea of textured white bell tutus embellished with feathered wings and pearled headpieces. Swan Lake is quintessentially a dance of the arms and the Imperial’s corps de ballet perfects ‘feminine’ and ‘floaty’. At one stage, the dancers made two vertical lines and as their arms lowered, they aligned in a soft, satisfying symmetry. The brokenness of the swans trapped under an evil spell was beautifully captured through the collapsing wing motif and the drooped wrists, delicately forming the head of the swan. The much-anticipated Dance of the Cygnets to the wonderfully familiar Tchaikovsky score was near precision… the four dancers feet moving as carbon copies of each other, but the heads falling just short. Mist rose from the floor to create a haze beneath the tutus in an eerie blend of white against the shadows, closing the first act.