Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland at Royal Opera House Review
By Rainy J.
On June 13, the Royal Ballet’s revival of Christopher Wheeldon’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland—first premiered in 2011—returned to Covent Garden with its trademark visual spectacle and theatrical charm intact. Featuring Anna Rose O’Sullivan as Alice and William Bracewell as the Knave of Hearts, the evening reaffirmed why this production has become a modern classic. With its blend of cinematic staging, expressive choreography, and characterful performances, Alice continues to assert its place as a cornerstone of 21st-century narrative ballet.
While some critics suggest the episodic format limits character development, the ballet ingeniously uses classical storytelling through movement rather than relying on traditional mime. This is particularly significant in a ballet where logic is fluid, and the dreamworld is in constant flux. The challenge of a surreal narrative lies not only in its inherent illogic but in how to maintain a cohesive emotional arc without losing the sense of wonder and chaos that defines Wonderland. Wheeldon navigates this balance beautifully by allowing Alice’s experience to unfold through the evolution of her physicality, rather than through verbal exposition or dramatic soliloquy.
O’Sullivan’s portrayal of Alice is a study in movement-driven emotional growth. She begins with a sense of youthful buoyancy, her movement light and impulsive, often mirroring the chaos that surrounds her. Her choreography reflects this—airiness and spontaneity characterize her early interactions. However, as she journeys deeper into Wonderland, her movements gradually ground, slowing in tempo and gaining weight. This evolution is not immediately noticeable, but it is profoundly effective. Alice is not simply a passive character who is lost in a dream, but rather one who learns to navigate and gain control over the world she finds herself in. This evolution—subtle yet powerful—captures the growing confidence and resilience of a young girl on the cusp of transformation.
The pas de deux with Bracewell’s Knave of Hearts represents a key emotional turning point in the ballet. Against the backdrop of Wonderland’s visual and narrative chaos, this duet offers a stillness and lyrical sincerity that contrasts sharply with the frenetic pace of the surrounding scenes. The chemistry between O’Sullivan and Bracewell is palpable—soft yet poignant, grounded yet ephemeral. Rather than devolving into a traditional romantic climax, this duet feels like a quiet moment of recognition, an emotional pause amidst the madness. Their interaction doesn’t offer resolution but suggests a deeper connection—two figures seeking balance in a world where nothing remains constant. It’s a subtle but important reminder that the emotional arc of the ballet is not bound by plot, but by the physical and emotional exchange between the characters.
Crucially, the ballet never halts its narrative for this emotional moment. The passion between Alice and the Knave is woven directly into the choreography, through lifts that seem to hover between them, hands that linger in hesitation, and shared weight that quietly communicates unspoken understanding. Wheeldon never allows the narrative to stagnate; even in these intimate moments, the flow of the work continues, a gentle push that carries the story forward, making it feel as though the emotional landscape of Wonderland is constantly in motion. This constant movement prevents the ballet from becoming too introspective or indulgent, balancing emotional depth with the need for narrative progression.
Wheeldon’s choreography works on multiple levels, never allowing the story to lose its sense of urgency or direction. In a ballet where emotions run high and characters shift through dreamlike states, the choreography is not just a vehicle for plot—it is the pulse of the story itself. The narrative doesn’t stop for the emotions—it pulses through them, continuing forward even in the most introspective of moments. This seamless blending of storytelling with physicality ensures that the ballet feels neither too narrative-heavy nor overly abstract. Instead, it maintains an engaging flow, never losing momentum and always inviting the audience to stay immersed in the fantastical world that continues to evolve before them.
One of the production’s greatest strengths lies in the shaping of ensemble characters. Wheeldon doesn’t relegate the corps to mere background; instead, he breathes life into every individual. From the powdered-wig Frog-Footmen to flustered court servants, jittery White Rabbits to twitchy Croquet Hedgehogs and flamingos, each element adds narrative and visual depth.
Nowhere is this clearer than in the Queen’s chaotic kitchen or the croquet court, where minor characters teem with purpose. Rather than being ornamental, these creatures and attendants participate in creating an environment where narrative and atmosphere intertwine. Their movements—precise yet quirky—don’t just fill the stage but structure it, carving space and tension around the leads. The ensemble becomes an extension of Wonderland’s logic: erratic, yet oddly synchronized; humorous, yet meticulously choreographed.
In this, the overall choreography serves not only the physicality of the story but also the integrity of the world itself. The ability to choreograph such an expansive range of characters with distinct personalities and movements requires a deep understanding of the dance form’s architecture. The sheer breadth of the ensemble—its size and diversity—speaks to Wheeldon’s impressive capacity to balance narrative clarity with intricate movement patterns. The logic behind each figure’s movement is not arbitrary but integral to the larger framework of the piece. The footmen may scurry, the flamingos may swoop, but these patterns align with the overall structure of the work, ensuring that every movement serves a purpose within the broader dance narrative. This is what makes the choreography feel cohesive, no matter how fantastical or eccentric the characters might seem.
Wheeldon’s skill in handling the ensemble allows Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland to accommodate dancers of varying ages, allowing each character—be they skilled dancer or not—to find a place within the broader scheme. This inclusivity provides space for both dancers and audience members to engage in the work on their own terms. This balance ensures that the stage doesn’t become cluttered with superfluous action, but instead maintains a harmonious complexity that pulls the viewer into Wonderland without overwhelming them. In this way, the piece becomes not only a feast for those familiar with ballet but an experience that offers access points for all.
The richness of the ensemble’s presence also imbues the production with a deep sense of texture and layered meaning. By crafting such a nuanced array of characters, Wheeldon infuses Alice with more than just whimsy. The figures on stage represent different facets of Wonderland’s disorienting, yet strangely ordered, universe. Each character embodies a unique physical vocabulary that reflects their personality, and it’s through this diversity of movement that the stage feels alive and multi-dimensional. A jittery White Rabbit is contrasted with the languid elegance of the Queen, while the frenetic energy of the Hedgehogs is met with the stiff, formal precision of the courtiers. These contrasting movements add dynamic tension and rhythm to the piece, creating a constantly shifting visual landscape that reflects the unpredictable nature of Wonderland itself.
★★★★
