A sensual, cinematic and deeply enjoyable evening of queer storytelling through ballet.
Northern Ballet’s Gentleman Jack at Sadler’s Wells Theatre feels committed to clarity, emotion and atmosphere from the outset. Presented by Northern Ballet, choreographed by Annabelle Lopez Ochoa with a score by Peter Salem and dramaturgy from Clare Croft, the production allows the audience to fully settle into Anne Lister’s world. This is crisp storytelling, cinematic in its movement between scenes across time and expressive emotion, attentive to interiority as much as action, and constantly searching for visual ways to express desire, repression, ambition and self. It makes for an incredibly complete and enjoyable world to spend time in.
Much of that comes through the production’s design language. The immersive moving set and lighting design by Christopher Ash is handled beautifully, both through the mechanics of the fluid transitions and through the ensemble who continually reshape the stage into drawing rooms, roads, ballrooms and open landscape. Yorkshire itself becomes the core emotional architecture of the piece. Misty trees sweep across screens moved by ensemble members. The ensemble transforms into weather, nature and social pressure simultaneously. Salem’s score is similarly woven into place, period inflected, but always carrying dramatic undercurrents beneath its warmth. Both music and choreography remain resolutely story driven, which means the dance never drifts too far into abstraction or inaccessibility, with little difficulty in following the emotional logic of characters.
The piece is at its strongest when it centres intimacy. Gemma Coutts as Anne Lister, or Gentleman Jack, brings swagger, charm and vulnerability in equal measure. The relationship between Anne Lister and Ann Walker, danced by Rachael Gillespie, is crafted with real sensuousness and physical strength. There is a lyrical closeness in the duet when they become intimate, full of suspended weight, shifting shapes and presence rather than postured romance. It’s wonderful to see queer representation given this care and attention, with both a tenderness and scale on stage. The choreography repeatedly contrasts the rigidity of social expectation with moments where desire cuts through and destabilises the formality around it. One particularly striking sequence around tea with Jack’s family transforms etiquette into tension when Marianna Lawton comes over. Stylised gestures become clipped, stressful, swirling teaspoons around squeaking ceramics.
The ensemble also carries the weight of wider society effectively, embodying scrutiny, gossip and class expectation. At times, though, the storytelling around antagonistic forces, particularly the business disputes and industrial themes woven through Anne Lister’s biography, became harder to follow in detail. That feels slightly unfair to comment on given the form itself. Ballet cannot deliver exposition in the same way as dialogue can. Still, there were moments where motivations blurred, especially as legal or economic conflicts intensified, and risked becoming a generic oppressive force for Anne to rally against. Equally, some choreographic images repeated a few too many times without substantial variation or progression.
Some of that repetition fed into one of the work’s most interesting thematic ideas: writing as self-creation. Love letters, contracts, diaries, business proposals — people continually write themselves into existence here. Anne Lister’s authorship of her own life becomes inseparable from her movement through the world. At one point she essentially disappears, sleeps with what seems like half the ballet corps, then returns to Yorkshire emotionally renewed. Absurd on paper perhaps, but oddly coherent within the production’s heightened emotion and as a larger-than-life representation leaping out of history.
The production rarely stops offering beautiful images. Louise Flanagan’s costumes are exceptional, using carefully controlled palettes and breakout colours to direct the eye, clarify story and shape mood, particularly during the standout ballroom sequence. The final image, Gentleman Jack framed alone, empowered, staring out at us, lands with shivers.
The standing ovation felt entirely earned. More than anything, there was a palpable sense of joy in the audience — joy at being immersed in this world, joy at seeing queer characters and queer desire, and joy at watching a ballet so wholeheartedly committed to story. A really wholesome, highly recommended evening.
Gentleman Jack runs at Sadler’s Wells in London until 23rd May.