Noah Parets and Beckanne Sisk carry the National Ballet's production of Pinocchio.Bruce Zinger/Supplied
Title: Pinocchio
Choreographer: Will Tuckett
Company: National Ballet of Canada
Venue: Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts
City: Toronto
Year: To March 22, 2026
If there were a ballet that might sway Timothée Chalamet’s thoughts on the form’s relevance, it’s not Will Tuckett’s Pinocchio, currently being remounted by the National Ballet of Canada.
Then again, it’s churlish to pin rigid critical concepts such as form and relevance on lighthearted family-friendly entertainment. The hope with this sort of production is that its ability to move and delight audiences of all ages will be a kind of relevance in itself. Nothing wrong with that thinking.
Ballet could be an ideal medium to entertain the whole family. The form lends itself to simple stories that convey deep feelings. Its muteness means there are no big words or stretches of witty banter to go over the heads of its youngest viewers. Add the universal language of music, the beauty of bodies flowing through space, some impressive sets and costumes, a dash of inventive stagecraft, a pinch of breathtaking choreography and you truly have a recipe to please everyone.
But try too hard to demystify what’s mystical about ballet and you can end up with a confused hybrid that doesn’t hold its own in any category. This is the fate of this Pinocchio, which premiered in 2017.
Carlo Collodi’s 1883 fable about a selfish and wicked puppet has been adapted in countless ways and into countless forms. This production, a collaboration between Tuckett and librettist/dramaturge Alasdair Middleton, is largely tonally benign; it lacks the violence of the original but also the sweetness of the 1940 Disney version. Instead, the British creators have loaded on the Canadian cliches – lumberjacks, mounted police, Maritime fisherfolk, a “Red Lobster Inn” – turning Canadiana into a kind of genre unto itself.
The set and stagecraft (designed by Colin Richmond) will be major draws for the under-10 set. In the first scene, Pinocchio emerges fully formed from a giant felled tree, sprawled dramatically across the stage. Later, the puppet floats weightlessly in a vast underwater diorama and, at another point, he wanders through a Las Vegas-style dreamscape of riches. Equally neat is the metal, submarine-like whale that swallows the characters, its interior a junkyard of random detritus and half-crushed cars.
Other choices are more perplexing. As though to ensure everyone is following the plot, Middleton has incorporated spoken text into the action. Not only do the dancers chant as a chorus, but two actors (Maya Doherty and Trevor Patt) act as narrators, elucidating the story and Pinocchio’s inner world.
Carlo Collodi’s 1883 fable about a selfish and wicked puppet has been adapted into countless forms.Bruce Zinger/Supplied
The device turns the production into something play-like, minus the stuff that typically makes plays good: dialogue, interesting language, etc. Moreover, it’s often hard to make out what the dancers are saying over the music, and the narration only underscores the fact that the choreography isn’t doing what it’s supposed to do: tell the story through movement.
If you came for the choreography, you won’t find much of that either. Pinocchio’s (Noah Parets) movement vocabulary is limited by his wooden constitution; the robotic awkwardness is funny for the first five minutes but gets old and repetitive quickly.
New principal dancer Beckanne Sisk has a magical presence as the Blue Fairy, complemented by her theatrical red wig and an ethereal blue tutu (also designed by Colin Richmond), but she hasn’t been given enough choreography to do anything terribly memorable. First soloist Donald Thom faces similar limitations as Geppetto; he’s confident and technically strong but just doesn’t have enough to do.
Opportunities for compelling ensemble work are also squandered in Tuckett’s hands. The Blue Fairy Shadows and Blue Fairy Birds who flutter about in clusters could have been organized in interesting configurations but, instead, seem to fill the space superfluously. The closest Tuckett gets to providing satisfying corps de ballet choreography is with a fleeting sequence performed by the fisherfolk in the final Act.
Paul Englishby’s score can be pleasantly jazzy but doesn’t help drive the narrative, shape characters or deepen the emotional tone.
It seems that in the hopes of attracting a broader audience, the National has come up with something that’s not as good as a play, not as good as a musical and, most ironically, not as good as a ballet.