The Quadrophenia era might be 60 years old, but some things about being young haven’t changed. Jimmy, the protagonist of the Who’s classic album – later a film, now a ballet – brims with awkwardness and scrappy bravado. His hunger for life and his desperation to be someone are viscerally felt when the fantasy of adult life rubs up against the sometimes grubby reality.
Should a ballet version of the Who’s 1973 album work? Well it turns out that it does. Pete Townshend might be the man behind the Who’s sound, but it’s his wife, composer and orchestrator Rachel Fuller, who is in large part responsible for this. She originally orchestrated the album for the Classic Quadrophenia project a decade ago, and that’s the backdrop for this show, minus vocals. The music is majestic, especially the recurring riff from Love, Reign O’er Me that does sterling dramatic work each time it appears and builds to an almighty climax as Jimmy faces crisis after the famous mods and rockers clash on Brighton beach.

This is not a classical ballet, but a dance piece drawing on a number of styles, choreographed by Paul Roberts and directed by Rob Ashford. Roberts is best known from the pop world (Spice Girls, Harry Styles), Ashford from musicals, and they bring a snappy pace to the storytelling, especially in the first act, the narrative based on Townshend’s original liner notes. Paris Fitzpatrick is perfectly cast as disaffected Jimmy, full of tetchy energy, and the four facets of Jimmy’s personality (the “quad” of the title) are represented by different dancers: the swooning Romantic and feral Lunatic, along with the Hypocrite and the Tough Guy, although that’s a device perhaps underused.
Jimmy’s apparently uninterested parents are mired in their own troubles and the most poignant choreography comes in an early duet for the couple. Before they even dance, you can sense their dissatisfaction, reluctance and antipathy (in Kate Tydman’s Mother especially), but slowly their defences melt into a tender ballroom hold. The best dancing, however, belongs to the mods in the club scene, all jagged shoulders and jutting chins, moves so sharp they sting like a paper cut.

Royal Ballet principal Matthew Ball is parachuted in for a cameo as an arrogant rock star dressed in Paul Smith union jack jacket. Circling the stage with his tours en l’air and pirouettes, he’s got the swagger but it’s all too clean. The following scene though, where Ball sneers at Jimmy and his friends hankering for autographs, is painfully effective. This is a story about false idols (such as king of the mods Ace Face, who turns out to be a lowly hotel bellboy) and it’s about the desperation to belong. That’s mirrored across the generations when Jimmy’s alcoholic dad remembers his wartime service, not only the tragedy but the lost sense of purpose and camaraderie.
Smart decisions have been made about the minimal set (by Christopher Oram) and the excellent projections by YeastCulture that make a huge difference to the sense of realism: the condensation on a cafe window, the waves on Brighton seafront. All the pieces fall into place in an engrossing show that has style and substance, grit and grace. It looks like Quadrophenia is a hit once again.