Bolshoi Ballet—the drama moves onstage

Mikhail Lobukhin as Spartacus. Photo: Elena Fetisova, Bolshoi Ballet

The Bolshoi Ballet was in town recently as part of the Lincoln Center Festival, in the wake of the scandalous acid-throwing incident suffered by artistic director Sergei Filin, who watched from the audience and is looking in better condition than I had feared from all the news reports. It was a relief to see the drama move onstage.

Spartacus, a historical ballet choreographed by Yuri Grigorovich to swashbuckling filmic music by Aram Khachaturyan, is a genre that is rarely produced in New York, with reason—there's a fine line between a historical costume dance and spoof. In the first scene's demonstrations of Roman military might, I had to stifle the giggles and adjust my mindset. Athletic bombast became the norm throughout the three-hour ballet, as the large cast's many men stomped and punched their expressions of prowess while carrying shields and swords, and wearing armor including shinguards and helmets. Many of the women, on the other hand, wore hand scarf-sized stylized togas with pointe shoes. Well, why not?

Mikhail Lobukhin chomped heartily into the title role, flexing his tanned muscles and flinging his lank hair in rhythm. He literally flew across the stage in jetés and even a rivoltade (a fancy, floor-stabbing tour jeté), flinging his arms wide and thrusting his chest out in extreme confidence. Simon Virsaladze's costumes for the principals, despite their mixed messages on veracity and a tendency to over-weaponize, were flattering, including Spartacus' red, one-shouldered obi/loin cloth over grey tights.

Svetlana Zakharova as Aegina in Spartacus. Photo: Stephanie Berger

Svetlana Zakharova, glamorous and conspiratorial, gobbled even more scenery as the courtesan Aegina. Dripping with rhinestones to complement her mini toga, she used her fabulous forced arches as lethal weapons, repeatedly brandishing them at anyone nearby. You could practically hear her purring as she minxed her way through the ballet, slicing the poor air with her ferocious developpés, upturned palms, and in one scene, a floral staff. In the less gratifying "good" roles, Alexander Volchkov as Crassus, leader of the Roman Army, and Anna Nikulina, as Phrygia, Spartacus' gal pal, fared as well as could be expected. 

While Spartacus reads as kitsch much of the time, it has entertaining pre-battle pep rally scenes and bacchanales, although a little goes a long way, and many of Grigorovich's choreographic inventions—duly repeated, again and again—are artless and bone-jarring. Virsaladze's expressionistic scenery—columned stone temples—is modernized by an evocative, hammocked scrim raised up and down to conceal and reveal stage elements. This ballet may not be one that you'd want to catch repeatedly, but as a staple of the Bolshoi's repertory, it was a fascinating glimpse into the Russian cultural canon.
    

Alexander Petukhov (Sancho Panza in Don Quixote) in flight. Photo: Stephanie Berger

Last week, I saw the company perform Don Quixote. There are few surprises since it's comparable to the ballet that ABT just performed earlier this summer. The Bolshoi's production, by Alexei Fadeyechev after Petipa and Gorsky, goes for busily milling crowd scenes, Cubistic painted flats by Sergei Barkhin, and a sultry Flamenco number, although in this scene both the pace and the leg-hiding floor-length dresses drag. 

Kristina Kretova, a leading soloist (the rank below principal) danced Kitri, flashing huge smiles and fanning her ruffled skirt with fervor. Lobukhin was her Basilio; despite its broad comic strokes, the role requires far more restraint than Spartacus, not to mention more clothing (the black tights tend to make Lobukhin's legs look skinnier than they are). But the bold, joyful attitude of Don Quixote is well-matched to the Bolshoi's nature. 

Random notes:
The orchestra sounded bright and lustrous; Pavel Klinichev conducted.
The Koch Theater is perhaps slightly small for these productions, but the closer proximity than the Met (where ABT performs its spring season) makes it easier to read.
Some of the technique looked slightly ragged, especially in Don Quixote.

David Hallberg, Home Again

Gillian Murphy & David Hallberg in Cinderella.
Photo: Gene Schiavone

It's been a year since we've seen principal dancer David Hallberg perform with ABT, as he began dancing with the Bolshoi and splits his time between Moscow and New York. I guess we should feel lucky that he keeps one elegant foot here, even if it means a reduced spring ABT season workload and no fall/winter New York dates. It would be unthinkable to lose him completely.

In any case, it's wonderful to see him again in well-suited leads in Cinderella and Giselle. He is a natural-born prince (despite—because of?—his South Dakota provenance), with his statuesque height, noble profile, blond locks, and his innate hauteur. In his months with the Bolshoi, he has added welcome upper body strength to make overhead ballerina presses look easy, particularly with the sparrow-sized Alina Cojocaru in last Saturday evening's Giselle (he stepped in for an ailing Herman Cornejo), but also in the case of the substantially taller Polina Semionova earlier in the week.

In Cinderella, he confidently lifted Gillian Murphy above his head and gracefully descended a set of stairs. He has burnished other elements of his partnering studies—the feather-soft placing of the ballerina back on point, firmly gripping her waist as she tilts downward in arabesque, arranging his gaze to complement hers. It's somewhat ironic that the better partner a man is, the more he disappears, but in a good way.

Hallberg in Giselle. Photo: Gene Schiavone

Hallberg's demeanor is less that of an innocent youth now, and grounded with more maturity and intent. When he ponders his fate, it reads as concerned instead of unclear. And his technique remains paradigmatic, amplified through an emphasis of certain details. A leg held at 90º for an added second or two projects into infinity through his gloriously pointed, high-arched foot. As he circles in the forest, a small scissor step has become far wider and bolder, expressing ecstasy but also ferocity. (Has he learned to outwardly savor those moments when he approaches the sublime, as his fellow dancers often do?) And as always, he floats in perfect split grand jetés, defying gravity. One drawback is that he is so long-legged that the Met stage seems too small for him in these leaps.

I would not have predicted that Semionova would be such a profoundly moving Giselle; her rather tall height doesn't lend itself to the girlishness that in part makes the character's illness and death so terribly sad. But she moves with such tenderness and delicacy that she appeared to be moving through water at times. Hallberg is the right height for her, and together they were heartachingly gorgeous. He is tall for Cojocaru, with whom he danced on Saturday, but she gives a powerful portrayal of the broken ingenue. (Plus, how can one quibble with him as a substitute, despite missing Cornejo's only Giselle?) She is a natural fit for the role, seamlessly transitioning from a demure coquette to a tragic spirit. Again, it is a lovely gift that Cojocaru, one of the luminaries of the current generation, guests with ABT.

Alina Cojocaru as Giselle. Photo: Gene Schiavone

David Hallberg will perform in Swan Lake and The Dream in the final weeks of ABT's season at the Met, and in July, with the Bolshoi during the Lincoln Center Festival. When it rains it pours, but don't hesitate to seize the moment as he is a singular talent in a generation of fine dancers.

Ballet fanatics and fans

If the horrific acid attack on Bolshoi artistic director Sergei Filin was linked to artistic decisions, it shows how deeply passions run in Moscow when it comes to ballet. In New York, such fanaticism is incomprehensible (and this one of the few upshots of a basic lack of support for dance in the US) but then such an act of terrorism anywhere in one of the most refined arts is also beyond understanding. Fanatics are merely fans here. But with each season, it is easy to see how fans become attached to certain dancers as they blossom in front of our eyes, encouraged by our applause and shouts of support. You feel a part of their artistic development and creation. With the exception of a few veterans, the current young crop of principals suddenly seem like the grown-ups, after years of being the kids. It's also the emergence of new dancers in the spotlight that skews the curve even younger.

Sara Mearns in Serenade. Photo: Paul Kolnik

Ballet fans settled back into the rhythms of a new season at New York City Ballet this week; subscribers greeted one another like classmates after a summer break. Seat locations seemed to be as habitual as returning to last year's homeroom. Course work this season places an emphasis on Balanchine's repertory to Tchaikovsky, a promisingly hearty subject for the heart of winter. Serenade, both a cornerstone of the company's rep and one of the easiest going down, also returned Sara Mearns to the stage after an injury. Her larger-than-life presence is always somewhat jarring and part of her appeal, but in this role debut, she seemed tamed, less reckless, more reliant upon her solid partner Jared Angle emotionally instead of simply physically. In the later section after she let down her hair and lay alone, beached, it was apparent how cleverly Balanchine inserted simmering psychological undercurrents borrowed from Greek myth. 

Ashley Bouder is as different from Mearns as could be. I can't fault her attack, speed, and precision, but she rushes her phrasing, negating any inherent musicality, and lets pride and satisfaction creep distractingly onto her face. It has more the effect of a gymnast completing her routine. Adrian Danchig-Waring is one of the dancers establishing himself in the repertory, and with each season relaxes more into his ample physical gifts and sense of refinement. In contrast with Bouder, he could let some feelings register on his face, which tends toward the stoic.

Ideally matched: Sterling Hyltin and Chase Finlay in Mozartiana. Photo: Paul Kolnik

In Mozartiana, Sterling Hyltin and Chase Finlay made an ideal pair, proportion and style wise. Hyltin is one of the principals who, while still young, has become a firmament in the company, dancing larger than ever while losing none of her delicacy. Finlay emerged with a splash a few seasons ago, landing Apollo and other prime roles, and setting himself up for disappointment. Yet he has kept up with expectations, expanding his technique and partnering, while needing to work on his stamina. He has found an excellent match in Hyltin, whose independent strength is a gift for her partner as he finds his full power.

Anthony Huxley in Mozartiana. Photo: Paul Kolnik

The evening's big revelation, if no surprise, was the young soloist Anthony Huxley performing the gigue. Huxley is a small man with great talents; as with his peers of the same type, it's a matter of finding the right roles. This prominent isolated solo showed off his skill with detail, his refinement, his witty musicality. The dance of cameo-sized moments and miniature tableaux with students perfectly displayed his assets.

Teresa Reichlen and Tyler "The Perfect" Angle in Tchaikovsky Piano Concerto No. 2. Photo: Paul Kolnik

Tchaikovsky Piano Concerto No. 2 featured Teresa Reichlen and Tyler Angle, who, with his consummate partnering skills, has rapidly graduated to dancing with the largest and boldest of the women. It's not just his supporting skills, it's that he doesn't sublimate his own poetic presence while managing to frame his partner, in part with his absolutely pitch-perfect, innate épaulement. It has taken me awhile to appreciate Reichlen's cool confidence and sly reserve, but here I am. She heightens pretty much everything she's in. Ana Sophia Scheller was the other featured dancer; her confidence and brio always draw the eye but I have yet to fully comprehend why she earned the rank of principal. This music is challenging and oftentimes not dancy at all, but it's one of many challenges that Balanchine faced, met, and left for us to savor.