ABT 2016—A Sea Change Underway

Gillian Murphy in Sylvia. Photo: Rosalie O'Connor

May 9, Sylvia

In this season opener by Ashton, the company looked, unsurprisingly, a little rusty. The usually flawless Murphy stutter-stepped in a seeming lack of concentration, and corps members' limbs collided. Gomes, however, was polished and serene, his timing precisely clicking with the score. James Whiteside was forceful and charismatic as the bad guy, relishing the melodrama. Joseph Gorak danced with crystal clarity and luminosity as the Goat, making the most of a small "tail" role. This ballet ranks among the rep's lightest in tone and drama, augmented by Delibes' twinkling and sometimes saccharine score. It requires a focused delicacy and clear mindset, which were not quite present so early in the run.

May 21, Serenade after Plato's Symposium; Seven Sonatas; The Firebird

Alexei Ratmansky has already enriched ballet life in New York immeasurably in the decade or so that he's been here. But in Serenade after Plato's Symposium, he offers us a glimpse of a new facet of his work. The mostly male cast (Hee Seo has a brief cameo) showcases the new generation of men at ABT, led by veteran Herman Cornejo. Without women present, they need not worry about all their normal duties attendant in showcasing their partners: the requisite lifting (and getting a face full of tutu), spinning their partners, supporting, etc. Ratmansky has given them elegant, front-and-center roles of seamlessly flowing phrases. Each man (Thomas Forster, Joseph Gorak, Alex Hammoudi, Arron Scott, and impressive corps members Tyler Maloney and Jose Sebastian) presents his own abstract version of love. It allows these men to reveal a welcome softer side not always indulged in classical ballet.

The pseudonymous music is by Leonard Bernstein, and elicited curiosity, sadness, and playfulness, shifting toward the filmic in the latter part. Seo appears in an upstage portal as an angelic spirit, partnering with Alex Hammoudi for brief scenes, before exiting as she entered. At the end, she pops onstage from the side, beckoning the group from afar. Each of the men offers his own gifts, but Gorak seems most naturally suited to the precision and fluidity of Ratmansky's movement.

Serenade After Plato's Symposium. Photo: Marty Sohl

It accompanied the choreographer's Seven Sonatas and Firebird, both exemplars of different types of work within Ratmansky's deepening oeuvre. Sonatas (2009), to Scarlatti piano sonatas played live onstage by Barbara Bilach, while lovely, starts to feel repetitive after a few numbers, but there's an calming hermetic serenity to it. Firebird starred Isabella Boylston in the title role. There are many problems with this ballet that haven't faded since its premiere in 2012: Simon Pastukh's set is ugly and cluttered, taking up too much of the stage and diminishing the size of the dancers, and I wish that costumer Galina Solovyeva had given the Firebird at least one distinguishing element in her costume, which otherwise blends right in with her mates; and it's irksome that the Maidens all wear straw blond wigs that make them appear like clones, especially when their partners wear no such headgear. (This is a recurring costuming device in Ratmansky's ballets which in itself indicates an oddly retrograde attitude toward women.)       

May 23, Shostakovich Trilogy

This "Season of Ratmansky" at ABT includes two repertory programs, plus two full-length ballets by Ratmansky, including the premiere of The Golden Cockerel. It's about half of the two-month season dedicated to non-war horse ballets. This minor revolution is augmented by what feels like a sea change in the cast, which features young dancers who have been around for a while, but are now soloists dancing prominent parts that allow us to see their talent in full. Add to this newcomers, and injuries to a few key principals (Hallberg and Semionova, most significantly), and it's suddenly a new world at ABT. 

I recently read Julian Barnes' The Noise of Time, a fictionalized account of Shostakovich's life, thus when I watched the middle Chamber Symphony of Ratmansky's trilogy, certain passages had more impact than when I first saw it three years ago. These include: the man's (Jeffrey Cirio) weakness read as fatigue at combating the Soviet bureacracy; the pursuit of, rejection, and acceptance by women comprising his most important female relationships; and his moping exit symbolizing his failure through artistic compromise, which was misunderstood as artistic imperative.

The revelation in Piano Concerto #1, the final part of the trilogy and its most dynamic, was Skylar Brandt as one of the two lead women, alongside Christine Shevchenko, as well as their partners Gabe Stone Shayer and Calvin Royal III. Brandt is a fireball, radiating energy and explosiveness; Shayer, muscular and eager, matches Brandt in these qualities. Royal fits the princely mode, statuesque and elegant. It's almost an afterthought that both men are not caucasian, but in light of the headlines made in recent seasons by Misty Copeland's ascendance to the principal rank, not insignificant. In fact the entire make-up of the company seems to have shifted to become far more racially diverse in just a year. It's a welcome turn.

Cory Stearns and Gillian Murphy in La Fille mal gardée. Photo: Rosalie O'Connor

May 25 matinee, La Fille mal gardée

To underscore this generational sea change at ABT, its leading male dancer, Marcelo Gomes, portrayed the drag character role of Widow Simone in four performances of Ashton's Fille, whereas this might have been unthinkable just a year ago. This role is usually important, but still secondary to Lise (Gillian Murphy) and Colas (Cory Stearns). But Gomes enthusiastically seized the spotlight, waggling his bustled bum and giving the hilarious clog dance some extra stompiness. 

Murphy and Stearns gave believable urgency to the lovelorn pair, prevented from uniting by Simone. The most difficult feat was handily accomplished by the fine balancer, Murphy—she promenades in attitude on pointe, acting as the axle for ribbon spokes held by corps dancers, who walk in a circle. I still have no idea how it's done. A couple of chicken ballets, a pony, and lots of farm implements add delight to this ballet buffa that hasn't been danced by ABT in a decade. 

Mortal Davids

Herman Cornejo in The Dream. Photo: Gene Schiavone

Ballet and baseball seasons coincide, and deep into both seasons, key players are suffering wear and tear, and that has a ripple effect on their colleagues and fans.

Namely, the Davids have been waylaid—Hallberg (ABT, foot) and Wright (Mets, shoulder). I got a hefty, overdue dose of Hallberg in recent weeks, seeing him in Cinderella and then twice in Giselle, the second time when he substituted for an ill Herman Cornejo. Then Hallberg succumbed to an injury last Saturday—perhaps from overwork?—and Cory Stearns stepped in for a performance of Swan Lake. Stearns again replaced Hallberg last night in Frederick Ashton's The Dream (1964) in a double bill of Shakespeare. It was a good opportunity to see him dance, and one I wouldn't have had otherwise.

The best news of last night, however, was that Cornejo had recuperated and danced Puck in The Dream, among his finest roles, and one which he originated with ABT in this production in 2002. It fully displays all of his strengths—his utter naturalness (complemented by his woodland creature costume) in a highly unnatural art form, suspended leaps, a lovely musicality both precise and organic, and dashing wit. And while he is among the most romantic and sensitive of dancers, and is now in the regular rotation in white-tights roles, he remains legend in such spritely  characters.

Sarah Lane and Joseph Gorak in The Tempest. Photo: Marty Sohl

His compact body type is of course not a first in ballet's principal ranks, though it is still the exception. It serves as a fine example for newly-appointed soloist Joseph Gorak, who on this program reprised the romantic duet with Sarah Lane in The Tempest, by Alexei Ratmansky, to music by Sibelius. Marcelo Gomes and Daniil Simkin portrayed Prospero and Ariel, and James Whiteside the beast Caliban (with a fright wig and patchy fur); Cornejo debuted that role last year, although I can't say it entirely rewards such accomplished dancers. Gorak has also been cropping up with regularity in lead roles including in Ashton's Cinderella and Ratmansky's Nutcracker. As previously noted, he recalls Hallberg in his innate nobility and épaulement, elegant line, superbly arched feet, flexibility, and composure. And since there are several gifted smaller women in ABT, he should be busy.

Gillian Murphy in The Dream. Photo: Gene Schiavone

Seeing The Tempest in its sophomore season and transferred to the Met from the Koch, it still reads as overly prop-heavy, which forces the staging into a flat, narrow horizontal area, and it is visually over-busy. Gomes is given solid geometric movements to underscore Prospero's gravity. Ariel is an ideal role for Simkin, freeing him to flit and spin, and fly in one of his signature moves, a low arabesque sauté in which the torso is kept perpendicular. (He is another principal who distinguishes himself best in solo character roles.) As Prospero's daughter, Lane is convincingly girlish and devoted. The corps comprises the ocean, most effective when spilling downstage in a crashing wave, although Santo Loquasto's overly embellished costumes distract.

(In addition to Gorak, other ABT promotions are the buoyant and pristine Isabella Boylston to principal, and new soloists are Christine Shevchenko, who acquitted herself so well in Ratmansky's Shostakovich Trilogy, Devon Teuscher, and ABT's resident actor par excellence, Roman Zhurbin—all deserved and made from within the ranks.)

Back to The Dream, which is such a prime casting vehicle. Gillian Murphy danced Titania with a proper mix of fortitude and flourish, and her auburn ringlets somehow reinforce the fairy tale setting. Stearns seemed more at ease as Oberon than ever, again, finding the right balance of petulant and regal, and properly savoring the moments of technical braggadocio.    Blaine Hoven was Bottom, and while he needs to hone his pointe shoe work, he captured the charm and innocence of his furry, long-eared avatar. The star-struck lovers were Adrienne Schulte, so comically expressive; the plastic-faced Grant De Long, Stella Abrera, convincingly puzzled at being spurned, and Jared Matthews, who once more showed his acting chops, which we will miss as he departs to Houston Ballet with Yuriko Kajiya. 

Heal, shoulder of David Wright.

And as for the other David, over at the Mets (and not the Met)... fortunately, it's just a bruised rotator cuff on his non-throwing left shoulder. He should be back in the line-up this weekend, which is fortunate, as the Mets need him, his bat, his shoulder, and his rally towel. • Frank Cashen, Mets GM during the team's late 1980's golden era, passed away recently. He put together the 1986 world championship team which, in retrospect, was miraculous. Mex, the Kid, Doc, Nails, Strawbs, Mookie, Backman, Knight, Darling... while their fates have mixed to say the least, at least we have the privilege of hearing commentary by Keith and Ronnie, even as they twist in the wind as they cover the lackluster current team. 

Ethan Stiefel's Adieu—a Slave is Set Free

Bye, Ethan. Thanks. (Ethan Stiefel as Ali. Photo: Hidemi Seto)

ABT's 2012 Met season drew to a close with a week of Le Corsaire, your quintessential pirate ballet. Corsaire is such a rowdy tongue-in-cheek celebration of ballet's cliches that I can forgive many of its flaws. In this production staged by Anna-Marie Holmes after Petipa and Sergeyev, we get a clunky pirate ship (twice), a tepid score (based on Adolphe Adam's music), slave girls, and an endless, very pink dream sequence overstuffed with females and flowers. And how could we forget the very proper tutus and tiaras worn by the lead women, so appropriate to the town square and grotto settings? 


Of course, it's not like swans should be wearing tutus either, but the swan metaphor works perfectly with the art of ballet on every level (hence its nauseating overexposure in pop culture), so that leap is much easier to make. Setting aside the assessments of verismo, Corsaire is all about the second act pas de trois between the pirate Conrad, Medora ("a young Greek woman") and the slave, Ali. The two men are usually played by principals, and therein lies the delight of this ballet: having the chance to see Marcelo Gomes and Ethan Stiefel at one performance, and Cory Stearns and Ivan Vasiliev in another (plus the terrific bonus of Herman Cornejo in the role of bazaar owner).


Stiefel scheduled two performances as Ali to mark his ABT retirement; he can hence devote his full attention to running the New Zealand Ballet. (Why that company is another topic; the sheer flying miles required to fulfill such duties boggle the mind.) He had been sidelined with injuries in recent years, so it had been too long since I'd seen him. I expected to see a faded version of my memory of him, but in fact he was far stronger, fitter and more eloquent than that. Ali requires an odd combination of proudly wearing just turquoise harem pants and a feathered headband, and being completely subservient and obedient. His movement alternates between explosive jumps and cowering in humility in kind of silent film manner. Stiefel managed it all more than capably, with admirable jumps and turns.

Ivan Vasiliev. Photo: Rosalie O'Connor

Vasiliev (born in 1989 and, controversially, a recent exile with Natalia Osipova to the Mikhailkovsky Ballet from the Bolshoi) feels like a new breed of male dancer. Like Cornejo he is relatively short, and his gifts have allowed him entree to the top rank. But Cornejo is both a supreme athlete with the ballet superpowers of ballon and spin, and he is a poet. He mesmerizes with his ease and naturalness as his acting has seasoned each year. Vasiliev is all brute force and big muscles, a kind of Rocky Balboa of ballet, and people love him for that, and also that he's earnest and forthright—uncomplicated—in his acting. I used to consider Stiefel among the more athletic men, but the presence of Vasiliev redraws the scale considerably. Factor in his switch of companies as somewhat mercenary, and there are many parallels to today's free agent athletes.


As Conrad, Gomes felt three dimensional, letting a lock of his ebony hair run roguishly loose. Gillian Murphy, as Medora, possesses a note of playful irony that seems entirely appropriate, and she's always up for a display of technical fireworks. This is a backhanded compliment, but she can be too perfect—so capable that insecurity simply isn't an emotion in her palette. In contrast, Veronika Part (across from Cory Stearns) seems filled with insecurity, sometimes like a foal establishing its footing for the first time. But you can't argue that she has the most gorgeous lines and a genuinely complex internal life, and her vulnerability usually plays right into the arms of her current prince. Stearns has similarly beautiful lines and terrific loft; maturity, experience and some bulk will only add to his depth. 


ABT promotions were announced yesterday: Hee Seo is now a principal, and Alex Hammoudi a soloist. Both have been dancing principal roles this season, and Seo last year as well. She is the embodiment of refinement and delicacy, and he, a magnetic prince in the rough with prodigious physical gifts. But with the exodus of Stiefel, Corella, Carreño, and Beloserkovsky (oops—sorry, he's still on the roster, though I haven't seen his name lately), the company is now suddenly in need of male principals; I suspect Hammoudi will be slotted in above his pay grade far more often in coming seasons, until he—or others, probably recruited externally—rises to principal, alongside the few resident and handful of guest principals. 

ABT’s New Seoloist, 7/9/10

ABT’s Hee Seo in Romeo & Juliet

http://www.thirteen.org/sundayarts/blog/ballet/american-ballet-theatres-new-seoloist/862/