Arvo Pärt, Celebrated with Music, Dance, and Crickets

Rebecca Krohn and Amar Ramasar in Christopher Wheeldon's Liturgy. Photo by Kelley McGuire

Of all the esteemed professionals on staff at the Met Museum, perhaps the one most needed at Sept 11th's Arvo Pärt tribute was an exterminator. No offense to crickets in general, but a cheerful and persistent representation of that species had a little too much fun alongside a string quartet, pianist, and singers, serenading a packed audience in the Temple of Dendur as part of Met Museum Presents. The chirping, I'm told, could even be heard on the live simulcast.

And why wouldn't the crickets celebrate since the event—featuring members of the New Juilliard Ensemble (directed by Joel Sachs) in chamber pieces by Pärt—honored his 80th birthday. It happened to coincide with the 14th anniversary of 9/11, which imbued the mostly delicate, elegiac pieces with perhaps more gravitas and emotion than usual. A number of them have been used in choreography, and in fact the program's finale featured New York City Ballet principals Rebecca Krohn and Amar Ramasar dancing Chris Wheeldon's Liturgy (created in 2003 on Wendy Whelan and Jock Soto), which is accompanied by Pärt's Fratres for violin and piano. Krohn's elegant, long line and Ramasar's sure partnering and warm presence maximized the impact of this lovely architectural duet by the recent Tony winner.

A string quartet version of Fratres began the evening, before the crickets were really warmed up. It was followed by hypnotic, and at times sweet piano pieces played by Robert Fleitz and Mika Sasaki with great sensitivity, in which solitary notes hung suspended (when the crickets were resting). Less familiar to dance-goers were works with a solo baritone or mezzo voice, engaging in their pensiveness and wonder, humanizing the solitude and spaciousness that can make Part's music so wondrous.

The temple is of course not the ideal hall for such a concert, nor for a ballet performance, what with a hollow platform amplifying the light-footed Krohn's pointe shoe steps, and the rear spotlights often obscuring the dancers from our view. But taken as a whole, on the anniversary of 9/11, it was a solemn and moving experience. Through the massive window wall facing Central Park, I observed bats flitting over the trees at dusk, and after sunset, dozens of airplanes heading in every direction. The water in the moat in front of the stage rippled every now and then, and the crickets chirped happily—a recreated, yet real natural setting for this temple—witness to ancient rites, now host to contemporary resonances.

What's the Inspiration for Jewels?

Abi Stafford and Jared Angle. Photo: Paul Kolnik

The official story about the inspiration for Jewels (1967) is that Balanchine visited Van Cleef and Arpels, saw the pseudonymous rocks (emeralds, rubies, diamonds), and started creating. (He apparently eschewed pearls and sapphires.) The glittering costumes, by Karinska, and somewhat cheesy sets by Peter Harvey, support the basic concept without hinting at any narrative. It is mostly about individual ballerinas, and a certain pro forma, female/male romanticism in the genre, and group patterning. 

Despite the assertive title, it's this very plotlessness that lends itself to perpetual guessing games about the true symbolism of Jewels. Here are a few theories.

Nationalities. "Emeralds'" music is by Fauré, ergo, France; "Rubies" is by Stravinsky, with whom Balanchine had one of mankind's most fruitful relationships in New York, so, America; and "Diamonds" is by Tchaikovsky = Russia.

Sara Mearns and Ask La Cour. Photo: Paul Kolnik

Soups. Spring greens, borscht, vichysoisse.

Seasons. Spring, summer, winter.

Ages of humankind. Youth, middle age, old age.

Musical and artistic styles. Impressionism, modernism, romanticism.

May 24th's New York City Ballet matinee yielded some suitably glittering performances. It has become such a reliable joy to watch Sara Mearns dance, here with Ask La Cour in "Diamonds," in what is a golden era for the company's women. Her amplitude, emotional generosity, technical ability, pliancy, projection, and conviction all elevate her above your typical excellent NYCB performance. At the close of the pair's big duet segment, she stopped, front and center before the final pose, her mouth forming a small "O" as if surprised or delighted. It was an unexpected detail, the kind which only burnishes Mearns' reputation as a ballerina for the ages. 

Ashley Bouder led "Rubies" with Gonzalo Garcia and Savannah Lowery. It was a revelation to see Bouder in the role. There is no arguing that her technique and speed are unparalleled within the company's women, but often when I watch her, her hyper precision and the way she's nearly ahead of the beat can come off as jittery hubris. Her expression can also read as too eager to please, the A student who knows all the answers. In "Rubies," she seemed to have cast aside the self-consciousness and coyness to sink deeply into the playful movement at hand. She also exuded an aura more diva-like than the charm school ingenue. Garcia, whose subtle charisma can fade in the big Koch theater, here invested his performance with more energy and focus than usual. Of course, the attack-filled role helped with that. Lowery is a natural for the Amazon role, her curvy legs always an intriguing picture, her grand jetes monumental, her Broadway ambitions percolating beneath the surface.

It was the last time I would see the Stafford siblings dance in proximity—Jonathan is retiring as of Sunday. Abi performed "Emeralds" with an old world elegance I hadn't seen from her, but again, it's a less common kind of role for her; she often dances soubrette parts. It also helped that Jared Angle partnered her; he always carries himself with nobility and dedication. The cool, mysterious Rebecca Krohn danced with Jonathan Stafford, a reliable squire, who will continue to teach and coach for the company. 

NYCB—Hyltin nails The Cage

Maria K and Tyler A in Symphony in C. Photo: Paul Kolnik

A fall season-ending visit to NYCB featured a varied program that seemed solid in theory, but perhaps wouldn't hold many epiphanies. The keystone, for me, was Balanchine's Symphony in C, my favorite ballet by him, with its crisp structure, unrelenting technical and spatial challenges, and changing dynamics. 

Younger dancers led three of the four sections. Ana Sophia Scheller, a new principal, showed her signature confidence and solid technique in the first movement, paired with the capable Jared Angle, though I look forward to when she relaxes a little. Erica Pereira sparkled in the lyrical third section, paired with an enthusiastic Antonio Carmena; her compact size reduces the scope of the movement, but it is crystalline. Lauren King, a corps member, and soloist Adrian Danchig-Waring took on the fourth, slightly abbreviated section; she danced with brio, and he jumped higher than anyone. The second movement, the quiet soul of the ballet, was grounded by the ever-deepening partnership between Maria Kowroski and Tyler Angle. They are becoming the new go-to equation for serious duets, and deservedly so.

Brava, Sterling. Hyltin in The Cage. Photo: Paul Kolnik

The thrill of the program, however, was Sterling Hyltin's performance as the Novice in The Cage, a new role for her. This Jerome Robbins oddity has remained a repertory staple in part because its leads offer two women the potential for great dramatic breadth. Hyltin's trademark wavy blond mane was sheathed under a black bob with an apparent effect of liberating her. She is a brave dancer, but I sometimes feel that because of her petite size and her hair, she's cast in soubrette or girly roles. But as the latest initiate in a community of spider-like creatures, she threw herself into attacking the poor guys who crossed her path, including Justin Peck. Peck, one of the more muscular company members, is now known as the next hot choreographer in the wake of the smashing success of his NYCB debut, Year of the Rabbit (review here). Still, in his day job, he was a formidable foe to Hyltin until she unleashed the extent of her powers. The Queen was danced by Rebecca Krohn, a perfect fit. This Myrtha-like role calls for absolute command, both presence-wise and psychologically, which Krohn manages. 

The bill led off with Danses Concertantes (1972), the year of the mythical Stravinsky Festival. Not Mr. B's finest choreography-wise, but it satisifies visually, with gem-tone carnivalesque costumes and hand-painted playful scrims. But it feels as if the movement were created as an afterthought to perhaps satisfy the investment made in the production elements and score commission. The doodlings of four pas de deux carry the work forward flittingly. You only need see Symphony in C to realize the difference in quality, like comparing a merinque to cassoulet... although sometimes you just might want a Pavlova.
   

Balanchine's Swinging '60s Hits

Jared Angle and Wendy Whelan in Liebeslieder Walzer. Photo: Paul Kolnik

Balanchine's Liebeslieder Walzer is back in New York City Ballet's repertory after several years on the shelf, 51 years old and 51 patiently-paced minutes long. It captures the polished surfaces and clandestine romantic intrigue of the ballroom salon, with live onstage singing by a quartet. Satin full-length ballgowns, tails, low-heeled shoes rather than pointe shoes, and white gloves, designed by Karinska, set a formal tone, while Brahms' lieder lent a poignant intimacy. 

The casting structure features four couples, yet there is no supporting corps. Balanchine avoided the predictable turn-taking formula, at times focusing on two couples alternating dances in sequence. In the May 22 performance, Ashley Bouder and Tyler Angle made a somewhat surprising pairing, his inherent cool elegance sanding the sometimes abrasive edges of her hypercompetence. Jared Angle attentively and briskly partnered an evanescent Wendy Whelan, running in tight circles to support her. Jonathan Stafford swept Maria Kowroski in extended-leg lifts, and Janie Taylor and Sebastian Marcovici produced the occasional spark. 

The singers' prominent downstage right positioning distracted, although having the dancers continually observe and react to the singers logically supported the ballet's premise. (Clotilde Otranto conducted from the pit.) The extreme vibrato of the singing style, particularly with soprano Caroline Worra, holds little appeal for me, hiding the note rather than leading with it. But the overall intimacy and special occasion feel was mildly intoxicating.


Brahms-Schoenberg Quartet (choreographed by Balanchine in 1966) featured two newly-appointed principals: Rebecca Krohn and Ana Sophia Scheller. (Hmm, both were recently featured in marketing materials—any relation there? Like the reverse of the Sports Illustrated curse, I guess.) Krohn, somewhat reserved, danced with Chase Finlay, eager and devoted. The warm, if underutilized Gonzalo Garcia paired with Scheller, crisp and dutiful. We trust that these two newest principals bring fresh gifts to the company, as have so many of its current stars; they're not precisely clear just yet.


Tiler Peck, perhaps the most all-around skilled, versatile female principal at the moment, danced with the muscular Justin Peck, and cool customer Teresa Reichlen (subbing for the injured Sara Mearns), balanced the Broadway pizzazz of Amar Ramasar in the final movement.