New York Notebook—Vail: ReMix & Minter/Iggy Pop

Lil Buck, Michelle Dorrance, Robert Fairchild, Melissa Toogood. Photo: Erin Baiano

Last week, the Vail Dance Festival manifested itself at City Center in ReMix NYC, put together by renowned long-time NYCB principal Damian Woetzel. We New Yorkers who haven't made the pilgrimage to Vail for this festival were given a glimpse at what all the chatter's about, though I'd imagine the experience is far more energizing in an outdoor setting, far from the dance world's American locus (and from where many of the performers are based). That's not to say that City Center wasn't abuzz—it was, particularly with Woetzel as the most enthusiastic viewer, tapping his foot to the music and running around at intermission. His ardor is felt in the varied programming.

ReMix featured stars of NYCB and ABT, plus Carla Korbes (late of Pacific Northwest Ballet, and now associate artistic director of LA Dance Project), Lil Buck, Fang-Yi Sheu, Matthew Rushing, and others. Wendy Whelan showcased her recent collaboration with modern tinkerer Brian Brooks. Gabriel Missé and Carla Espinoza performed a charged tango with bandoneonist JP Jofre and band. And BalletX and Keigwin + Company bookended Saturday's performance, representing some of the foremost American contemporary/ballet troupes.

L-R: Eric Jacobsen, Yo-Yo Ma, Lil Buck, Kate Davis, Sandeep Das. Photo: Erin Baiano

The programs were stuffed full; both I attended were more than 2-1/2 hours. Live music was paramount. Kurt Crowley (music director of Hamilton) led a pit orchestra when musicians were not seated onstage. Lil Buck and Ron Myles had an extended suite which featured Sandeep Das on tabla and later, Yo-Yo Ma playing Saint-Saens' The Dying Swan—one of Lil Buck's famous, and surprisingly moving, solos (although truth be told, his even more riveting lead-up to it involved bonelessly gliding up and down a staircase and slinking from one platform to another). The work that was on both programs I saw, and which received the strongest ovation, was Christopher Wheeldon's The Bitter Earth, done by Isabella Boylston and Calvin Royal III, both coming off of a fantastic ABT season.

Carla Korbes. Photo: Erin Baiano

Part of the point of ReMix, it seems, is to allow these outstanding dancers to experiment outside of their normal genres. In that respect, Robert Fairchild shone brightly, displaying his double threat skills in ballet and tap, lending a relaxed virtuosity to the former, and a taut verve to the latter. He shifted from filling in for an injured Herman Cornejo as Apollo to hoofing alongside tap wiz Michelle Dorrance as Lil Buck jooked, and Cunningham star Melissa Toogood performed some modern phrases, around them, to mixed effect. 

Sara Mearns performed Ratmansky's Fandango, in which she was inspired to do some flamenco-ish phrases in response to the musicians' rendering of Boccherini. Sheu's duet with Ron Myles was somewhere in-between modern and jooking, with the its signature "tossing" of energy between dancers. (I missed Korbes in Martha Graham's Lamentation, Sheu being one of Graham's fullest interpreters.) Tiler Peck and Jared Angle were reliably superb in various ballet duets, and it's always heartwarming to see her dance with her husband, Fairchild; they were sublime in Jose Limon's joyous Suite from Mazurkas. Korbes performed a moving rendition of Balanchine's Elégie, recreated from a videotape and last done in the city in 1982, the year of its creation. Utlimately, Vail: ReMix was a great deal of fun, even if in the wake of Fall for Dance it felt like an embarrassment of riches.

Marilyn Minter, Smash (still), 2014. HD digital video. Courtesy of the artist, Salon 94, New York, and Regen Projects, Los Angeles 

Marilyn Minter and Iggy Pop

The Brooklyn Museum opened Marilyn Minter: Pretty/Dirty last week. The artist is known for her outsized close-up paintings of body parts—often tongues, eyes, and grotty feet clad in heels—dripping with metallic liquids in states of splattering and coating. She paints on metal with enamel, giving the work a candy-coated hardness. Early works include 1970's "boudoir" shots of her mother, which exude Minter's penchant for providing more intimacy than is comfortable. A series of kitchen paintings show her fascination with the depiction of metal surfaces, even as banal as a stainless sink or a sheet of aluminum foil. A later series of food porn, and then porn, lead to her best-known paintings that both fascinate and repulse.

Also on view is Iggy Pop Life Class by Jeremy Deller, a fascinating exhibition of life drawings by New York Academy of Art students. Deller invited rock star Iggy Pop to model without informing the class of his identity. The results are shown juxtaposed with artworks of male nudes from the BMA's collection. It's an exhibition idea that is both rewarding on a conceptual level, while providing access to some of the museum's stellar collection, such as an Egon Schiele drawing.      

An American in Paris, and Ballet on Broadway

Robert Fairchild & Leanne Cope. Photo: Angela Sterling

Broadway has a new pair of ballet-bred stars: Robert Fairchild (Jerry) and Leanne Cope (Lise) in An American in Paris, opening today at the Palace. Both are superbly cast as the leads—one an optimistic American ex-GI roaming Paris as an artist, the other a blossoming ballet star tethered by moral debts and expectations. Ballet native Christopher Wheeldon's direction and choreography brings elegance and intelligence to this popular milieu. The book, adapted from the movie, is by Craig Lucas, and doesn't shy from acknowledging the all-consuming war, including the resistance and the persecution of Nazi sympathizers.  

Those of us fortunate enough to have followed Fairchild's starry career at New York City Ballet have seen his athleticism, his jazzy approach, his irresistible enthusiasm and generosity in performances. A natural in Jerome Robbins' work—a stepping stone between ballet and musical theater—it seems perfectly logical to move to Broadway. He can sing as well, and if not his strongest suit, certainly as well as other famous dancers-with-other-skills such as Fred Astaire and Gene Kelly, his role model. Fairchild's ballet training is his secret superpower; his leaps on the relatively small stage appear even more heroic and weightless than at the Koch; his turns top-like. And as a chatty viewer behind me exclaimed every time he began a solo, he is so smooth. Smoothsmoothsmooth!

Cope, a Brit of Royal Ballet pedigree, possesses an intangible magnetism that, in the show, quite understandably makes her the object of three men's affections. A petite gamine with a million-dollar bob, she has gorgeous lines and feet. She also manages to convey humility and a secretiveness so essential to contrast with Jerry's American openness. The supporting roles are deftly cast as well, including Max von Essen (Henri), Brandon Uranowitz (Adam), and Jill Paice (Milo). 

Fairchild in flight. Photo: Angela Sterling

The production should appeal to Broadway audiences seeking the Gershwins' sturdy romantic pop standards (music is overseen by Rob Fisher) sprinkled with old favorites such as "I Got Rhythm," "The Man I Love," and "'S Wonderful." But for those of us who don't care for the shrill, unsubtle performances so often seen on Broadway, the good news is that Wheeldon's production is tasteful and smart. His choreography, not surprisingly, tends toward the balletic, with jazzy angular arms and a low center of gravity. There's little of the abject need for attention so often felt in Broadway production numbers.

Bob Crowley's sets are compact mobile pieces, some with picture frames or modern art motifs onto which imagery is cast (by 59 Projections). Large-scale projections in an Impressionist style grow and shimmer on the backdrop, including some of Paris' iconic sights. Key production numbers include one set in Galeries Lafayette, in which Jerry hops from showcase to showcase, his extended leg skimming the countertop. "Stairway to Paradise" moves from a jazz speakeasy to Radio City and back, and includes the requisite kickline done by both showgirls and tux-clad guys (the natty costumes are also by Crowley). 

An avant-garde, salon style ballet presentation features dancers making hilarious moves that manage to be just one notch to the left of real. And the beginning and end of the grand finale ballet cleverly situate us behind the stage, looking out past the performers (in Mondrian-esque costumes) into the "audience." Jerry and Lise are clad in sleek black outfits for the dream sequence—a snazzy, captivating duet in which the white set is reduced to simple geometric shapes, better to feature the couple. And as with the best dreams, we want them to keep dancing forever. 

Fashionable Premieres at New York City Ballet

Tiler Peck and Robert Fairchild in Funérailles. Photo: Paul Kolnik

Things have been so optimistic in the ballet world in recent years, that we can now reasonably expect to see good stuff on a New York City Ballet slate with four new works, even if three of them were generated with an eye toward the fashion angle of the season's gala.

Funérailles, a Liam Scarlett duet for newlyweds Tiler Peck and Robert Fairchild, boasted the fanciest duds, by Sarah Burton of Alexander McQueen: a navy-to-white ombre chiffon gown with a sculpted bustier for her, and a navy waistcoat for him, both with gold ornamentation. The pair emerged from the deep shadows, swooped about a bit to Liszt played by Elaine Chelton, and were re-subsumed by the dusk. Short, bittersweet, no harm done, with a whiff of romantic desperation lingering in the memory. (I'm torn over whether there should be a limit on how much this pair dances together; as wonderful as they are, it seems either too comfortable a setup, or forced.)

Teresa Reichlen and gang in Clearing Dawn. Photo: Paul Kolnik

Corps dancer Troy Schumacher (read Marina Harss' New York Times piece here) was finally invited to set a piece—Clearing Dawn—for his employer after giving it quite a successful go independently; his troupe, BalletCollective, with a focus on cross-genre collaboration, gives performances soon. Thom Browne's crisp grey and white prep school costumes—revealed after massive overcoats flew from the dancers' shoulders, to return at the end—set the schoolyard recess tone, replete with a game of tag, fisticuffs, make up hugs, contests, adrenalized romps, and the subsequent onset of fatigue. Judd Greenstein's score, laced through with coursing runs and fluttering flutes, complemented the interplay. Expect Schumacher to make more work for NYCB.

Belles-Lettres. Photo: Paul Kolnik

In a short time, Justin Peck has become the go-to guy for reliably good dances. Belles-Lettres, to César Franck, with warm-hued, oddly-mixed costumes by Mary Katrantzou, is a more serious dance than many of his previous ones, with less bright gaiety and fewer visual winks. It implements the geometries that have distinguished Peck's work, placing Anthony Huxley as the lone man/poet among four couples whose darting, hummingbird movements frequently follow the fleeting piano line played by Susan Walters. The predominant form is the couple, and the news is unusual pairings: Lauren Lovette with Jared Angle (nice to see him partnering a woman proportionate in size), Ashley Laracey and Adrian Danchig-Waring, Brittany Pollack with the exuberant Taylor Stanley, and Rebecca Krohn with Tyler Angle, both alabaster cool. The first part, with its darker lighting and minor-key mood, ends after Huxley's big solo; the light turns to gold, the music morphs into a major key. It showcased Huxley's rapidograph style, but the reliance on the traditional couple felt like a minor regression from Peck's inclusionary groups.


The big attraction was Alexei Ratmansky's Pictures at an Exhibition, to Mussgorsky's suite. As in past works by the choreographer, the sets—Kandinsky's Color Study Square parsed and tweaked in Wendall Harrington's projections—root the work in a Russian context without affecting the narrative. The 16 sections, often connected in smooth segues, feature groups and solos. Sara Mearns, mercurial, whipped out arabesque turns and slammed her palms on the stage. Wendy Whelan and Tyler Angle partnered, dancing to a pulsing melody, at moments evoking other duets which this frequent pairing danced, including a ship prow lift (Wheeldon's After the Rain) made more difficult with her feet on his torso instead of his thighs. The pair had earlier in the evening danced Wheeldon's This Bitter Earth, again made even more eloquent by virtue of Whelan's impending departure.

Gonzalo Garcia and company in Pictures at an Exhibition. Photo: Paul Kolnik

Four women who stomped inelegantly (and refreshingly) and windmilled their arms banded together in a gang. Underutilized principal Gonzalo Garcia was prominently featured in a duet with Tiler Peck; fairly matched physically, they often danced in unison. The similarly overlooked Abi Stafford paired with corps member Joseph Gordon, with Gretchen Smith, emergent from the corps. 

Because of Whelan's impending retirement, I kept wanting to read into the actions that revolved around her, including a moment when she knelt to scoop up some invisible thing on the ground as the company gathered around. As she was borne away by Amar Ramasar, Tyler Angle reached for her yearningly, looking bereft. After a false ensemble ending (another Ratmansky signature, seemingly), the company rushed downstage, the womens' movements—lifts with blossoming arms—punctuated the music like fireworks. It was a gleeful ending to another major, varied ballet by Ratmansky, now choreographing for both of New York's big companies, to our benefit.

I should add that the bill opened with Peter Martins' Morgen, a 2001 work to Strauss recostumed by Carolina Herrera. The set's gigantic columns, ostensibly meant to add classiness and provide places for the dancers to hide and mischievously emerge from, merely overwhelmed the dancers and made it difficult to light the stage adequately. All three women partnered with all three men, a disheartening fact once realized partway through the piece. Martins' fondness for complicated partnering, including a lot from the "baggage handler" school, and overly fussy steps that can vex these fine dancers, were in full view. The long evening would have been the perfect length without this piece, and Herrera's gowns could have been displayed in the lobby. 

DEMO: Artists' Laboratory

Herman Cornejo & Robert Fairchild in Concerto 622. Courtesy of Works & Process at the Guggenheim/Jacklyn Meduga

Gone are the days of mourning a great dancer's retirement from New York City Ballet. Now, such an occasion can bring experimentation, broad collaboration, the unboxing of creative tendencies. We expect interesting things from Wendy Whelan, who takes her leave after this season to further her collaborations with young choreographers. And look at Damian Woetzel, who runs the Vail International Dance Festival and who brought his project, DEMO, to Guggenheim Works & Process this past week. 

He ran the show like a consummate professional, speaking eloquently about the project's simple mission: "Things I Like," following organizing principles such as science or musicality. Then he gathers like-minded (that is, open minded) friends who happen to be stellar artists, be they dancers, musicians, poets, scientists. Then he combines them together in short performances, creating individual nuggets strung on a common cord. 

It helps that his friends happen to also be superstars. The evening began with a duet by Fang-Yi Sheu, perhaps the finest performer of Martha Graham's oeuvre in the company's long history, and Herman Cornejo, a current rock star of ABT, standing with his back to us, emanating warm energy in that magical way he does. They performed Sheu's Pheromones to Philip Glass' pensive Façades, tracing one another's auras with their faces or palms, increasing in amplitude and speed until they tumbled across the stage in artful heaps. 

Fang-Yi Sheu & Cornejo with Claire Chase on flute.
Courtesy of Works & Process at the Guggenheim/Jacklyn Meduga

Sheu joined Lil Buck, jookin's premier attraction (hampered by a sprained ankle contained in a walking boot), after he improvised a solo to Claire Chase (a MacArthur fellow) on platinum flute, playing Edgard Varèse's fitful, at times shrill music. While it was game of Buck to even perform—an ankle injury caused him to bow out of last week's Fall for Dance al fresco opener at the Delacorte—his rippling arms and robotic head offered little new. But when Sheu boldly braced herself upside-down on the chair on which Buck sat, and planked her body across his lap, the interest ratcheted up several notches. 

Some musical segments pushed the form both structurally and geographically. Sandeep Das, on tabla, took up a self-imposed challenge of following a 15-beat phrase cut in half: 7.5. He tapped it out on his tabla while Woetzel egged him on, clapping heartily if not 100% of the time on the unconventional count. Cristina Pato played the Galician bagpipe, evoking music deriving from countries close to the equator, and less the upright Scottish mode (although Woetzel immediately began his Union Jack march when she mixed a few bars into her piece). She returned to play the piano while Logan Frances Kruger of the Limon Company danced a Mazurka excerpt, emphasizing weightiness and circular musicality.

Fairchild had begun rehearsals on Monday for An American in Paris, which is slated for Broadway. He and Woetzel had thrown together a rendition of "Ballin' the Jack," from a video of Gene Kelly. No doubt Fairchild recalls at times the athletic, jazzy Kelly, even in the most classical of repertory. Here, he was harnessed by the small, fan-shaped stage, but we got a sense of his exciting musical theater potential. And it's conceivable that he could continue on Broadway long after his departs the acute technical demands of ballet. Or, he could easily slip into work by, say, Lar Lubovitch, who choreographed the duet from Concerto Six Twenty-Two, danced at the Guggenheim by Fairchild and Cornejo. While Cornejo's preternaturally organic movement style is more naturally suited to the looping, fluid style, both men exude the quiet star power that characterizes Lubovitch's dancers.

The duet completed the last portion of the evening—on the theme of Monumentum, or remembrance—rounded out by a performance of Stravinsky's desolate, fractured Elégie by Johnny Gandelsman on violin, poet Elizabeth Alexander reading three vivid selections, and Chase playing Du Yun's An Empty Garlic (excerpt) on bass flute—as she described it, a big piece of plumbing. She will play the full work at The Kitchen in the near future.

The evening had the feel of an artist's salon, despite the absence of the previously billed Carla Korbes and Tiler Peck, and some performances were more rehearsed and polished than others, but you could imagine the ideas floating about, colliding, mixing, producing new ideas, with a little coaxing and orchestration by Woetzel, flourishing splendidly in his said retirement. 

Paul Taylor Company—0 to 60 and Back Again

Cloven Kingdom, the perfect gala dance. Photo: Paul B. Goode

Paul Taylor opened its 60th season last Tuesday at the Koch Theater, but there's little time to celebrate this momentous milestone. Yesterday at a press conference, the company announced plans to restructure, and by this time next year we should be seeing Paul Taylor's American Modern Dance performing its first season. 

This reincarnation of the current Taylor company anticipates the choreographer's eventual (but not currently planned) retirement. Work by other modern choreographers will be performed alongside Taylor's impressive oeuvre; the alien works—commissions and existing rep—are sure to be acquired slowly, so the programming probably won't be radically different at first. The release says: "To best showcase masterworks, they will be danced by legacy companies or artists trained in the signature techniques of the choreographers show pieces are being presented." Taylor was reluctant to name companies (and to speak, in general; if he were not a man, he'd be a clam), although Martha Graham popped up, and Merce Cunningham in the context that it might not be possible to perform his work.

Another interesting tenet says that live music will be used "where intended by the choreographer," and/or when possible. This addresses the one consistent criticism of Taylor's six decades of seasons, including by the union—the use of recorded music, which is an understandable compromise, faced with survival. What this means in practical terms is, again, yet to be determined. But in an impoverished dance climate, it is heartening to think of opening up this one-artist institution as a repository for modern dance, while maintaining Taylor's oeuvre.

To help finance this transition, four Rauschenberg artworks in Taylor's personal collection will be auctioned off in May, to raise an estimated $10 million. A representative from Sotheby's was on hand to speak about the specifics. One piece is a mixed media "combine" from 1954; another, Tracer, from 1962, includes a bicycle wheel and was made for the Paris Opera Ballet. Two additional 2D works round out the sale. You can't help but think about the trend of cultural organizations considering the sale of artworks to prolong the life of the institution. But in this case, apparently the Rauschenbergs have been in storage, and might never be seen otherwise. And it stems from personal relationship wrought in the nascent modernist movement of mid-20th century New York—reaping what was sown.

Sunset. Photo: Paul B. Goode

As for the current season, the company looks sharp, with some relatively new faces. Cloven Kingdom (1976) remains one of the gems in the rep; it opened the run, and was included on the gala program last night in a shrewdly sardonic bit of scheduling. As the tux and gown clad gala-goers took their seats, the curtain raised to reveal a parallel universe of fancily dressed women with shiny accessories (albeit mirrored objects on their heads) and men in elegant white tie tuxes behaving alternately like pouncing beasts and society swells, moving to a potent mix of classical music and tribal rhythms. The fact that it was being performed in the David Koch Theater, with its namesake in attendance, only contributed to its pungency.

Sunset (1983) followed, a gentle, if bittersweet paean to a bygone time of chivalry and military service. Each element fits perfectly within the whole—Alex Katz's mint-fresh set, Elgar's lilting string music augmented by the sound of loons, and Taylor's reductive, lyrical mode of movement in which even difficult feats are made to look effortless. Its undercurrents of war casualties and muffled male romance emerge, but never weigh down the mood. Guest artists Tiler Peck and Robert Fairchild danced a duet from Airs (1978). As you might expect, they added some speed and height to the more technical elements like jumps and hitting shapes, and rendered it with a far lighter—airier—touch than the grounded Taylor dancers. 

Piazzolla Caldera (1997) is an oddity in the repertory, with its stylized interpretation of the tango tied to Kronos Quartet's interpretations of Piazzolla's tunes. It dawned on me that in two programs, I hadn't yet seen one of Taylor's "pattern" pieces, often set to classical music, but that Piazzolla Caldera actually contains a fair amount of group traffic exercises and patterns that bind together a series of solos and duets. Michael Trusnovec slices and slips his way through his opening solo and duet with Michelle Fleet, making the tango feel truly dangerous, and in a section with Rob Kleinendorst, the contrast between a warm Eran Bugge and the cool Laura Halzack clicked nicely.

On Tuesday, the company performed Dust (1977). Made a year after Cloven Kingdom, but lacking its sociological and kinetic incisiveness, it features the visual punch of Gene Moore's set—a thick, twisting column, like Jack's beanstalk—and costumes, flesh-hued unitards with blobs of color. Black Tuesday felt like a retort to Cloven Kingdom, with its Depression setting and roster of characters either succumbing to poverty and loneliness, or finding the brighter side. The absence of Parisa Khobdeh (out with an injury) and her current role as the company comedienne and daredevil was felt strongly here. Christina Lynch Markham handled the "Big Bad Wolf" solo ably, while Heather McGinley continues to make her mark as a memorable presence (flame-colored hair doesn't hurt). The season continues through March 30.

Notebook Review: Jusin Peck's In Creases for NYCB

Robert Fairchild in In Creases. Photo: Paul Kolnik 

Notebook review of Justin Peck's In Creases for New York City Ballet

• Shows Peck's affinity for structure, speed, and the body's capabilities
• As he mentions in a fascinating slideshow at NYCB's website (A Choreographer's Perspective): "I've learned the most from Balanchine's work, especially with regards to structure. If Balanchine had never existed, I don't know if I would have wanted to choreograph."
• Imagery: grids, lines, blossoming flowers, fencing moves, arrows in flight, football drills, machinery
• Star power: Robert Fairchild valiant, charismatic, and dynamic, attacks the bold and daring shapes that Peck, very athletic, must have created on himself
• At one point, in contrast, as the other seven dancers rush and dart about, Fairchild stands completely still, drawing the eye
• Thrilling fun: dancers, in a circle, duck to avoid a woman's extended scythe-like leg as she revolves  
• Christian Tworzyanski, a reliable corps member and partner, featured in sections that show off his great empathy, expressiveness, and artistic maturity
• Hypnotic: the pianists play with barely enough light to see the score; as the lights come up, we see two women on pointe, rocking from one foot to the other metronomically
• The movement, when quick, is thrusty and crisp and seems to hit angles and facades with precision 
• In some of Fairchild's turns, the free leg is held low and to the back, or is swung to the side; standing knee bent. An example of the small tweaks to the classical style that make Peck's vocab stand out
• Following Serenade by Balanchine on the program, you feel the influence of his choreography in large group sections—many moving parts meshing and working together, forming satisfying geometries, revealing surprises and inventiveness; also present is Ratmansky's light humorous touch and winking wit 

Nuts & bolts:

• Made New York premiere last week
• Set to Philip Glass' restless, flowing Four Movements for Two Pianos, played onstage with great finesse by Elaine Chelton and Cameron Grant
• Costumes—elegant silver and white unitards (men) and camisoles (women) by Peck and Marc Happel

New York City Ballet Throws a Party

Robert Fairchild and Tiler Peck in A Place for Us. Photo: Paul Kolnik

Christopher Wheeldon's A Place for Us was the one world premiere at New York City Ballet's Spring Gala on May 8, but it was a sweet one. It was danced by Tiler Peck and Robert Fairchild, a current "it" ballet couple onstage (and off), recently appearing together in Carousel, broadcast on tv, and who I saw last week dance "The Man I Love," in Who Cares?. (This number was performed at the gala with a moving live rendition by Queen Latifah, and danced by Sterling Hyltin and Amar Ramasar with a bit less luster and passion.) 

A Place for Us is a tribute to Jerome Robbins, and fittingly, Wheeldon dots his work with nods and quotes from Robbins' oeuvre, including the presence of the pianist and clarinetist (respectively, Nancy McDill and the fantastic, felicitous Richard Stoltzman playing the André Previn/Leonard Bernstein song) downstage left. The dancers begin their work in a square of light across the stage (designed by Penny Jacobus), interacting with one another in intricate ways that exude a depth of familiarity and understanding. One movement is met swiftly with a different step in reaction, like a dialogue, and followed by a parallel step done together. There's an intricacy and plasticity in their shapes; you feel that Wheeldon understands his dancers and their capabilities intensely. He is deft at experimenting in small ways that push the classical idiom slightly each time—repeating spiraling lifts in which Peck slides her shoulders onto Fairchild's back, no hands needed; in another lift, she folds her legs in geometric shapes and braces herself away from his body as he spins her in the air, like a mobile. The curtain falls while Peck is pirouetting, a bold statement about her technical prowess and the assumed continuity of the moment, and about these dancers—this company—moving forward.

I felt the dense complexity of the duet contrasted to an early work by Wheeldon which opened the gala: Soirée Musicale, to Barber, done last century (!) in 1998 for a School of American Ballet Workshop. While ambitious for a young choreographer, the ballroom effervescence, canons of movement, and debonair air felt like a sure formula for success. It did feature a good number of younger dancers, led by new principal (and youngster) Chase Finlay, in addition to Brittany Pollack, a newly promoted soloist. You can see Wheeldon's intuitive knack for gentle characterization within an essentially abstract structure, and his playfulness with quick tempos and facile dancers.

The rest of the gala program underscored this season's theme of American music: "Cool" from the West Side Story Suite, by Robbins to Bernstein; Glass Pieces by Robbins to Philip Glass; and a segment of Stars and Stripes, by Balanchine to Hershy Kay.

NYCB—Balanchine + Tchaikovsky FTW

Sara Mearns in Swan Lake. Photo: Paul Kolnik

New York City Ballet's Tchaikovsky festival has been a crash refresher on Balanchine's choreography to the composer's music, and their interconnectedness. Seven works over two recent programs show Balanchine's varied approaches. One dance in itself—Tchaikovsky Suite No. 3—includes excellent and mediocre Balanchine, a sort of Frankenstein of a ballet that pushes together 1970s sections (marked by a distracting scrim, bare feet, long hair, and longer skirts) with Themes and Variations, a hallmark of Mr. B's classic period from 1947. When the scrim is removed for the finale, it's like a veil is snatched from our eyes, eliciting the desired effect of clarity.

Mearns with Ask La Cour in Diamonds. Photo: Paul Kolnik

The house is always more electric whenever Sara Mearns takes the stage, and in these two programs she led the casts of Swan Lake (1951) and Diamonds (1967). Both of these roles are big enough for Mearns, who faces the odd problem of having too much magnetism for some ensemble works. But as the sole white swan in Balanchine's strange one-acter, she is pretty much the sole focus, alongside her swain in the form of Jared Angle. This version excerpts selections, a "best hits" medley of the full ballet, except that it excludes the black swan variations. Without the Odette/Odile duality, the full drama can only be hinted at. It does display Mearns' pliant back attitude, which slashes high at an angle, rather than creating the 90º geometrical structure that usually gives this position an aura of reliable rationality, rather than danger. It's a small example of why Mearns is so riveting—always choosing the dramatic over the safe.

Diamonds offers fewer moments for big drama, with its staid pace and conservative vocabulary. When paired with Emeralds and Rubies, it is the boring section of repose and dignity. Mearns was partnered by Ask la Cour, who framed her capably and never quite drew attention to himself, as is his wont. She plunged into arabesques and tossed her gaze high into the rafters when given the chance, rising to glitter like the pseudonymous gem.

Robert Fairchild and Tiler Peck in Divertimento. Photo: Paul Kolnik

Tiler Peck and Robert Fairchild performed Divertimento from "Le Baiser de la Fée." Peck comes closest to the perfect combination of precision and artistry in the current company's women, and she has an omnipresent natural radiance and sheer joyousness. In previous years it could have been mistaken for youth, but as she matures this sense of pleasure is expanding. Fairchild dances with a fetching, jazzy musicality; he's a dashing cavalier, but his line is less than exemplary. Still, he is fun to watch.

Speaking of exemplary line, Chase Finlay, rocketing through major roles, debuted in the Tchaikovsky Pas de Deux with Ashley Bouder. A daring bit of casting by Mr. Martins, for sure, as Finlay has proved himself in roles with less traditional partnering required. But other than some jitters and a few small bobbles, he fared well. Granted, Bouder could literally partner herself, one of several NYCB women of great independent strength. I hope she relaxes a bit more and plays with the extra time she creates by being on top of steps, ahead of time, rather than freezing in poses on relévé. Or watch Tiler Peck a little more closely as she, equally facile with her steps, elongates or expands on the lushness within ballet's shapes.

Ashley Bouder and Chase Finlay in Tchai Pas. Photo: Paul Kolnik

Martin's Bal du Couture was the sole contribution by the choreographer, a gala confection created to acknowledge fashion designer Valentino and showcase his costume designs. Studded with 20 principals and soloists, it is less about the dance and a lot about style and runway attitude. Most of the women wear leg-hiding, calf-length black and white gowns with a frisson of red tulle underskirting flashing now and then, and pink or red toe shoes. The  three "sprites" (Bouder, Megan Fairchild, and Peck, in the sole red costume) wear bagel-shaped tutus. All are strangely unflattering. However, the men, in fitted tuxedos with tapered legs, look dashing. Even among these beautiful people, Finlay stood out with his Abercrombie appeal, elegant line, and pristine posture in the ballroom waltz as he swirled with Peck.

Megan Fairchild and Amar Ramasar danced Allegro Brillante (1956). I haven't seen Ramasar featured prominently as a partner (he replaced Andrew Veyette), and while, in my mind, he is less a technician than a memorable dramatic presence, they were surprisingly well matched. Fairchild is another woman who's strong on her own, and not strictly reliant on her partner. She fits comfortably into Balanchine's repertory, giving reliably textbook performances that have yet to ignite great passion. Next up: Justin Peck's second major commission.
  

All-Star Break: Kings of the Dance and Tom Gold Dance

Flying Kings: Gomes, Hallberg, Côté, Matvienko, Vasiliev. Photo: Gene Schiavone

Just as Linsanity was peaking, along came the NBA all-star break, when the top players get to show off in a different way. The New York ballet world is undergoing a sort of all-star break itself in the wake of NYCB's winter season. Of course, it's not like NYCB or ABT's dancers are lounging around eating bon bons... they tour between NY seasons, or dance with other companies, so the break, or vacuum, is really for us.

Last weekend, the 2012 Kings of the Dance—Opus 3—performed at City Center. This year’s lineup included ABT’s Marcelo Gomes and David Hallberg (also, Bolshoi), Guillaume Côté (National Ballet of Canada), Denis Matvienko (Mariinsky Ballet), and Ivan Vasiliev (Mikhailovsky Ballet, and until recently, the Bolshoi). The point of this Ardani Artists project, like many in its portfolio, is to allow ballet to fiddle around and experiment with contemporary styles, and to explore other aspects of physical and emotional expressiveness.

The main drag on this program is that the curatorial taste leaned on a certain genre of European, neurotic gesture-heavy contemporary ballet. At the end of the evening, Mauro Bigonzetti (whose work Jazzy Five comprised the first half), Marco Goecke, Patrick de Bana, and Edward Clug’s vocabularies unfortunately blended together in the mind—a mixture of twitches, cause-and-reaction limb work, and dramatically lit musculature. Even these admittedly fantastic dancers found little in this material to make memorable, although both Hallberg and Gomes worked best in their Bigonzetti solos, taking the task to heart, and Vasiliev blasted off earth in his leaps.

A nice surprise—Gomes choreographed KO’d, the appealing finale, set to a symphony composed by Guillaume Côté. Gomes basically hewed to a classical vocabulary, which seemed to relax and liberate the men. Côté exited after a group section and emerged playing the piano for a brief time. (Too bad these guys have no skills.) An easy collegiality made for an uplifting ending on a bill that could have used some more aesthetic variety.

Tyler Angle and Simone Messmer. Photo: Eugene Gologursky

On Monday night, Tom Gold Dance presented a compact program on the ultra-compact stage at Florence Gould Hall. This ex-NYCB soloist put together a ridiculously gifted cast including current principals Sara Mearns, Tyler and Jared Angle, Robert Fairchild, and Abi Stafford (all from NYCB), and the rising star soloist Simone Messmer at ABT. They performed four of Gold's dances which varied in tone and musical genre. The opening group dance, filled with coy touches, was set to Asian-like music by Alexandre Desplat. Three lovely duets to Romantic piano music (played live), danced poetically by Messmer and Tyler Angle, showed Gold's knack with creating interesting finishes. Three couples performed the more classical Mozart Variations; Stafford, of smaller build and refined features, especially shone in this close context.

The ensemble crammed onstage for Tango Fantasie, in which Fairchild showed his magnetism and cool style, and partners Tyler Angle and Sara Mearns smoldered. Of course, we want to see this caliber of performer as much as possible, but it was hard to see the dance for the dancers. No doubt the performance was meant to entice further support for future programming on a larger stage, a chance Gold certainly merits. Especially if he can assemble all-stars like this.