A New Paquita by Ratmansky

Sara Mearns and Chun Wai Chan and company in the Grand Pas in Alexei Ratmansky’s Paquita. Photo: Erin Baiano

Alexei Ratmansky’s new Paquita, premiering at New York City Ballet on February 6, at the outset feels formal and a bit dry. There’s no set or projection, unusual for new productions, but evocative of many of Balanchine’s ballets where dance is the sole focus. David Gabriel partners Erica Pereira and Emma Von Enck in the first part, the Minkus Pas de Trois by Balanchine, breaking apart for duets and solos. They hit their marks in the demanding phrases, dotted with moves proving their technical chops (particularly Gabriel, dealt a long chain of double tours en l’air plus pirouettes, and later cabrioles landing on one leg and held). I warmed to the dancers, shaking off some residual resistance to the Grand Prix competition feel of the start.

The second part, the Grand Pas, begins, with groups of women in Jérôme Kaplan’s lovely black tutus with gold satin chest bands and yellow and rose-hued underlayers; eventually 15 join forces in varying groups or solos. Sara Mearns enters, set apart by a white satin camisole band. Of course the dancing is luscious and indulgent—it’s Mearns. (There are two others who perform the role on other nights.) But we really understand that she’s The Ballerina when Chun Wai Chan strides on, his noble carriage and laser-like focus on Mearns revealing his purpose. Until that moment, the dance seemed to be primarily a technical showcase. Now, it’s a romance with passion and intrigue waiting to unfold.

Indiana Woodward in Paquita. Photo: Erin Baiano

With NYCB since 2021, Chan has been a wonderful addition. In general, NYCB’s men are shadows of the women, in part because Balanchine’s work (and ballet in general) revolves around the ballerina, but also in terms of self-regard and presentation. It’s as if men have never been completely encouraged to carry themselves with authority, demanding to be seen; it’s likely subliminal. (Again, I’m generalizing; there are exceptions.) It’s not a bad thing, more of a company philosophy. But because Chan came from Houston Ballet, and before that Guangzhou Art School, modesty doesn’t seem to be an entrained trait. He is bold and assertive even while simply walking, expressed in his confident stride and proud carriage. It’s more the bold attitude of an entitled prince than a support character. And a captivating, and physically daring, dancer like Mearns requires an equally magnetic partner such as Chan. He’s strong as well, smoothly pressing her overhead in numerous lifts. Mearns catches at the heart with her vulnerability and physical daring, nearly always nailing a dramatic rendition. Ambition, daredevilry, drama, and skill.

Back to the women in Paquita. There are six variations following the pas de deux, each dynamically and emotionally different. And each is danced by a principal or soloist, infusing the entire final third of the ballet with a sparkle and snap. Indiana Woodward could barely contain her elation, hitting each beat with precision. Olivia MacKinnon, a lovely dancer now in major roles with regularity; Emily Kikta, with a velvety precision and riveting presence. Unity Phelan, who merits an Iron Woman award for dancing lead roles in the evening’s three dances. Plus the ensemble, who impart the challenging sections with confidence and brio.

Erica Pereira, David Gabriel and Emma Von Enck in Balanchine’s Minkus Pas de Trois from
Alexei Ratmansky’s Paquita. Photo: Erin Baiano

Paquita allows Ratmansky to indulge his wonkery, plunging into historical documents and ballet’s long history, and making it anew. But is it what audiences want to see? Given his success at City Ballet with new works, viewers are eager to sample whatever he offers in his prodigal return to the fold. In any case, the dancers are primed for works like this, even if it could benefit from more rehearsal and finesse. Let’s see what Ratmansky presents next.

Stormy Weather—NYCB's Balanchine Slate

Sara Mearns in Walpurgisnacht Ballet. Photo: Paul Kolnik

The storm Jonas dumped nearly a yard of snow in its wake, shutting down all of New York City, including cultural performances. But another tempest, Sara Mearns, channelled some of its vibrant fury in Balanchine's Walpurgisnacht Ballet (1980) at New York City Ballet on make-up night, January 26. Through her musicality and kinetic impulses, Mearns conveyed an astounding amount of inner life while remaining faithful to the choreography, which she has absorbed a priori. Adrian Danchig-Waring was a noble, strong partner to counter her contained passion.

The all-Balanchine program included Sonatine (1975), a duo with Tiler Peck and Joaquin de Luz to a Ravel score played live onstage by Cameron Grant. They shared a tender camaraderie, but she repeatedly left him and returned, as if testing the permanence of closure. Peck never stopped moving, giving life and evolution to seemingly static poses. De Luz crackled onstage; his roguish charm paired particularly well with Peck's joy and wonderment.

Tiler Peck & Joaquin de Luz in Sonatine. Photo: Paul Kolnik

The last time I saw Mozartiana (1981), Anthony Huxley danced the second male role; here, he was in the lead male part wearing white and violet, and the cocoa-clad Daniel Ulbricht danced the secondary Gigue. While Huxley continues to develop his partnering work, and on the softening of his placid facial expression, he was crisp technically and timing-wise, and bestowed his movement with more weight and plushness. Sterling Hyltin gave an elegiac, tender performance, her hand softly unfurling as if presenting a priceless gift; Ulbricht was light and appealing if somewhat flat—it's almost as if he reins in his personality and simply lets his flying leaps speak.

The sturdy Symphony in C (1947) featured Megan Fairchild in the first movement with a lackluster Gonzalo Garcia, who seemed rusty and uninspired. The cool pair of Teresa and Tyler Angle wafted elegantly through the second part, making its difficult chained lifts look seamless. A vivacious Antonio Carmena partnered Erica Pereira in the jaunty third, she emanated energy but her small stature tends to minimize the impact. And I wanted to see more of Brittany Pollack and Taylor Stanley, electric in the brief fourth movement.

Refreshing, Ancient Bournonville at NYCB

Bournonville Divertissements. Photo: Paul Kolnik

It seems illogical to view New York City Ballet's Bournonville renaissance as fresh, as opposed to what defines new—brand new work by young choreographers, increasingly by men such as Justin Peck and Troy Schumacher, from the company's ranks. Bournonville (1805—79) is about as ancient a ballet choreographer as we see, and at that, we see very little. But we must thank Ballet Master in Chief Peter Martins for putting together a program of Bournonville Divertissements (1977) and La Sylphide (1985), performed on the evening of the company's spring gala.

Tyler Angle. Photo: Paul Kolnik

Apart from a story with a melancholy ending such as La Sylphide, Bournonville's choreography, as noted previously, is often characterized by a multitude of petit and grand allegro steps, and a generally sunny mood. Dancers are in the air more than they're on the ground. The style makes use of deep pliés from which to spring upward. There is rarely a moment of stasis. The body is an axis, and the turned-out fifth position a ready-set-go point from which to move in any compass direction, and up and down, with fluidity, delicacy, and ease, despite the speed and challenging technique. 

The Divertissements' many sections, derived from Bournonville's Napoli, Flower Festival in Genzano, and Abdallah, offered choice spotlights for many of the company's fleet-footed dancers. Erica Pereira danced with Allen Peiffer, whose shorts and sailor top gave him the look of a teenager. But it simply contributed to an air of youthfulness and promise. Tyler Angle excelled in the style, unsurprisingly, given his lofty ballon and deceptively effortless bearing. But Sara Mearns, somewhat unexpectedly, managed to articulate each position; her broad dramatic sweep and luxuriant emphasis no hindrance. 

Amar Ramasar and Adrian Danchig-Waring partnered Lauren Lovette and Lauren King (both delightful), Rebecca Krohn (with a warmer demeanor than ever), and Megan LeCrone, whose cool modern outlook was somewhat at odds in the work. Anthony Huxley, who danced the gem of a short solo, was superb as always. The entire cast, beating tambourines, took turns dancing and goading on the others in the jubilant, earthy Tarantella.
     

Sterling Hyltin and Joaquin de Luz in La Sylphide. Photo: Paul Kolnik

La Sylphide made its NYCB premiere in a staging by Martins. This production debuted at the Pennsylvania Ballet in 1985, with bright, mannerist sets by Susan Tammany, who also designed the kilts of purple tartan (read the fascinating story about how she also ushers). It's a bit of an odd duck of a ballet; two acts without an intermission. But it contains some great roles for a few dancers, including the previously mentioned De Luz, more radiant and magnetic than ever before, and like so many of the company's many principals, underused. Sterling Hyltin is ideal for the Sylph, whisper-light and delicate, and, as needed, alternately strong and frail. Georgina Pazcoguin played Madge, the witch, with ravenous, and at times contemporary, gestures, reinforcing her reputation as the company's leading character actress. Daniel Ulbricht danced Gurn, the spurned, yet ultimately redeemed suitor. The role is shallow enough that he made little memorable of it.

This dose of Bournonville is welcome, even in a repertory chock full of Balanchine and the talents of many youngsters. It also shows that the company can handle any challenge with flair. 

Finding a Common Language with Uncommon Dancers

Hyltin, Mearns, Melnick, Mitchell, and some viewers. Photo: Ian Douglas

The New York dance ecosystem is big. It contains several distinct groups that usually maintain a safe distance from one another; the main ones being ballet, modern, and Broadway. Lately, there's been more mixing between them than in recent memory, and it's primarily ballet stars dipping their calloused toes into other ponds. Broadway shows now star the Fairchild siblings, NYCB principals Megan and Robert, as well as his spouse, Tiler Peck. A number of ballet dancers have hatched their own small troupes to experiment with dance hybrid forms; they often employ their talented large company mates to perform (Troy Schumacher, Michele Wiles, Craig Salstein).

The most recent experiment began by Danspace Project director Judy Hussie-Taylor inviting critic/poet Claudia La Rocco to curate the space's spring platform, which is titled Dancers, Buildings and People in the Streets. A series of Dance Dialogues combine dancers from ballet and modern worlds. 

starts and fits, no middles no ends: 8 unfinished dances featured NYCB stars Sara Mearns and Sterling Hyltin paired with, respectively, Cunningham alum and independent success Rashaun Mitchell and Jodi Melnick, a luminous presence who has danced with numerous descendants of the Trisha Brown tree, including Brown herself, and choreographed as well.    

Sara Mearns. Photo: Ian Douglas

It was no surprise that given the venue—fertile turf for post-modern creativity—the ballerinas looked somewhat out of place at first, in warm-up type clothing (by Reid Bartelme) and sneakers. It was not until they moved in their own classical language that they seemed to relax, doing what they've trained their whole lives to do, and that includes not looking ungraceful or untrained.

Melnick and Mitchell comported themselves as distinctively as they have in their own projects. Melnick's every move is purposeful and linked to her next; she rarely inserts breaks into what read as structured improvisations, but which are probably carefully choreographed. She maintains an alert but broad focus that never reads as a specific emotion, until she is coached by Hyltin to do so in a hilarious Somnambula coaching session. 

Mitchell did a masterful improv with four chairs hanging from his body. He is a rare combination of subtle and strong, at times nearly ruthless, as when he ran headlong toward one of the viewers sitting in the performance area. (Two of these viewers were a critic and choreographer who could not resist exchanging whispers during much of the early stages of the performance, and by their location became chatty set pieces.) And—huzzah—he was asked only once or twice to support his female collaborators, two of whom spend a lot of time being lifted or steadied by men.

Mearns is the moment's leading ballerina. Her utter abandon and emotional outpouring in NYCB performances are made possible by her technical prowess, without which she couldn't be free to communicate all that she does. She is fearless and emotionally giving in the many ballets in which she now stars. Stripped of distance and formality, she became even more human. She walked without grace—like a Neanderthal, as a viewer behind me put it—particularly in her first costume of sneakers and multi-colored workout tights. When she changed into a sparkly beige romper and soft ballet slippers, she took on several layers of glamour that more typify her presence. She flashed her split extensions, shapely feet, and pliable back, releasing into a deep back arch with a slowly blossoming port de bras. She had transformed from ape to angel, grinning with happiness.

Hyltin is another radiant principal, quicksilver and delicate in her ballet roles. She seemed reluctant to diverge from ballet steps during improv sections, quoting some Balanchine here and there. One of her costumes, a short leather circle skirt, felt odd. But she hit her stride while coaching Melnick as La Somnambula, a NYCB rep staple. After Melnick stole the show by responding exaggeratedly to Hyltin's spoken notes—"more pain, now bump him," evoking a moan and a hip check—the ballerina demonstrated the proper way, and why she is a highly respected and beloved dancer.

These are fun experiments, mixing and matching modern and classical stars to see what results. It humanizes the mythic ballerina, and reminds us of the numerous gifts of modern artists. It does raise a timeworn issue: is it right to give these international stars opportunities that any of a hundred under-exposed modern dancers might truly appreciate? But who can blame La Rocco for putting together these dream lineups.    

Fall for Dance—Maturing, But Still Sweet

Vuyani Dance Theatre's Keaoleboga Seodigeng and Gladwell Rakoma. Photo: John Hogg

Fall for Dance has continued to evolve over the years. Less prominent are the super young crowds, the spontaneous whoops and hollers, and the programming that targeted these. The fare has become moderately more ambitious, less blatantly accessible, and the programs edited to run two hours or less (in early seasons, they were jam packed and exhausting in length). While the zazz and hysteria are gone, the festival is still a terrific sampling of dance from all over, at a reasonable ticket price. I caught three programs.

Black Grace, a troupe from New Zealand, performed two works choreographed by Neil Ieremia, displaying strength, precise timing, vocalization, and body percussion. The men, bare chested and muscular in Minoi (1999), embodied the fearsomeness that would surely rank them as dominant among humans. The women, wearing flowing slip dresses, moved more fluidly in the New York premiere of Pati Pati (2009); all joined in the ending. 

San Francisco Ballet's Variations for Two Couples (2012), by Hans van Manen, included Sofiane Sylve, in a welcome return to New York (in her prior time with NYCB, she exuded the glamour and fervor comparable to current company diva Sara Mearns), with Luke Ingham, Vanessa Zahorian, and Carlos Quenedit. The dance appealed in its simplicity and calm pacing to a varied and atmospheric medley of music by Britten, Piazzolla, and others. A simple straightening of a curved port de bras spoke volumes.

Two stars—Fang-Yi Sheu, lately pursuing independent projects, and Yuan Yuan Tan (a principal with San Francisco Ballet) performed Russell Maliphant's Two x Two (2009). A bit of an oddity well-suited to mature dancers looking for divergent dance vehicles, it was all about Michael Hulls' lighting—two distant boxes, with increasingly bright borders which illuminated slashing feet and hands. The women moved their arms and torsos fluently, writhed, and extended their legs on occasion, but with such eloquent dancers, it was a disappointment not to see more of their artistry.

It was kind of a big deal that Mark Morris' Words (to Mendelssohn performed live) premiered

Mark Morris Dance Group, Words. Photo: Ani Collier

at Fall for Dance, which primarily showcases tried and true works. It was the eve of the company's diverging tours to Europe and Asia. Morris explores the simplest of human moves in this work, punctuated by a silk drop carried cross stage to hide dancers' comings and goings. They wear multi-hued, unisex surplice tank tops and bermuda shorts (designed by Maile Okamura, a company member sadly absent from the stage for this performance), flattering to no one but satisfyingly functional. 

Morris' movement of course emphasizes the rhythms within the score, sometimes obviously, at other times playfully. Two men gesture conversationally; a pair of dancers take turns curving themselves in attitudes with arched backs around the other. Skipping and spinning looked novel and fun, as if we all might be able to hop onstage and join in, although Morris' dancers are experts at making it look easy. The dancers trudged and leaned on one another, exhausted children, or wound and rapidly unwound their legs, fluttering their hands. They swung invisible baseball bats, and formed lines and then rings of three, tossing their heads gleefully from side to side. Words will be performed by eight dancers on tour; 16 danced here, providing 16 interpretations of innocent pleasures.  

The third  program was all over the place, mixing genres, but feeling jagged and heavy in the process, in part due to the works chosen. South Africa's Vuyani Dance Theatre opened with Umnikelo (2011), choreographed by Luyanda Sidiya. This admirable troupe spares no effort toward gender equality, which is so far from classical dance's norm. The same shiny white tunics and pants are worn by all members, who have shaved or closely-cropped heads. When the company is not moving in unison, women partner men, lifting and suspending them in the air. The lead drummer is female, extremely unusual. The movement is an amalgam of modern, African, and martial arts, and one or more of the dancers at a given moment join in the vocalizing. While overly long for this program, the group was met with raucous applause in its choreographed ovation.

Sarasota Ballet's Nicole Padilla & Kate Honea in Frederick Ashton's Les Patineurs. Photo Gene Schiavone

If there could be a more jarring juxtaposition than shifting to Sara Mearns & Co. in Stairway to Paradise, I can't think of it. Choreographed by Joshua Bergasse (agh, Smash, you were too something for this world) this MGM number, with its nine Fosse-esque men giving us their best forced smiles and biggest jumps, features the uber ballerina—well, mainly her nonpareil gams, well-displayed in her tiny black costume with fringe and rhinestones, and capped by sparkly character shoes—stepping on the mens' hands, or being vaulted precariously in the air to be caught in various louche positions. Apart from looking fabulous, Mearns did appear self-consciously showy, which is not typical for her—or at least in this "please love me" manner. 

Trisha Brown's Son of Gone Fishin' was a tough piece to include in FFD; even for Brown fans, it's among her grittier works. Performed by her company, in a state of transition and uncertainty in the wake of her absence, it felt all the more urgent to appreciate its fleeting moments. But this piece in particular takes a certain state of mind, with its structure: A-B-C-center-C-B-A, and its fractured and at times irritating sound track. It left me impatient while trying to soak it in fully. It was another display of gender neutrality, which Brown has always put forth.
Peony Pavilion, by the National Ballet of China, with choreography by Fei Bo was an oddity. This version was adapted for the City Center stage, and focused on the lavish costumes—embroidered silk robes in jewel tones, or modernized interpretations—sheer silk with silver embellishments, and clean black and white costumes. I suppose it was gratifying to get a taste of the company, which hasn't been in New York in years. A glimpse is better than nothing, but it did seem a minor waste to see just 20 minutes of this work.

National Ballet of China_Zhu Yan and Zhang Jian_Photo by Liu Yang and Si Tinghong

The final program of FFD was another ambitious mix. Wayne McGregor|Random Dance's Far started it off with real drama—four women held flaming torches to light a couple's first several minutes of dance, exiting one by one as the stage lights warmed. To a soprano aria, it felt intoxicatingly romantic. The work extended into several more sections of groups and pairs, lit inventively in a matrix of light squares, or a wash of silvery light. McGregor pushes and tweaks the classical language expressionistically, pushing arches and developpés ever deeper, sending waves through torsos. The music (by Ben Frost) grows snarling and harsh, with wild animals tearing through now and again. I can't decide if it's a utopian or dystopian vision of future ballet.

Pontus Lidberg was commissioned by FFD to create This Was Written on Water, a duet for two of ABT's newer principals, Isabella Boylston and James Whiteside, to music by Stefan Levin for a live string trio, and will become a part of Lidberg's upcoming film. Dance is but one creative element for Lidberg, who designed the falling-leaves decor. Harriet Jung and Reid Bartelme, who just performed with Lar Lubovitch last week, created the costumes, which included an elegant jade dress that fits Boylston like a glove. The movement was fluid and pretty, particularly on these two clean-lined dancers, but apart from a flexed foot or half cartwheel, felt fairly unremarkable, and more generic than Lidberg's ground-hugging passages seen in Within.

Aakash Odedra supplied the requisite indigenous dance on the bill. A variation on Kathak, Nritta was distinguished by rapid spins, loud stomps, rising on his bare toe tips, and space-eating stage crossings. But the main attraction, and festival closer, was the Sarasota Ballet in Les Patineurs (1937) by Frederick Ashton to music by Giacomo Meyerbeer. It's been awhile since this ballet has been seen in New York. The clever adaptation of skating moves—chassées, spins, backward chugs, even humorous falls—to ballet remains irresistible and innovative. The sets and costumes, by William Chappell, add confectionary appeal, and the young, fresh-faced dancers performed sparklingly. It was a delectable and memorable close to yet another Fall for Dance.  

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. 

September Performance Notebook

High culture season's underway. Notes from recent outings:

Edward Watson and slime, in Metamorphosis

Royal Ballet, Metamorphosis, The Joyce

• Edward Watson as Gregor is the draw in this clever adaptation of Kafka's classic in which dance replaces music as the muse which draws out the human side of insectoid Gregor.
• After his evolution from salaryman to creature, he winds and crosses his limbs, propped on a knee and some fingers, to evoke bugness.    
• Brown sticky stuff—molasses?—that conveyed a complete cleave with humanity really was slippery; the other cast members slipped gingerly over the pools and slicks 
• Director/choreographer Arthur Pita uses the entire theater, including the narrow cross-theater aisle between the stage and audience, where a coffee/cocktail cart's repeated wheelings help establish the sense of banal routine. Simon Daw is credited for designs.
• Corey Annand as Grete was convincing as a young girl growing into an accomplished ballet dancer, who acquired by osmosis some of the insectoid behavior of her brother.
• Without Matthew Bourne, I don't think this type of movement-theater production would exist. Several cast members are vets of his productions as well.
• The music was composed and performed by Frank Moon, who created all the eerie sounds in addition to playing instruments.

Sara Mearns

New York City Ballet, Swan Lake

• The two-act Swan Lake, by Peter Martins (retaining of the original Petipa/Ivanov pas de deux, thankfully), is a good excuse to see ballerinas at their zenith. 
• Mearns so fantastically embodies this dual role, combining the right pathos, beguilement, and technique. 
• She needs her partner too, unlike many a competent NYCB female principal. In this case, it was Jared Angle, as solid and modest as partners come. G
• Gripes: the largely hideous decor by Per Kirkeby, especially the hall that looks like a courtroom, the long spans of lazy filler steps, the irritating jester, and the endless foreign dances when I think loningly of ABT's playful Neapolitan duet and Von Rothbart's fancy purple suede boots. 
• In NYCB's Swan, you are really coerced into focusing on Odette/Odile because the rest of the production is so uninspired. Which is not such a terrible thing when it's Mearns.
• I caught Sara Mearns twice in one week, first in Swan Lake, then at Fall For Dance in a new duet by Justin Peck. What luck.

Justin Peck's The Bright Motion, Fall For Dance

• Het Ballet's Casey Herd, who partnered Sara in The Bright Motion, the Peck premiere, is large and confident enough to support her both physically and psychically (see above). Mearns' vulnerability is part of her terrific appeal, and she leaned hard enough on Herd that he had to adjust his stance at one point, but it allowed her to more fully find and expand her beautiful line. 
• This brief dance was more grown-up feeling than Peck's previous works, which have emphasized youth. It showcased Mearns' sublime, archetypal arabesque, which she assumed in super slow-mo, and a bold fourth position on pointe with her torso twisted in opposition, so architecturally strong. 
• The white bathing suit leotard added to the sense of her being completely exposed. She came across as somehow both completely empowered and completely vulnerable, like Princess Grace at the beach.

The Devil in the Detail

Richard Alston's The Devil in the Detail, Fall For Dance

• A suite of dances to Scott Joplin, whose music breeds feelings of both hyper-familiarity on a pop culture level (thanks to The Sting), and unfamiliarity when used in dance; I can only think of Martha Graham's weird Maple Rag.
• The jaunty, whimsical rhythms give Alston's superb dancers a chance to play around with the phrasing, an intriguing proposition, as they can arrest movements mid-air. 
• Various combos and pairings to perhaps a half-dozen songs provided a glimpse of the crisp, barefoot style that deserves a better term than contemporary ballet. It relates at moments to Paul Taylor and Mark Morris.  
• A performance by Alston's London-based company is a rare treat; his last gig in the metro area was at Peak Performances in Montclair. 

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.
  

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. 

The tyranny of pointe shoes

Ready, aim, fire: Australian Ballet's Kevin Jackson and Lana Jones in McGregor's Dyad 1929. Photo: Lisa Tomasetti

There are many reasons to be infatuated with ballet, but one major element has become a double-edged sword—the use of pointe shoes. Yes, they elevate the dancer off the floor for a weightless look; they make for sleek lines and endless weaponry/spider metaphors; spinning on them looks effortless and just plain cool; and they're usually pink and shiny. But as much as I have affection for them, I think they've fostered a sort of modern day tyranny over ballet.


Choreographers seem obsessed with using them, even when there's a lot of running, or work not on pointe. (I'm always fearful that a dancer will slip; occasionally one does, and it's nearly always because of the ludicrous lack of traction from walking or running, flat-footed, on pointe shoes.) Obviously traditions within the classical repertory, such as Swan Lake (which ABT performs this week), demand their use, but it is surprising to me that so much new choreography utilizes pointe. It is the one choice that will automatically dictate many things within a ballet, more than the music or story.


For women dancers, it will implicate many of the standard steps done to emphasize the line on pointe: pirouettes, fouettés, developpés, arabesques, attitudes, and the thrilling fast chainés or piqués. Even the smaller steps are made extra refined, such as tendus, échappés, and standing on pointe. I won't deny that these lines are superbly elongated and pleasing. At the same time, it will vastly inhibit a dancer's ability to run, walk, corner, and change direction. This reluctance will be diminished as much as the dancer is able, but she will be reticent about these simple human moves.


It will induce the choreographer into more traditional role casting. For the guys, this means more partnering women in pirouettes, which leads to making very pretty poses in arabesque on relevé, with the man always behind, shadowing and supporting the woman. Which leads to dips and tilts where the toe shoe is the only point of contact between the woman and the earth, dragging the woman on the box of her toe shoe, then little lifts, then big lifts through splits, or overhead. It's a predictable menu of actions that limits artistic expression, even as it produces the desired traditional effects and predicates gender and psychological determinations.


Then there is the issue of technique. We in New York are spoiled brats, seeing the very best of the world's ballet dancers all the time, and whining about how there's too much to see. This means Osipova, Copeland, and Murphy at ABT, and Peck, Fairchild, and Mearns at NYCB as our usual fare. These women are basically superheroes, making this gritty, tough work look like swinging in a hammock. But not everyone is Tiler Peck.

The complicated process of physical selection, the mastery of dancing on pointe at a standard of world-class excellence, plus the ease of global travel and dissolution of nationalistic tendencies, has allowed the finest dancers to become our home-town heroes, but these standards are ridiculously high.

The world's leading companies make it their business, for better or worse, to prove themselves on New York stages; the Australian Ballet recently showed how excellent its dancers are. But there are many smaller companies, including local ones, that perform here regularly, and often the toe-shoed women are simply not up to expectations. But it's that omnipresent ideal—tyranny—of the pretty ballerina on pointe that provokes this backlash. It's a choice the choreographer makes, in a way reflecting the seductive gloss and promise of Ballet. 


One work presented by the Australian Ballet instigated this post: Wayne McGregor's Dyad 1929 (which I reviewed for Dance Magazine). The women changed from pointe shoes to soft slippers as the piece went on, except for one. This shift was not some major dramaturgical fulcrum: to me, it emphasized that traditional expectations need not be fulfilled in order for work to have artistic merit. And was a subtle statement on the future possibilities of dancing at times in soft slippers, which opens up so many options. Now that so many women are as athletic as the men, why not let them back down to earth once in awhile so they can show us?


Note: Here's a fascinating video on pointe shoes, featuring NYCB's Megan Fairchild. It's a reminder of the time and material resources consumed by the prevalence of the iconic shoes. They estimate that principal dancers use a pair a day, which must include breaking them in (these somewhat barbaric rituals include slamming the boxes with doors, and using files to increase friction), sewing ribbons and elastics, and getting them to conform to one's feet, or vice versa. Just the management of shoe inventory alone is a major task. 

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.