Tag: Igor Stravinsky

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TWO MORE NYCB PREMIERES: "LUCE NASCOSTA" AND "CALL ME BEN"

 

It’s been a season of new ballets and principal dancer farewells at New York City Ballet, and, between that and all the goings-on at ABT, it’s hard to keep up! I realized when meeting a blog reader yesterday at Philip Neal’s farewell performance (so nice to meet you, Vanessa!) that I hadn’t yet written about the last two premieres and people were waiting. I was going to wait until I’d seen each once again, but at least with one of them I won’t get that chance since there was a programming change.

 

Anyway, Maura Bigonzetti’s Luce Nascosta (two photos above, cast in top, Teresa Reichlen and Adrian Danchig-Waring directly above. All photos by Paul Kolnik): I really don’t know what to think of it. The title is translated in the program notes as “Unseen Light”. The stage was very dark except for a Santiago Calatrava moon-like disc, which throughout the course of the ballet expanded into multiple discs. Everyone was in black (costumes by Marc Happel), the men in flare-legged pants and the women in tight black tops and big ruffled skirts that resembled trendy Latin ballroom costumes from a couple years back.

The dancing was at times in ensemble, at times in pairs, but the partnerships changed. It seemed that Tiler Peck and whoever she was partnered by were kind of the leaders, and Maria Kowroski and whoever was partnering her at the moment, kind of concluded the action, with everyone else in between.

The music was gorgeous – by Bruno Moretti, but I didn’t think it accompanied the choreography well at all. The music was like something you’d see in an action-packed movie, like Mission Impossible, at times dark and eerie, at times melodramatic with crescendos like you’d hear when the hero’s coming to save the day. Seriously, perfect for a big summer blockbuster. Here … dunno? And weird because they collaborated closely, the choreographer and the composer…

I thought there were some interesting moments and some original movement, but overall I didn’t feel it added up to much of a whole. My favorite part of the choreography was when all the men were dancing in ensemble. Craig Hall began this rather African-looking movement sequence, then Sean Suozzi joined him, making the movement look more balletically lyrical than African, which made it all the more interesting to me – how the same movement looked on different bodies. Then, other men began to join until it looked ritualistic and celebratory. The women had less interesting movement — one recurring theme was when the women went on pointe, their legs splayed intentionally awkwardly, and they’d hold the balance on pointe while the men kind of darted around them, like the women were frozen. In another recurring theme toward the end, the women went sliding across stage into the men’s arms. The several times Tiler Peck slid like this into Gonzalo Garcia it made a loud, slapping sound. But that didn’t happen with any of the others. I didn’t know if that was intentional or not. The whole thing had a kind of threatening vibe. At times it seemed the women were the threat to the men, at other times the opposite.

The whole thing made me think black widows in the moonlight…

I’m interested to know what others thought of this one. Any thoughts? Critics seem genuinely divided, which I find exciting – often they all hate or all love the same thing.

And the premiere before Luce was Melissa Barak’s Call Me Ben, a story ballet about Benjamin “Bugsy” Siegel, the gangster, and his founding of the Flamingo, the first Vegas nightclub.

 

Robert Fairchild played / danced the part of Bugsy or Ben – the ballet sought to humanize him, focusing on the person and his ideals rather than the gangster, and it did so simply by having endearingly sympathetic Fairchild play the lead! Jenifer Ringer, who looked like a true Hollywood leading lady throughout, played his girlfriend, the one who swindles him, making other gangsters think he’s taken the money himself and fled, eventually leading them to kill him.

I thought the duets were really beautiful. Robert and Jenifer looked really good together, like a leading romantic couple in a movie. And the ballroom-y period costumes (by J. Mendel) were absolutely gorgeous. I really liked the sets, again by Calatrava, as well. More than his sets for any of the premiere ballets I’ve seen thus far this season (well, with the exception of Wheeldon’s Estancia), these seemed particularly suited for this ballet, evoking warm starry nights, palm trees, the Vegas-y climate, basically.

 

I think where the ballet fell apart for me was with all the speaking. Barak has said in interviews that she didn’t think she could tell the story purely through dance so she used spoken word as well. But there was too much spoken word, and the dancers were often so out of breath from dancing it took them a while to begin their lines. And that didn’t look natural. Something like this would work in a movie, obviously, where there are separate takes of each scene, but onstage with seriously exhilarating dancing, it took away from the realism. Plus, besides Vincent Paradiso, none of the male dancers really evoked gangster. Tyler Angle and Daniel Ulbricht, great as they are as dancers, just did not convince me that they were hit men. And at the end, when Ulbricht came out for his bow, it was funny but it seemed like people began their usual hearty applause then let up when they realized they didn’t really see Daniel Ulbricht. He didn’t do Daniel Ulbricht things.

And that makes me think maybe she didn’t need to have any talking. Why couldn’t Ulbricht have done his usual pyrotechnics as his expression of his character’s murderous nature?

It seems from interviews Barak has given, that she was given a score (by Jay Greenberg) that she really didn’t know what to do with, and since the score had already been commissioned she had to come up with something in a short period of time. It’s interesting how these ballets are being commissioned because when I heard Benjamin Millepied speak about his new ballet at a Guggenheim Works & Process event recently, he mentioned that he and his composer, Thierry Escaich, worked together, talking about what the music evoked and how that would be visualized, but that Calatrava designed his set for that ballet independently. So, all throughout Why Am I Not Where You Are, I was wondering whether Millepied meant for his color-clad dancers to be hailing from another world, mainly because of that space-like object of Calatrava’s. But Millepied hadn’t meant for that at all — it was just the set he got, which had nothing really to do with his ballet.

Is this how collaborations used to work in Diaghlev’s day though? I just assumed Stravinsky and Balanchine and Chagall all worked together to create a work of performance art. I mean, how else could Firebird have been created?

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JEWELS

 

Janie Taylor and Benjamin Millepied in “Rubies.” All photos are by Paul Kolnik.

 

Sterling Hyltin and Gonzalo Garcia in “Rubies.”

 

Jonathan Stafford and Sara Mearns in “Diamonds.”

 

Maria Kowroski and Charles Askegard and cast in “Diamonds.”

 

Abi Stafford and Jason Fowler in “Emeralds.”

So New York City Ballet ended its Winter season with Balanchine’s Jewels, his three-act abstract ballet in homage to three different styles of classical ballet: “Emeralds” set to Gabriel Faure in honor of the French style; “Rubies” set to Stravinsky in honor of the American jazzy / showgirl-y style; and “Diamonds” set to Romantic Tchaikovsky and in the imperial, celebratory Russian style.

“Diamonds” has long been my favorite part, but the more I see of the full-length ballet (“Rubies” is often performed apart from the rest, in mixed rep programs), the other two are growing on me, particularly “Emeralds” with its complex patterns, its subtlety and nuance. And of course I like “Rubies” because I think, through this part of the ballet, new audiences unfamiliar with Balanchine can best see how he created a certain kind of “Americanized” ballet for his adopted country.

There were several debuts in the various roles: Janie Taylor and Gonzalo Garcia in “Rubies,” and I think Sterling Hyltin in “Rubies” as well (it was my first time seeing her anyway). Janie was an absolute blast to watch. She doesn’t really have the proper hips for this heavily hip-jutting, hip-swaying role — she’s so tiny and waify — but she was putting everything she had into it, taking every single movement, every jump and stretch and supported penchee and pose as far as it could possibly go and you just couldn’t take your eyes off her. It was the best performance of that part that I’ve seen since Ashley Bouder debuted in it a couple years ago. What was also so stunning about Janie’s performance was her commitment to perfecting every little detail in making a certain shape — it reminded me of her absolutely captivating performance as the Novice in Robbins’ The Cage. Except this wasn’t a creepy male-devouring insect, but a fun flirty showgirl. And yet there was a certain darkness to it — I think there always is with her (Alastair Macaulay has noted the same), but that darkness somehow worked here. She made the role her own, which is what a great interpretive artist must always do.

Janie Taylor danced with Benjamin Millepied, who was very good as well — the most animated I’ve seen him lately, actually. Maybe Natalie Portman was in the audience? I didn’t see her though.

When Gonzalo debuted he danced with Sterling. Of course I always love Gonzalo and, as always, he was very animated and dramatic, making a little story out of every little interaction with Sterling. Which is what I always love about him and what I find so engaging. They did have a few kinks to work through though – -sometimes it seemed like they’d nearly missed hands in connecting, like they weren’t completely in sync with each other. But that was only physical and was likely something you might have only caught if you were sitting up close (as I was). Emotionally they connected perfectly — which to me is more important — unless of course a physical mis-connection results in a fall or something. Hyltin does have the hips for this role and she seemed like she was having a lot of fun with it too. She was really stunning.

Of course I loved Sara Mearns in “Diamonds,” which I knew I would. This was my first time seeing her in the role and she was perfect. It was just like Swan Lake all over again. Sir Alastair in his end of the season review calls her the best ballerina in NYCB and perhaps all of New York and I generally agree, especially regarding her adagio. I guess the perfect ballerina would be someone with her or Veronika Part’s adagio technique and Gillian Murphy or Paloma Herrera’s allegro — I would have preferred for Mearns, for example, to be a tiny bit more seductive with the fouettes in the SL Black Swan pdd — but I don’t know if that ballerina exists today. I don’t know if she’s existed ever. Maybe Gelsey Kirkland? I don’t know, I never saw her dance live, but judging by what I hear from those who did, and from my own video-watching, she seems to have had everything…

Anyway, “Emeralds”: I liked Abi Stafford in the solo; I liked her port de bras — very beautiful arms, very well-articulated gesturing. Her performance was sweet. I also liked Jenifer Ringer as the second girl who does what I call “the courtship walk” with the male dancer. Her performance was full of subtlety and charm; I sensed a kind of  sweet shyness as she tip-toed en pointe along with the boy, first going in his direction, then kind of changing direction and walking around him in circles, making him kind of follow her.

At my final performance of the season, I sat next to James Wolcott and Laura Jacobs, who introduced me to several Ballet Review people. Ballet Review seems like such an excellent publication and it’s really too bad the articles aren’t available online because Jacobs has a very interesting scholarly piece on this ballet, arguing that it’s more about Balanchine’s love of Suzanne Farrell than anything else. If you can get your hands on it, I highly recommend that article!

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GYOR NATIONAL BALLET FROM HUNGARY AT THE JOYCE

 

Photo by Bela Szabo, of Gyor National Ballet’s Rite of Spring, from here.

Reviewed by Christopher Atamian.

Györ National Ballet (at The Joyce January 26-31)

From the land of Bartók and Kodály, strudel and palascinka, comes Hungary’s Györ National Ballet, a vibrant dance company that everyone should have the pleasure of seeing at least once during their next New York appearance.  It takes considerable originality and artistic vision to re-interpret Petrushka and Rite of Spring with the verve and sometimes breathtaking visual appeal that Györ brought to the Joyce on January 26.  The company was founded in 1979 by two graduates of the National Ballet Institute.  Led by Janós Kiss since 1991, it has since won accolades worldwide: all twelve members that performed here are talented, vibrant and passionate dancers with evident balletic training behind them.

The presentation at the Joyce, titled “A Stravinsky Evening” was dedicated to the twentieth anniversary of the fall of the Iron Curtain.  The original Petrushka ballet was of course choreographed by Mikhail Fokin but this version, credited to Dmitrij Simkin and James Sutherland presents a fresh look at the well-worn story.  Here Petrushka (Bálint Sebestyén) is transformed into a free thinker who resists communist indoctrination, while the sorcerer (Balázs Pátkai) is a party leader in uniform who tracks him down, interrogates and tortures him. Both Sebestyén and Pátkai dance their roles beautifully.  Pátkai is appropriately rigid and authoritarian (but sinuous and sinister as well) while Sebestyén is equally adept at performing different tempos and phrasings—at one point he dances torso nu to a particularly sensitive segment of Stravinsky’s music with rare, almost spellbinding sensuality, as if he were actually in a trance: his body quivers all over as he moves arms and legs into languorous serpentine positions. The other dancers are also attuned to soft almost ethereal body movements; as a whole they executed beautifully but their strength was surely the seemingly effortless synchronicity that they achieved with the Stravinsky score.  The piece ends as it begins with a fast-paced pop-inspired communist scout march—a lovely bookend to the Stravinsky. The dancers again perform as communist scouts, mainly running in place and repeating a few movements in synchronicity—illustrating with deft alacrity that complete oxymoron known as “happy totalitarianism.”

This Petrushka presents the type of work that European companies often still perform best: intelligent, classically-based work updated for contemporary audiences—based in literature or myth, the stories told seem fresh and relevant.  In the program notes, Simkin avers: “I present here, not dolls with human feelings…as in Fokin’s work, but humans who act like puppets in a society controlled by propaganda where misleading the masses and brainwashing controls the whole society.” Simkin and Sutherland introduce current themes and update ballet’s sometimes archaic fairy tale themes, while presenting innovative movement not slavishly hampered by traditional technique and point work.  The scenery and costumes, also by Dmitrij Simkin were arresting: a large shining red star hung over a stage; a large head of Lenin lay in the background. The piece sometimes lacked subtlety—Stravinsky is already domineering enough as it is without being hit over the head with an overt political message; and when the Lenin head was rolled around and literally knocked everyone to the ground, you sort of just sighed at the obviousness of it all. But that is small criticism surely when compared to its overall depth and beauty.

Attila Kun’s Rite of Spring was sheer delight.  Here the set changes to minimalist and ultra-modern: a white rectangle surrounded on the edges by a black border, all of it glinting like marble under the stage lights.  The eleven dancers of both sexes, all equally beautiful physically, wear only white—the men in long pants, bare-chested in cotton frocks, the women in culottes and asymmetrical tops that made them look as if they had just come down an Hervé Leger catwalk.  At one point the dancers sit down facing each other two-by-two to apply ceremonial paint, remaining stoic in light of what is about to take place. The clean lines and unencumbered choreography create the illusion that perhaps we are not about to witness something terrible.  And the lithe Lilla M. Horváth is simply astounding as “The Chosen One,” both as an actress and dancer, even as she futilely fights for her life and gasps her last breath. The other dancers—all assistants and too numerous here to mention—defy time and place, something almost Egyptian or ageless in their presentation as if they had walked off an episode of Stargate, noble in demeanor, sporting long limbs and almost extraterrestrial in bearing! As the piece comes to a close, the dancers have not only presented a pagan sacrifice, but also the idea of renewal and hope, much like modern Hungary emerged from communist rule, proud and independent.

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GO SEE RIOULT!

 

Over the past week, Rioult (formerly called Pascal Rioult Dance Theater) has become one of my favorite modern dance companies. Artistic director and choreographer Pascal Rioult’s work is like a visual opera, or an opera told all in dance (since opera is already visual). It’s so breathtaking. And his movement style is like a combination of Balanchine and Martha Graham (he danced with Martha Graham’s company). His dances are very expressionistic and full of drama and intensity and his dancers, most of whom are excellent movers, know how to convey that drama by dancing with a real sense of urgency and specificity of purpose. Every movement they make, there seems to be a specific thought behind it. If only all dancers would dance like this…

I saw four pieces over the past week at the Joyce (Chelsea): the world premiere of The Great Mass, set to Mozart’s Great Mass in C Minor; and three of Rioult’s classics: Views of the Fleeting World, Les Noces, and Wien. I loved all of them.

The Great Mass, Rioult’s only full-length evening work, is dedicated to Marguerite Rioult, Rioult’s mother, who passed away this year. She was a musician — a piano teacher and choir director, and a lover of Mozart. It’s so much harder to describe works that you really like than works that you don’t, particularly when they’re abstract, but suffice it to say this was really beautiful, and, again, very operatic. I don’t know much about Mozart unfortunately, but the music is choral, and known as his greatest Mass (go here to listen to the “Kyrie” section), and the dance included all sections of the music: Kyrie, Gloria, Credo, Sanctus, Benedictus, and Hosanna. Through much of it dancers wore richly embroidered white bodices with white tulle skirts and danced as if taken by the spirit, in passionate praise and glory.

But my favorite part was the darkest, a middle section from Gloria in which the dancers wore skin-toned leotards and appeared to be either spirits in hell reaching desperately upward toward a light shining brightly from above, or else humans still on earth praying desperately for salvation. They looked almost animalistic, serpentine, as they writhed around on the ground, then crawled about each other, trying to lift themselves upward toward the light. In the following section, three of my favorite dancers in the troupe — Robert Robinson (who looks like a smaller version of Clifton Brown), Jane Sato and Marianna Tsartolia — danced a pas de trois, each woman wrapping her arms and legs snake-like around Robinson, as if they were by turns trying to tempt him and hold onto him for dear life, as if he’d lead the way to salvation. Tsartolia had a more tormented look on her face, and seemed more desperate, while Sato gave her movement a more tempting and seductive feel. Robinson looked like he was trying to retain inner strength. That’s what I loved about these dancers — everyone was so specific in their movement and intent, like they were always playing character.

The second program began with Views of the Fleeting World (pictured above), a long piece set to Bach’s The Art of Fugue, that consisted of many different sections: Orchard (shown above, with the dancers in the gorgeous red skirts), Gathering Storm, Wild Horses, Dusk, Sudden Rain, Night Ride, Summer Wind, Moonlight, and Flowing River. Each section had a different theme and mood and each was accompanied by a different background impressionistic painting. My favorite section was Moonlight, when the magnificient Penelope Gonzalez danced a very sexy, almost entirely floor-bound duet with Brian Flynn. When I was reading up on the company, I read a lot about Gonzalez, and I see why so many critics love her. She is a tiny powerhouse, one of the most remarkable movers I’ve ever seen.

 

 

My friend Mika and I were mesmerized by the way they snaked their limbs in, out, over and around each other’s bodies, sometimes a flexed foot, sometimes a pointed toe, how they lifted themselves up from the ground, upper body, then lower body, touching the floor at times only with one small part of their back (talk about a work-out!), how they’d dramatically arch their backs, how she’d slowly climb onto him, he’d lift her with his arms, on his back (that’s hard work too). I was so blown away; this is one of the most brilliantly choreographed, mesmerizingly, tantalizing, beautiful “sex scenes” I’ve ever seen in dance.

Then was Les Noces, Mika’s favorite of the night. It’s set, just like Jerome Robbins’ ballet of the same name, to Stravinsky’s Les Noces, and, like Robbins’, depicts the marriage rite of passage. Whereas Robbins’ (which I wrote about here, near the end) depicted a Russian peasant wedding set about a century ago, Rioult’s is contemporary, and the curtain opens on four women dressed in bras and underwear dancing intensely atop a set of four chairs, kind of Mein Herr-like, the emotion they convey by turns fearful and seductive. After they dance, they help each other into a pair of bloomers and a corset-like waistband. The lights then dim on them and turn to a set of four men, dressed only in underwear, who dance atop four chairs of their own, the emotion similar but more masculine, more angry (perhaps some don’t want to get married, feel like they’re being pressured) At the end of their dance, then don black, tuxedo-like pants. The two groups then turn chairs toward each other, break into four separate male / female pairs, and each pair really goes at each other, an intense battle of the sexes. The consummation scene begins, as in Robbins’, fraught with fear and trepidation and is rather horrifying, but eventually softens and grows sensual. The couples have overcome the storm.

And the evening ended with Wien (Vienna), set to Maurice Ravel’s La Valse (which was originally titled Wien), which has become one of my favorite pieces of music, the same that Balanchine used for his La Valse (which I wrote about here). Rioult’s version carries the same dark themes as Balanchine’s — beauty turned bad, encroaching tragedy, social refinement embodied in the Viennese Waltz disintegrating in the face of human violence and destruction. But here, a small group of several huddle around each other, walking to the waltz in small steps, one right after the other, almost mechanically, or Charlie Chaplin-like. There is something inhuman and distorted about their movement, their need to huddle in a group, and follow the others. As the music swells, they move faster, but they’re moving so quickly, and in circles, that  they can’t retain their balance. One in the group will try to reach up to the sky, only to go crashing to the floor. The others, far from helping the fallen one up, simply walk over him or her, making an effort not to trip, but to keep their steps — it’s like they’re in a militaristic march and they can’t step out of line. At points they waltz with each other — men with women, women with women and men with men — but it’s a very grotesque kind of waltzing. The women often look like rag dolls, dead; the men viciously throw them about. The movement is very different from Balanchine’s, but the piece has that same intensely haunting, world-gone-mad quality.

I strongly recommend this company! They’re at the Joyce through the 19th. Go here for info and to see an excerpt from Views of the Fleeting World.

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Miami City Ballet

 

I spent practically the whole weekend at Miami City Ballet (at City Center). Wow, what a great, world-class company! They presented two programs of almost all Balanchine (one Tharp) and they really brought Balanchine to life for me. The company’s director is Edward Villella, who performed with Balanchine and was a very renowned dancer in the fifties and sixties, still considered by many to be the greatest American male dancer ever. He was there of course and took bows with the dancers. Twyla Tharp was also there for the program showing her In The Upper Room, bouncing around  during the curtain calls in jeans and sneakers with her gray hair tied back into a pony tail, and of course her signature glasses. What fun!

Anyway, program one was: the excellent Symphony in Three Movements (my first time seeing it), La Valse (also my first time — gorgeous ballet), and Tharp’s Room; program two was: Square Dance, “Rubies” (the second section of Jewels), and Symphony in C.

My favorites were mostly from the first program.

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