NYCB dancers in the final pose from Robbins’ Glass Pieces, photo by Paul Kolnik
Tuesday evening’s program at New York City Ballet took the audience on a musical journey from Bach’s solo piano and solo cello pieces, to an early twentieth century violin concerto by Alban Berg, to Philip Glass’s minimalist music of the 1980s. The performance was as choreographically diverse as it was musically, which speaks to the talent of choreographer Jerome Robbins.
2 & 3 Part Inventions, set to Bach’s Inventions and Sinfonias for piano, was performed by eight advanced students from the School of American Ballet, as it was during its 1994 premiere. The formal yet light-hearted mood of the piece was nicely conveyed by the dancers, and the clear formations and disciplined movement reflected the uncomplicated music. I don’t think this piece would look nearly as good if it were performed by older, more experienced dancers, because the choreography and simple piano music offer a youthful innocence that can best be captured by students.
Nicolas Le Riche in A Suite of Dances, photo by Jacques Moatti
The formality of 2 & 3 Part Inventions gave way to a more casual atmosphere in A Suite of Dances, a solo that Mikhail Baryshnikov premiered with his White Oak Dance Project in 1994 (and which I was fortunate enough to see). The piece has a fun, playful feel as the dancer interacts with the on-stage cellist, reflects on the music, and then seems to improvise a string of movement to complement it. Nicolas Le Riche, appearing as a guest artist from Paris Opera Ballet, started sitting on the floor at the feet of cellist Ann Kim. He rose to standing as she began to play selections from Bach’s Suites for Solo Cello. Le Riche was rather heavy on his feet and needed to be lighter and sprightlier in his jumps. The piece is an opportunity for the male dancer to infuse the work with his own sense of playfulness, and I can recall how successful Baryshnikov was in this respect. Le Riche, however, looked tired and lethargic, and lacked the finesse that is essential for this role.
The evening took a darker turn in In Memory of…, which is one of several Robbins pieces that addresses death and loss. Alban Berg composed a violin concerto in 1935 that was dedicated to his friend’s eighteen-year-old daughter, who had died of infantile paralysis. In three distinct sections, Robbins’ choreography illustrates the young girl when she was strong and healthy; then shows her illness and death; and finally, portrays her journey to heaven. Wendy Whelan, in a pale pink dress, was delicate and vulnerable in the principal role. She danced with youthfulness and joy in the opening duet with Jared Angle, who was an elegant and attentive partner. Whelan wove through a corps of dancers who appeared on stage, suggesting that she was fully immersed in a community. In the second section, Charles Askegard was a menacing, powerful death figure that seemed to envelop and nearly suffocate Whelan. He manipulated her body and pushed and pulled her into different lifts and turns. She grew more and more lifeless as their duet continued, and at one point, curled her body around his thigh and covered her face with her hands, nearly giving up and allowing death to take over. The pace and violence with which death consumed her was alarming, but the final section, in which Whelan and the corps were dressed in white, illustrated her arrival in heaven and Robbins’ acceptance of mortality as a part of life.
NYCB dancers in the third section of Glass Pieces, photo by Paul Kolnik
Glass Pieces is one of my favorite Robbins ballets, which has a lot to do with my appreciation of Glass’s music for this piece: Rubric and Facades from Glassworks, and excerpts from the opera Akhnaten. The pedestrian movement in the first section reflected the repetitive structures and momentum of Rubric. The large corps – with the women dressed in colorful leotards and skirts and the men in satiny tights and shirts – rushed about the stage in a repetitive pattern. There is a distinct urban feel to the piece as the dancers walked quickly, avoiding one another and focusing on their destination. Three couples in neon unitards appeared amidst the chaos, soaring with leaps and jumps and carefully maneuvering their way through the crowds. Rebecca Krohn and Tyler Angle stood out for their precision and clarity. Every so often, Angle made eye contact with his partner and the other dancers (while the others seemed to avoid any eye contact with their peers), adding a refreshingly human dimension to his performance.
In the piece’s second section, a line of women in silhouette traverse along the back of the stage, their simple pattern of movement reflecting the hypnotic, repetitive rhythm of Facades. Maria Kowroski was mesmerizing and other-worldly in her pas de deux with Philip Neal. She floated onto the stage in a lift and seemed to dance a few inches above everyone else. The two dancers disappeared as seamlessly as they had emerged. Percussive rhythms of Akhnaten were the focal point of the third section. My eyes were continually drawn to Adrian Danchig-Waring, the clear leader of the cluster of men who moved as a pack, stomping and making distinct changes in direction. The stage became more crowded and chaotic as the women entered, and the piece ended memorably with the dancers in silhouette, their arms thrown upward and backs arched. As thrilling as this section of Glass Pieces is, it would be even more powerful if it included the female opera singing that one hears on recordings of this music. The high-pitched voice adds an ecstatic energy that I think would only intensify the ballet’s finale.
New York City Ballet – Here and Now
May 31, 2008
Christopher Wheeldon’s Rococo Variations - photo by Paul Kolnik
“Here and Now” was a fitting title for a program that featured four contemporary works – the oldest premiered in 1998 – by some of the most sought-after choreographers in ballet today. But I was swept far away from the here and the now, traveling to a different place for each work, particularly the first three on the program. What reminded me that I was watching a contemporary evening of ballet in May 2008 were the unusual points of physical contact that I noticed in all four pieces. A hand over the ribs, a leg stretching over a shoulder, a foot pressed against a chest or knee, a stomach against a back – all struck me as uniquely contemporary images and movements within the realm of ballet.
Christopher Wheeldon’s Rococo Variations, set to Tchaikovsky’s cheerful Variations on a Rococo Theme for Cello and Orchestra, Opus 33, featured two couples performing a variety of duets that are classically Romantic, but injected with angular movements and intricate partnering. The opening image was most memorable: Sara Mearns pressed her hand against her ribs as she contracted her back and lowered her head. Then Adrian Danchig-Waring appeared and placed his hand where hers was. This was a beautiful, recurring image that indicated the first moment of touch and recognition between the two, while conveying deep emotion. There is a fair amount of floor work in this piece as well as other unusual points of contact, such as when Mearns folded her torso around Danchig-Waring’s stomach, or when he carried her off stage, stomach-down, laying horizontally across his back. Sterling Hyltin and Giovanni Villalobos were quick and sprightly in their pas de deux, while Mearns and Danchig-Waring were more grounded and fluid. When the latter couple danced, my eyes were drawn to both of them, as they luxuriated in every phrase of movement. With the other couple, I found that Villalobos lacked the energy to keep up with Hyltin. He needed to show more refinement in his legs and feet, but Hyltin was simply glowing. The gorgeous, chocolate brown knee-length dresses for the women were classically elegant, but the gold embroidery added a contemporary aspect to them.
Amar Ramasar and Tiler Peck in Mauro Bigonzetti’s Oltremare – photo by Paul Kolnik
Oltremare, a piece by Mauro Bigonzetti that translates to “beyond the sea”, explored the mixed feelings of immigrants as they traveled to a new land and left their home country behind. The costumes and suitcases suggested the late 19th or early 20th centuries, but the movement was athletic and intensely physical, filled with creative entrances into jumps and lifts. Bruno Moretti’s commissioned score was appropriately dark and eerie, and matched the dynamic, fitful choreography, which clearly evoked conflicting emotions – fear, excitement, loss, and pride. Maria Kowroski was vivid in her pas de deux with Tyler Angle. It began with Angle laying on the floor, and Kowroski hovering over him while standing on his bent knees. There was a push-pull theme in their partnership that emphasized the tension between the couple, and within themselves, as they continued their journey. Andrew Veyette was superb in his brief but thrilling solo, and Georgina Pazcoguin threw herself into the movement and stood out as a leader among the passengers.
Peter Martins’ River of Light, which premiered in 1998, transported me to an unknown, other world that was dark yet intriguing. The music by Charles Wuorinen, who conducted the orchestra in honor of his seventieth birthday, was chaotic and complex, with bells and chimes in the score standing out the most. Three couples – in black, white, or red unitards – changed partners as the lighting changed with them. First there was a rectangle of light on the floor, which then moved to another area, and then strips of light shown on the backdrop. Savannah Lowery and Jared Angle were edgy and dangerous in black; Sterling Hyltin and Ask la Cour appeared mature and distant in red; and Teresa Reichlen and Robert Fairchild were lyrical and lithe in white. Reichlen’s pas de deux with Angle showed her suppleness as he carried her overhead and allowed her to slowly extend her leg over his shoulder and eventually to the floor. The duet became sexually charged when she intently placed his hands over her chest and hips. While the interaction among the partners was curiously interesting, and the dancers all very dramatic and serious, the ballet as a whole did not build momentum. It fell flat at the end, with no final understanding of how the three couples were related to one another. Additionally, the piece was emotionally vacant – dramatic, yes; but also cold. Perhaps this was intentional, as the piece appeared to be set in an undefined world that is entirely distant from anywhere else. But the dancing would be so much richer if it were instilled with feeling and a sense of interconnectedness among the three couples.
The program closed with the world premiere of Alexei Ratmansky’s Concerto DSCH, which stands for “D.Sch.”, a German spelling of Dmitri Shostakovich’s name. This composer’s Piano Concerto No. 2 provided a multi-layered, exhilarating palate for the ballet, and the dancers painted it with virtuosic technique and bits of playful theatrics. Ashley Bouder was light-hearted and flirtatious in her dancing with Gonzalo Garcia and Joaquin de Luz. She tore through a whirlwind of turns, jumps, and balances (one of which lasted just long enough for the audience to gasp) as she went back and forth between the two men, who competed amicably with one another in a series of jumps and somersaults. Wendy Whelan and Benjamin Millepied danced in the more soulful second pas de deux, which featured some interesting lifts and instances in which he gently skimmed Whelan across the stage. There was a sense of community and relationships among the dancers that were reminiscent of those in Ratmansky’s Russian Seasons. But in this case, just as the relationships were developing, they seemed to be cut short as the focus returned to the thrilling movement. The stage was very busy, often too busy to fully take in everything that was occurring, which is why this piece deserves another viewing (or two or three). It was certainly a crowd-pleaser, but I think there’s much more to explore in this work.
