Quadruple Bill at New York City Ballet
February 26, 2011
Amar Ramasar, Sterling Hyltin, and Tyler Angle in Benjamin Millepied's "Plainspoken", photo by Paul Kolnik
Last Wednesday evening, in the final week of its winter season, New York City Ballet presented an array of pieces that spanned from 1957 to 2010. Plainspoken, Benjamin Millepied’s most recent ballet for the company (which premiered last year) featured four male-female couples in duets that all centered on a push-pull, yes-no dynamic set to a commissioned piano and string quartet by David Lang. The repertory notes state that, according to Millepied, the ballet “was inspired by each dancer’s personality. After all, they are my friends and colleagues.” Although their uniqueness might be apparent to a good friend, it all blends together into a rather voiceless array of vignettes. Plainspoken has some structurally rich moments, like when Sterling Hyltin is tossed at lightning speed among three men. But the disconnect between movement and music is frustrating. Rather than playing with or echoing the music, it looks like Millepied chose to ignore it, which is unfortunate – the music on its own is intriguing, complex, and full of nuance.
After listening to such complexity, it would seem like a waltz such as that heard in Balanchine’s Valse-Fantaisie would be matched with straightforward movement. But no. In the leading roles, the gorgeously lyrical Tiler Peck played with Glinka’s waltz so as to bring out each subtlety. Her suspended balances practically stretched the music beyond its limits. Joaquin de Luz was a generous partner, but Tiler’s lush movement was the highlight throughout this brief gem of a ballet.
In Square Dance (1957), Balanchine joined American folk dance with classical ballet set to music by Vivaldi and Corelli. He believed that the two types of dance had common roots, and compositionally, this piece does indeed show their similarities through classical movement arranged in spatial patterns that resemble those of square dancing. Megan Fairchild’s sunny performance reflected the mood of this piece. Anthony Huxley debuted in his role with quiet intensity and lovely expression in his introspective solo. His performance was thoughtful and precise – both good qualities for a role that doesn’t require ostentation.
Dancers in "Glass Pieces", photo by Paul Kolnik
No matter how many times I watch Jerome Robbins’ 1983 work Glass Pieces, I always find something new and intriguing. The urban setting is filled with brightly costumed pedestrians crossing through the space on very precise paths. Watching the specificity of a particular dancer’s walk – the way his or her shoulders move or the slight bobbing of their heads – is fascinating, but so is re-focusing your eyes so as to zoom out and watch the entire scene as an organized yet chaotic engine. The rhythmic force of Philip Glass’s score propels these bodies forward through the streetscape on what could very well be their rush hour commute.
In the second, meditative section, Wendy Whelan and Craig Hall pierce the space with otherworldly poise while a row of women in silhouette sway back and forth in a repetition of minimalist movement. There is a striking contrast between sharp, sudden gestures and more delicate, lush partnering between the pair, and they always keep audiences guessing what will come next. The forceful percussion that follows this section is accompanied by a corps of men who travel as a pack. They stomp and slap their hands into the floor before the stage is flooded by a corps of women. As the music increasingly gains momentum and feels on the verge of spinning out of control, the dancers charge forward in a flurry of movement before abruptly coming to a halt. The final image of the dancers in silhouette, fingers spread and arms lifted overhead, is unforgettable.
"Glass Pieces", photo by Paul Kolnik
2010 in Dance: A Look Back
December 25, 2010
Faye Driscoll's "There is so much mad in me", photo by Yi-Chun Wu
We’re days away from the end of 2010, so like in past years on this blog, I’m sharing what struck me as most memorable and impressive throughout the year. Both new and old works performed in a variety of venues and settings made the list. I hope that the older works mentioned here continue to make an impact and that the newer ones withstand the test of time.
I was blown away by Faye Driscoll’s There is so much mad in me at Dance Theater Workshop last April, and which I ended up revisiting this past September. The cast opened themselves up emotionally and physically to showcase extreme states of consciousness in a seamless series of vignettes.
Last February, Trisha Brown Dance Company performed at one of my favorite museums, the Dia: Beacon. It was a fitting setting for Brown’s spiraling, sprawling works, in which her dancers tested the limits of gravity and used the museum as their playground.
George Balanchine's "Serenade", photo by Paul Kolnik
A New York City Ballet spring performance of George Balanchine’s Serenade, featuring Jenifer Ringer, Teresa Reichlen, and Sara Mearns, gave me chills. Unforgettable.
At Dancespace Project, Kyle Abraham’s company performed The Radio Show. The work explored communication and the role of radio during difficult times, while also featuring Abraham’s lush movement style.
Pina Bausch's "Vollmond", photo by Laurent Philippe
A little over one year after Pina Bausch’s death, her company Tanztheater Wuppertal returned to BAM to perform Vollmond (Full Moon). The tons of water used for the performance stayed on stage, but even the audience felt drenched in shifting emotions, and often tears of mourning.
LEVYdance showed an interactive, thought-provoking work at Joyce SoHo called Everyone Intimate Alone Visibly. It was my introduction to the choreographer Benjamin Levy, and I look forward to seeing more from him.
Benjamin Levy and Aline Wachsmuth in "Everyone Intimate Alone Visibly", photo by Andrea Basile
In France, Paris Opera Ballet performed a new version of Jiri Kylian’s Kaguyahime. Original lighting, sets, choreography, and wonderful percussion music brought this ancient story to life.
I jumped at the chance to see Mikhail Baryshnikov perform at Baryshnikov Arts Center last May. His poise and presence were mesmerizing.
Mikhail Baryshnikov in Benjamin Millepied's "Years Later", photo by Andrea Mohin
Darci Kistler Retires from New York City Ballet
June 27, 2010
Darci Kistler at 16, performing Balanchine’s Tchaikovsky Suite No. 3, photo by Costas, 1980
After thirty years with New York City Ballet, today is principal dancer Darci Kistler’s final performance. Her retirement not only marks the end of a remarkable career, but also the departure of the last dancer hand-picked by George Balanchine to join the company – truly the end of an era. She joined NYCB in 1980 after performing in Balanchine’s one-act Swan Lake at the School of American Ballet Workshop, and rose to principal in just two years. Balanchine never choreographed a role for her (he died in 1983), but some of her most notable roles are in his ballets, including Apollo, Vienna Waltzes, Serenade, Concerto Barocco, and La Sonnambula. In a recent New York Times article, she said of Balanchine, “The real reality is there is nothing in the world like being talked to and being graced by his presence, by his words, by his thoughts.”
Read more about Darci Kistler in a recent Wall Street Journal article, where she shares her experience visiting Balanchine in the hospital the night before he died. You can also listen to a brief interview with Kistler on Studio 360, and look at Jill Krementz’s photo journal of Kistler from 1980.
A Farewell to Albert Evans at New York City Ballet
June 22, 2010
Albert Evans and Wendy Whelan in Herman Schmerman pas de deux, photo by Paul Kolnik
On Sunday afternoon, after twenty-two years with New York City Ballet, principal dancer Albert Evans took his final bow at the David H. Koch Theater. The warmth, generosity, and grace that defined his performances were evident even when he expressed gratitude to the audience and marveled at the immense applause. As confetti rained down and the company’s dancers joined Evans on stage to present him with flowers, it became clear that he is deeply respected and admired by his colleagues. He spontaneously swung some of the women around amidst laughter and enthusiastically accepted a drink in a silver goblet from two cheering men.
Some of my earliest memories of Evans include his frequent partnership with Wendy Whelan, so it was gratifying to see him perform with her in William Forsythe’s Herman Schmerman pas de deux. This 1992 piece, set to an electronic score by Thom Willems and a bright blue backdrop, is a witty conversation – perhaps even a playful argument – for the two dancers. Evans and Whelan infused every push and pull and every dramatic angle with their unique quirks and mesmerizing fluidity. Halfway through the piece, they both appeared in bright yellow skirts – designed by Versace – that showed them as equals. After a momentary chuckle from the audience upon seeing Evans in a skirt, it became clear that his poise and elegance were stronger than ever.
Albert Evans takes his final bow, photo by Paul Konlik
The program also included a shining performance from Megan Fairchild and Joaquin De Luz in Balanchine’s La Source, along with Lauren King, who gave a pleasant but overly zealous debut. Alexey Miroshnichenko’s The Lady with the Little Dog, which premiered last January, was the lowest point of the afternoon. In spite of Sterling Hyltin’s lovely, expressive performance and Andrew Veyette’s strength as a partner, the choreography lacked nuance and subtlety.
Fortunately, that ballet’s mediocrity was quickly replaced with Evans’s marvelous farewell in Balanchine’s The Four Temperaments, a praiseworthy choice for a final performance since it features many dancers and not just a soloist in the spotlight. This emotionally rich work, set to a wonderfully moody score by Paul Hindemith, reflects the four medieval moods. Teresa Reichlen continued her powerful streak in “Choleric”, as she did earlier in the season, and Jennie Somogyi and Jared Angle’s “Sanguinic” was pristine. In “Phlegmatic”, Evans was calm and remarkably poised as he effortlessly shifted from severe angular positions to softer, sinewy movement. Amidst the jovial atmosphere during his bows, the curtain lowered and then rose to show Evans striking the final iconic pose from the ballet. Both he and the audience savored the moment and took in the last few breaths of his remarkable career.
A Serenade to Remember
May 23, 2010
NYCB dancers in George Balanchine’s Serenade, photo by Paul Kolnik
There was a collective moan of disappointment from the audience on Friday evening at New York City Ballet when it was announced that Darci Kistler, who is retiring at the end of this season, would not be performing in George Balanchine’s Serenade. But with the radiant Jenifer Ringer dancing in her place, along with Teresa Reichlen and Sara Mearns in the other principal roles, it was one of the most sublime performances of Serenade that I have seen in a long time. I had chills down my spine and tears in my eyes.
Tchaikovsky’s luxurious score is moving on its own, but it becomes even more transcendent with the signature opening of the ballet: the corps, scattered across the stage in long blue tulle skirts and serene blue lighting, looks up at their raised right hand that appears to be blocking the sun from their eyes (In fact, the first performance of Serenade, in 1934, was outdoors at Felix Warburg’s estate in White Plains, New York). The rush of movement that follows is superbly attuned to the delicate score for strings. In this performance, there was a crisp urgency to the corps’ dancing that felt incredibly fresh, yet they remained ethereal. As the “fainting girl”, Sara Mearns built on the otherworldly quality of the ballet as she practically floated across the stage in a swirl of movement. I am increasingly amazed by the power and the intensity that she offers in every role.
NYCB dancers in costume for Serenade, photo by NYCB dancer Gwyneth Muller
Although there is no narrative, Serenade weaves themes of loss and sadness with brighter optimism, from the disoriented fainting girl scene, to the cheerful quintet of women in the “Russian Dance” (led by Reichlen), to the partnering section in which Mearns guided Askegard across the stage while covering his eyes, as if wandering blindly. Throughout the performance, these two dancers along with Reichlen and Ringer conveyed the emotional richness that Serenade and Tchaikovsky’s score deserve. The ballet’s closing image is the most achingly beautiful moment in the ballet and has lingered in my memory since Friday. Ringer arched her back as she was carried aloft – a line of women bourree-ing on each side of her and Gwyneth Muller following behind – and slowly ascended towards a faint blue light.
I will always cherish this memorable performance, but for me, every Serenade is special because I was fortunate enough to learn and perform in the ballet in 2002 while attending The Jillana School, a summer ballet program in New Mexico founded by former NYCB principal Jillana. As a company member, she danced every role in Serenade, and as she staged the ballet for me and the other students, listening to her stories about rehearsals with Balanchine was a treat. We performed on an outdoor stage, and just as the piece began, the skies opened up and there was a massive rainstorm. I could barely hear the live accompaniment over the booming thunder, but it was such a thrill – emotionally overwhelming, frighteningly chaotic, and definitely exhilarating. Serenade had never felt so dramatic.
NYCB in Serenade, photo by Paul Kolnik
