Kyra Nichols in George Balanchine’s “Mozartiana”, photo by Paul Kolnik, 2004
On May 5th, former New York City Ballet principal dancer Kyra Nichols returned to the stage. Not to perform, sadly – it was a pleasure to watch her until she retired in 2007 – but rather to lead a free seminar along with Peter Martins about similarities and differences between the choreography of George Balanchine and Jerome Robbins. The hour-long discussion was filled with anecdotes and reflections on the two choreographers along with excerpts performed by current company members.
Musicality and partnering were both popular topics. While Robbins wanted the man to fully support the woman, Balanchine preferred for the woman to move independently for as long as possible until the man would swoop in and assist her. Company members Ana Sophia Scheller and Gonzalo Garcia showed an excerpt from Balanchine’s Tschaikovsky Pas de Deux during which she does a series of pirouettes. At first Garcia stepped in right away, but Peter Martins repeatedly told him to wait until the last possible moment to support her. The hesitation and slight discomfort among the two dancers was visible as they experimented with Martins’ instructions.
That evening, it was a treat to watch Scheller and Garcia perform the ballet on an all-Balanchine program. I had hoped to see the changes from the afternoon demonstration incorporated into their performance, but alas, they stuck with their old habits and didn’t take the riskier approach that Balanchine preferred.
Another interesting point that Martins and Nichols emphasized was that Robbins wanted his dancers to mark his ballets in rehearsals (meaning not perform them to the fullest), while Balanchine expected the dancers to perform at 100% in rehearsals. This surprised me, as I remember reading and hearing stories about how Robbins was a tough grader and always pushed his dancers for more, which seems to lend itself to the opposite of marking a ballet. “Easy! Easy!” said Martins, imitating the tone that Robbins would take with his dancers. What a joy it was to see Sterling Hyltin perform an excerpt from Robbins’ Dances at a Gathering with such ease and fluidity. I think Robbins would have approved of her relaxed demonstration.
These seminars are always eye-opening. The stories about Balanchine and Robbins as told by the people who were fortunate enough to work with them are priceless. Nichols and Martins shared far too many to list here, but they certainly offered some insight into working with the company’s two most significant choreographers.
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Jewels at New York City Ballet
June 14, 2011
Teresa Reichlen in "Rubies" from George Balanchine's Jewels, photo by Paul Kolnik
Last Wednesday, George Balanchine’s Jewels offered some of the finest dancing that I’ve seen this spring from three of New York City Ballet’s principals. Sara Mearns (in “Diamonds”), Sterling Hyltin, and Teresa Reichlen (both in “Rubies”) gave memorable performances that revealed all of the nuances, musicality, and flavor that make each section of Jewels so unique.
In a 1970 review of the ballet, Clive Barnes wrote that Jewels is “like breakfast, lunch, and dinner at Tiffany’s”. True, but it is also much more. Debuting in 1967, Jewels is considered the first plotless full-length ballet, and according to repertory notes, each section is representative of a country: “Emeralds” is an evocation of France and all its elegance; “Rubies” illustrates the journey to America; and “Diamonds” portrays the royalty of Russia and the Maryinsky Theatre.
Sterling Hyltin and Gonzalo Garcia in "Rubies", photo by Paul Kolnik
With its lush green set designs and mysterious quality, “Emeralds” could have been part of the forest scenes in Sleeping Beauty. The lead pas de deux was danced cautiously by Rachel Rutherford and Sebastien Marcovici. Marking one of her final performances with the company, Rutherford was lyrical and expressive, evoking the tranquility heard in Faure’s delicate score. In the solo, Jenifer Ringer swept gracefully across the floor with admirable calmness. Of the three jewels, “Emeralds” is the simplest and certainly the quietest – at times it even feels a bit sleepy.
After the tranquility of “Emeralds”, “Rubies” comes as a delightful, powerful shock. Distinctly neoclassical, it evokes hints of Balanchine’s Symphony in Three Movements (which includes a score by Stravinsky, like this piece – set to the lively Capriccio for Piano and Orchestra) and Who Cares?. Teresa Reichlen was bold, seductive, and jazzy as the soloist. Radiating confidence, she commanded the stage throughout her performance, even when surrounded by four men who held her wrists and ankles while manipulating her into various extensions. Sterling Hyltin and Gonzalo Garcia’s fiery duet pierced the space. They literally threw themselves into the playful yet aggressive choreography.
“Diamonds” appears to be a scene out of Swan Lake, and in fact, the score is Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No. 3 in D major, Op. 29, composed just before he wrote Swan Lake. The uniform movement and structure for the corps de ballet reflects that of a regal court scene. Yet, it was nearly impossible to watch the corps with Sara Mearns in the principal role along with Jonathan Stafford. Dazzling and majestic in her sparkling costume, Mearns’s lines are so pure and precise while her balances and backbends – there are plenty in “Diamonds” – are gorgeously lush and expansive. Infusing her performance with otherworldly calm and unpredictable suspense, Mearns also offers solid technique and strength – making her one of the company’s most distinctive dancers. Her performance here – and in most roles she takes on – was transcendent.
Sara Mearns in"Diamonds", photo by Paul Kolnik
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
New York City Ballet’s Balanchine Opening
May 4, 2010
New York City Ballet in George Balanchine’s The Four Temperaments, photo by Paul Kolnik
In 1948, New York City Ballet performed George Balanchine’s Concerto Barocco at the company’s first performance. This past Sunday afternoon, it was a fitting opening to the spring season. With two other Balanchine classics - The Four Temperaments and Symphony in Three Movements – this superb program served as a reminder of Balanchine’s remarkable legacy, especially before the company looks ahead by presenting seven new ballets by seven distinguished choreographers throughout the eight-week season.
Wendy Whelan in "Concerto Barocco", photo by Paul Kolnik
The three pieces, which debuted between 1941 and 1972, were presented in chronological order and reflected a growing maturity and complexity in Balanchine’s movement over the course of those decades. Concerto Barocco started as an exercise for students at the School of American Ballet. The movement is so pure, so academic, so responsive to and reflective of Bach’s Double Violin Concerto in D Minor that it’s easy to see why it started in the studio. With Wendy Whelan and Ellen Bar in the principal roles, however, it’s just as easy to recognize that this timeless work deserves a place in the company’s repertoire. They crisply echoed the two violins in the first section – Bar quietly reserved and Whelan more extroverted – and both matched the music’s sheer energy.
By comparison, The Four Temperaments is emotionally richer and its movement more layered than that of Barocco. The ballet makes incredible use of Paul Hindemith’s wonderfully moody score (according to Peter Martins in this informative conversation, Balanchine paid the composer $500 for the commissioned music and said it was the best money he ever spent). Four variations illustrate the four medieval humors. In Sanguinic, Jennie Somogyi and Tyler Angle were both powerhouses, eating up the space with precision and attack. Sébastien Marcovici was achingly dramatic in Melancholic, while Albert Evans was appropriately detached in Phlegmatic. But most impressive was Teresa Reichlen’s interpretation of Choleric. With a newly discovered ferocity, she whipped through the lightning-quick spins that end on the floor, yet always remained in control. Her stunning extensions and jumps revealed a fire within, while her intense focus never let up.
NYCB in George Balanchine’s Symphony in Three Movements, photo by Paul Kolnik
Of the three works on the program, Symphony in Three Movements has the most flair, from the opening diagonal line of women who rapidly swing one arm and then curl their torsos, to the closing whirlwind of movement for the entire cast. The ballet looked chaotic at times (perhaps it was under-rehearsed) but the dancers were so in tune with Stravinsky’s dynamic score that it didn’t matter. Sterling Hyltin and Daniel Ulbricht’s competitive jumps colorfully echoed the changing piano chords in the first movement, while the large cast revealed angular limbs, precise lines, and touches of quirkiness (spidery hands and inward pointing knees!). In the past, Abi Stafford has seemed too youthful and sweet to match the maturity of the second movement’s pas de deux with Jared Angle, but on Sunday she showed intriguing depth while conveying the playfulness and charm that Balanchine wove into the duet.
At the beginning of a new season, there’s always an abundance of enthusiasm and passion emanating from New York City Ballet’s dancers, but on Sunday afternoon it seemed more pronounced than usual. Perhaps it’s due to the excitement surrounding the highly anticipated seven new works, or maybe it’s because the dancers have the opportunity to perform some of Balanchine’s greatest ballets. Or more likely, it’s both. How lucky they are to be a part of the company’s past while also shaping its present and future.
New York City Ballet in Glass Pieces, photo by Paul Kolnik
A last-minute program change at New York City Ballet on Saturday evening placed two Balanchine works side by side: one was sharp and sexy while the other was chipper and sweet. Jerome Robbins’ Glass Pieces, which shifts from urban chaos to otherworldly calm, rounded out the evening to create a wonderfully moody triple bill.
Sandwiched between the two darker works on the program was Donizetti Variations, a cheerful piece complete with pink peasant dresses for the women. A few utterly silly moments didn’t contribute much to this breezy ballet, but Megan Fairchild and Joaquin De Luz were in command of the furiously fast footwork and bravura jumps. Fairchild beautifully maintained her composure and sweet expression even during the most technically challenging moments, but she is often cast in roles likes this one – with lots of technical pizzazz and little emotional depth. To see her in darker roles that allow for more emotional investigation would be both interesting and beneficial to her growth as an artist.
Sterling Hyltin in "Stravinsky Violin Concerto", photo by Jeff Gurwin
Stravinsky Violin Concerto was the more enticing Balanchine work on the program. While the opening Toccata and closing Capriccio are playful and upbeat, the first and second Arias evoke deeper moods. Debuting in the first Aria, Rebecca Krohn and Amar Ramasar gave a nuanced performance that emphasized Balanchine’s intricate partnering and the spirituality of Stravinsky’s score. Sterling Hyltin and Robert Fairchild brought dramatic flair to their performance in the pricklier second Aria, which is filled with sexual tension and tangled limbs. They’ve mastered one of the signature moments of this ballet: Fairchild dramatically places his hands over Hyltin’s knees as she, standing on pointe with arms extended overhead, turns in her legs and pliés so her knees are touching. Such riveting, innovative partnering has never looked better.
Jerome Robbins created the rhythmically pulsating Glass Pieces in 1983. Although the ballet was most likely named because of the three works it includes by composer Philip Glass, perhaps Robbins considered the large ensemble in the first and third sections to be shattered pieces of glass, each one set out on its own course while still part of a larger chaotic engine. The corps de ballet’s pedestrian walks in the first section reflect the repetitive structure of Rubric while establishing a chaotic streetscape. Three couples in neon unitards emerge, soaring through the space as cool, unearthly creatures that are utterly distinct from the chaos. They provide a preview of the second section’s slower duet to the eerie, hypnotizing sounds of Facades. While a line of women in silhouette rhythmically traverse along the back of the stage, Kaitlyn Gilliland (debuting in her role) floats across the stage with Sébastien Marcovici. Dramatic poses are interspersed with more fluid extensions and lifts that look mysterious under Ronald Bates’ golden lighting. Gilliland was occasionally reserved and cautious, but over time she will undoubtedly grow into this role. The third section is a return to chaos as a pack of men stomp to the percussive sounds of Akhnaten and the stage is flooded with bodies moving in every which way. The scene abruptly halts and there is a brief moment of calm before this thrilling ballet – always a powerful end to an evening of dance – comes to a close.
