During ABT’s abbreviated run of Frederick Ashton’s Sylvia last week, the leafy woodlands included varying strengths of timber. Overall, the ballet did not compare favorably with last year’s presentations. However, there were strong performances that we can rave about — most notably Skylar Brandt and Jake Roxander as Sylvia and Aminta. Neither artist is of heroic size, yet each danced at that scale with imagination and conviction. Roxander’s Aminta, a simple shepherd (we know he’s simple by his earthen brown costume), falls in love with the woodland nymph Sylvia who has sworn off love in favor of being a fierce but happy huntress and devoted follower of the goddess Diana (we know she’s a career soldier by the gold hieroglyphic-inspired troop emblem on her white costume and her metal helmet). He woos, she resists, each gets shot with an arrow, both survive, she gets kidnapped and manages to escape, they reunite, and everyone dances to their happy ending. It’s not Shakespeare but it’s a dilly of a story for a terrific ballet. 

Ashton created this ballet as a tribute to Margot Fonteyn’s talent and artistry. But it is a monster of complex technical wizardry and crazy feats for da feets. One wonders if Fonteyn, after dancing three acts of Sylvia, believed it to be a tribute or perhaps torture. Countless variations on a pique, hoppity hops on pointe, and arabesque after arabesque after arabesque — all done with lighter than air quality and a smile. Aminta, on the other hand, gets an unusual male adagio in Act 1 with rolls down into arabesque penche, and swivels into pointe tendue plie; a nice rest in Act 2; a grand allegro solo in Act 3 along with a major entrance with Sylvia perched high on his shoulder, and a risky pas de deux.

We love Sylvia — Delibes’ gorgeous music, the complex inventions in Ashton’s choreography, the bucolic world created by the Ironside/Farmer designs, the mythical fantasy. In Friday evening’s performance, Brandt and Roxander mastered the make-believe with clear, unforced technique: Brandt’s light feet trilled across the stage like Natalie Dessay’s leggero coloratura; her pizzicato, not just fast but also full of fun. Roxander slayed with the acute angles of his grande fouette sautes en tournant and speedy pirouettes with exclamatory finishes. 

As Eros, god of love, Elwince Magbitang made little impact with either his mime or dancing. The various clomping Naiads, Dryads, Fauns and Sylvans were not more than okay, and sometimes less. There was a then-you-do-this, then-you-do-that sense to it. James Whiteside’s Orion was almost perfect but for the jokey break in character along with Brandt in their pas de deux. The hunt attendants and peasants were wonderfully invested in what they were doing. We were very happy to see Sierra Armstrong’s regal Terpsichore and Cy Doherty’s towering Apollo. At the following day’s matinee, Doherty made an exceptional debut as Orion. This followed his riveting debut earlier in the season as the swamp thing in Swan Lake.

But Saturday’s matinee fell short of expectations. The strongest performance was that of Thomas Forster whose circular shaped arms in his pirouettes were as beautiful as those of Reece Clark’s last year. His grand allegro soared to impressive heights and the tours en l’air were terrific. This season Forster is in phenomenal physical shape and dancing at the highest level of his career with a pleasing confidence. As Sylvia, Devon Teuscher was, on this day, way outside her bailiwick and danced as though she were marking the steps while trying to make 1952 look stylish again. The arabesques were lower than low, the attitude positions were lower than low, the grand jetes were disturbingly leaden and low, the pirouettes were awkward almost like she was jumping to pointe out of Gaynor Mindens, and the pizzicato ended up in a mess. Sylvia’s entry with the sluggish piques and weak grand jetes predicted defeat for the rest of the performance. Carlos Gonzalez’s Eros was about the best that anyone could ask for. He delivered great humor opposite Max Barker’s lively peasant who pushed him to work his magic over the supposedly slain body of Aminta. Zhong-Jing Fang made a starring role out of Diana, the huntress; she is another veteran dancing at the highest level of her career.

The opening night principal cast of Chloe Misseldine and Calvin Royal III was enjoyable. Sylvia adhered to her strong huntress character throughout the ballet instead of softening up to let love take its course. Aminta wasn’t quite the Aminta of last season: the Act 1 solo was unsteady but the Act 3 solo was more impactful. Calvin and Chloe looked startlingly attractive as a pair; their lengthy limbs gave vibes of AI generation by Disney — How can those be real?

Our H.H. Pump Bump Award, a fairytale inspired sandal from Louboutin, is bestowed upon Skylar Brandt for her vivid dancing and characterization of Sylvia. Hoping for a Titania in her future soon.

Drama or comedy? We’ll take both, thank you.

The fact that American Ballet Theatre can now pull off a rip-roaring successful run of John Cranko’s Onegin without a Ferri or Vishneva or Gomes or Bolle and even inspire audiences to audibly rally behind the heroine Tatiana as she shreds Onegin’s love letter is one of the most hopeful signs yet that ABT may flourish again. During intermissions at the final Onegin performance, one heard murmurings of at-leech-ne and khor-o-sho, khor-o-sho — clear evidence that the local Pushkin authorities respected ABT’s Western interpretation of their revered classic.

From A to Z (Aran to Zhurbin) and everyone in between, the company’s dancers forcefully pushed the drama of Onegin and Tatiana to its striking conclusion — one that forced the audience to reckon with its own emotions right along with the heroine. 

Aran Bell and Devon Teuscher made promising role debuts as Onegin and Tatiana. Bell’s portrayal of Onegin nicely emphasized all of the character’s cuffs-shooting elitist traits. When this Onegin fell from his aristocratic grace while begging Tatiana to leave her loving husband for him, it was a hard fall indeed. Teuscher’s late-career start on Tatiana affirmed that we should have seen her in this role a decade ago. Her expression can go from giggly to gravely serious in an instant, believably so. How wonderful it would be to see her interpretation of Marguerite in Lady of the Camellias or Empress Elisabeth in Mayerling.

Thomas Forster and Chloe Misseldine reprised their roles with added depth and dimension. Forster was the snobbish Onegin who we recognized as trouble from the beginning. He carried the arrogance of a Trump, Jr., acknowledging no one while confident that everyone in the room was watching him. Misseldine’s sheer abandon in her happiest of dreams pas de deux made her abandon in the emotional fury of the final pas de deux devastating.

But the performance that wrung us out like a wet sponge with not a drip left was the performance of the debuting Jarod Curley opposite Christine Shevchenko. When Shevchenko debuted in this production in 2024, she danced as though hoping to be Tatiana — accurate but little else. This time the character’s blood was her own. It was a career-defining performance so perfectly played and danced that one could sense the pulse of Pushkin’s iambic tetrameter. Curley masterfully detailed his Onegin from his introduction as arrogantly assured party guest to his groveling at Tatiana’s feet. When his friend Lensky face-slapped him and threw down the glove to issue the challenge to a duel, we saw the utter shock in Onegin’s expression upon realizing that Lensky had taken serious offense to his flirting with Olga. His humiliation told us that this would not be a customary duel between friends that would end in deloping. The ballet’s final scene where Tatiana shredded Onegin’s love letter and shoved it back into his hands was delicious karma that drew some cheering from the audience. What goes around comes around. Onegin threw the shredded paper behind him, arrogantly refusing to accept Tatiana’s rejection, and begged at her feet to no avail. Truly a powerful performance from start to finish.

All of the Lenskys performed their Act II soliloquies proficiently. Calvin Royal III made good use of his long limbs in extended arabesque lines and adagio movements although Lensky’s torment was less visible; Jake Roxander conveyed the “how did I ever get to this point” lament in his adagio. But it was Takumi Miyake’s Lensky dancing with such urgency and distress and 8-revolution pirouettes that stole Act II. So convincing, we thought it possible that he might sacrifice his honor by backing  out of the duel. 

Lea Fleytoux, Zimmi Coker, and Catherine Hurlin created memorable Olgas, each well matched with her Lensky. The match-up of the tiniest, most engaging pair of Fleytoux and Miyake with the giant Thomas Forster magnified the social cruelty of Onegin’s flirtation with Olga.

The only suboptimal casting for this Onegin run was the role of Prince Gremin which is a difficult character role to deliver effectively. Only Roman Zhurbin was able to convey that Tatiana had chosen him for his deep love that did not include the excitement and passion that she believed Onegin would have provided. In previous years of Onegin performances, Zhurbin, Gennadi Saveliev, and Victor Barbee all portrayed Prince Gremin’s contrasts with Onegin clearly. Joseph Markey and Jarod Curley were a little too hot to make the contrast believable.

All in all, this was a most satisfying run of Onegin with deeply dramatic, excellently danced, theatrically fulfilling performances. 

After all this heavy drama, we welcomed a break with some uplifting nonsense in the form of Don Quixote. ABT’s standard production, newly refreshed this year by Artistic Director Susan Jaffe and Regisseur Susan Jones (also a stager in the 1995 production), now gives many more opportunities for corps dancers to be featured. We were also treated to a slew of principal debuts including six on one night. 

When Christine Shevchenko’s infected blister prevented her from appearing in the first of two scheduled performances opposite Michael de la Nuez, a debuting Basilio, it opened up unusual opportunities. Artistic Director Susan Jaffe’s best option was to jimmy the cast with different principal pairs for each act. Devon Teuscher and Andrew Robare got to test-run their Act I before debuting the next night. De la Nuez and Jake Roxander got to test run their Act II and Act III, respectively, before debuting later in the week. And Sunmi Park and Lea Fleytoux got the surprise gifts of unscheduled, modified debuts as Kitri — Park in Act II and Fleytoux in Act III.  Would this work in a dramatic ballet? No. But in a comedy like Don Quixote that depends on the tricks of the trade, it was a marvelous solution that gave us fresh, eager-to-impress dancers for each act who didn’t have to expend any energy in two other acts. 

The Don Quixote week-and-a-half run opened with Catherine Hurlin & Isaac Hernandez as Kitri and Basilio with mixed results. Hurlin was a fearless Kitri who pretty much had to carry the show for her partner whose loose, sometimes sloppy, dancing lacked impact. His Basilio was too poor to even cut his own hair. The next night, Skylar Brandt and Herman Cornejo gave a very respectable performance. While Cornejo’s performance may have seemed amazing for any 43-year-old dancer, unfortunately it did not compare favorably to his performances burned into our memory beginning 18 years ago. Time marches on, and it is now time . . .

Wednesday’s performance by Chloe Misseldine and Aran Bell wasn’t quite gelled. It was very well danced, but the two were still working out their characters’ comedic relationship. We see Misseldine as having the potential for an Ananiashvili-type Kitri while Bell should revel in the opportunity to make a clean break from his hot, princely self and create a fast-moving but slow-thinking Basillo whose Kitri is really running the show.

After having to withdraw from her first scheduled Don Quixote performance, Christine Shevchenko roared back on Saturday with appropriate Fourth of July fireworks. Now paired with the debuting Michael de la Nuez, she gave a sizzling technical performance with great comedic timing. De la Nuez’s partnering was darn good throughout the performance, and Shevchenko visibly appreciated his expert launch of her into a triple attitude turn during the final moments of the wedding pas de deux. De la Nuez danced well but executed his variations conservatively. A couple of his big, complex pirouettes downstage went a little cattywampus but he clearly possesses the skills and charisma to be a major force at ABT’s principal level. Large guys with great speed are always coveted in the ballet world. He’s entitled to display more confidence and should not look so surprised when the audience applauds him. He deserves to be out in front.

Friday’s Basilio debut of Jake Roxander opposite Skylar Brandt was one of those off-the-charts performances that burned hot not just from the scorching dancing but from the pre-fueled anticipation that balletomanes had after a surge of successful public complaints when Roxander’s name didn’t initially appear in the Basilio castings. There was an uproar, to put it mildly. On Friday night, he proved that his name should have been the first one printed in the casting, not the last. It was a phenomenal display of gutsy, ambitious, focused, confident, pizzazz-filled pyrotechnical virtuosity that sent the audience crazy. It made Jaffe’s and Jones’ new production look like a new Lamborghini.

AD Jaffe is showing some savvy planning these days. The six-debut Don Quixote performance along with the multiple opportunities for corps members to be featured were warmly welcomed. On Friday, she loaded up the audience with what might have been every screaming summer intensive kid within three states, planted the parents of the debuting Basilio in the audience, produced a top-of-the-line performance, and then sent it all over the top with an on-stage promotion of Roxander to principal dancer. 

Sneaking in from a back wing with a microphone during bows, Jaffe approached Roxander from behind, wrapped her arm around his shoulders and pulled him out of line toward the downstage edge. His face showed shock but his partner Skylar Brandt was already jumping up and down behind because she knew exactly what was happening. It’s been a while since we’ve heard an audience roar as it did on Friday night. Everyone was very happy to participate in Roxander’s promotion.

There was lots of good dancing during this run of Don Quixote that concludes on Tuesday. Thomas Forster and Calvin Royal III were superb Espadas whose gold-panted strutting was clearly intended to intimidate Basilio. Joseph Markey made a strong debut in the role. Zhong-Jing Fang fabulously stabbed her pointes through Mercedes’ solos. Virginia Lensi, Betsy McBride, and Olivia Tweedy debuted in the role with less effect. 

Without a doubt, another huge highlight of the Don Quixote week was Takumi Miyake in the Romani Couple’s dance opposite Aleisha Walker. There aren’t enough words to describe the electricity that he creates on the stage and in the audience when he dances. No one jumps as high. No one can match his revolutions in pirouettes. No one brings his energy so close to the audience as Miyake who we previously described as a cleaned & pressed young Corella. Like Roxander, he is merely 22 years old and clearly ready to blast through ABT’s repertory when Jaffe flips the ignition switch. She just has to find another petite ballerina like Skylar to dance with him. The obvious choices are Lea Fleytoux and Yoon Jung Seo.

Of the Dryad Queens (Sierra Armstrong, Elisabeth Beyer, Ingrid Thoms, Virginia Lensi, and Fangqi Li), Armstrong and Beyer made the strongest impressions. 

It’s been a while since ABT’s Don Quixote showed such broad strength in the demi-soloist Flower Girl roles. Every pair we saw had something to rave about. Fangqi Li and Sunmi Park opened the run with beautiful precision although their feet weren’t as nicely shaped as others in the run. Breanne Granlund and Yoon Jung Seo followed. Breanne took a spill but was seemingly unhurt. Seo was as always an eye-catcher — a beautiful dancer whose warmth radiates well out into the Met Opera House. Elisabeth Beyer and Madison Brown danced the roles at Wednesday’s matinee. My goodness, Beyer’s flying entrechat sixes whistle through the air faster than any we have ever seen, and they appear effortless. Sierra Armstrong and Ingrid Thoms were a very attractive tall pair of bridesmaids.

We have a couple of complaints about this new Don Quixote: 1) the length of the second intermission has been ridiculous, and 2) some of the conducting has been beyond annoying. At multiple performances, the conductor slowed the tempo to a crawl apparently trying to help the dancers along. One of these times was during the first act when there was mostly mime going on. Haglund wasn’t the only one who wanted to scream WTF? at the podium. Slowing down the tempo helped nothing and no one. When the tempo was slowed down, the orchestra also lost volume, the stage lost energy, and the audience lost both energy and interest. It defies understanding why screwing around with the tempo is permitted at all. These are professional dancers. They need to rise to the challenges of the music. When the tempo was slowed for poor Elisabeth Beyer’s Italian fouettés, it made them twice as hard. When the tempo was reduced for de la Nuez, it made the dancing twice as difficult. When the tempo was cut down for the various pas de deux, it made them plodding. Every time the tempo was slowed, the orchestra lost volume and the ballet lost its energy. At one performance, the conductor watched the curtain come down, proceeded to thank the musicians, and stepped off the podium COMPLETELY FORGETTING THAT THERE WAS A MUSICAL CODA COMING UP. The musicians had to remind him.

Last complaint about tempo: a double saut de basque at a leisurely tempo is no longer anything to write home about — nor is a double tour or double tour assemble when done at a leisurely tempo. They’re nothing. There is no challenge. When they’re slow, the audience just focuses on the landings that miss the scrupulous 5th positions and the take-offs that cheat by turning the hips a quarter of a turn. If the tempo is slow, we should be seeing a 3rd revolution like we seem to have seen on Friday night at one point. If a dancer asks for a slowed tempo, he or she better deliver something good to fill it up.

Well let’s see if we have anything else to talk about . . . Nope, it looks like we’re all done. Sorry for the slow tempo in getting these comments published and combining the two full length ballets into one review. We’ll try to pick it up.

The H.H. Pump Bump Award, a Givenchy stiletto with red flower, is bestowed upon Christine Shevchenko for her heartbreaking Tatiana and blazing Kitri. Wouldn’t it have been nice if ABT could have come up with a bouquet for her at either performance?

It’s like when you’ve been driving the old Toyota around since 2000 and it just hit 321,000 miles. There’s rust on the bumper but the vehicle gets you where you need to go so long as you don’t ask too much of it. Drop it on top of a new set of tires and it rides like a dream. It would be nice to have a new car, but there are other more important things on which to spend your money. No need to buy a new car until you really need one. 

That’s kind of the situation with ABT’s Swan Lake, a 26-year-old production conceived by Kevin McKenzie. McKenzie claimed that the story of the Swan Queen was finished; the important story was now about Siegfried. But let’s be truthful – McKenzie made a Swan Lake for Siegfried because he had at his disposal Siggies like Carreno, Bocca, Corella, and Gomes who were captivating the public with their unapologetic flashy tricks and Latino charisma. But here we are 26 years later, and those guys are gone. The heart of Swan Lake has returned to the Swan Queen. But Siegfried still has to do all that choreography that McKenzie devised when he was trying to elevate Siegfried to the top of the marquee. The prince has to mope and question and be serious in thought while cleanly landing those arabesque endings after turns in the air. 

During ABT’s opening run of Swan Lake last week, Haglund saw four performances. While most of the Siegfrieds faded in the presence of the Swan Queen, one artist broke free from all expectations to create his own best version of Siegfried from his own imagination. Aran Bell displayed a fresh freedom of interpretation that was unconstrained and conveyed the indisputable authority of his own talent. We saw the artistry, not the staging. Opposite Chloe Misseldine’s brilliantly blossoming Odette/Odile, Bell responded to the Niagara Falls-inspired emotion of his partner with an intense, full spectrum of his own. One could not justifiably ask for anything more than what was given by these two artists. It’s rare when one can watch two performers who are so technically skilled that they can lay aside serious concerns about steps and just dance and act their hearts out. 

Jarod Curley’s debut as Siegfried opposite Devon Teuscher revealed immense possibilities if not at the same level as last year’s exceptional debut by Michael De la Nuez. (Why aren’t we seeing him again this year?) Curley has been working hard to bring up his technical level to star level, and it showed in his turns and grand allegro. If the clean tours landings to arabesque were classroom-careful, he had a point to make with them. Soon he should start to let go and trust the result the way Bell has been doing. Meanwhile, Teuscher’s return after coping with a long-term tendon issue looked like she was on the right path. Confidence was almost high enough even if the arabesques may not have been. However, we would rather see a modest, perfectly placed arabesque than the throw-the-hip-open cheating line to get the leg up that the absent ABT ballerina employs. Teuscher’s lines were gorgeous. Port de bras – to die for. Overall presentation of Odette was soft and dreamy whereas Odile was conniving. We are so happy and relieved to see this ballerina back on the stage.

The other pairings that Haglund saw — Skylar Brandt & Herman Cornejo and Christine Shevchenko & Calvin Royal III — delivered high-level performances with predictable artistry. At this point, it feels as though we have seen everything that these pairings have to offer, and there needs to be a shakeup. Given the depth of untapped talent at ABT, there isn’t much justification to continue allotting Siegfrieds to these two danseurs. They’ve produced exceptional performances in the past for which we are grateful, but the time has come . . .

A nod goes to Cy Doherty for his delicious von Rothbart swamp-thing in Act IV. Oh my goodness, we were so rooting for him to take out Aran Bell’s Siegfried and make off with Chloe Misseldine’s Odette. Let’s just see what happens in Round II on July 18th. There’s more story here. Joseph Markey’s purple Von Rothbart made the strongest impression in that particular role during the performances which we saw.

The Swan Corps was in generally good form. The Pas de Trois of Lea Fleytoux, Yoon Jung Seo, and Jake Roxander danced like a principal casting. Roxander’s Neapolitan with the blazing Takumi Miyake was startlingly brilliant. And what a joyful surprise to see the young apprentice Max Barker soar in another cast; what a fine Mercutio he will make someday. We were impressed with Zhong-Jing Fang’s steely portrayal of The Queen Mother as well as her stints as a Big Swan and in Czardas. Her character artist work is as vivid as Roman Zhurban’s and as valuable to ABT. We were very happy to see Brooks Landegger dancing so strongly and clearly in the corps and in the Spanish section. We certainly need to see more of him and more of Finnian Carmeci, YeonSeo Choi, and Elisabeth Beyer.

Our H.H. Pump Bump Award, a gold-marked stiletto from Throne Kingdom, is bestowed upon Aran Bell for taking his superlative Siegfried to yet another level.

So why did the School of American Ballet choose Balanchine’s frothy “Who Cares” to perform at its spring workshop performance? Was it because it wanted its female adolescent students to act out as sexy women? Was it because it needed the students to be featured in less rigorous neoclassical Balanchine technique than, say, Concerto Barocco or Stravinsky Violin Concerto? The choice was odd and at times cringe-worthy. With one single exception, the performance did not rise above recital-istic. The featured students who are now headed to NYCB as apprentices were fine but didn’t possess many extraordinary qualities in this Saturday night performance. Surprisingly, feet were less than well-shaped, fifth positions did not always click together like magnets, developpes were not particularly notable for their shapes and heights. 

The single exceptional performance, and perhaps the entire justification for presenting “Who Cares” performed by students, was the performance of the 17-year-old destined-to-be-a-superstar Albanian, Ador Kadiasi, who tore through the Liza variation like he was being featured in front of millions in a Tony Awards telecast. This was a performance from an extremely talented and interesting dancer. We’re looking forward to following his career.

The rest of the SAB performance was not up to past years’ quality. A “World Premiere” 🙄 of a contemporary dance by Kiyon Ross entitled Proof of Light was proof that middling contemporary ballet continues to spread like mold. The Czardas from Balanchine’s Cortège Hongrois and his Scherzo à la Russe were appropriate vehicles for all levels of students and required no pointe work even when pointe shoes were being worn. 

It’s worth mentioning that out of the 100+ SAB students who participated in the Workshop this year, more than 40 are academic honor students. Brain strength and body strength go hand in hand at SAB.

Of course, few who attend SAB achieve NYCB corps contracts. Fewer achieve promotions and star turns. But it seems like it has been fewer and fewer and fewer, and those who have delivered true stardom on the stage, e.g., Emily Kikta, Alexa Maxwell, Ashley Hod, Ashley Laracey, haven’t gotten the respect and deserved recognition from management. Forgive Haglund for stating the obvious, but it’s not like NYCB can’t afford to promote these four. The company is rolling in money. Its endowment is now larger than the Metropolitan Opera’s. That’s worth saying again. The New York City Ballet’s endowment is now larger than the Metropolitan Opera’s. [ $245.5 million vs $232.1 million]

Precautionary cash hoarding is a characteristic of all accounting managers. They are always reluctant to spend money on opportunities if they can get away with not spending. The last thing they want to spend money on is a human resource because that’s an ongoing expense rather than a one-time expense. So even in highly successful arts organizations, unless there is a forward thinking leader who understands how to use money, there will be neurotic cash hoarding. It comes down to why promote four deserving women to principal when they will agree to do principal work while remaining soloists? If the company can exploit artists, why not do it?

And while we’re complaining, let’s unload on Wendy Whelan for her condescending remarks that suggest she thinks her job is to educate the audience. That is apparently her excuse for scheduling mediocre to downright bad contemporary DEI crap and expecting people to pay full price for it. She says she doesn’t want to give the audience “candy” — that candy being Balanchine’s masterpieces. When an artist, any artist, decides that his or her job is to educate the audience or fix the audience’s political or cultural perspectives, that artist needs to be kicked to the curb for being too big for his or her britches. A principal dancer who finds his or her way into management does not suddenly become entitled to judge an audience’s level of education, sophistication, or perspective. Wendy has not done well in repertory planning. There are others who could do better. And we’re a little tired of the Winter Art Series turning into a photography exhibit that evokes her own husband’s art work.

So, now it’s on to big ballets. Who besides Haglund is going to every Onegin and Sylvia?

History is always presented with a viewpoint or two.

Imagine if Myrta were the narrator at our performance of Giselle. We’ve already read all the news accounts, watched Scott Pelley’s scorching segment about Myrta on 60 Minutes, and cringed at Bari Weiss’s interference to balance the segment with sympathy for the Queen of the Wilis — “She’s just misunderstood.”  But we know the facts despite Myrta spinning her story of victimization and dedication to protecting young women jilted before they could marry. She casts aspersions on Giselle as someone who wants to take over the Wilis. Finally, Myrta alludes to a future Act III where Giselle is shuttled off to the Rhineland Zuchthaus for a final haircut. It certainly would be a different ballet, wouldn’t it? Well, if anybody could sell us on the idea it would be the dance actress Charlotta Öfverholm.

Ms. Öfverholm and the Scottish Ballet opened their production of Mary, Queen of Scots at the Koch Theater Thursday night. It is a marvelous piece of dance theater. Ms. Öfverholm stars as the elderly and dying Elizabeth I whose selective memory recounts important episodes in her life and rationalizes them as though she were pleading for the Gates of Heaven to open for her.  She dance-explains how she regretted having to lop off the head of her cousin, Mary Stuart, but she had to in order to end Mary’s threat to her reign over the kingdom. 

Ms. Öfverholm, who is a spry 60 years old, is the blazing star of this production. Her contemporary dance vocabulary, honed in part at the Alvin Ailey School here in New York, is as eloquent and vibrant as it could be. Every sign of age that she possesses enhances the performance and makes it more authentic and relatable than if a younger artist made up to look like an elderly Elizabeth I were performing the role. On Thursday night she conveyed Elizabeth’s cunning, remorse, fake remorse, and her steel grip on power in the kingdom via her amazing flexibility, coordination, and mastery of the contemporary choreography.  Her characterization was a Royal reputation rehabilitation that was extremely convincing. By the end of the show, we loved her so much that it didn’t really matter what she did to poor Mary Stuart.

The young Elizabeth I was played by Knicks-sized Harvey Littlefield in appropriate orange wig, occasionally on stilts, and thoroughly captivating. Mary Stuart, danced by Roseanna Leney, was assigned to dance en pointe and effectively conveyed Mary’s victimization and good heart. The character of Death, portrayed by Kayla-Maree Tarantolo in a lime green jester outfit with cone hat, gently coaxed Elizabeth through her final day on Earth with the good humor that we all could use when that time comes. The entire cast, including the corps de ballet, was phenomenal.

This production, choreographed by Sophie Laplane and co-created by James Bonas, enjoys dramatic scenery by Soutra Gilmour who most recently designed the haunting Broadway set for Waiting for Godot starring Keanu Reeves and Alex Winter. The overall concept owes to the influence of Angelin Preljocaj’s canon, absent his choreographic gifts, but relies too much on frenetic arm movements that is a typical feature of middling contemporary choreography. Here, it doesn’t matter because most everything else about the production is exceptional. Given that this is a theater production at its heart, the cinematic score by Mikael Karlsson & Michael P Atkinson is forgivable — except for the obvious lifting of Philip Glass phrases — and includes a significant and beautifully performed cello solo. We would credit the cellist from the New York City Ballet Orchestra who we guess was Stephen Perkyns, but we’re not sure because there was no cast & orchestra list provided with the program.

Presenting this story to a New York audience is a challenging task. The Scottish Ballet’s advance work explaining the story was fairly good and sufficient. Getting New Yorkers to pay attention to it before sitting down to watch what they are expecting to be a ballet is quite another chore. It would be akin to presenting the opera Nixon in China at Teatro Colon. 

We thought the evening was an overall high success and are happy that Scottish Ballet shared this production with us. Our H.H. Pump Bump Award, a coronation stiletto for a cherished Elizabeth II, is bestowed upon Charlotta Öfverholm.

Well, here we are at the close of another glorious and satisfying chapter. Somewhat like the many who are waltzing across Lincoln Center stages this week in their academic regalia, Megan Fairchild is waltzing through her final performances in Coppélia at New York City Ballet as she prepares to go off, most assuredly, to make another mark on the world. There is no doubt that her days ahead will be spectacular. She leaves behind a sparkling ballet career forged from discipline, love, and an abundance of natural talent and grace.

At her penultimate performance on Friday night, Megan was still checking off her ballet bucket list. In a fit of Swanilda-like spunk she commandeered the microphone to make the pre-curtain announcement prohibiting cell phone usage. But this was a performance for which even Megan, herself, could not suppress the audience from sneaking videos and pictures which are now trending.

It was a particularly well-danced and tightly organized performance by the 70+ member cast that included 24 miniature aspiring Megans from the School of American Ballet in pink tulle who ran and bourreed like the wind. They will be the next generation of stars. But it was a star of a generation past who nearly stole the show. Robert La Fosse was deliciously dorky as Dr. Coppélius, the old fuddy-duddy toymaker who mistakenly thought that he had the magical powers to bring his beloved life-sized doll, Coppélia, to life. Megan’s Swanilda stole the doll’s identity and flummoxed La Fosse’s character who hobbled around trying to control the chaos that Swanilda and her friends were sowing. Joseph Gordon was a superb Franz whose romantic desires couldn’t distinguish the fantasy doll from the real girl.

The actual dancing through the night was superb. If Megan found the dancing more difficult than twenty years ago, she certainly didn’t show it. All of that hyper-articulation of the feet and legs was on display. Her arabesques were thrown from a spine that seemed lubricated with the love of dancing. Gordon, too, was in high form and full character. Soloist Sara Adams performed a gorgeous Bells Waltz – nothing showy or ostentatious, just quite beautiful allegro with pristine positions and a natural ease. Mary Thomas MacKinnon was the Dawn that burst forth with the grandest sunshine. Dominka Afanasenkov’s Prayer solo was assured, but her presentation was bland and her increase in mass is still a big negative factor. What made Olivia MacKinnon’s Spinner such a lovely surprise was how she found maturity in her port de bras. She trusted that the correct shapes would be beautiful and avoided flinging the arms too high or too wildly. She also presented a mature sense of calm and confidence that has slowly developed over the years. The Discord and War variations have always seemed to be bottom-shelf Bolshoi-influenced and parade-worthy. Naomi Corti and Jules Mabie managed all the flashy, trumpeting grand allegro with ease, but it was kind of a waste of these two artists.

Our HH Pump Bump Award, swiped from the Oscars, is bestowed upon Megan Fairchild and Robert La Fosse for the rich and memorable performances throughout the years. Although Megan is dashing off to Europe for her next chapter, we’re pretty confident that she is not deserting us—it is but chapter 2 of what will be an epic novel. 

The See the Music session concluded with Maestro Litton telling the audience to enjoy Balanchine’s Diamonds which was the rest of the program. The orchestra then descended back into the pit in their usual musical way. But there was a pause as two of the musicians quickly exited to seats directly behind the pit. Haglund wondered what the heck was going on when he saw those guys strap on humongous axes. All of a sudden the announcer said, Please welcome Mick Jagger and Jimmy Fallon, and the New York City Ballet Orchestra blasted out the guitar riff from (I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction as the two dudes casually wandered out from the wing. It was a short musical intro but it was probably strings-payback for that recent night of all-piano music. (Orch. Mgmt. to the bass player: We’re sorry but we’re devoting an entire night to Ligeti, Brahms and Shostakovich and there won’t be much for you to do. How about we make it up to you by letting you blast Mick Jagger onto the stage at the gala? Oh, yeah.)

Jagger and Fallon, the warm-up set for Balanchine’s Diamonds, never waste an audience. They were ready with a gala-sized schtick: Fallon’s almost-better-than-the-real-thing imitation of Jagger’s singing and dancing. Jagger made a pitch for the upcoming 60th Anniversary of Diamonds and Jewels and lauded the company’s dancers. It was all said with great sincerity which makes Haglund think maybe it’s time to let go of that grudge against Jagger for stealing a favorite ballerina off the stage a decade ago.

Diamonds started off grandly with the corps de ballet sweeping through the intro with flawless clarity amid the flashing of the newly bauble-laden costumes possibly inspired by drag queen Trixie Mattel. It’s hard to believe how a costume update could actually interfere with the sparkle of Balanchine’s choreography, but it has. Isabella LaFreniere and Chan Wai Chun were served a glacial tempo for the pas de deux that caused uncharacteristic awkwardness in some of the turns, and added pauses where there should have been none. Isabella, like some of the NYCB ballerinas, has adopted a pedestrian flat-footed walking entrance instead of entering with the formal walk of weight on the balls of the feet and heels ever so slightly lifted. The flatfooted version removes a lot of elegance and formality from the entrance. The Scherzo Allegro Vivo section and the Finale were blessedly brisk and brilliantly danced. Both Isabella and Chan served their variations with the majestic power of a royal couple. 

After discussing Mick Jagger and Balanchine’s Diamonds, it’s hard to argue that the main feature and highlight of the gala performance was something else. But to an extent, it was. Tiler Peck’s second ballet for her home company received its premiere. Symphonie Espagnole, created to the violin concerto of the same name by Edouard Lalo, was an ambitious undertaking — a growing experience and a successful one. Tiler, a musical magician in the ballet world, chose the type of music that her body and spirit crave. Much of Lalo’s Symphonie Espagnole begs to be danced. It’s hot, it’s sultry, it’s tender, it’s bold, it’s spicy. The Rondo Allegro is a stirring finale for the violin soloist but it’s not the type of major orchestral finale that brings an entire ballet together with an explosive wow. When Tiler was putting this ballet together, she probably acquired a new appreciation of how Balanchine fiddled with Serenade to make the music + the ballet > than the two individual components. It would have been impractical for her to do any fiddling with Symphonie Espagnole when she had invited one of the great classical fiddlers of our time to perform as the soloist. Tiler filled the stage with 40 dancers whose high energy along with the memorable choreography created lots of wow, but Lalo’s Finale didn’t support it. So, it kind of didn’t reach the level it should have.

What a treat to have Hilary Hahn working from the orchestra pit as guest soloist for the gala and other selected performances. She had never performed this piece although she had prepared it over the years. It would be wonderful to have her back again for Tiler’s next ballet. Hilary has a fiery interpretation of Bruch Violin Concerto No. 1 which definitely is structured like a ballet. You know, if we’re not going to get Bruch’s concerto back where we first met it at ABT (which it appears we never will), there is no reason to waste the beautiful music when we have a developing NYCB choreographer who could really do it justice. 

The corps de ballet’s choreography was fantastic throughout the ballet — ambitious, musical, and it challenged the corps to try to dance with the brilliance of Tiler Peck. The end result was quite spectacular. This was the first performance where everyone was having to think a lot resulting in an occasional uncertain moment or two, but wow, what a feast of interesting and articulate phrases. The women who opened the first movement along with Emma Von Enck and Joseph Gordon wore gorgeous burgundy-plum tutus with layered ruffles — Emma’s tutu was bright red — perhaps a faint reference to the ruffles we see in traditional Spanish flamenco dresses. The two principals were tearing up the stage, but honestly, the corps had most of our attention.

The second and third movements, designed for Kloe Walker and Roman Mejia, brought her to the forefront of everyone’s attention and showed a pleasing discipline to his form. Kloe is one of the more unusual talents in the midst of an enormously talented corps de ballet. Her length and narrow lines, clarity of geometric shapes, maximized technique, and natural rapport with the audience make her easy to spot and easy to follow. She looked exquisite in the burning red dress with knee length skirt dancing in front of a corps of women wearing the same dresses in dusty mauve. The choreography given to her revealed a level of accomplishment and mastery that we had not yet seen in the opportunities given to her so far in the company. Roman served up the Spanish spice in response to the Carmenesque 3rd Movement Intermezzo. The corps of eight men who danced authoritatively behind him were the La Mancha saffron to Roman’s smoked picante paprika. We’ll leave it at that.

The 4th movement Andante featured a pas de deux with Mira Nadon and Ryan Tomash who were supplemented by soloists and a should-be-soloist. Mira, in a dress similar to Kloe’s but a deeper cabernet red, was of course lovely and superbly partnered by Ryan although the choreography was not particularly memorable and had a requisite feel to it. This andante dancing came too late structurally in the ballet which was part of the choreographic challenge we mentioned above. 

Let’s just say that Symphonie Espagnole was impressive as a whole. The dancing was magnificent. We are excited to see Tiler’s next piece and hope that she will stay on the same course and not think that she has to be innovative or do something weird. Big ballet, lots of dancers in lovely colors, classical choreography, music with a pow factor — basically a ballet that Tiler would like to be in is all we want. Of all the choreographers that NYCB has brought in, Tiler’s artistic sensibilities most closely align with what the audience is looking for. We salute this latest effort and toss her a spicy H.H. Pump Bump Award, a red ruffled slingback from Louboutin.

From the ring levels in the theater one gets a bird’s eye view of what is happening in the orchestra pit. Sometimes it’s more interesting than what’s on the stage. Take Friday night, for instance. 

Christopher Wheeldon’s Continuum, imported from San Francisco Ballet to the New York City Ballet this season, had its first performance. Fearful that viewers would find it too repetitive of Wheeldon’s other choreography to the same composer, György Ligeti, NYCB marketed it as a continuation or companion piece or chapter 2 of Wheeldon’s creative vision. As they say, marketing isn’t about the products you make; it’s about the stories you tell. Unfortunately, Continuum was the same old multiple instances of twisty, acrobatic, manipulative pas de deux by dancers dressed as cooked green beans with the women squeezed in the middle by belts. The first minute when all eight dancers filed onto the stage had us thinking that maybe there would be some not-seen-before ideas here, but the second minute followed by the next 20 proved us wrong. However, true brilliance was burning in the orchestra pit courtesy of Stephen Gosling and Alan Moverman.

The Ligeti selections chosen by Wheeldon not only required two pianists but required them to be playing the same piano and jumping back and forth between piano and harpsichord. Sometimes the pianists were seated together but at other times Moverman would stand to the side leaning over to hold keys down while Gosling played. And there was the added interest of the constant adjusting of what looked like possibly a super-duper, late model digital metronome. There was as much choreography in the pit as on the stage, and it was far more interesting. 

For the following dance by Lar Lubovitch, Hanna Hyunjung Kim played gorgeous selections from Brahms’ Eight Piano Pieces on stage while Adrian Danchig-Waring and Taylor Stanley flowed through Lubovitch’s organic swirls and dips. Each In Their Own Time is like a freshwater brook babbling through an unspoiled natural setting. 

Distant Cries, a duet by Edwaard Liang, brought us a little more harpsichord music along with a fantastic oboe solo by Julia deRosa. The choreography, executed by Ruby Lister and Chun Wai Chan, was a sustained yawn, but showed a more interesting side of Lister who may have found a niche in the angular, acrobatic, less traditional ballet repertory that was made on Wendy Whelan. However, that doesn’t mean that we want Wendy to plan a vanity schedule of more of these works. 

The program concluded with Hanna Hyunjung Kim’s fingers burning through the Shostakovich Piano Concerto No. 2 in F major Op. 102 as we watched the dancers burn through Ratmansky’s Concerto DSCH. This piece is nearing twenty years old but seems as fresh, alive, and interesting as it did when it premiered. It’s always a pleasure to hear this music and see this ballet tackled by a new generation of dancers. Delivering a performance on the level of the original interpreters, Joaquin De Luz and Gonzalo Garcia, is a big ask of anyone. Roman Mejia and KJ Takahashi will find their way through this in time. They’ve got the steps. They’ve got the energy. They’re looking for that je ne sais quoi that the two Spanish bros brought to the choreography that made everything look like spontaneous, competitive messing around.

Indiana Woodward as the instigator of the madness was in top form. Adrian Danchig-Waring and Unity Phelan imbued the pas de deux with a genuine warmth. Some of the soloist and corps members were a little dizzied by the details but otherwise did a super job for their first time out.

The programing for Friday was another big miss by NYCB. Trying to forcefeed Continuum and Distant Cries to an audience before getting to Concerto DSCH resulted in box office backfire. There is less and less appetite for the derivative, manipulative pas de deux that some choreographers repeatedly make the centerpieces of their work. We want the authentic Balanchine. A program of Divertimento No 15, Concerto Barocco, and Concerto DSCH would always pack the house. Parceling these out in a way that forces the audience to also accept less palatable programing is a strategy that will result in declining success as ticket prices and their faux fees soar.

The H.H. Pump Bump Award, a Dolce & Gabbana piano stiletto, is bestowed upon Stephen Gosling, Alan Moverman, and Hanna Hyunjung Kim for their dazzling treatments of Ligeti, Brahms, and Shostakovich.

Last evening’s performance was slightly delayed when a very senior balletomane who had been brought to the theater by her son suddenly fell into an unwakeable sleep prompting concern for a medical emergency. It took a half hour for EMS to arrive to assist her after which her son thanked the audience for its patience and reported that his mom would be okay. The audience erupted into cheers and applause. We wish her well and hope to see her back in the theater again. It’s the best kind of son who will escort his elderly mom to the ballet, no doubt about it. 

But Mom was the lucky one. Soon the rest of us started hearing voices.

Ratmansky’s experimental Voices created to the mashing of piano with recorded voices of six accomplished women is torturing us again. Whatever the women say is unintelligible and intentionally obscured by the piano. Solo women dancers take the stage to perform complex combinations of steps requiring great strength and coordination but with little meaning and no musicality. It is just stripped down to the bare steps. Each woman is then ushered off by a group of men. One of the men then performs a line or manége of a classical ballet trick, e.g. double saute basque, coupe jeté entournant, whatever. Of course, the audience automatically applauds the men’s tricks but really doesn’t have much to say about what the women do. OK, we get it. The choreography was, as already suggested, agonizingly arbitrary. Maybe we should say brutalizingly arbitrary. The dancers looked fine and were clearly challenged by the movement. The pianist, Stephen Gosling, seemed happily challenged by the notes he had to play overtop the women’s voices. If management has confidence in this kind of stuff, why not put it last on the program and see if anyone stays. Okay. Next.

In Memory of… was created by Robbins to Alban Berg’s violin concerto which he composed in response to the death of a good friend’s daughter.  Here, Unity Phelan was the daughter who lived within a caring community. She had a love — Adrian Danchig-Waring — who it seemed would be her forever love. Then she died, courtesy of Chun Wai Chan’s dark and dangerous death figure. Then she came back after life with her hair down, of course, and ascended to wherever. The movement throughout was all quite pretty and watchable as most anything that Robbins created is. But the darkness and sadness coming on the heels of the schizo-choreography of Voices made for a long, depressing evening that even the excessive Temu jewelry on the Diamonds costumes couldn’t brighten up.

We realized last night that those new costumes look quite different depending on where one is seated. They are abhorrent from the rings because the lighting detonates the crystals with blinding force. From the orchestra, the costumes look like they have electric blinking mechanisms on them. It all is just so overdone, and it makes us worry terribly what NYCB might do to the Emeralds and Rubies costumes for the upcoming anniversary. Please, someone have the good sense to tone it all down.

Mira Nadon and Peter Walker put on quite the show despite the distracting costumes. The composite length of their limbs is a sight to behold. But more than that, they are convincing as a regal pair, and we would find them convincing as Romeo & Juliet as well. At this point, they’ve had enough coaching on Diamonds; the ballet should be entrusted to them to create their own vibes and nuances. This should become their take on the choreography, not someone else’s stamped mannerisms. Also, I hope that we still have an occasion to see Nadon in both Emeralds and Rubies. It would be a shame if we lost her unique interpretations of those roles to Diamonds.

Walker has gotten stronger with each performance although his turns a la second went a little wonky before he pulled in for a super-clean multiple pirouette. The manége of coupe jete was pretty confident. He finished it as though he had enough gas in the tank to go around again. Nadon’s lovely arching back on the developpe devant was more pronounced than perhaps anyone’s we’ve ever seen, and quite lovely in all respects. 

The demi-couples and corps de ballet were assured. Kloe Walker took an early spill but brushed it off and danced splendidly to the end. Within the corps we noticed Shane Williams’ exquisite arabesque lines on both the left and right. We were happy to see Samuel Melnikov, Spartak Hoxha and Cainan Weber dancing so strongly. While we enjoyed Ruby Lister’s actual movement, her facial expression was one of awkwardly knowing she should smile but not wanting to. The result was a fixed pressed-lip effort. We’re continuing to notice the glamour that infuses Grace Scheffel’s performances and the maturity that is coming into Sarah Harmon’s stage presence.

We’re moving on past this awkward program. There wasn’t enough interest in it to warrant opening the third ring — not even with Diamonds’ new tacky sparkles blinking away. Again, if whoever programed this thinks this was a good selection, try putting Diamonds first on the bill and see how many people stay for the rest of it.

There he stood nearly motionless as the thundering brass of Stravinsky’s final notes of Firebird swirled around him. They were the notes of victory over the evil (albeit totally captivating and adorable) Kastchei and his gang of thugs. There he stood with such obvious emotion in his face on the stage where only days shy of a year earlier he had ruptured his Achilles tendon. Gilbert Bolden III would spend the next year rupturing the common viewpoint that such an injury is necessarily career-ending. This was his moment of victory, too. 

The final tableau of Balanchine’s Firebird is nearly overwhelming. There are no steps, per se. Balanchine chose to step back and allow the powers of Stravinsky’s music and Chagall’s artwork carry this production to its glorious end. It is the stunning work of geniuses who we cannot treasure enough.

Bolden’s personal victory aside, this opening night performance of Firebird saw Isabella LaFreniere take flight with blazing splendor. She brought a balance of power and delicacy to the role with a refined, turbo-charged technique. The theatrical rapport between LaFreniere and Bolden fueled the fantasy of the Firebird story. They believed every word — step — of it, and so did we.

Meaghan Dutton-O’Hara was a lovely Prince’s Bride and showed much more interpretive freedom than previously. Oscar Estep as Kastchei, the Wizard, enjoyed a formidable debut.

Also returning to the stage after a maternity leave was Unity Phelan in Agon. Nerves were evident, understandably. Counts weren’t as tidy as usual. There was a collision during heavy traffic in the back court. It was a rather ambitious ballet to return to after a long absence in which the dancer-body was in upheaval for nine months. It’s okay with us if Unity is a little more chill during this comeback season. But her performance was in no way a disappointment. The entire cast was outstanding. Naomi Corti’s slicing precision and power along with an innate glamour are approaching major ballerina territory. She excels in the black & white canon like Agon but she also has a warm and gracious classical side to her dancing which we hope will be cast more frequently.

Adrian Danchig-Waring and Taylor Stanley were simply superb in this masterpiece. Both were propelled by the same understanding that Balanchine’s steps are enough and there’s no need to layer any interpretation on top of them. Haglund was remembering how Danchig-Waring stressed for so many years on that left outside position of Agon, where Victor Abreu danced last evening, and how he was so intent on expending every ounce of his energy to get everything perfect. It must be the role position, because Abreu now exhibits the same stress. We look forward to watching him develop the quiet exactitude that is so valuable in the black & white ballets. Andres Zuniga, Sara Adams and Mary Thomas MacKinnon rounded out the strong cast.

It’s not just smart, but expected and necessary to open the season with a big Balanchine ballet. There are no more eloquent speakers of his language than the dancers at New York City Ballet. Listen to them speak: the enunciation of a tendu, the distinction within a pas de chat, the emphasis of an arabesque position, the mumbling of batterie. What?! Yes, it’s true. The beats often are not what they should be. That was clear during an otherwise sparkling opening performance of Symphony in C when there was much batterie mumbling until we got to the finale with Mira Nadon from the Second Movement Adagio. Every time Preston Chamblee picked her up in front of him, Nadon made the most of those beats with emphatic crossings of beautifully arched feet. No mumbling there. She made something quite beautiful out of a moment that many just swim through in order to get to the next trick. What a lovely, lovely debut for her and Chamblee who was understandably hyper-concentrating — but he’s got this, and he’s on the road to greatness.

Megan Fairchild and Joseph Gordon flew through the First Movement allegro with the vitality that has marked their long and successful careers. Emma VonEnck and David Gabriel seemingly never tired from all those grand jetés in the Third Movement. Olivia MacKinnon and Jules Mabie brought charm and clear dancing to the Fourth Movement. And what about that corps de ballet! Exceptional job on the first night back.

Throughout the evening, the NYCB Orchestra held nothing back in delivering their world class music to us. Is there any orchestra that brings alive Stravinsky any better? We doubt it.

So, we’re pretty happy with the start of the season. We recognize the many, many dancers on that stage last night — from every rank— who have come back from serious, persistent injury and physical layoffs. That they were able to soar as they did through such important and beautiful choreography is worthy of everyone’s salute. But there is only one H.H. Pump Bump Award. And for this opening night, we bestow this feathered thong sandal upon Gilbert Bolden III and Isabella LaFreniere for their exquisite performance of Firebird.