When Good meets Evil at the ballet, usually Good wins out. But Wednesday night, Ashley Hod’s Carabosse nearly ran away with the show until she went up in smoke & sparklers after witnessing a kiss and had to be hauled out by her handlers. That left Miriam Miller’s Lilac Fairy to bring the show home with her majestic grace. On Friday evening, Ashley Laracey’s refined elegance as the Lilac Fairy came up against the wicked sins of Brittany Pollack’s Carabosse in another ferocious face-off.

Of course, we’re talking about The Sleeping Beauty at New York City Ballet, the company’s best non-Balanchine full length ballet which was staged by former Ballet Master in Chief Peter Martins 35 years ago. It’s an unusual Beauty where Petipa’s ballet has been adapted to this company’s strengths and to the attention span of its audience. One intermission. Few pauses for applause. The scenery is, well, functional. Aurora seemingly slips into her birthday party from a backdoor offstage instead of arriving at the top of a magnificent staircase. The costumes by Patricia Zipprodt reflect where the money was spent. Every tutu, character dress and suit, hat and shoe conveys Dubai-sized wealth and opulence of the kingdom. They are gorgeous – every last one of them, even those of Carabosse’s hideous minions whose beetle wings vibrate when the bugs are stationary. 

The abundance of outstanding performances during Wednesday and Friday nights revealed deep strength throughout the company. We were like Aurora being kissed awake when we witnessed corps members Kloe Walker’s Fairy of Tenderness and Ruby variations, Mia Williams’ Fairy of Eloquence, Grace Scheffel’s Fairy of Vivacity, Sarah Harmon’s and Meaghan Dutton-O’Hara’s Fairies of Generosity, Owen Flacke’s gallant Cavalier to the Lilac Fairies, Charlie Klesa’s chivalrous Suitor from the East, and Keenan Kiefer’s uncontainable joy and explosive energy as a Court Jester. We see what’s on the horizon and we’re running toward it as fast as we can.

From the soloist ranks, David Gabriel’s Bluebird flew through the long series of brisé volé with crystal clarity and lightness. Olivia MacKinnon’s Princess Florine was uneven from a technical perspective; her Emerald variation from The Jewels quartet was more assured. Sara Adams’ Princess Florine was calm, confident, and correct in response to Principal Daniel Ulbricht’s blistering Bluebird. Neither Diamond, India Bradley nor Mary Thomas MacKinnon, overcame the awkwardness of this forced variation.

On opening night, Megan Fairchild’s Aurora was lively in personality but technically contained and unremarkable. Droopy, loosely squared attitude positions in the Rose Adagio revealed Aurora’s struggle rather than her celebration. Arguments can be made for lower leg heights in The Sleeping Beauty because they would support Petipa’s original style. However, one cannot argue to do a lower arabesque on one side because of a physical limitation and then zing it on one’s strong side. Nor can an argument be made for lower Petipa legs combined with neoclassical port de bras. 

Anthony Huxley found just the right tone and authenticity for Prince Désiré. Still scrupulous if no longer perfect, Huxley’s ability to cover space calmly at high speed remains unmatched. His stylish partnering was on full display in this performance but for whatever reason didn’t result in the rapport with Megan that we expected. We look forward to hopefully seeing how his maturity and elegance impact Emma Von Enck’s dancing. 

On Friday night, Aurora finally arrived in the form of Indiana Woodward who extended birthday party invitations to all 2000+ people in the audience. We were at the party living her story right along with her. She arrived with the radiance of the sun, full of life, and a blazing technique that further energized a performance which had already been at a fairly high level. Her Aurora possessed a charming, unforced modesty that revealed the beauty and grace of her royal upbringing. Basically, we fell in love with this fairy tale all over again. 

In this performance Prince Désiré found his rapport with Aurora before he set eyes on her. Chun Wai Chan gave a full accounting of his character’s search for his true love — from his discontent at a festive picnic to his fallen spirit rejuvenated by the Lilac Fairy to his discovery of his life-affirming love snoozing away under an odd quilt — Chan made us believe in his journey. His dancing looked as fresh and strong as during his Houston Ballet days. There were beautiful 90 degree arabesques, huge tours en l’air, authoritative pirouettes, and exquisite partnering of Aurora.

The corps de ballet was exceptional at both performances: the Lilac Fairy attendants’ precision and especially the Nymphs in the Vision Scene whose balloné sequences were perfection — it all was truly lovely dancing.

The children in the Garland Dance and the Wolf scene at the Wedding were, of course, what SAB children are: stage animals who want you to remember that they are stars, too. Every one of them was an asset to the performance.

It is always wonderful to see the NYCB Orchestra pit packed wall to wall with musicians. The music was glorious (except for some confusion from the right side on Wednesday night), and we appreciated the experienced guest ballet conductors on the podium: David Briskin from the National Ballet of Canada (no stranger to NYCB or ABT) and Beatrice Affron from the Philadelphia Ballet. 

Our H.H. Pump Award, a rose & vines stiletto, is bestowed upon Indiana Woodward for her utterly believable and beautifully danced Aurora. 

In Alexei Ratmansky’s terrific new ballet, The Naked King, which premiered Thursday evening at New York City Ballet, the King’s thing is so tiny that it got lost behind the tiniest fig leaf.  No wonder his glamorous, flow-posing queen sought amorous transactions elsewhere. 

Ratmansky’s source for the company’s 500th new work was the well-known Hans Christian Andersen fairytale in which a self-absorbed king is swindled into thinking that he is wearing opulent threads when, in fact, he is buck naked. The music by Jean Françaix, who also was inspired by Andersen’s fairytale, is energetic and melodious with an underlying nervousness that meets Ratmansky’s own. 

In the original story, there is no Queen. In Ratmansky’s adaptation, she not only exists — she pivots and pirouettes promiscuously as a main character who is skillful in the art of her deals. Hiding what we are sure are stoic squints behind huge sunglasses, she purses her lips and lifts her chin haughtily as if seducing her next Vanity Fair cover. Her charms, however, land in a groveling lover’s over-active lap. Just as good.

Miriam Miller and Emily Kikta as the Queen on Thursday and Friday, respectively, dealt this diva deliciously. Their 5’10” heavenly physiques were draped like a dream in Santo Loquasto’s plum and red jeweled gown, lace fingerless gloves, and a halo-crown headpiece that might have been half helmet. And sunglasses. Which never came off. Both women were fully absorbed in character while navigating Ratmansky’s inventions including forward and backward supported cantering. Big performances from both.

Pursuing the Queens were Peter Walker and Ryan Tomash as the hot to trot Lovers who burned through Ratmansky’s crackling electric choreography.  Both were fabulous, but Walker’s theatrical and technical performance was a highlight of the ballet. It was a breakout performance for the usually stoic principal.

The Swindlers who duped the King wowed their ways through pas de trois and solo phrases while wearing some of Loquasto’s designs that would make Elton John jealous.  Daniel Ulbricht in burnt red wig, electric blue jumpsuit and striped blazer delivered an amazing series of entrechat six with his knees bent under him. David Gabriel was in a leopard skin suit with a wild wig that made him look more like the Last Place finisher at the Westminster Dog Show. (Actually, we’d seen a similar wig on Elton during his all-pink period.) KJ Takahashi was in stripes and sunglasses. Gabriel and Takahashi were fabulous on their own but struggled to keep up with Ulbricht’s speed and clarity in the PdT phrases. On the second night, Cainan Weber, Sebastián Villarini-Velez, and apprentice Simeon Daniel Neeld performed as the trio.

At both performances the King’s entourage, Jules Mabie, Preston Chamblee, and Owen Flacke, hilariously served the King with their groveling. The King literally used his entourage as a floor mat and at one point enjoyed a spectacular arial cartwheel as the three slowly manipulated him across the stage. Outstanding dancing from all three who looked royally handsome in their elegant suits.

Our title character, The King, was portrayed by Andrew Veyette and Craig Salstein both of whom pulled off the outrageous personality and absurdity of the story while wearing a colossus of orangish curls reminiscent of Led Zepplin’s but clearly referencing a more contemporary King-like figure currently in all our lives. Yes, the King’s thing is tiny — nearly imperceptible. But we knew that already.

The HH Pump Bump Award, a hot red stiletto from Hardot, is bestowed upon Peter Walker for his cinematic-worthy portrayal of the Queen’s Lover. 

In case some of you titology-oriented H.H. readers were theorizing about the paratextual elements in Justin Peck’s new ballet The Wind-Up and whether the title could possibly refer to Peck “winding up” his tenure at NYCB, well, keep hoping. More likely, the title referenced Peck winding up the dancers and cutting them loose. Pick popular classical music; then pick popular classical dancers; nothing else matters. Except that it does. 

The Wind-Up is the latest formulaic trope-llet in a long line of them that Peck has made for NYCB. Soul Cycle onesie costumes for the men, GAP-wear for the women, and choreography that looks like Peck said “Show me the steps you like to do and I’ll make something up.” Here he has conflated Dig the Say with Partita to make a diggita that looks like it came out of digital software. We want to remind everyone that NYCB pays this guy more than $378K — for what? The company could give each dancer a $3000 raise instead, and it would be money better spent. Much better spent. 

It was truly wonderful to hear the New York City Ballet Orchestra belt out the First Movement of Beethoven’s Eroica so beautifully. We didn’t mind at all the additional shivers and goosebumps the music gave us on this very cold night. But we wish we’d closed our eyes to the choreography. Peck raced everyone around in circles like scurrying rats. Tiler Peck’s surprise changes in direction and speed are now easily anticipated in Justin Peck’s works. The choreography for everybody else in the cast emulated them. Instead of having Tiler doing fouettes, Peck had Daniel Ulbricht spinning a la seconde turns — winding up for the next Justin Peck diggita. Corps dancer Mia Williams was thrown into the mix of seasoned principals and did not seem particularly comfortable. It’s as though Peck intended to take this lovely classical dancer and roll her in the dirt a little. So she rolled and rolled on the floor while Daniel Ulbricht leaped over her. Mira Nadon was lifted by Chun Wai Chan into sensational arabesques, because, well, you know she looks pretty darn sensational in the air.

To sum this up, we’ll say to NYCB that it’s time to cut ties with Justin Peck. As we eagerly await Ratmansky’s premiere, The Naked King, next week, we can’t help but think of Peck as The Naked Choreographer.

The evening opened with Walpurgisnacht Ballet with Miriam Miller subbing for Sara Mearns. We saw Miller in the pas de deux with Owen Flacke on Monday night at the Inside NYCB program in advance of their scheduled debut together. Flacke was ready but didn’t get to share the stage with Miller on Thursday. Tyler Angle kept his slot and was a distraction from Miller’s beauty. Last night, however, Miller and Flacke scored well with only a few awkward moments. It’s thrilling when we can witness a partnership like this first come out of the incubator. Flacke’s dedication to precision is admirable and he is making great strides in opening up his personality and communicating warmth out to the audience. This is a pair of diamonds, if ever we saw one. Olivia MacKinnon and Sara Adams danced the soloist role on Thursday and Friday. Adams’ dancing had a silky texture and flow to it whereas MacKinnon’s exhibited some frantic movements where she looked under pressure. And what exactly is that we-don’t-give-a-shit position of the arms in the glissades?

Isabella LaFreniere and Ryan Tomash found good chemistry to go with their no-fakes-here fifth positions in Bournonville’s Flower Festival in Genzano PdD on Thursday. Ashley Hod and David Gabriel did the same last night. Both pairs were able to quickly grab the audience with their little story of quaint flirting amid technical virtuosity. We thought that we’d seen the Danes exploit those arabesques that turn to second and turn back to arabesque with a little more adventure. But we enjoyed both performances immensely and plan to go back to see both again.

Opus 19/The Dreamer got a rough start on Thursday night with Alexa Maxwell and Anthony Huxley who was subbing for Joseph Gordon. One would have expected that David Gabriel or Davide Riccardo might have been prepared to dance the man’s very interesting role. Huxley was too light weight for it although all the dancing was clear, complete and executed with commitment. Maxwell’s solo dancing was gorgeous but the matchup with Huxley had difficulties. On Friday night, the pairing of Tiler Peck with a debuting Roman Mejia was more successful. We loved seeing Mejia in a more serious role and cannot wait for Sunday’s ticket-of-the-season matinee when he comes face to face with Emily Kikta’s Siren in Prodigal Son. Oh, it’s going to be brutal.

The HH Pump Bump Award, a diamond stiletto from Jada Dubai, is bestowed upon Miriam Miller for her glowing, Romantic dancing in Walpurgisnacht Ballet.

Tradition is the future was the strong theme running through “Bellow” which just concluded performances at the Irish Arts Center on 11th Ave in Hell’s Kitchen as part of the Under the Radar Festival. In the play, Danny McMahony, the famous accordionist from Ireland who has dedicated his life to traditional Irish classical music met Gary Keegan, a contemporary theatermaker who wanted to make a piece for the stage based on Danny’s lifelong artistic journey. The two clashed as Gary tried to apply contemporary acting theory to convey Danny’s inherent need to make classical music. There was “a rattling” deep inside him, Danny explained, that only his art could calm. The art pushed and pulled him much like the bellow on the accordion pushed and pulled the air to force the music out. Now past his prime, he wondered how he would deal with the painful reckoning that an artist must face when he can no longer live through his art. 

Tradition is the future was the spirit inhabiting the opening performance of New York City Ballet’s winter season last evening. But it seemed to turn into a begrudging spirit when Ratmansky’s Paquita arrived having edited out Balanchine’s Minkus Pas de Trois. What was the point of that? Couldn’t NYCB find three dancers who could handle Balanchine’s choreography? And why wasn’t this shortened version of Paquita announced with explanation beforehand? 

The evening opened with Balanchine’s wondrous Serenade. The musical pace was lethargic and the strings less than bold perhaps in deference to the ballet-geriatric cast, some of whom defied their age and some who didn’t. The opening tableau is always stunningly beautiful — the corps of women so respectful of tradition and the statement that Balanchine made with his simple movements and wispy battements. The grand jete entrance of Sara Mearns was a jarring event — she seemingly vaulted into a colosseum to battle bulls or lions. The grand jetes were effortful, loud, and wince-inducing. There was very little musical modulation in her movement throughout; it was full throttle from start to finish.

The reappearance of Andrian Danchig-Waring came with a sigh of relief that we will continue to have more time with this artist. His own gratefulness for being out on that stage again shown through clearly in his dancing. His allegro was crisp and clear; his jumps space-devouring without compromising form.

Megan Fairchild’s Russian Girl was but a sputtering of what we remember. No big flaws but no big movements and no big arabesques. Emilie Gerrity, the young’un of the bunch, displayed a sacred arabesque as Davide Riccardo rotated her on one leg above the Waltz Girl lying on the floor. 

Prodigal Son fell flat this first evening. It’s hard to imagine Anthony Huxley ever having had a temper tantrum in his life. His display of the rash, impertinent youth wasn’t all that convincing. Miriam Miller’s Siren has gained volume with each performance. Still, we think she could exhibit more poison, more power, more lethal lure. Where Victor Abreu was convincing as one of the servants, Andres Zuniga was not. We’ve previously seen Zuniga emerge from technician to build a character; we’ll be patient for a while because we know he is going to be needed for some of the miraculous half-pints in the corps who are overflowing with talent such as Mia Williams and Olivia Bell.

Other than the disappointment of not seeing the Balanchine Pas de Trois with Paquita, we thoroughly enjoyed the piece. In the production of Bellow referenced above, Danny always chided Gary for referring to a theatrical effort as a “piece” because that made it sound less than complete. Here Ratmansky’s piece without the Pas de Trois was less than it should have been. But the dancing was glorious. Boy, was it ever easy to focus on the lengthy, articulating limbs of Becket Jones and Kylie Vernia in the corps de ballet. Sisters Von Enck tore up the stage with their side-by-side steps and cheeriness. Ashley Hod and Emily Kikta commanded their material like the generals that they are, even though their epaulets are inexplicably missing the stars they have earned. Dominika Afanasenkov, subbing for Ashley Laracey, lacked the length and physical attributes that we remembered from her early performances in Afternoon of a Faun and danced with a sense of self-consciousness.

Mira Nadon and Chun Wai Chan lifted Paquita to a level that Ratmansky may not have expected. Plain and simply put, Nadon has super powers. Last evening she pulled off technical feats like a gorgeous genie emerging from her bottle with treasures to give everyone. There was the control, the geometric perfection of her lines, the calm beauty, and the joyous risk-taking. When she aced her final hops on pointe in arabesque and finished them with a penche, Chun Wai Chan suddenly realized that he had better deliver the tours a la second of his lifetime if he wanted anyone to see that he was still in this performance. He did pretty darn well, and finished them with authoritative pirouettes. 

The guest conductor, José Salazar, who began his ballet conducting at the Royal Ballet did not quite understand what was expected by the NYCB audience. The orchestra sounded restrained on this first night. Hopefully, they’ll be allowed back in their groove quickly.

Our H.H. Pump Bump Award is bestowed upon Mira Nadon for her Wonder Woman performance in Paquita.

In This World of Tomorrow, which just completed its limited run at The Shed last Sunday, Tom Hanks’ character was a scientist who explored the future by re-visiting the past over and over again through time travel. He finally decided to put down roots in 1939 where he found his life’s love during the New York World’s Fair. The sterile glitz of his futuristic AI-does-everything-world with its substitution of algorithms for empathy and machine-based processes for human communication lost out to a world run by human beings. It was a no less complicated time for this man from the future — on the eve of another world war which Hanks’ character was well aware of because, well, he was from the future. But he chose a messy humanity over coldly capable artificiality.

New York City Ballet’s Nutcracker evokes a similar sense of nostalgia for when these holidays were warm social gatherings marked by genuine human interaction and communication. It was much slower and more thoughtful than the ubiquitous electronic blur of knee-jerk reactions that we mismanage more often than not these days. Human intellect and emotions can’t seem to handle the speed with which electronic mechanisms now throw bytes of information at us. It’s like we are compelled to process and react to a lot of disk data that’s missing header records.

Haglund managed to see two wonderful performances of NYCB’s Nutcracker. Emily Kikta and Owen Flacke, paired for the first time in prime time, gave us a glimpse of the excitement that might await us if we are lucky enough to see them together on a more regular basis. There was an immediate sense that this pair had a grandness that could be greater than the sum of their individual artistries. Finally Kikta was rewarded with an appropriately sized partner for her gorgeous statuesque beauty. The second-year corpsman Flacke didn’t just have size; he had polish, fast feet, and a neatness that doesn’t usually come with being in the neighborhood of six and a half feet tall. This  “Big O” is a future MVP and City Ballet point guard extraordinaire. But wait! NYCB doesn’t just have one “Big O”; it has two. Racing down the court right behind Flacke, by mere months and alphabetically, is Oscar Estep — another young corpsman who is stuck in the back of the corps because of his huge size but has us laser focused on his every move. 

While Flacke displayed tremendous potential as a partner — managing the treacherous “blind” stepover pirouettes by Kikta, the shoulder sits, and the notorious promenade at the end of the first section — he did show some signs of weariness in his solo, or perhaps it was just carefulness. 

What a thrill it was to see Kikta as the Sugarplum Fairy again. Her connection with the audience was generous and immediate. She was a fairy to believe in, the one who would deliver the magic that we were about to see with dancing candy canes and flowers. Such fragrance and grace to her dancing — all of it secure and potent with a hint of mysterious Chanel Coco. 

If Kikta’s Sugarplum Fairy reminded us of Coco, the next evening Ashley Hod was No. 5 with her classic elegance and sparkling virtuosity. This is a major ballerina with every detail in place and at the height of her physical power. Her geometrics include sharp angles that can melt into curves at the violin’s signal. She should be recognized as a Diamond, an Emerald, a Waltz Girl, a deaconess of Balanchine’s Black & White canon, and everything in between. Her Cavalier, the beaming Jules Mabie, enjoyed a fabulous role debut and exhibited a maturity that we thought would be years away. Like Kikta and Flacke, the physical match-up of Hod and Mabie was sublime and something that we hope to see actively developed over time. For too long, NYCB has acted like it didn’t really matter who danced with whom. But it does. When the match-ups are attractive physically, musically, and artistically, the performances are truly memorable.

India Bradley and Naomi Corti danced the Dewdrop roles at these performances. Bradley showed great energy but still struggled with eye line focus and immature port de bras. Corti soared in this role like she was heading toward another universe. We are so excited to see her devour the Balanchine repertoire.

Claire VonEnck and Meaghan Dutton-O’Hara nailed the Marzipan soloist role as did Cainan Weber and Victor Abreu with Candy Cane. Lighting up the stage in Tea, Snowflakes and wherever she appeared was Olivia Bell. Ava Sautter and Kloe Walker were gorgeous lead flowers. Both are so ready for bigger challenges.

We’ve certainly covered a lot here: AI, NBA, expensive perfume. Only at HH will one find that depth of variety.

Our HH Pump Award, Gianvito Rossi’s gold bijoux metallic leather ankle strap sandal, is bestowed upon Emily Kikta for her Christmas dream-filling Sugarplum Fairy.

to order dinnerwear for tomorrow. Let’s keep the table conversation light and apolitical, and our snoods & wattles calm.

You know, Giving Tuesday is coming up. This year it’s on December 2nd. Nearly every non-profit organization appeals for donations including New York City Ballet and American Ballet Theatre. Let’s take a brief look at how these two companies aren’t giving back.

NYCB recently concluded one of its worst fall seasons ever during which it foisted mediocre contemporary choreography onto its audience while soaking attendees with higher ticket prices and fees and denying audiences its brand product: Balanchine classics. ABT did slightly better during its fall season but has planned a spring season that is a rip-off. Seventy minutes of Othello which amounts to ⅔ of a program at full-program prices; an excerpt from Raymonda Act III which is about 15 minutes even with generous pausing for applause on a bill with Firebird which is 47 minutes — a total of an hour of dancing at full-program prices; Mozartiana which is 32 minutes with Firebird which is 47 minutes, a total of 79 minutes plus some unidentified PdD, possibly the 3 minute PdD from Ashton’s Rhapsody. If ABT can’t scrape together enough programing to fill close to two hours with an intermission, they should adjust their ticket prices to account for what is missing. 

If NYCB and ABT want the public to pony up on Giving Tuesday, they should think about what they are giving in return. NYCB’s blatant effort to minimize its founder’s unparalleled contributions to the art form are an artistic and marketing failure. It smacks of the numb-brained CEO demanding his company take a certain direction without understanding the product line or the consumer. 

Yes, Tide. Since its introduction in 1946 Tide has continued to be P&G’s best selling brand. It is still packaged in the same color and still shelved at premium eye level in the stores. It  has been cast as powdery, cast as liquid, cast with different scents, cast in different sized containers. It is still the “washday miracle” that it was 80 years ago. It is still holding up the sales for P&G, and it is still the top brand. NYCB should be more respectful of its own miraculous products from 80-some years ago.

We are in a time when NYCB and ABT plan how to give the least while charging the most. Think about that on Giving Tuesday. 

Soup kitchens stretch every dollar to feed the most they possibly can for the good of humankind. Animal shelters like Bideawee extend their reach to wherever dogs and cats need them. WQXR plays the ballet music that we’re not hearing much of in the ballet venues. Giving Tuesday isn’t just about giving money. Salvation Army needs your stuff. Housing Works needs your stuff. New York Coat Drive needs your coats. Dozens of food pantries need your help.

So when that glitzy, teary appeal from NYCB or ABT lands in your inbox, think about how they give and who gives better.

So much casting has come out this week for various runs, but it’s missing important names.

Why aren’t we seeing Ashley Hod and Jules Mabie cast as NYCB’s Sugarplum Fairy and Her Cavalier? Where is Alexa Maxwell’s SPF and Dewdrop? Where is Alexa Maxwell’s SPF and Dewdrop? We have to ask twice.

Moving around – ABT’s Nutcracker casting is missing big names due to injuries. Thomas Forster and Devon Teuscher are disturbingly absent. While we love Devon’s recent and very glamorous art photos for the Valentino Garavani line, we’d rather see photos of her slogging away in PT to get her foot back functioning and maybe some simple walking around in sneakers seriously waving her Mozartiana arms the way Irina Kolpakova might do. This would go a long way toward cheering us up.

The Segerstrom crowd is in for some seismic Christmas events — the good kind of seismic. Michael de la Nuez debuts in Ratmansky’s riveting choreography for the Nutcracker Prince opposite Christine Shevchenko. You do not want to miss this. Jake Roxander and Lea Fleytoux will deliver fresh magic in those roles. But we are past due seeing Patrick Frenette as the Nutcracker Prince. He would never miss bowing his head down at the end of the Prince’s variation like some others have. 

Maybe we could bundle Patrick and Alexa together and find some local New York Nutcracker for them to do? It would be like a full circle moment from when they attended SAB together. That would be way better than pulling last year’s Christmas fruitcake out of the freezer and trying to feed it to guests again.

To conclude the first week of its fall season at Lincoln Center, Paul Taylor Dance Company offered up quite the Sunday service of Speaking in Tongues and Offenbach Overtures, both brilliantly danced with a sharp, bold energy. The company looked superb. 

Speaking in Tongues, which Taylor choreographed in 1988, references a lot of grimy goings-on in the context of a Southern pentecostal church. The dance was made during the time of the televangelist scandals of Jim Bakker and Jimmy Swaggart, the Assemblies of God investigation, and when the first sheet was pulled back on the Catholic Church abuse crisis. If Antony Tudor had not left this earth the year before the premiere, he might have sat in the theater awestruck by his former student’s crisping of the moral failings of the church. 

At Sunday’s matinee, Lee Duveneck as A Man of the Cloth revealed layer upon layer of evil within his character, a devil’s food cake of a performance. Everyone in the cast took their characters to their lowest morality with conviction, passion, and divine dancing.

The fluffy, flouncy Offenbach Overtures was the blissful relief to the sordid church community. The mustachioed, elaborate-hatted men and the sassy French-ruffled women all in hibiscus-gone-mad red were delicious in their comedic waltzing and galloping.

Speaking in Tongues is on the bill this coming Friday, November 14th along with Gossamer Gallants, the bug-infested hysteria from 2011. Don’t miss it. Ticketing on the Koch Theater website is a challenge these days because most people who set up purchasing accounts cannot get in to buy anything. One either has to call the box office or use a second email address that is unknown to the Koch system and check out as a guest, not an account holder. The system has been malfunctioning for quite some time — not acceptable for a Lincoln Center theater.