A dear reader alerted us to Wiener Staatsoper’s production of Alexei Ratmansky’s Of Love And Rage being produced there under the title Kallirhoe. The performance is available for free streaming for two more days.

You can download the app for the Wiener Staatsoper from the App Store and create a free account . The entire ballet, which includes an appearance by Marcelo Gomes as König von Babylon, is available for the next two days.

We also noted that in other performances Cassandra Trenary performs the role of Kallirhoe.

It is such a shame that ABT failed to bring back this ballet after the year of its sensational premiere. Such waste of an opportunity.

American Ballet Theatre’s opening night program, Twyla @ 60, is a misnomer. Twyla is really 84 — a thumping, jumping, pumping, romping 84; 84 and wanting more, as they say. But she’s been making dances for 60 years. It was nearly a half century ago that she made her first work for ABT and its new star, Mikhail Baryshnikov. She pushed ABT into a new era with Push Comes to Shove in which Baryshnikov wiggled and rocked and mocked and sizzled. It’s been a tough challenge for ballet, ABT in particular, to cast anyone as impactful as Baryshnikov in the lead role. They’re still working on it. Good luck to them.

Wednesday evening, Isaac Hernandez strode out beneath the bowler hat with a self-conscious imitation of cool. The “I am it” swagger was missing, and the steps were not tossed off with the comical ease that they should have been. But he was technically secure in Tharp’s challenges. The aspect of Push that made Baryshnikov such a hit was the surprise of this consummate classical technician melting down into Tharp’s downtown craziness. The surprise wasn’t there in this first performance. Haglund kept thinking what a hoot it would be to see soloist Takumi Miyake trade his ingrained classical elegance for a bowler hat and silks.

Christine Shevchenko and Breanne Granlund were fantastic in the van Hamel & Tcherkassky roles without imitating the originators. Shevchenko possessed the surprise factor that the dance needed. In true Tharp form, she conveyed nonchalance while executing everything meticulously. Granlund’s mastery of the Tharp style and her comfort and joy in dancing it was another pleasant surprise. Lea Flèytoux in Movement II projected like a giant. It was amazing how this tiny dancer could have such a huge effect on stage and communicate with such power. In Movement III, Jarod Curley entered to dance with Shevchenko. What a relief it was to see him moving like a house-a-fire with all that joy in his face after such a long injury absence. 

This Twyla @ 60 evening opened with the company’s debut of Sextet. The piece was originally made for a Tharp program at NY City Center in 1992 that featured Isabelle Guerin, Allison Brown, Robert LaFosse and other dancers from the Paris Opera Ballet. Haglund doesn’t recall seeing it then but it must have been interesting to see POB dancers trying to stifle their French refinement to unpack Tharp’s jam-packed choreography. Thirty-three years later, it retains Tharp’s brand of organized chaos but not the gleam of innovation for which she was known. Been there, done that, seen that since 1992. To their credit, the dancers shone brightly, especially Skylar Brandt, Catherine Hurlin, and Daniel Camargo. All three were able to dispatch the complex choreography with amused twinkles in their eyes.

A revival of Bach Partita was sandwiched between Sextet and Push. Its principal dancing suffered noticeably. However, the underlying duos of Lèa Fleytoux with Takumi Miyake, Fangqi LI with Michael de la Nuez, and Virginia Lensi with Finnian Carmeci made this watchable. While Christine Shevchenko with Calvin Royal III and Chloe Misseldine with James Whiteside were on top of the choreography, if a bit effortfully, Isabella Boylston and Andrew Robare struggled with their pas de deux and surprisingly with their solo moments.

The evening was hampered by the over-reliance on stringed music, either played by soloist or small chamber during the first two-thirds of the program. By the time Push Comes to Shove arrived with the full orchestra, the audience had had its melatonin. A more musically balanced program would have been more successful.

The H.H. Pump Bump Award, a modest stiletto of delicate sparkle and charm, is bestowed upon Lèa Fleytoux, a small star with sun-sized brilliance. 

It’s tiring. 

Every three years we have to go through this tug of war between NYCB dancers and management over the contract. There are practical solutions that NYCB’s board, along with other nonprofit boards, can advocate.

But first, the obvious. $378K for Justin Peck needs to be eliminated. $378K / 100 or so dancers = a pay increase of nearly $3800/yr.

Secondly, Katherine Brown at $745K — come on. For $32 million in contributed revenue, how can NYCB justify more than $250K for an Executive Director? Cut her loose or cut her back. Re-evaluate those administrative salaries and redistribute them. The gap between a nonprofit Executive Director and the lowest paid full time employee should not exceed 4:1. Corporate wage gaps of 281:1 and salaries based on for-profit corporate budgets should have nothing to do with what a nonprofit organization pays its executives. The claim that high executive salaries in nonprofits are required to get competent people simply isn’t true.

Thirdly, re-open the 4th ring to the 4th Ring Society @ $10-15 per seat and assertively push those seats to all the past members, seniors, employees of other nonprofits, and city employees.

Next, plan programing that the core audience wants to see and enjoy. It is arrogant for programmers to think they know what an audience needs to see. This has been a dreadful Fall Season of programing. The company is so off course that it really needs to reset itself immediately.

NYCB is producing artists who acquire formidable business educations in their off-time. Hire from within, not from outside. 

NYCB needs streaming income, and that income must be shared equally among all current employees—penny for penny, equally. Just stop haggling over this and Get It Done.

We need some forward-thinking on state tax legislation. It doesn’t make sense (to Haglund) that a nonprofit organization does not pay income taxes so that all of its revenue can be poured into the charitable activity on behalf of the community, but the nonprofit employees who are actually engaged in the activity must be fully taxed. Maybe a better alternative would be to redistribute the charitable non-tax privilege to part organization and part employees of the organization.

There’s not enough imagination going into potential solutions. It’s always the same exercise of people trying to beat each other down, the same arrogant lawyering, the same stress-inducing nonsense.

It’s tiring. 

______________________________

Congratulations to Victor Abreu, Dominika Afanasenkov, Naomi Corti, India Bradley, Mary Thomas MacKinnon, Andres Zuniga on their promotions to soloists at New York City Ballet. Now, if we could move six or seven soloists up to principal, that would be nice. We’re happy to see all of these promotions, but it’s going to take a lot of work and time to get them to the next level, if in fact that can be done. Meanwhile, newer corps dancers with possibly more potential are starting to stand out: Flacke, Klesa, Sautter, Mia Williams, Kloe Walker, and even apprentice Keenan Kiefer. 

Beckett told Haglund to revisit Voices, an experimental effort by Alexei Ratmansky for New York City Ballet, first performed in 2020. Rather than fitting ballet steps to music, Ratmansky attached them to a mostly unintelligible voice recording of five women — their ramblings further obscured with single piano recorded by Peter Ablinger that recalls the tradition of the Theater of the Absurd. The voices belong to women artists of the mid-20th century and are sourced from interviews or words read by them. It doesn’t matter what the women are saying because most of their words can’t be deciphered. Maybe that’s one of the points; maybe not. In the choreography, the women cut loose from complacent classicism in solos while the men control the stage with their testo-tribal authority. In the end as the curtain drops, they all have fallen into line — the same line — and are engaged together in the same thing. Okay.

Last week while listening to Keanu Reeves and Alex Winter jabber away in Samuel Beckett’s Waiting for Godot at the Hudson Theatre, Haglund realized that his own focus should not be on the words and their nonsense as it was some 50 years ago when he first read the play. The words, themselves, don’t matter. Nothing matters. Waiting around for Godot to show up to explain everything is a waste of time, because even if he did show up, whatever he said wouldn’t matter. Perhaps what might matter is the simple need and effort to communicate — not that what was being communicated matters. It’s not a human need but a need inherent in all forms of animal life – birds, goats, and humans alike. In the play when the character Lucky babbles away incoherently with the quiet authority of a religious or political leader, one cannot possibly comprehend his streams of nonsense, but one is completely captivated by his melodious sincerity.

Props to Ratmansky for his sincerity in creating Voices but it still doesn’t speak to Haglund. It doesn’t matter. The steps, at times, respond to the rhythm of the dialogue or piano or to an occasional word that apparently inspires a mimicking choreographic response—onomatopography. There — we said it out loud on this blog. Onomatopography. We can occasionally appreciate Ratmansky’s dabbling in absurdity or even absurd abstractionism. It can be fun, like when Haglund opened the Playbill to the casting of Voices and saw no dancers but immediately saw a tree:

The evening’s program included Jamar Robert’s Foreseeable Future with Iris Halpern’s costume designs which were definitely giving strong Victoria Secret vibes. The huge wings attached to the women, beautiful as they were, limited the women to choreography that protected their wings rather than allowing them to dance freely. The choreography for all was unsophisticated with a lot of arm waving that the dancers tried in vain to make special. Of course, when a choreographer throws Taylor Stanley onto the stage, he knows that the artist can bring any rigamorgraphy to life. Yeah, yeah, yeah, the NYCB dancers just live to have stuff like this made on them. BS. 

Thrown into the mix was William Forsythe’s pas de deux from Herman Schmerman – not enough to save the evening but a respite from the drivel. Forsythe, inspired by Balanchine’s and Arpino’s use of hyperextensions in choreography, spawned a slew of imitators who haven’t possessed his breath of balletic knowledge or imagination but have run with the ideas of dislocating dancers’ joints by tortuously stretching their limbs. Herman Schmerman’s shm-reduplication throughout the choreography illustrates both admiration for and derision toward conventional ballet. This performance was filled with surprises from Tiler Peck whose message to Roman Mejia seemed to be “be ready for anything”. Peck is simply a once in a generation marvel of an artist, and Mejia is doing an increasingly effective job of making their pas de deux a lot more than the sum of their parts.

Also on the program was Composer’s Holiday by Gianna Reisen, a collection of phrasal nothings that looked like they could have been made by Beckett’s Lucky. We can no longer tolerate NYCB’s continued subsidizing of this DEI emblem or the other amateurish choreographers who don’t know how to utilize the company’s talent. Get back to business. New work should come from the experts, not the novices and wannabes.

To borrow from Beckett, there was no lack of void in this program. It is evenings like these that drive us away from New York City Ballet and lead us out the door. Let’s go. We can’t. Why not? We’re waiting for Balanchine — and Ratmansky.

You know, a piano performance of Bach’s The Goldberg Variations can range from 39 minutes to 92 minutes depending on whether all the repeats are played. Some pianists have skipped the repeats to make them fit onto a recording or because they’re, well, repeats. We cautiously mention this while being fully aware of the risk of inadvertently prompting New York City Ballet to suddenly decide, “Oh gosh, let’s add a See the Music session on The Goldberg Variations program” in order to make the audience truly appreciate all the repetitions that they are hearing and seeing on the stage. Repeating the repetitions repeatedly is not the way to the New York City Ballet audience’s heart. We’ll try not to repeat that.

Thursday evening’s performance of Robbins’ The Goldberg Variations and Balanchine’s Tschaikovsky Suite No. 3 had some good moments, most of which came after the intermission. Goldberg’s highlight, besides the committed and lovely piano playing by guest artist William Wolfram, was the vivacious dancing of Ashley Hod with Jules Mabie and a surprisingly gallant and maturing Andres Zuniga with Emma Von Enck. They with the others skedaddled around, paused for long looks into someone’s eyes, and then meandered off only to return later to essentially the same music. There were points in the ballet where it seemed Robbins’ was saying “Oh heck, if Bach can repeat himself then so can I” and then we would see something that reminded us of Afternoon of a Faun or Fancy Free or Interplay or Dances at a Gathering.

The evening caught a big breath of fresh air when Tschaikovsky Suite No. 3 began. Emily Kikta and Peter Walker danced the Elegie gloriously, but we’re not sold on them dancing together; their physicality is very different and not well balanced. When is the day going to come when we see Emily joined by the huge and hugely elegant Owen Flacke for a spin around the stage? Listen, Flacke and Charlie Klesa were dancing like there was no tomorrow in the demis section of Theme and Variations. At one point, they took our eyes away from the principals. 

The highlight of the evening was Ashley Laracey with Alec Knight in the second movement Valse Melancolique. There is such unique and compelling beauty in Ashley’s musicality and dramatic shading along with crystal clear work by the legs and feet that it is baffling why NYCB doesn’t grant this long-time soloist the respect and recognition that she deserves. Worth repeating: It is never too late to do the right thing.

India Bradley and KJ Takahashi flew through the Scherzo section without making much of an impression. While Takahashi may fit well into Justin Peck’s repertory, he doesn’t particularly please in other ballets because he tends to dance them like they are Justin Peck sneaker ballets. There is high energy and fierce allegro but no lines, no drama, no elegance, no personality, no legs. India was lovely on her first entrance but then struggled with some of the trickier turns. She danced with her chin and head up but her eyes focused down much of the time.

Theme and Variations performed by Tiler Peck and Roman Mejia with demi-soloist roles danced by senior corps & soloists kicked a good amount of life into the evening. The tempi may not have challenged Tiler enough to bring out her spectacular brand of chase, but she certainly was no slouch. It just looked a little too comfortable and easy for her. The clarity and phrase shaping was amazing as was her rapport with Roman who we have to accept is never going to express elegance & chivalry when there’s an opportunity to strut. That said, the relaxed tempi was such that there was more than enough time in the pirouette/double tour series for him to attempt double pirouette/double tour, but he played it safe and delivered a steady, clear ending to the variation. His caring and careful partnering made us appreciate another side of him.

If the order of this program had been reversed, we would have bought tickets to every performance throughout the week and left at intermission. As it is, we’re only going to see one cast. NYCB should re-think its programing strategy, if there is one, so that it encourages people to come instead of repelling them.

Our H.H. Pump Bump Award, Venus by Badgley Mischka, is bestowed upon Ashley Laracey for her defining performance in Valse Melancolique.

It’s hard to remember when we last wrote that the best thing on the New York City Ballet’s repertory program was a ballet by Peter Martins, but Thursday night was one of those times. The program underscored NYCB’s current dilemma which is reconciling what the audience wants to see with the unpopular selections curated by Wendy Whelan and the self-promoting influence of Justin Peck. Ticket-buying core audience members are being driven away by the mediocrity being ladled over the company’s strong brand ballets. 

There was that time when Jerome Robbins decided to move on from trying to co-direct NYCB and allow Martins to do his job. We are there again; Whelan and Peck need to move on and stop interfering with the company’s programing of Balanchine’s greatest masterpieces in favor of the mostly junk like what was on the bill Thursday night.

The only choreographic highlight of Thursday night’s show was Zakouski, an offering of musical and dance hors d’oeuvres that Peter Martins created in 1992 for Margaret Tracy and Nikolaj Hübbe. The music chosen for the ballet came from the last quarter of the 19th century and the first quarter of the 20th — a compilation of Rachmaninoff, Stravinsky, Prokofiev, and Tschaikovsky, the last three composers dear to Balanchine’s heart — and was played passionately from the orchestra pit by violinist Kurt Nikkanen and pianist Hanna Hyunjung Kim. 

The costumes by Barbara Matera seemed to be full of message, but what message? Joseph Gordon was wrapped in lovely plum while Megan Fairchild tried her best to wear the ostentatious fiery orange-red ruffled skirt thingy with strange sequin placement. She & ostentatious just don’t get along, never have; no worries, she always wins out anyway. 

The choreography itself is a curious mix of passionate response to the music and analytical WWGBD, but it works. Transitioning from Rachmaninoff’s Volcalise right into Stravinsky’s Parasha’s Song requires some fancy footwork which Gordon possessed abundantly. On display was his inheritance of Martins’ contrasting weight-deep-into-the-ground that launched into sharply-sliced allegro. Then he added to it his own confidence and “let me show you this” enthusiasm. Fairchild’s feet and legs were humming along, bravely jumping up and down on pointe until they weren’t. Splat. But it was a great belly splat, right on her mark in the middle of the stage. Seemingly she was unhurt and moved through the rest of the choreography without hesitation or loss of focus giving it a stylish and warm treatment. The choreography for the woman is perplexing in that it initially looks like it was made for an adagio dancer with long limbs; then it seems to evolve into allegro for a shorter athletic dancer. In thinking back, Margaret Tracey was that type of dancer—able to master a mesmerizing, elongated Afternoon of a Faun and also ring the heck out of Liberty Bell.

Also on this bill was Gianna Reisen’s Signs, an embarrassing effort at replicating Twyla Tharp’s style to Philip Glass music reminiscent of Tharp’s In the Upper Room and other dances. Sappy, unimaginative, derivative, cliched —  it bleated, “Please reward me for trying.” On NYCB’s stage, no choreographer gets rewarded just for trying. Either the work is great or it shouldn’t be there—let alone be there over and over again. Jeeze Louise, enuff already with this student showcase stuff.

Red Angels was totally watchable because of the strong casting of Mira Nadon, Taylor Stanley, Ashley Hod, and Jules Mabie. The casting sheet indicated that this was a debut for everyone but Nadon. However, we seem to recall watching Ashley Hod rip through this ballet with her fierce, seductive, razor sharp dancing at a summer BAAND Together performance in 2022 along with Davide Riccardo, Emilie Gerrity, and Peter Walker who were formally representing NYCB. Again Thursday night, she thrilled with her intensity which complemented Nadon’s burning heat and glamour, and melded with Jules Mabie like it had not occurred to us would happen. Taylor Stanley possessed the lithe limb and torso wriggle that is the mark of this Ulysses Dove dance. He scorched it in his own humble and modest way.

The company premiere of Justin Peck’s Heatscape was mostly difficult to sit through. Peck’s penchant for using other choreographer’s ideas to pump up his choreography is well-known. In this instance, the music by Bohuslav Martinů (Concerto No. 1 for Piano and Orchestra) generally pre-dates the Shostakovich concertos that Ratmansky has favored in many of his ballets but has a similar racing quality. Peck’s choreography clearly aims to be a knock-off of Ratmansky’s Concerto DHCR, Piano Concerto No. 1 and Namouna while claiming originality with cliches like a line of dancers running forward toward the audience. It’s hyper-kinetic while also being monotonous — some kind of achievement, we guess.

The costumes by Reid and Harriet were, of course, not stage worthy. Men in short legged boxer type 1950’s white tennis shorts and muscle shirts; the women in short tennis shifts. The temptation is to say that the costumes could not have been less appealing, but we know with Reid and Harriet ballet designs there’s never a lowest point; it can always get worse. The art design by Shepard Fairey featured a faded print of a red sun with star-face in the middle which we’ll swear we’ve seen on tee-shirts at Old Navy. 

NYCB is spending an extraordinary $378K on Justin Peck for his “advice” and choreography. His effect on NYCB has been to lower the quality of what goes on its stage. That $378K could be better used to add a few Balanchine blockbusters to the fall season which was sorely lacking this year. In summary, the fall season in terms of repertory sucked mostly, and we’re glad it’s on its way out.

But let’s end on a positive note. Our H.H. Pump Bump Award, a Dolce & Gabbana red original from the old days, is bestowed upon Ashley Hod in Red Angels who continues to dance at a high principal level even without the appropriate recognition from management. 

It is almost as though New York City Ballet is trying to use trickling Balanchine programing to falsely strengthen the river-flow of mostly sub-par contemporary programing that it wants to wash over the audience. Where are the big ballets? Serenade, Jewels, Symphony in C, Stravinsky Violin Concerto, Four Temperaments, Mozartiana, Slaughter, Tchaikovsky Piano Concerto No 2? 

New York City Ballet can no longer claim that it has the best Balanchine dancers in the world. The world is now full of them and full of dancers who are so good that only a handful of self-proclaimed experts can see stylistic differences. Now, more than ever, New York City Ballet must shore up its foundational masterpieces and rely upon them while it searches for choreographic accoutrements for its repertory. There will never be another Balanchine. There will never be another Chagall. There will never be another Tchaikovsky. Does this mean that the art world should try to negate these geniuses or tamp down their voices to make lesser artists seem more important? Haven’t we had enough of authorities silencing important voices in favor of nonsense?

This little program of Square Dance, Episodes, and Western Symphony on Wednesday night was danced well for the most part. One can’t complain about Megan Fairchild and Anthony Huxley burning through Square Dance like a pile of hay on fire. They crackled and threw sparks. It was a relief to see Huxley back on stage after last seeing him in an orthopedic boot with crutches. His connection with the audience was as strong as ever; he pulled the viewer in with a sense of interior life that made us want to look more closely. In the corps de ballet, Olivia Bell projected so much joy and confidence in every step, and truly made us appreciate all that the corps must do in this ballet. We also noted the welcomed return of Samuel Melnikov who has been out of action for far too long.

Episodes enjoyed formidable principal casting. Isabella LaFreniere and Chun Wai Chan in the first movement Opus 21, Alexa Maxwell and Taylor Stanley in the third movement Opus 24, and Mira Nadon with Adrian Danchig-Waring in the final Musical Offering were strong and clear in their dancing but didn’t emphasize the black and white of the choreography. It all seemed to have the same tone to it. However, Ashley Hod and Alex Knight in the second movement Opus 10 gave their work dramatic definition that easily held the viewer’s attention. The corps de ballet included several new dancers and apprentices who were not always coordinated. Both Mckenzie Bernardino Soares and Quinn Starner were oily orange to the point of being distracting. Her habit of standing with her weight back instead of forward and arching the back while puffing out the chest doesn’t fit with the aesthetic of the company. It’s too gymnast-like and circus-y.

Western Symphony received fine principal performances in each section. Ashley Laracey and Jules Mabie were well-matched in the Allegro. She is ever-youthful whereas he is literally youthful like a puppy. Ashley gushed with elegance and charm, her technique solid as a rock. Hopefully, management will come to its senses and recognize her formally as a principal. Laracey, Kikta, and Hod are way overdue for promotions. As the saying goes, It’s never too late to do the right thing. Mabie’s debut was delightful for its skilled allegro and theatrical bounce. His pirouettes were working very well for him, and he skillfully set aside his natural modesty for that of an eager cowboy. In addition to being a fine technician and competent partner, Mabie showed that he’s an interesting dancer. We’re really looking forward to following his journey at NYCB. In the corps, Ava Sautter and Owen Flacke were perfectly stylish and threatened to highjack our attention throughout the ballet.

Aaron Sanz and Indiana Woodward played against one another in the Adagio section with a sense of slick & sly. He was the overly-confident cowboy; she was like the smarter-than-average saloon girl who knew how to get a good tip from the customer. Once again, Olivia Bell along with Mia Williams were eye-catching for their superb and joyous dancing.

Emily Kikta was perfection as the coy but abundantly charming flirt while Roman Mejia, yet another overly-confident cowboy (will they ever learn?), simply would not give up on his pursuit of her. The two were able to exaggerate their height differences to great comedic effect. Mejia let his turns and jumps rip as did Kikta in her appropriately flashy fouettes.

The first week of the fall season has not held a lot of interest for us. NYCB should re-think its programing strategy to give the audience more of what it wants, not what management wants it to want.

Our H.H. Pump Bump Award is bestowed upon Emily Kikta and Ashley Laracey for their sparkling performances in Western Symphony and to Ashley Hod for plumbing the contemporary depth in Episodes. 

The movers lost an entire crate of Haglund’s most prized shoes. This world being what it is these days, we’re positive they were stolen. If anyone sees the Bang-up Job Moveristas pedaling their rose-colored carts along Hell’s Kitchen’s sidewalks wearing size 12 Louboutins, please contact Haglund immediately. 

Speaking of rose-colored attire, New York City Ballet opened its Fall 2025 season dancing Donizetti Variations in Karinska’s luxurious costumes. Megan Fairchild possessed the spiritous enthusiasm that has marked her entire career, now in its final year. Swift and exacting pointes marked her elocution like sharp consonants while her musicality flowed with joy. Joseph Gordon danced with such a high personal standard that he, as Daniel Ulbricht has done for so many years, stands apart from the other men in the company by dedicating his performances to raising the bar each time. He may have inspired the other three men in the cast — Kennard Henson, Charlie Klesa, and Mckenzie Bernardino Soares — because they came ready with the energy, crisp clear feet, confident partnering, and showmanship that helped make this a first-rate performance. The ladies were also raring to go, particularly Claire Von Enck and Ava Sautter.

We don’t recall having seen Balanchine’s Ballade but Mira Nadon made us want to see it again. Mira + Fauré = immediate intoxication. Obviously, much care was taken to get her ready for this role that was originally made for Merrill Ashley, but unfortunately, it didn’t seem like much attention was given to her partner, Peter Walker. His partnering was responsible and caring, but his solo dancing looked like it needed several more rehearsals. The corps of short women really didn’t add anything to the ballet and looked odd dancing behind the two very tall principals. Odder still was the arched back with ribs pushed forward like a gymnast that we observed from one of the women.

Whenever we see the beginning of Balanchine’s heartless, soulless adaptation of the classic Swan Lake with the hanging icicles and the line of swans “swimming” through the obviously unfrozen lake, we think that Balanchine may have choreographed a scene for an episode of Lucille Ball and her friend Ethel. What follows is so bad that it almost has to be comical. We can’t think of any other Balanchine choreography that is more unmusical, more lacking in story, more ridiculously staged with huntsmen who appear out of nowhere to fumble around frenetically before disappearing into the night. Isabella LaFreniere would make a gorgeous Odette in a Swan Lake. Here, in the more traditional moments that resembled Ivanov’s choreography, she was lovely. She had no problem effectively dispatching the choreography and communicating with the mime, but to what end? Chun Wai Chan is capable of portraying a full and captivating Siegfried. We saw it opposite Yuriko Kajiya at Houston Ballet. But here, it felt like we were observers passing by Siegfried’s crisis without knowing the reason for it. Could someone please explain why this production is worthwhile?

The evening’s programing should have been stronger for an opening night, and it isn’t strong enough to be repeated as many times as it is this fall. Clearly, NYCB has for quite some time been cutting back on the amount of repertory it presents each season and cutting back even more on Balanchine’s masterpieces in favor of presenting his less than top drawer choreography. It’s not a good strategy. We’re not going to sit through this program again. Our H.H. Pump Bump Award is bestowed upon Joseph Gordon for constantly reaching for something more within his performances.

Thanks for stopping by.

We got to our new home safe and sound, but it was a very bumpy trip.

It appears all posts have been saved. We’ll be painting, wallpapering and moving stuff around in the coming weeks.

Not sure exactly to where yet, but our H.H. blog service, TypePad, is closing its theater doors for good and bringing down the curtain for its last performance on September 30th. So, we are on the hunt for new digs with more stylish furniture.  Stay tuned, but just bear in mind that all the fine TypePad sites — arts, health, political, lifestyle, all of them — will be disappearing on September 30th.

Edited to add:

Good heavens. Thanks for the notes. Yes, we will be exporting the blog posts to some other host and continuing on.