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.

and we’re off and running in the 2026 tournament of ballet champions.

The universe is sprinkling such good karma all over Haglund. Tomorrow New York City Ballet opens the spring season with a superbly cast program of Balanchine favorites; it’s opening day for pickleball in Central Park where the magnolias are showing off like buffoons; the weather is going to be perfect (50º + sun = 60º court temps); and it’s his birthday!

Haglund has been binge-buying ballet tickets lately. In addition to a gluttonous spring season, the summer ballet picnic will be packed with Onegins, Sylvias, Swans, and those high calorie, brain freezing DQs. When he recently sent through his ’26-’27 NYCB subs online, TD Bank paused his purchase to ask, “Dude, are you sure?!” Of course he’s sure! Moderation is so overrated.

Let’s go, people. Let’s get to the theater!

Earlier this week McHaglund O’Heel wandered over to Carnegie Hall to hang with the famous Irish fiddler Martin Hayes and The Common Ground Ensemble to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day. Hayes and the Ensemble have a home-away-from-home at the Irish Arts Center in Hell’s Kitchen; so, it was with great pride that the H.K. Irish folks jigged & back-clicked our way en masse over to the great hall for their debut.

Hayes is a specialist in Traditional Irish music. He formed the Common Ground Ensemble “as a collaborative project to facilitate a musical dialogue between Irish traditional music and other traditions, genres, and artistic disciplines.” Their performances include percussive dancing, poetry, and music that utilizes a variety of instruments including the bouzouki, cello, piano, concertina, guitar, harmonium and harp. It’s a very lively group.

Hayes says that Traditional Irish music “is a living, breathing tradition that does not belong to any one era; it lives through renewal.”

It lives through renewal.

No nonsense talk about moving the art form forward to some unknown destination or over a cliff or forcing it to be relevant to whatever a particular generation deems relevant. It lives through renewal. 

So does ballet. Tradition is the future.

The ballerina wasn’t the only one praying during the Mozartiana Preghiera section on Friday the 13th. After what seemed her interminable absence due to a resentful tendon in the foot, we were gratified and relieved to see Devon Teuscher relevé to such a high level of grace in this Balanchine masterpiece. We’ll forgive if she did not have 100% confidence in that foot and was overthinking a little bit. It was a good start back, hopefully a comeback that will not be interrupted again. This was not the promised Theme and Variations that still lives in our dreams, but it was more than sufficient to keep us happy.

Joo Won Ahn also served this ballet and his ballerina well. His beats and turns were crisp and clean, and his eager elegance was just right for role. The steadiness of his partnering was especially important on this evening. He knows this ballerina well and was able to anticipate her needs perhaps even before she did. However, we wish we would see 90° arabesques from him again and more attention to stretching the leg lines in the air.

Jake Roxander’s dancing in the Gigue was superb in all respects. The tempo was sluggish and really did a disservice to the dancer by taking the urgency (and challenge) out of the steps. We’ve seen enough soloist work from this dancer. His choppers are ready for a big steak, and we are counting the hours until his Basilio debut this summer. 

The four women in the Menuet were fine, but not more. The overly long tutus were fussy and, along with the dreadfully slow tempo, diminished the dancing. 

Throughout the ballet the tempi almost made it sound like Tchaikovsky was mocking Mozart. It could have been the background music for a Geritol commercial. While the Preghiera speed was okay, the music never built during sequences where it needed to, such as in the horizontal bourrees. It was terribly lackluster, like it was being performed in a little room for ten people. Honestly, the audience usually cringes at how ABT nearly always constipates the music to Balanchine ballets.

The other complaint, an ongoing gripe, is the horrible black floor which ABT insists on importing into this theater that comes equipped with a beautiful floor cherished by some of the world’s greatest ballet dancers. The scuffed-up black floor under the black tutus and black tights worn by Roxander was unappealing and distracting. The dancers, all dressed in black, actually receded; when the curtain opened, the ballerina appeared to be standing six feet farther upstage than we are accustomed to seeing. Furthermore, this floor amplifies the shoe noise. How could ABT not recognize the disservice that this black floor does to its productions and dancers?

Jiří Kylián’s Nuages performed exquisitely by Hee Seo and Thomas Forster put us on Cloud Nine. Haglund doesn’t remember the ABT premiere of this pas de deux in 2014 by Diana Vishneva and Marcelo Gomes, but imagines that they melted the Marley in those days. Friday night Seo and Forster were beyond sublime. 

Nuages is early-Kylián. We see here the fresh beginnings of his style: the introduction of the dancers with their backs to us, the sudden falls to the knees followed by soaring lifts, the deep bends in the ballerina’s back, the V-shaped arms, the blessed dancing of the same steps by men and women. Kylián uses the floor with Graham accents perhaps more than any other ballet choreographer. His work is the perfect fusion of ballet and modern dance. The lighting design, backdrop and of course the title all depict clouds, but Debussy’s music (Trois Nocturnes) brings to mind La Mer which came some years later and Prélude à l’Après-midi d’un faune that came a few years before Nuages. It was beautifully interpreted by the ABT Orchestra.

Seo, dancing on the occasion of her 40th birthday, could not have been more lovely. She retains the gorgeous lines and pliable back that have been her calling card for her entire career. Here she launched into the hazardous swoons and knee pirouettes with total confidence, and engaged the music and her partner with a potent reserve that conveyed more than any overtly emotional response could. Forster deserved her confidence. His partnering was magnificent in its strength and ease. His naturally low-key demeanor (although not forgetting how his Stepsister ran those pearls through her teeth a decade ago) was the perfect expressive match with Seo. Both dancers still have much to give.

The program concluded with Ratmansky’s Firebird which seems more a novelty take-off than an interpretation. The choreographer has remade the story into a Buster Keaton comedy where masses of dancers raced around, suddenly paused, raced some more. The cluttering clattering steps didn’t serve Stravinsky’s incredible music at all. It used the music, but it didn’t serve it on this night when it was so gloriously played by the ABT Orchestra.

There was no question that the Firebird came out like a house a’fire hurling lethal battements, nifty slides on pointe, and more nifty slides on pointe. Catherine Hurlin most likely did exactly what Ratmansky wanted at his preferred frenetic pace. She was powerful, aggressive, a veritable fighting Peregrin Falcon in red feathers. Sunmi Park was the long-suffering Maiden. Like Hurlin, she brought major theatrical vitality to her performance along with lovely executed steps. Daniel Camargo as Ivan was a very good sport in all of this. He looked great in the white Elvis suit and was able to pull off the comedy with style and without committing serious exaggeration. The highlight of Firebird, however, was Kaschei performed by Cory Stearns. How many times in this dancer’s career have we seen him in a role that requires him to move with such speed? We’ve spent years watching him mostly decelerate through allegro, and now Ratmansky has him moving like Quicksilver of the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants. He was the star of this show — the one who created the most interesting, off-the-wall, unpredictable character and actually used physicality to tell the story.

Our H.H. Pump Bump Award, a Moschino floating-cloud stiletto, is bestowed upon Hee Seo and Thomas Forster for their beautiful interpretation of Kylián’s Nuages, a pas de deux which is the perfect gift for these two ABT veterans.

That’s one of the advertising tags for the current run of Arthur Miller’s masterpiece Death of a Salesman, first performed in 1949, which opened in previews on Friday night at the Winter Garden Theater. It stars Nathan Lane, Laurie Metcalf, Christopher Abbott and Ben Ahlers. It is deeply moving theater and devastating even when one knows well the lines that are coming. There’s no way to steel oneself to be numb to great art. It’ll get to you no matter what. Most everyone in the audience knew that the confrontation between Biff and Willy Loman was coming; it had simmered and sparked throughout the play. But when the moment finally arrived, the audience lost its grip on what little collective composure it still had. Miller’s play is a classic. It is the classic. It’s what we need now.

There is no glitz in Death of a Salesman. Just words. Just words so well-crafted and so well-delivered that it makes one wonder why some of the other productions on Broadway that boast themselves as contemporary even bother to turn on their lights. Attention must be paid  to what is good and what is not.

Up the way at Lincoln Center, American Ballet Theatre opened its season over the weekend in performances of  Othello by Lar Lubovitch with a score by Elliot Goldenthal. First performed in 1997, it offers sterile George Tsypin scenery of plexiglass and an ultra shiny and reflective black floor. The costumes by Ann Hould-Ward are more traditional and Shakespearean than the scenery.  But how does this contemporary dance stack up against the classic treatment of Othello by José Limón in The Moor’s Pavane to Henry Purcell’s music, which like Arthur Miller’s masterpiece, was first performed in 1949? As in Miller’s play, one knows the outcome of this story regardless of the storyteller. It is just as hard to watch the violent strangling of Desdemona that is portrayed downstage in Lubovitch’s dance as it is to watch Limón’s murder of her when it is partially eclipsed by Emilia’s dress held wide by both hands to cover the crime. We see Othello’s arms raise and descend with force but we never see him actually strike Desdemona. 

Like Willy Loman’s Studebaker that didn’t measure up to his previously-owned classic Chevy, Lubovitch’s treatment of Othello doesn’t measure up to Limón’s. Nothing could make that more clear than the choice of music. Let’s face it: Elliot Goldenthal simply is not on the same level as Henry Purcell. Goldenthal’s bombastic alerts to something serious coming up were relentless and exhausting cinema background music. On the other hand, Purcell’s stringed arrangements were the tidy, beautiful coverup for the rage and violence of an honor killing.

The two choreographers’ styles have similarities which is understandable considering they crossed paths when Lubovitch was a student at Juilliard while Limón was there as a teacher. However, Limón’s ideas are sometimes too re-worked in Lubovitch’s dance and look like they were used as a template. When Iago looms over Othello from behind in the pas de deux in Lubovitch’s dance, it looks strangely similar to Limón’s. 

The afternoon cast was comprised of superb dancers and actors. Isaac Hernandez as Othello, Skylar Brandt as Desdemona, James Whiteside as Iago, and Devon Teuscher as Emilia performed the steps exceptionally well, but they could not overcome the deficiencies of the staging. It was physical enough; it just wasn’t interesting enough. And unfortunately, the music hampered the production from start to finish.

It certainly is worth asking why this full length dance was scheduled to take up nearly half of all performance dates of ABT’s inaugural spring season at the Koch Theater. Haglund truly wishes he could muster up more enthusiasm for Lubovitch’s Othello.

Arthur Miller said, “The past is holy.” It is, and attention must be paid to it.

A crime has been committed. New York City Ballet has gone full-frontal Trump with its gaudy, hideous re-design of Madame Karinska’s revered costumes for Balanchine’s Diamonds. What a way to destroy a tradition of elegance. Maybe the costume department was inspired by Trump’s decision to re-do the Kennedy Center in his own brand & image in order to put his own ugly mark and name on a treasure.  So now instead of Madame Karinska’s beautiful tutus that are embellished with crystals, we have what seriously look like battery lighted baubles and coins embellished with some tulle along with circus pony headgear. The constant flashing is enough to trigger epileptic seizures. Do you want to know how to give an entire audience a headache? Put a stage full of this vulgar glitz in front of them. Even the women’s gloves, which had been white, now looked like beige bandages. WTF, NYCB?!

And the dancing wasn’t what it should have been either. This corps de ballet was woefully under-rehearsed or maybe their signals just got crossed from all the flash. For most of the season, we’ve been watching Gabriella Domini mess up counts, often when she’s in the front. Nieve Corrigan, after a long stretch of attentive musicality, was back to her disorganized solo-izing self last night. This is Balanchine’s Diamonds — where’s the respect? Why wasn’t Mary Elizabeth Sell anchoring the demis in this corps? 

Mira Nadon and Peter Walker in the leads were superb in spite of the atrocious costumes. But it was hard to watch them. The flash kept obscuring Balanchine’s glorious choreography. Every time Walker turned upstage, we were blinded by the flashing across the back of his shoulders. Here were two extraordinary artists giving a very unique and particularly captivating interpretation of a masterpiece, and it was almost impossible to watch. While mesmerized by Nadon’s sparrow-like limbs and freedom of flight, we soon found ourselves deeply invested in Walker’s psyche as he pursued her. That, and the gorgeous assembly of his long legs in his double tours and his courageous manège.

Guest conductor and former NYCB Orchestra violinist Andrew Grams got it exactly right. We can trust him.

Robbin’s Dances at a Gathering received an average performance. An average performance of this ballet inevitably makes it feel ninety minutes long. The saving graces were Indiana Woodward (in pink), Olivia MacKinnon (in apricot), Anthony Huxley (in brown), and Hanna Hyunjung Kim whose hour long piano solo was as crisp and melodic as we could possibly want. Robbins famously maintained that there was no subtext to his choreography. It was simply people dancing and that whatever they made of it was what it was at the moment. These three artists possessed the imagination and quality of interiority that pulled us into their solitude. Their solos were polished as expected, and their interactions seemed genuine and spontaneous, not choreographed.

Our H.H. Pump Bump Award, from Badgley Mischka, is bestowed upon Indiana Woodward, again, who continues to deepen her artistry in ways we could not have imagined.  

After having our hearts broken three years ago when then-soloist Emma Von Enck was inexplicably passed over for casting as Aurora in New York City Ballet’s The Sleeping Beauty, we finally emerged from the Ballet Trauma Unit on Thursday evening with our hearts beating anew. Thump-thump, thump-thump. There was a bit of extra excitement in the ever-excitable Craig Salstein’s Catalabutte as he mimed the arrival of Princess Aurora. He knew she was about to slay the day. And slay she did.

Emma Von Enck’s Aurora rushed into the center of her birthday party and into the center of our hearts with an exuberance of one who had waited three years to dance the role she was placed on this earth to dance. We were under her spell from the first step. Her sequence of piqués attitude devant followed by the most delicate little pas de chat were performed with pointes as sharp as the spindle that would befall her. Aurora’s manège of piqué and chaîné turns were so fast that it almost seemed like the music was chasing her until she stopped instantly to regain a regal pose after an episode of cat zoomies. 

Breathless speed was her casual mode; she never rushed or needed to blur steps to meet the tempi. She found height and great length in her jumps. Her Rose Adagio balances were beautifully squared even if they did show the type of nerves that can come up in any speed-dating situation. 

In the Vision Scene, Von Enck captured the ethereal nature of the backward spin in arabesque and pulled length from every phrase. The elegance in the elbows and the delicate shapes of her upper torso and port de bras conveyed a beautiful spirituality. We won’t utter that G-word, but anyone who saw this Vision Scene has to be thinking the same thing: Put her in a Romantic tutu tout de suite.

This wasn’t just an astonishing first crack at a role; it was astonishing, period. And it wasn’t the only thrill of the evening. David Gabriel’s debut as Prince Désiré revealed big dramatic chops and high level partnering skills to go with his stellar solo dancing in a surprisingly mature performance. His style included a modesty for which we are grateful; he danced brilliantly without looking like he was trying to impress. Again, as with Aurora, so much about Désiré’s devotion to his ideal love was revealed in the Vision Scene. (We do wonder, however, in this staging by Peter Martins, if the water in the goblets is spiked with something that causes Désiré to so abruptly switch from having a great time at the picnic to severe introspection after just one gulp.)

In the Wedding Scene, Gabriel’s Désiré managed the fish dives expertly and made his Aurora’s positions look beautiful. By now, both dancers knew that they had a smashing success and all they had to do were a couple of grand allegro manèges, a few piqués, and then mazurka their way to the finish line. 

The supporting cast included an admirable quartet of Jewels. Preston Chamblee’s Gold was giving potential greatness vibes if he would just always point his feet and stretch both knees. Naomi Corti was the ballerina who finally made beautiful sense of the Diamond variation which has looked spastic over the run. Grace Scheffel’s Ruby revealed a unique sensuality to go with her splendid dancing. And what a pleasure it was to see Rommie Tomasini dancing so joyously in the Emerald variation.

The Lilac Fairy, Dominika Afanasenkov, offered some lovely port de bras but the overall effect of her performance was less than it should have been due to a fitness issue that needs to be addressed. Meaghan Dutton-O’Hara’s Carabosse was sufficiently menacing. The corps de ballet was attentive and superbly coordinated throughout the evening. There are so many quick changes before the intermission that it is a wonder the Nymphs, Cavaliers, Attendants, and Suitors don’t have Garland remnants sticking to them upon returning to the stage.

Daniel Ulbricht and Sara Adams repeated their excellent Bluebird and Princess Florine. During the preceding variation, a piece of fluff dropped to the floor from a costume which was distracting for the dancers who followed. Unfortunately, Sara slipped close to it, and her lovely foot and ankle collapsed under her. Scary as it was, it seemed not to affect the rest of her performance. 

Our H.H. Pump Bump Award, Louboutin’s Rosa Z stiletto with floating crystals, is bestowed upon Emma Von Enck for her truly amazing, long overdue debut as Aurora.

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.