NYCB 2/19
Swan Lake — the funnies version
Blondie & Dagwood, Marmaduke, Little Orphan Annie, L’il Abner, Barney Google — just a few of the colorful Sunday funnies that came to mind during the opening Swan Lake performance. We don’t often traffic in controversy, but is there any possible quid pro quo that New York balletomanes could offer New York City Ballet to dismiss this production with prejudice? We have to think of something.
Perfunctory choreography, putridly pigmented costumes, non-set sets, and a general sense to get this performance over as fast as possible — it all stung like a bacteria-filled cat bite on the finger. The only performer who could rise above all of this foolishness was Daniel Ulbricht as the Jester, whose character, ironically, delivered the most intelligent, dance-worthy, fault-free performance. Kudos to the Small Jesters, too, who were obviously thrilled to be on stage with Ulbricht. We’ve never seen the young boys from SAB dance better.
Prince Siegfried, Tyler Angle, danced Acts 1 & 3 with obvious tongue-in-cheek and a total lack of sincerity. Whenever he approached the Queen mother, goo-goo-goo-ga-ly eyed Marika Anderson, their mocking and satire were thick. There was very little that was special about the steps he danced, and Angle performed them like they were Routine with a capital R. His technique was marginally clear and also made it clear that he should have had the sense to give up this role. But he’s the only male principal with the gut/butt strength to heave Sara Mearns’ Odette/Odile around without risking injury.
And what did we get in the way of Odette? We got Diamonds and Symphony in C and every other adagio where Sara has mastered the downstage walk with eyes on the floor, shoulders raised to her ears and thrown back, head pitched forward, and arms raised too high. Regardless of how wonderful and comfortable it all may feel to do, it did nothing to enhance her Odette and never has. Was there anything artistically distinctive about this Odette? Nothing. It was basic Sara from Instagram. Odile was without an ounce of seduction or evilness or spectacular technique. The best Odette/Odiles spend a lifetime building on their interpretations, not expecting an audience to conflate their personal sorrows on Instagram with mundane stage performances that need to be pumped up. The only thing that matters with Odette in Swan Lake is what goes on the stage. On this night, there wasn’t much swan at all.
The satire continued with the Swan corps that flew on stage like a flock of fussy roadrunners — beep beep — flailing their legs and arms at high speed. The Four Small Swans arrived excessively jerking their heads around and to the ceiling (Look Ma, just like real birds!). The national dances were transportable to any Nutcracker.
We’re happy that NYCB marketing could fill the seats. The Russian couple in front of Haglund laughed through the whole cartoonish thing although they seemed impressed with the NYCB Orchestra’s output. The orchestra was good but could not save this night for us.
NYCB 2/5
NYCB celebrates Maria Tallchief
Besides all the blissfully clear dancing in the performances of Scotch Symphony, Sylvia: Pas de Deux, and Firebird, all of which Balanchine created for Maria Tallchief, one other thing was crystal clear: he deeply loved this woman’s artistry. He loved her technical brilliance, her imperial stateliness, and her fire. That love shone in every step of the choreography — most of which was created after the annulment of their marriage in 1952. Annulment rather than divorce. Tallchief wrote that the marriage with Balanchine, who was twice her age, did not enjoy the love and passion that infused their professional relationship. Their marriage occurred at a time when widespread anti-miscegenation sentiments included Indigenous people among those who whites should never marry. Even if there were not laws in a particular state, there was scorn.
This season New York City Ballet is celebrating the centenary of Tallchief’s birth and her spirited dancing with its own spirited dancing. This particular program, viewed on its first date, included a gloriously danced Scotch Symphony by Indiana Woodward that reflected the spirit of Violette Verdy a bit more than Tallchief. But we could still see where the originator would have illustrated her strength in grace and her understanding of the Romantic style. Woodward’s lush Romanticism left us feeling as though we were watching a dream. None of this would have occurred without Jovani Furlan’s ardent partnering. The soloist in red kilt, Baily Jones, danced efficiently. Among the corps, both Samuel Melnikov and Owen Flacke were standouts for their crisp, elongated lines. Melnikov has undergone a physical transformation much like Russell Janzen did. We no longer wonder whether he has the partnering strength to move into bigger opportunities. Flacke, oh my, barely out of SAB diapers but oh such a watchable, beautifully trained, and compelling dancer already. Stand him up behind Miriam Miller and watch the Disney magic bloom.
In Sylvia: Pas de Deux danced by Megan Fairchild and Joseph Gordon, we had a little trouble connecting the performance to Maria Tallchief who we’re pretty sure didn’t dance it with a cutesy, pixie vibe. Fairchild's technical skills were tops but the dancing was lightweight. The tiny tutu didn’t exactly convey grandeur. It seems ABT has more closely followed Balanchine’s original concept of Sylvia by casting its statuesque ballerinas in the role. Gordon dazzled every moment he was on stage. It is so gratifying to watch him try to squeeze as much as he possibly can out of every moment he is on stage.
The evening ended with a glorious performance of Firebird. Ashley Hod in the title role embodied the mythical Firebird with glamour and electricity. Obsidian-sharp cool lines, the ability to instantly warm those lines into deep mesmerizing curves, a face that invites attention, beautifully lifted saute de chats, and a well-earned authority all served to make this a commanding performance. Andrew Veyette as Ivan, Miriam Miller as his Bride, and Alec Knight as Kastchei completed the strong cast.
The scenery and costumes by Chagall and Karinska are some of the most overwhelmingly beautiful on NYCB’s stage. Given their continued emotional effect on the modern day audience, it is difficult to imagine how the audience of 1949 might have felt. And what might they have thought about Balanchine’s one-eyed wink by putting a big red feather on the head of his Native American ballerina? Boy, did she ever wear it.
The H.H. Pump Bump Award, flame throwing feathers by Stuart Weitzman, is bestowed upon Ashley Hod for her beautiful performance in Firebird
NYCB 2/6
Paquita 2.0
New York City Ballet is known for stripping down classics to their essential elements and compressing them for their always-on-the-go audience who only has so much time it can devote to going to the ballet. “Just the steps, ma’am, just the steps” as Sgt. Joe Friday might have said. It was Thursday, February 6th. Me and my partner were working the night watch at New York City Ballet under cover in the shadows of the 2nd ring. We spotted a few misdemeanors in progress but mostly good things were happening in the ‘hood. The usual suspects were staying in line. Nobody was stepping on anyone else's toes.
At times, the new Alexei Ratmansky-driven Paquita had us trying to unravel the scene like Friday and Gannon going over the evidence. Where did this or that part come from? The corps had its assignment down impressively but what were the principals trying to convey? Are these questions even relevant? Turns out not, which became more clear on the second night.
This Paquita, a composite of Balanchine’s Minkus Pas de Trois after Petipa and Alexei Ratmansky’s contemporized reconstruction of Petipa’s Paquita Grand Pas, is actually a throwback to when lines were lines, shape was shape, and the challenges of classical form were revered. Nothing could be better for New York City Ballet these days than this to help it shake off the sloppy sneaker look that has seeped into its daywear.
Thursday evening opened with the Minkus Pas de Trois danced by Erica Pereira, David Gabriel and Emma Von Enck. For the most part, they met the challenges that Balanchine threw at Andre Eglevsky, Rosella Hightower, and Marjorie Tallchief, and made us appreciate what those original artists in 1948 were capable of in terms of technique. Gabriel’s controlled landings, beautiful leg lines in sissone assemble, clear batterie, and sequence of double tours were all accomplished with a burning determination — not just to get through the variation, but to give the absolute most to his audience. The women each excelled in their fleeting foot work and Emma brilliantly finished her phrases with held positions. Nobody likes to do the step-step-grand jete instead of glissade grand jete because it’s so hard to get up in the air without an awkward lurching forward as happened on this night. But Petipa, Vainonen, and others made both men and women do this combination not infrequently.
The Grand Pas – Ratmansky’s contribution – benefitted from stellar corps work where everyone was hell-bent on holding that arabesque in line for several counts with the arms purposefully placed. Indifference to port de bras isn’t tolerated in Ratmansky’s classically-based works. This might end up being one of his most significant contributions to the NYCB dancers’ growth as he continues as the company's Artist in Residence. While the arm and torso placement was challenging for some of Thursday night’s corps members, others (Meaghan Dutton-O’Hare, Ava Sautter, and Malorie Lundgren) embraced the beauty and demands of precision with enthusiasm that bordered on hunger. They wanted to dance like this.
So did Unity Phelan in her principal variation where she was as Zen as could be and her port de bras looked beautifully intuitive. Every second was grace defined and rich with soft color like a Monet painting. Indiana Woodward flew through her “Amour” allegro like she was riding on a spring breeze. Emily Kikta’s turns were strong and steady as was her rapport with the audience in her variation. Olivia MacKinnon made it through her variation but she definitely had challenges within it.
Perplexing in this opening night cast was the choice of Sara Mearns with Chun Wai Chan for the Pas de Deux. It was difficult to watch Sara because she simply wasn’t prepared to dance this role, didn’t have the required concentration, and may have thought that getting all emotional about her many slip-ups and glaring at her partner would somehow ameliorate them and make her less responsible for them. The relatively simple turns that were supposed to end in point tendu saw half of Sara’s foot on the floor. Arabesques were unsteady, pirouettes were unsteady, staring at the floor didn’t help matters, throwing the arms and shoulders around like she couldn't care less about the requisite style didn’t help. She seemed to be trying to be some kind of character alla zingareze even though Ratmansky had purged this staging of specific characters who are in traditional Paquita stagings.
Chan managed a more than respectable variation after a sometimes difficult PdD with Sara where neither of them seemed sure where the music was. He treated his variation as he might treat any non-narrative variation — with resolute placement and skillful execution of the grand allegro and his batterie. Loved seeing the eschappes with entrechats six multiple times with each time becoming a bit bolder. Turns a la seconde impressed with their stability without being flashy.
The flash came the next night when Roman Mejia and Tiler Peck led the principals. Pleading guilty here: we loved the flash; we didn’t want to, but we did. We loved the one-upmanship between them. We loved Tiler's double saute de basque and Roman’s triple thingamabob in the air. We could have died happily while watching Tiler lovingly open and close her arm while moving upstage on the diagonal with piques. It was so unexpectedly beautiful and so much more than the perfunctory waving of the arm in and out that we got the night before. We simply loved every blessed moment that Tiler was on stage in this production and are grateful that she embraced the stylistic challenges that Ratmansky threw her way. We’ve also got to mention Emma Von Enck’s “Amour” variation in which her feet and legs bolted across the stage like lightning, only pausing to strike an unwavering pose on pointe before speeding off again. One never sees this dancer accelerate or slow down. She starts at full speed and stops on a dime without decelerating.
A word or two about other things: The tutus designed by Jerome Kaplan were stunning. The lush pink and red costumes for the Minkus PdT weren’t helped with black sheer tights, especially when worn with black pointe shoes and solid satin ribbons which truncated the women’s leg lines. If the NYCB women insist on wearing sheer tights (whether black or pink), they should switch to sheer ribbons on their pointe shoes. The solid ribbons simply make the leg lines look broken and thick. Dancers know this.
The black tutus with white under-tulle for the Grand Pas principals were just as pretty. So much loving care, exceptional skill, and hours of labor went into these art pieces that it seemed a shame to put them on stage on dancers who looked like it was a rehearsal. Hair strands flying all over, buns that purposely looked like they were about to fall out. No head ornamentation. The whole look was unfinished. And the point of all that was what ? Did they spend all their money on the costumes and couldn’t afford to buy hairspray or put a ribbon or ornament in the bun? To repeat, it all looked unfinished. Please re-think.
We truly enjoyed seeing this Paquita 2.0 at NYCB, but we’re not giving up Pierre Lacotte’s full staging with all that sparkly opulence, those fancy hair combs, and, oh yes, those dazzling fouettes — not in a million years.
Our H.H. Pump Bump Award, a Louboutin tulle and lace pump, is bestowed upon Unity Phelan for her exquisite performance of the 2nd Variation.
NYCB 1/29
New Combinations program not very new at all
While watching the strange little promo of Justin Peck’s new dance which was running on the screens in the theater lobby, we were reminded how his sloppy hunched-over shoulders, shuffling feet, and hanging-open mouth endeared him to us when he was dancing Balanchine works. The promo featured Peck dancing while wearing his “Think of me as the composite Steven Spielberg/Jerry Robbins” baseball cap instead of featuring the NYCB dancers dancing his choreography. The promo didn’t promote the dance or the dancers; it only promoted the already over-hyped Peck. So we sat down and opened the Playbill to see that being listed as the choreographer in the credits apparently was not enough for Peck; he needed to feature himself as part of the dance’s official title: Mystic Familiar, A BALLET BY JUSTIN PECK. In all caps. Why this? And why is Peck’s salary MORE than the artistic director’s and the associate artistic director's by large sums? Why does NYCB pay this guy $371,755 plus $54,223 in benefits? What benefit does the company get for nearly a half million dollars?
The choreography of Mystic Familiar was Peck’s repetitive, desperate effort to look cool & hip and ended up looking as stale as the words cool & hip are. We’ve already seen Peck capitalizing on the work of Agnes de Mille. Now we have a piece where he borrows Twyla Tharp for his own use. Maybe the section of Dan Deacon’s score that imitated Philip Glass’s minimalist brilliance sent Peck in the direction of Tharp. We sense that Peck knew how empty his own effort was going to be which is why there was such a heavy reliance on scenery and costumes—to look cool & hip. Bopping around — which aptly describes Peck’s style — in billowing white sleeves, green boxer shorts & undershirt, cropped athletic wear, and white overalls, the dancers did their best to sell Peck’s shallow ideas. It makes us think about inviting DOGE into the house to help cut the waste — make that DOBE Department of Ballet Efficiency. Peck would be out the door before a hinge squeak.
Which leads us into our review of the highlight of the evening, Balanchine’s Variations Pour Une Porte et Un Soupir… This avant-garde piece from 1974 utilizes Pierre Henry’s sonority as its score. No music per se, just creaking hinges, spooky sighs, and other noir effects with lighting that make this a one-of-a-kind Balanchine work whose only possible resemblance to his body of work is the black & white theme. Miriam Miller, debuting as the Door, was more alluring than dangerous. The prior interpretations by Maria Kowroski and Sara Mearns were quite a bit more aggressive and always conveyed a “Be careful what you ask for, little Sigh” message within their outsized glamour. Our sense was that Miriam should strive to add exclamation points to her phrases. But it was a very successful debut if a bit careful.
Daniel Ulbricht as the Sigh — oh lord — does he ever have this one down. The small Sigh was so hell-bent on getting through the Door that he failed to consider what might be on the other side. He was in a painful gymnastic panic from the first second to his last. A huge theatrical physical performance by Ulbricht who has come to specialize in them. Haglund would gladly sit through this performance again and again were it not sandwiched between such stale bread.
Opening the program was Wheeldon’s From You Within Me which is set to Schoenberg’s Verklarte Nacht, the music Antony Tudor used for his masterpiece Pillar of Fire. Unfortunately, Wheeldon’s piece just made us wish we were watching a few of the dancers in Pillar of Fire: Mearns as Hagar, Furlan as the Man in the House Opposite, Chan as The Friend, Fairchild as the Youngest Sister. What a cast that would be! Just think about it!
Schoenberg’s inspiration for his music was Richard Demel’s poem of the same title:
Two people walk through a bare, cold grove;
The moon races along with them, they look into it.
The moon races over tall oaks,
No cloud obscures the light from the sky,
Into which the black points of the boughs reach.
A woman’s voice speaks:
I’m carrying a child, and not yours,
The moon races along with them, they look into it.
The moon races over tall oaks,
No cloud obscures the light from the sky,
Into which the black points of the boughs reach.
A woman’s voice speaks:
I’m carrying a child, and not yours,
And so it goes… The poem ends with the man and the woman walking off together. Wheeldon’s ballet ended with a woman exiting alone. Unfortunately, the ballet didn’t rise to the dramatic level of the music, the poem, or the memory of Tudor’s masterpiece. It was very similar to choreography of Wheeldon's we’d seen before — like fillers in a sentence when the speaker didn't know what to say. “Like.” Tudor was proud to say that while he may not have made a lot ballets, he never repeated himself. Of course these days, choreographically repeating oneself over and over again seems to pay the bills.
Indiana Woodward made the most of her opportunities with her innate ability to make any choreography look natural on herself. There was something about the way her face caught the light right at the perfect moment that made what she was doing interesting and watchable. Very much looking forward to seeing Indiana in Paquita next week. In fact, we’re looking forward to seeing everyone and everything about Paquita next week. Save us a Paquita Margarita at the bar!
Unusually in Wheeldon’s works, the costumes were a complete miss. Red unitards of flimsy, transparent fabric that bagged in the knees and legs and unattractively emphasized the cracks in the dancers’ butts. They flattered no one. The skyscape scenery by Kylie Manning was pleasant and worked with the music and the poem but tended to overwhelm what was going on choreographically.
Our HH Pump Bump Award from Manolo Blahnik is bestowed upon Daniel Ulbricht for his diamond-encrusted performance as the Sigh in Variations Pour Une Porte et Un Soupir.
A Massive Congratulations to Miriam Miller
on her promotion to principal dancer at NYCB. We knew this outcome would take a good amount of time to be realized, and we fretted over whether the pandemic would stall or kill her chances. We're so happy to see how well she has been dancing and developing as an artist. Her recent Concerto Barocco debut sealed the deal for us. Brava!
Image by Paul Kolnik
NYCB 1/24
Danses Concertantes, The Cage, Concertino,
Stravinsky Violin Concerto
During the second week of New York City Ballet’s Winter Season, the company presented masterpieces by Balanchine and Robbins and a couple of filler pieces with qualities that compensated for less rewarding choreography. Concertantes, Cage, Concertino, and Concerto — the last was the extended “high C” that would have stopped the show had it not actually been the end of it.
Balanchine’s Danses Concertantes — created in 1972 to Stravinsky’s 1941 score — featured dessert-worthy costumes and scenery by Eugene Berman who died six months after the premiere. As a child, Berman attended performances of the Ballets Russes; his family lived in the same building as Nijinsky in St. Petersburg. He later studied at the Académie Ranson in Paris where he became associated with a group who would become known as the Neo-Romantic artists. Berman’s stunning tutus in rich shades of blue, plum, yellow, green and red with black drawn accents made up for anything that might have been missing choreographically. Trios of two women and a man in each color were featured in Pas de Trois dancing what might have been balletic versions of a cabaret act in an early 20th century nightclub. The four featured trios were made up exclusively of corps members including the exceptionally well-suited Mary Elizabeth Sell and Claire Von Enck. Kennard Henson, whose career has been paused by injuries, danced with tremendous confidence and clarity as did Samuel Melnikov. The principal couple, Emma Von Enck and David Gabriel, sold us every step with panache and pizzazz.
Robbins’ The Cage received what is sure to be an iconic performance of The Novice by Alexa Maxwell. Her every moment seemed Hitchcock inspired. One sensed when something dreadful was about to happen but couldn’t begin to imagine how screeching bad it would be. Sterling Hyltin in the same role years ago seemed to ooze sticky stuff from the tips of her arachnid tentacles as she cultivated her prey. Alexa’s Novice snapped them up and snapped their necks whenever they wandered into her Bates Motel. “We all go a little mad sometimes.” Yes, Norman.
Emily Kikta was properly ruthless as the Queen. Chun Wai Chan and Victor Abreu only suffered a short time as the victims before being dispatched by the Novice.
Robbins' other piece on the program, Concertino, for a trio of two men and one woman featured New York City Ballet Orchestra’s superb Principal Clarinetist Steven Hartman in Stravinsky's Three Pieces for Clarinet Solo. Emile Gerrity, Jovani Furlan, and Jules Mabie approached the Robbins choreography as though it were a Balanchine abstract ballet with a main emphasis on architecture. At times, this choreography from 1982 seemed Arpino-inspired with its acrobatic lifts of the ballerina although it might have been Arpino who was inspired by Robbins in those days. It was a lucky time for us.
The “high C” of the evening was the spectacular output of Ashley Laracey and Joseph Gordon in Stravinsky Violin Concerto. Their stupendous performance was marked by engaging rapport, complimentary energies, and extraordinary articulation of the architecture and music. What a wild surprise this was to see these two take such ownership of the ballet that it seemed that it was created just for them. One of these days, a pas de deux like they performed will cause the crazed audience to demand an instant encore.
Unfortunately, their performance qualities were not met by the other couple, Sara Mearns and Aaron Sanz, who we found to be an odd match. While it was apparent that they were having fun on stage, there was an awkwardness in their execution, effortfulness, and much less attentiveness to positions.
Our H.H. Pump Bump Award , a Jimmy Choo for you Ashley Laracey and Joseph Gordon for a memorable, standard-setting performance in Stravinsky Violin Concerto.
NYCB 1/21
Winter season opens — sometimes a bit too chill
While Haglund sat here composing this review WQXR washed the airwaves with the sublime beauty of Tchaikovsky’s Serenade for Strings. Suddenly he realized what was missing from last evening’s opening performance of the Winter Season: soul, the type of soul that the dancers cannot contain when they dance Balanchine’s masterpiece and their company's anthem. Perhaps in the past, that soul was a factor in the always-wise decision to open the season with Serenade. It bares the soul of the company like no other ballet.
Was last night’s performance well-danced? Of course. Was it a satisfying evening for the balletomane? Not quite.
Concerto Barocco, led by Emilie Gerrity, Unity Phelan, and Andrew Veyette, was serviceable. The corps women were sharp and in sync. However, the principal women gave a performance that looked like 1●–––2●–––3●–––4● connect-the-dots phrasal units with resting in between. Unity threw her arms and shoulders up overhead with little awareness of their shape. No musical elegance was evident from her in the pas de deux. It was all business. Emilie started pique arabesques with a relaxed extended knee – perhaps because a stretched knee would have taken her too far. Her thigh muscles were not taut which made the leg lines look mushy. This was the rehearsal that the two women should have had to smooth out issues before the performance.
Allegro Brillante featured Tiler Peck and Roman Mejia. On any other stage in the world, the performance would have been spectacular. But on this night on this stage, it was so-so. Tiler looked tired, and Roman had no way to make up for that. The corps de ballet was again sharp and in sync. The women were in excellent form. We were happy to see Mary Thomas MacKinnon but felt that her costume was ill-fitted. It was either too long or had too much fabric — it was hard to tell, but it did her a disservice. All of the corpsmen were excellent on their own but did not really mesh together. The strong elegance of Jules Mabie and Davide Riccardo sometimes chaffed against the explosive energies of Victor Abreu and Andres Zuniga. Congratulations to Abreu for his 2025 Janice Levin Dancer Award, certainly well-deserved and perhaps something we might have seen sooner were it not for Covid’s interruptions.
Finally we got to Brahms-Schoenberg Quartet where all danced with souls of Serenade and the warm generosity that one feels when being welcomed home after trudging through the cold and snow to get there. Miriam Miller was gorgeous as the soloist in the Allegro. It has been so satisfying to watch her development, which we initially knew was going to take a good amount of time, and now we’re seeing what she has to offer as an individual. Again, the word generosity comes to mind. Her dancing last evening was spacious to the point of being spectacular. Her long arabesques were frequently above 90 degrees and held beautifully. Her grand jetes were huge as she led the corps of men around her.
Alexa Maxwell and Peter Walker in the Pas de Deux of the Allegro became more relaxed as the dance went on. There was an early sense that they were holding back so as to avoid making any mistakes. Alexa has the ability to give as much as any principal in the company but maybe not yet the confidence. It would be interesting to see how Joseph Gordon’s natural spark and sense of freedom might be able to set her off.
We may not have blinked once as Mira Nadon and Gilbert Bolden III performed the Intermezzo. There was such a dreamy, Romantic quality to their dancing and persona. We just got totally lost in their story. They each have the ability to convey a sense of spontaneity and that whatever they are doing is in direct response or conversation with the other. The magic that they project is simply astonishing.
Megan Fairchild and Joseph Gordon led the Andante. One could sense the music pulsating through Gordon's limbs; he was so ready to exploit each moment to its fullest. Among the trio of featured corps women, Claire Von Enck stood out for her crisp energy and delicate footwork. This year, the senior Von Enck has been dancing with a new maturity and fewer head-bobs than in the past. We’ve seen some very lovely work from her.
The Rondo alla Zingarese, which literally translates “in the gypsy way,” was festively led by Sara Mearns and Tyler Angle. We’re not sure how this section has escaped the Wokefanatics' scorn & fiddling with, but we’re glad that it has. The flying ribbons, strutting, glances that challenged the partner/opponent, and the uninhibited sensuality all made for a daring performance that left us wondering what these two characters did later in the evening. The corps de ballet was full of fire and attitude. It was hard to take our eyes off of Naomi Corti and Owen Flacke.
The HH Pump Bump Award, a Louboutin bootie of pink tulle, is bestowed upon Miriam Miller for her beautiful soloist work in Brahms-Schoenberg Quartet.
Well thank goodness that’s over
Thinking back over the years, it's hard to recall a lot of NYCB dancers who made a public hoopla about a role that they retired. The simple grace that Maria Kowroski showed in quietly finishing off roles was and still is admired. Same with Sterling Hyltin. Did Kyra Nichols elicit public gratitude and applause every time she retired a role? Nuh uh. But man oh man, is it ever a different time. The applause in the theater seems never to be enough for some. Either they painstakingly set up photo shots of themselves in dramatic, contemplative poses and publish them as illustrative of their emotional artistic output or they try to conflate their anger about a waning career with political outrage. Can't wait to see for which media outlet Ashley Bouder reserved exclusive photos of herself with her little Angel in full costume. We can guess, though.
Now, let's get on to the Winter Season.
Seven rep programs and an extra helping of Swan Lake is not much more than one program per week. Not to belabor this point, but NYCB is rolling in money. They have gobs and gobs and gobs of money and can certainly afford to present more Balanchine programs with a wider selection of dancers in principal roles. Poor Serenade which used to be emblematic at NYCB and opened many seasons — because it should — has been reduced to just another rep piece and stuck in a dismal rotation. (But thanks for the student performance of it last year… 🙄)
Assuming we don't get stuck with the same casting over and over again for these same few programs that are presented over and over again, we could have ourselves a brilliant Winter Season. Our hopes include more opportunities for Emily Kikta and Miriam Miller, who are dancing beautifully, but who IMO can rise to new levels of distinction by asserting musical individuality. We either need to see much, much more of Alexa Maxwell in traditional Balanchine works or we need to hear the reasons we're not. Would love to see her leading Allegro Brilliante.
Above all, we hope NYCB stops under-utilizing the enormous amount of true talent in its ranks. Most of the time, if a dancer has been performing a role for 15 – 20 years, we've seen enough and we've seen everything that the artist has to offer in the role. There are historical exceptions, of course.
Our toast for the New Year: As NYCB continues to raise prices and fees, it should strive to raise content and quality as well.
Merry Christmas from Haglund’s Heel
We had a complete changing of the guard this past year. Meet Finale a/k/a Gala Grand Finale Sugarplum Fairy. Five months old. Born in a junkyard at the side of a busy highway.
Changing of the guard is inevitable whether a cat, a ballerina, or a president. Cats sense when it’s their time to go, and they will let a listening caregiver know it. Presidents have a more difficult time recognizing when it’s time to step aside. But what is it about a ballerina who lived decades of privilege but now tunes out the music blaring that her time is up?
(Hold on, hold on. Since it’s Christmas, maybe old Hag should settle back into his ultra-courteous mode. Ah, that’s more like it. Feet up. Mug of warm something or other. Muffins in the oven. Tree lights twinkling.)
This year’s NYCB Nutcracker had a few prosaic principal performances and too few major debuts. The one debut that actually enhanced this already-stellar production with new brilliance was Taylor Stanley’s Drosselmeier. Eyes flashing, magic in every pocket, charmingly creepy — Stanley was a Brothers Grimm version born from his own imagination. Stand aside Marie, Fritz, Bunny, Soldier, and Rat King! Drosselmeier is the main story of Act I and worthy of a place in Act II — perhaps lurking under Mother Ginger's dress or shadowing Naomi Corti’s bold new Coffee.
We weren’t able to see all of the performances we wanted due to having to choose dates months in advance of casting, but we lucked out with a trio who easily scaled the cliffs and treacherous ice of Mt. Dewdrop, planted their flags, and quipped “Come on, is this really the top?” Tiler Peck, Mira Nadon, and Emma Von Enck gave three dazzling interpretations. Aurora’s, we mean, Emma’s was like none we’ve ever seen. She released energy like a cat with the zoomies.
The Sugarplum Fairies and their Cavaliers were all fine and serviceable. Joseph Gordon made the strongest impression with the greatest energy and use of space during his brief time on stage.
The “dancing” children in Act II were always well-rehearsed and seemed genuinely excited to be on stage. Of course, the little Angels were all the talk around town because one of them was the daughter of a star — wait for it — pitcher with the Yankees and most recently the Mets. (We hope the Mets re-sign free agent Ottavino. The bullpen needs him.) Little Angel Ottavino was as cute as could be. The one unsmiling Angel may have been carrying a lot of baggage for her Mommy Dearest who continues to use her as a prop to promote her own postmortem career.
As we mentioned but are mentioning again because it’s worth mentioning, there were too few principal debuts this Nutcracker season. All of the well-worn principals were out gallivanting around the world making thousands and thousands of dollars as guest artists in Nutcracker. They didn’t need to hog SPF and Cavalier roles at NYCB where the casting in those roles has no impact on ticket sales. We may as well mention that the regular season casting has shone itself to be unnecessarily repetitive, too. When the season consists of very few programs and the ballets in those programs are repeatedly cast with the same dancers, it kills audience enthusiasm. We’re tired of it. NYCB is rolling in money. ROLLING in money. It can afford to rehearse new dancers in principal roles.
Our final H.H. Pump Bump Award of 2024, a stylish witchy little stiletto with snake fangs, is bestowed upon Taylor Stanley for his revealing new Drosselmeier. It felt like we were seeing Act I for the first time.
ABT Crime and Punishment 10/31
When the ballet requires super titles
— or a heavy lean on another artist's reputation or gimmicky angst & yank choreography of the type that neither William Forsythe nor Jorma Elo could make stick, it’s time to reassess the campaign to force the genre to progress in a certain direction for no reason other than to claim easy attention. As we have chanted before, there is no such direction in art as “moving forward” or “progressing”. Those are marketing tags to make people dissatisfied with what they have so they will buy something new. Art creation simply expands like the universe; it doesn’t move along any progressive line. Music didn’t progress from Mozart to Nico Muhley. Painting didn’t progress from Rembrandt to Gerhard Richter. Architecture didn’t progress from Louis Sullivan to Norman Foster. Art ideas expand and mutate and are born from the imaginations in human brains which haven’t changed all that much since Rembrandt’s time.
ABT, in its misguided effort to look progressive, has suffered yet another failure in Helen Pickett’s Crime and Punishment, a mediocre dance version of Dostoevsky’s epic novel about a character's road to hell that is paved with a trumped-up good intention to commit a crime in order to enrich himself and collaterally help others. Did we even really need to revisit Raskolnikov’s criminality, self-indulgent suffering, conviction, imprisonment, and election to the presidency? Hold on . . . we sense a troubling digression. Let’s all pause to focus on our breathing. Thumbs & index fingers together, palms up, breathe.
Okay.
Was there anything to admire about Crime and Punishment? Well, yes: the dancers’ commitment and determined effort to sell the angst & yank to the audience. In this particular performance on Thursday, Herman Cornejo quite literally threw himself into Raskolnikov’s steps, rolls, flails, and head-holding. Skylar Brandt portrayed with soulful obligation the beautiful, innocent Sonya who truly loved Raskolnikov but was forced into prostitution. Aran Bell was Razumikhin, Raskolnikov’s friend who didn’t know how to help him. Raskolnikov’s sister, Dunya, (Catherine Hurlin) loved Razumikhin (they kissed passionately – in the dance, not the book) and had to fight off the affections of Svidrigailov, portrayed with skillful theatrical shading by Patrick Frenette. Hurlin and Frenette danced a vigorous Mayerling-like pas de deux that involved a gun. She rejected him and tried to shoot him, but in the end, he decided to shoot himself behind a glass door at the top of a staircase to nowhere. (In Mayerling, the suicide by gun was behind a bedroom screen.)
The stage was constantly in a buzz of activity — not dancing, but the dizzy swirling in and out of the scenery walls. It has become all the rage for dancers to move the scenery on and off the stage instead of using union stage hands. Ratmansky did it in On the Dnieper, his first ballet for ABT, and then Wheeldon began doing it with his Broadway shows and ballets. There was a lot of obnoxious scenery moving by dancers in ABT’s “Lifted” a few years back, too. This time, however, the audience got to listen to the barking of the stage manager’s instructions from the wings as part of the charm.
The music composed for this dance by Isobel Waller-Bridge was, at its best, unremarkable. Not a minute of it would stand alone on its own merits. Boisterous and dramatically obvious, it was like music running through an old silent movie to predict and warn the viewer of the action ahead. Not a note of it reached the soul of the audience.
Haglund wanted to cry at the end of Crime and Punishment. Cry because of the donors’ money wasted by ABT. Despite all the extraordinary full length works at its disposal, ABT has opted for mediocrity for no reason other than to pander to some audience sub-sector that it thinks it needs. On the horizon, however, it appears that it has the good sense to bring in Wheeldon’s The Winter’s Tale for next year — but possibly too late, because ABT allowed Wheeldon to recycle many of his ideas from The Winter’s Tale for the dud production of Like Water For Chocolate. People will remember. Balletomanes have elephants’ memories.
A dance that depends on super titles flashing across the stage to explain to the audience what is going on despite two magazine-sized pages in the evening’s program full of helpful Cliff-like notes is a dance in trouble. This was one more sign that all of Pickett’s good intentions could not ameliorate the artistic crime.