NYCB 9/25 questionable taste continues

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.