As part of an Arts Council Agility Award, I was very lucky to have the opportunity to attend the Cross Threads/Regards Croisés course at the Paris Opéra Ballet School this past July. The aim of the course is to explore a little of the particular schooling that takes place at this grand institution, although there is precious little information online. I didn’t mind, I got a place and had the funding, so I was going and I was determined to really sink my teeth into whatever it was that the course was aiming to achieve.
The school itself is a bit of a fortress in the otherwise unremarkable suburb of Nanterre. Inside, it is an intriguing building based around a central spiral staircase, off of which appear myriad studios, named after luminaries of the Opera stage. Most studios have an observation balcony, where class can be watched without the additional distraction of people sitting in front of the mirrors (which, as a dancer, I was never a fan of). There is a very interesting and useful display of directors of the school throughout history, which serves to highlight the pedigree with which we are dealing here. Furthermore, at every turn, there are visual reminders of the dancers who have walked the halls of the school over the centuries (the fact that the current iteration of the school has stood since 1987, but the institution dates back to 1713, is immaterial).
As is often the case, I was the only male in the cohort of teachers attending. This, I will point out, is never an issue for me. The other teachers were from France, Spain, Argentina, Bulgaria, Russia, Italy and Peru. The lingua franca of the course was, naturally, French and between the attendees we cobbled together some form of Anglo-Franco-Romance tongue to get us through the various discussions. I studied French for 3 years in school and have dabbled in Spanish, so I was never lost or too far from the point being made. Our host for the week was Elisabeth Platel, former étoile of the Paris Opera Ballet, and she was gracious, very entertaining and had an encyclopaedic knowledge of the French school. For me, she is the epitome of French classical ballet.
Throughout the week we observed classes (I watched Marie-Josée Redont, Platel and Wilfried Romoli), partook in character class with Roxana Barbacaru (which I adored), mime with Yasmine Piletta (which was challenging…a lot more than I thought it would be), expression musicale with Marie Joubinet (I felt so alive doing this), and a variety of other lecture demonstrations around yoga, floor barre, pointe work, training of boys etc. However, the part of the course that I initially found frustrating – but quickly came around to – was the amount of space we had for discussion. I knew some of the hallmarks of the Paris Opera schooling, but my understanding was literal, so getting to watch videos and discuss nuances of technique and style with Madame Platel was absolute gold-dust. The training is not particularly prescriptive in terms of syllabus, but the underpinning principles regarding the “how” of every exercise – the épaulement, the articulation of the feet, the almost holistic approach to movement – are the focus. When I trained with Roger Tully in London, the training was very much focused on what he called the “principles” – opposition, spiral, en dehor and en dedans, verticality, initiation of movement in the torso – and once you respected those, you had so much freedom in creating and executing enchainments. When I found out that Madame Redont had spend time studying with Roger in London in the 1990’s, another crossthread was formed.
By the end of the week, I was exhausted but elated. I didn’t want to scrap everything I had learned previously and start afresh, but my experience had an additional layer, informed by hundreds of years of exemplary dancing and teaching. I approach this new season with a révérence to the Paris Opera School and the ways it has impacted my career as part of the complex web of handing down dance knowledge over the generations.
Cross Threads 2022 attendees with Elisabeth Platel (centre) and moi (in stripy t-shirt).
Ok, I was going to title this piece “Dance in the post-Covid age” but it would be blithely naive of me to think we’re anywhere close to post-Covid. The following text comprises my unstructured, and at times only mildly informed, opinions about the goings on in the dance community and musings on the near future of dance. I feel that because I am now on the periphery of the professional dance world I can observe it with an emotional detachment that I don’t think I could have when I was right in the thick of it. Muscle memory, Instagram, barre in my basement, hearsay and friends in the industry keep me in touch with the general goings on.
The most immediate issue is that of theatre reopenings. I am agog at suggestions of theatres operating at low capacity by people who clearly have no idea what they are talking about. I don’t know the numbers (see…mildly informed) but show me a theatre presenting interesting work that regularly turns a profit and I’ll show you ten…a hundred who don’t. Running at capacity is all that keeps theatre doors open. That’s why every ballet company trots out Nutcracker year in, year out. I’m so glad that I’m not in a position where I am making important decisions about this because I have no real solutions. But when I look at restaurants open, people attending matches, the idea of schools reopening in 4 weeks time, I just think surely theatres can’t be too far away? As long as the doors stay closed, dancers are rehearsing essentially to keep fit and strong and try to justify holding on to their jobs.
Those engaged by well-funded theatres have remained largely financially unburdened (a gross generalisation, I am sure that many have struggled) by the pandemic, but how long will that last? Will theatres be able to maintain dancers on salaries for a year, more, with no performances? No one knows the answer to this, which is the scary part. As for those working freelance or on contracts, it depends on the country you work in/live in, but it certainly was and is a hell of a lot more precarious. I know there was extra funding made available by the arts councils of many countries in Europe, but that only goes so far.
I have read many stories of people wondering if they will lose something artistically by being away from the stage for so long, and while I understand where they are coming from, I don’t think they need to worry. Those who have expressed this concern – Sara Mearns (her name has most certainly been mentioned in my blogs more than any other and I am proud of that fact), Marianela Nunez for example – are the very ones who are such charismatic performers that connecting with the audience is absolutely second nature and not something that would be lost in a 10 year lay off, never mind several months.
Will we see a higher retirement rate among dancers, or are we already seeing it? I know of lots of people – non-dancers – who have taken the time to reflect and have decided to go and retrain in something that they had always wondered “what if” about. Most dancers are only too aware of the fleeting nature of the dancer’s career, but this lay-off might accelerate the inevitable for some. At least that might alleviate the next problem.
Training. This year’s dance graduates have finished their training in the least ceremonious manner – capping off years of hard work via Zoom. For most dancers leaving vocational training and entering the world of work (hopefully) is a scary enough prospect, but to do so in this current climate is a complete fright, I would imagine. Are companies even recruiting? We now have a huge backlog of dancers who would normally be snapped up into companies, musicals, touring productions, cruise ships and who now have the added pressure of keeping in shape with an absolute dearth of real-life training opportunities.
Back to theatres for a moment. What effect will all this have on programming? Will it be more conservative and commercially-driven? Or will this usher in a new age of creative bravery and experimentation? Please, please let the latter prevail and let theatres not just become receiving houses.
The dance content available online since March has been nothing short of incredible. Classes from all over the world in every discipline, rare glimpses into the lives of dancers and companies, archival footage which hasn’t seen the light of day since its recording, sharing of knowledge and resources on an unprecedented scale. It has been revelatory and I hope when things normalise somewhat that these practices remain. But what of dance performance: do I think it will ever be the same? Eventually, yes. There will be teething problems, bumps on the road, some nervousness and reticence but I think that something as magical as live dance and music will never go out of favour and we will simply have to find ways of making it work. I loathe the phrase “the n*w n*rm*l” but that is what we are facing and the dance industry will eventually negotiate its way through that too. The fact that the Arts is bottom of the priority list for the powers that be is enough fodder for a whole series of blog posts and I just don’t know if I have it in me.
I’ll be the first to admit that in recent years, my personal ballet practice has been sporadic and at times a mere aspiration. Having danced professionally for several years, when I moved to the Irish Northwest, ballet class went from being a daily necessity, to a semi-regular pursuit, and eventually to making little more than a cameo appearance. Without really knowing it consciously, I was forgetting what being a dancer felt like. I still teach regularly, and always remember my teacher Roger (Tully, recently deceased) reminding me of the importance of taking class so you are teaching from feeling rather than memory.
Until about a year ago, I was still teaching from feeling. I could feel the elegant strain of an adagio, how a turn instigates in the body, the lift of a demi-pointe. But one day I was showing something at the barre and I couldn’t balance on one leg without a calf cramp. The residual strength of years of daily tendus and pliés was starting to ebb, and with it my sense of being a dancer. I went from “I’m a dancer” to “I used to be a dancer, now I teach a little”. This was a reality check I didn’t want to accept. In the next months, I dabbled with a bit of barre, thought of learning a variation, had notions of learning some syllabus, but they never became a regular practice because deep down I thought that if I wasn’t getting into a real, live class, it wasn’t the same.
When I finished my formal ballet training (Central School of Ballet, London), I was lucky enough to come in contact with Roger Tully who taught at his home in Notting Hill. In that first class, I questioned absolutely everything I knew about ballet. Over the next three years, when I could attend between jobs, I studied with Roger and rebuilt my technique, my approach to dance and my teaching philosophy. It was a period of real growth and enlightenment and something that I have never been able to replace, but instead of mourning that, I can look at it as money in the bank.
Anyway, back to the present. Once we were all sent home from our jobs – my main job is now that of primary school teacher – I found myself with plenty of time on my hands. I initially resisted taking a ballet class via instagram live or zoom. I’m a stubborn person by nature but eventually deigned to partake in Tiler Peck’s class via instagram live. While I enjoyed it, I felt like it was so long since I had done class properly, it was a losing battle. But I decided I would take it again the following day.
It is now about 6 weeks later. I have taken class with various teachers, including some étoiles of the Paris Opéra (swoon) and after much sweat, no tears thankfully, sore muscles, numb toes (yeah, I’m not sure either) and shamefully inhibited arabesques, I am starting to feel like a dancer again. I am adamant that I will continue to take class once lockdown finished, because this feeling is such a special one, I can’t bear to let it go again.
A smorgasbord of excerpts and one full length work awaited me as I sought out my twice weekly fix of NYCB this morning. It has become the only time marker in my house – Wednesday and Saturday mornings (I’m on GMT here in Donegal, Ireland) – and what a lovely way to mark the passage of time during this limbo we find ourselves in.
First up: “Spring” from The Seasons (Robbins/Verdi). How apt and a lovely, light opener to the programme. Summoned onto stage are a corps of four men and a principal couple (Sara Mearns and Tyler Angle). There is a freshness and bounce in the choreography and its execution. A brief pas de deux, two variations, a pas de quatre and a brisk coda and it’s over before we want it to be. The pas de quatre had some of the Robbin’s wit woven through it, as well as some beautifully bouyant entrechats and six de volée. Angle showed wonderful ballon, sensitive ports de bras and clean footwork in his variation. Mearns had a breezy quality to her variation, which was unexpected for me, because I associate her with eyeballs-out execution – an approach which would be out of character for this role.
The “Theme and Variations” movement from Divertimento No. 15 (Balanchine/Mozart) was next. Mozart is tackled by very few choreographers (Morris and Kylian spring to mind) – a pity given that there are so many melodies which suggest movement. Here we have a beautifully danced initial exposition by Daniel Applebaum and Andrew Scordato – if a little too expressive with the hands – followed by 6 variations. After a clear, clean, if quiet start with Lauren King and Sterling Hyltin, we get some bravura from Ana Sophia Scheller. Abi Stafford gives us classical clarity in spades and a lovely sense of décalé; I would love to see her dance some of the variations from the classical canon based on this performance. Andrew Veyette is the lone male soloist here and while the execution is very clean, I get a slight disconnect with the ports de bras which comes off a little stiff. Tiler Peck brings the section to a close with a pristine, rubato reading of the choreography.
Afternoon of a Faun (Robbins/Debussy) is a piece that I once worried was destined for the archives, but it seems more accessible now than ever with its themes of narcissism, individualism and the importance of human connection. The Debussy score immediately transports to another, dreamlike realm. Hyltin does a perfectly good job here, but lacks the otherworldliness that I feel the role requires; that said her dancing has a special lightness to it. Joseph Gordon fully immerses himself and really creates an ambience of self-involvement and self-discovery which is entirely right for this ballet. Watching this piece always seems…voyeuristic, as it should, and here we really got a glimpse of Gordon realising his own growth as an artist.
“Phlegmatic” from The Four Temperaments (Balanchine/Hindemith) is a masterpiece within a masterpiece. It contains so many iconic Balanchine moments. Ask La Cour – making his first appearance in this Digital Spring season – brings a calm, noble detachment to the soloist role; his pliant dancing and unaffected ports de bras make an interesting counterfoil for the sometimes spiky choreography. The interplay between male soloist and female corps is at times conversational and at times antagonistic, then out of nowhere, we get this interplay though the lens of folk dance and music, but it sits perfectly within the marriage of Balanchine and Hindemith. Ballet lore has it that Balanchine had planned a fourth section of Jewels; it was to be “Sapphires”, set to Hindemith. Once can only image how incredible it might have been.
Balanchine certainly knew how to send an audience home happy – there are innumerable rousing finales in his repertoire and Western Symphony (Balanchine/Kay) must be up there with the best. In this mixed bill, we skip straight to the finale, or Rondo with Tess Reichlen and Roman Mejia as the lead couple. Mejia makes a spunky, energetic cowboy and executes his tours and turns with absolute aplomb. Reichlen has a refreshing aloofness in her dancing which draws you in, and she actually makes the fearsome diagonal of relevé a la seconde and penchée arabesques seem doable. The dancers from the previous 3 movements gradually fill the stage to bring the ballet to a close and the curtain comes down on the full company doing single turns from fifth in unison. It is glorious.
Teresa Reichlen in Balanchine’s Western Symphony (Photo: Paul Kolnik)
7. Pulcinella Variations (Peck/Stravinsky)
I’m starting to have a low-level panic about what I’ll do when this digital spring season finishes up, but I am assured that there is other material out there to keep me satisfied. Although this material is superb, I think it’s also the twice-weekly ritual that I am really enjoying. I have two weeks to find/come up with a suitable replacement. Suggestions welcome.
“Less is more” is a design concept extolled by many. I had a rummage around to see who coined the phrase, hoping it was Coco Chanel, but it turns out it was an architect, who apparently borrowed it from a poet. Either way, it was said and it became an adage for many. Iris Apfel, fashion doyenne, came from another school, citing “more is more, less is a bore”. I swing between the two. This ballet is firmly in the Apfel camp. The constumes by Tsumori Chisato are a feast for the eyes; colour, texture, stripes, frou-frou, space age, colour clash, you name it, it’s there. It is both an homage to the commedia dell’arte inspiration for Stravinsky’s score and a foil to the classical framework of the choreography. Indeed in the introduction, Peck states that he choreographed the work as nine classical variations. This is a grand pas classique for our generation.
The ballet opens in a very stately manner, with each dancer being introduced to the audience. Miriam Miller and Russell Janzen dance the first pas de deux. They physically complement each other and Janzen has a grounded grandeur which serves to bring out the baroque court-dance feel of the choreography. Sterling Hyltin, in a fun hooped tutu, performs her variation for a group of male dancers watching from the wing. A small detail which adds a sense of community to the performance. Her dancing is like a stone skipping over a still pool – soothing, quiet, beautiful.
There is an overlap in the variations, which almost takes the pressure off both performers and audience, as it maintains the fourth wall in a way that many classical works don’t allow. As Hyltin skips off Indiana Woodward explodes onto the stage. She has an incredible balance between control and release which is so exciting to watch. There are very few dancers I can imagine being able to deliver this filigree choreography with anything close to her mastery.
Emilie Gerrity, dressed in black and white check, is something of a salve after the whizz-bang of Woodward. Her variation has overtones of Symphony in C and Divertimento No. 15 in a big nod to Mr. B. Anthony Huxley, who so impressed me in Ballo Della Regina, is a personification of perpetual motion in his variation. Mirroring the music, the steps are relentless but Huxley has an ease which allows him to tackle them with speed and clarity. Gorgeous.
Andrew Scordato is the polar opposite of Huxley. Languid and elegant, his variation is full of baroque hand gestures and ports de bras and almost acts as an introduction to the central pas de deux, danced by Tiler Peck and Gonzalo Garcia. Delivered very much in the manner of a grand pas de deux, we get Garcia’s beautiful full-bodied technique and sense of aplomb and Peck’s crystalline reading to which we are so enamoured.
An exuberant coda of run ons whips us back through each performance, a plenary of sorts, before a simple unison final tableau. Classical, but through a 21st Century eye – full of reference, reverence and humour.
A Scene from Pulcinella Variations (Photo: Andrea Mohin)
8. Diamonds (Balanchine/Tchaikovsky)
I remember the very first time I saw NCYB. It was in the London Coliseum in 2007. I had pored over the flyer (with Maria Kowroski in Serenade) obsessively. My parents gave me a book of Paul Kolnik photographs they bought in Russia in 2003 before I even started dancing, which in itself was prescient. It was actually that book that got me hooked on Balanchine. Before I ever saw any of his recorded work, I knew his aesthetic point of view was of huge interest to me. Thankfully it played out. So, back to 2007. I remember being both elated at the dancers élan, attack, musicality, speed, clarity but feeling a little at odds with some of the detail – I remember thinking the footwork was ropey, the spatial arrangements not quite as clean as I needed. I was in ballet school at the time and maybe I was hung up on the minutiae of ballet perfection. In hindsight that’s what I put it down to. When I say NYCB most recently (Copenhagen 2018) the corps were impeccable.
Which NYCB did we get in the streaming of Diamonds? Both, actually. The opening of Diamonds is pedestrian, and to get the right effect, needs to be executed with pinpoint accuracy. And unfortunately this was not the case. The lines were a bit too loose, the ports de bras a little too personalised and disparate to give the effect of brilliance that I’m sure Mr. Balanchine, and the current company, are after. If this ballet is to invoke the spirit of imperial classical ballet, I’m afraid this performance wasn’t cutting the mustard.
Thankfully, the fate of the ballet took a turn for the good at the pas de deux. This particular pas de deux is fiendish. Some of the nuanced technical aspects of the partnering – reverse promenades, partnering just holding the ballerina’s wrist – are extremely difficult but hidden, sometimes seamlessly, within the mechanism of the choreography. Sara Mearns and Russell Janzen, as the lead couple, turn in a masterful performance. Mearns goes to the extreme, in all ballets, but with taste, and here a sense of the regal, without descending into pastiche. Janzen is an amazing, responsive partner, totally dedicated to Mearns interpretation. He shines, too, in his solo moments; a beautiful flaring of the arms as he pulls in his grands pirouettes, sowing total control.
In the scherzo, the soloists are tidier than before, but I would like to see the épaulement more to the fore. Actually, the ballet as a whole looked more precise here. The finale of Diamonds is, in a word, rousing. Intricate patterns and diagonals give way to a slow, unison section that almost feels sacred, this in turn gives away to a stage full of dancers, driven forward by the Tchaikovsky score, to a feverish finish. High drama indeed.
Russell Janzen and Sara Mearns in Balanchine’s Diamonds (Photo: Erin Baiano)
9. Liturgy (Wheeldon/Part) & Carousel (A Dance) (Wheeldon/Rogers)
I have a sneaking suspicion that this installment should be no. 10 but I shall investigate that afterwards.
It has taken me a few days to get around to writing this review for no other reason than I felt uninspired. After the recent offerings – the excitement of the Balanchine and Robbins bill, the extravaganza of Pulcinella Variations and the grandeur of Diamonds, this double bill was something of a non-event for me. I’d love to know why they chose these two works, from the litany that Wheeldon has created for NYCB, because neither of them did anything for me.
Liturgy is a serious, pensive pas de deux, which I feel there were too many of in the 00’s. As much as I love certain work’s by Part, this was completely unenjoyable and I can understand why Wheeldon took an academic approach to choreographing to it, because it is the only way to negotiate it. Wheeldon has created numerous beautiful pas de deux – After the Rain, Prokofiev pas de deux – but I’m afraid this one doesn’t cut it. Maria Kowroski – nice to finally see her make an appearance in this digital season – has the lithe physicality to elevate the dullest of works to something watchable and Jared Angle’s partnering allows her to do so to the fullest. I must have been in a bad mood when I was watching this…maybe I need to take another look.
I first saw Carousel (A Dance) in 2007 and I’m certain it was Tiler Peck in the lead role. Originally choreographed for a gala, it smacks of a work produced, not in a hurry, but without much time for finesse. There are a lot of clunky steps and motifs which look like they might have been weeded out in a more protracted creative process. Maybe I’m wrong? Maybe this is exactly what Wheeldon had in mind. The casting of Lauren Lovette and Tyler Angle is an interesting one. Lovette has a youthful bouyancy to her dancing and an abandon in her dramatic approach which actually worked very well here. Angle, on the other hand, has an seriousness and maturity which always brings a credence to whatever he’s dancing. I never really think of him as a “dramatic” dancer, but he certainly creates an atmosphere. I enjoyed their on stage relationship, but as for what was going on around them, I cannot say the same.
I don’t want to count Wheeldon out as a choreographer; he has certainly created some excellent works over the years and has shown himself to be diverse in his talents, but I wonder if some of his works might need to be jettisoned.
Maria Kowroski and Jared Angle in Wheeldon’s Liturgy (Photo: Paul Kolnik)
10. Donizetti Varations (Balanchine/Donizetti)
When I started taking ballet classes (at the relatively ancient age of 23), I devoured every piece of literature I could get my hands on. Ballet 101 by Robert Greskovic ensured that by the time I had a few classes under my belt, I knew my Taglioni from my Elssler and my ballet blanc from my Balanchine black and white. I was always taken with the American approach – speed, lightness, clarity – from the get go; even though this was just gleaned knowledge, it would be another few years until I got to see this with my own eyes. Fast forward a few years and I was taking Craig Salstein’s class in Steps. Among quite a starry class, Rebecca Krohn stood out: tall, lithe, determined. I could not quite believe it when I watched her travel across the studio in a medium allegro enchainment. The speed at which her feet reacted against the floor, the instantaneous and clear shapes she made en l’air. This is the approach the books spoke of. It was true; they did dance differently. If it isn’t clear why I’m recalling all of this after watching Donizetti Variations, I will just say one name: Ashley Bouder.
Before I wax lyrical about Ms. Bouder, a little about the whole performance. It was indeed my first time seeing Donizetti. Previously, I had only seeing the wonderful footage of Tiler Peck and Daniel Ulbricht being coached by Damian Woetzel and Violette Verdy. I had a strong inkling that it was right up my street. In the introduction Kay Mazzo mentioned that it was an homage of sorts to Bournonville, but apart from the costumes I couldn’t see a huge correlation.
The corps of 9 (6 women, 3 men) get to do an incredible amount of dancing in this ballet. And their skills are utilised to the maximum – these are no easy steps. They danced with both joy and aplomb, and the canon sections were crisply executed. Andrew Veyette’s passages were very challenging but he nailed it all, showing a strong sense of centre. I have said of him before that I would like a little more attention to the ports de bras, ditto here. Now on to Ms. Bouder. In terms of technique, she shows real mastery, no step frightens her and she laps up every challenge in her way. What she also does is waste no time hitting positions, but then she seems to suspend time in every shape, to really let us drink it in. For me, she embodies American ballet. Before I over-gush, I have one teeny-tiny reservation about her dancing. In certain roles, such as this, she can over-do the twee element – it only appears once or twice here, but her dancing speaks for itself, no lily-gilding required.
There is a lovely comedic moment where one of the ladies of the corps breaks from a tableau to have a little solo moment, “unbeknownst” to the rest of the cast. Because it’s completely unexpected, it’s hilarious, and somehow elevates the ballet beyond a grand divertissement. Donizetti is a breath of fresh air in a artform that on occasion leans towards the solemn and this is just as important for the dancers as the audience.
Balanchine’s Donizetti Variations (Photo: Paul Kolnik)
11. Easy (Peck/Bernstein) and excerpts
All good things come to an end and this programme was to be the last in the fantastic Digital Spring season by NYCB. My bi-weekly time marker is no more. I shall have to move to pastures new – I might even see if my patience and focus are up to a full-length; who knows? In this programme we got to see a full work by Peck and six tidbits from other contemporary choreographers.
Peck’s Easy abounds with his trademark intricacy. A cast of six means that we don’t get the usual spellbinding corps de ballet moments that many of his other works have but in their place, we get some more intimate and personal moments. I do enjoy his use of side-profile, as opposed to always pushing the energy out to the front – it gives a sense of space on the stage as well hinting towards hieroglyphs or Grecian friezes. Bernstein’s score and the costumes and decor by Reid & Harriet and Stephen Powers respectively evoke several eras, but they are distinctly New York.
I won’t traipse through the six excerpts, but I shall alight on a few. A solo from Kyle Abraham’s The Runaway gave us another chance to bask in the glory that is Taylor Stanley – a truly astounding, captivating and utterly versatile dance. The “tap” duet from Peck’s The Times Are Racing was compelling and set the pulse racing; pity that neither Peck himself or Robbie Fairchild are still dancing with the company. A surprise for me was Bigonzetti’s Oltramare. I was fully prepared to not like it – completely based on the aesthetic of the work (I know – shameful) – but I was very much into to and would love to see this full-blooded, folk inspired work in full.
It was an unusual choice for a season finale. I feel like it might have served better as a curtain raiser – here we are in 2020 kinda thing, but maybe it serves as an ellipsis, setting forth what NYCB will be in the post-Covid world. We shall see.
Taylor Stanley in Kyle Abraham’s The Runaway (Photo: Andrea Mohin)
When we look back over the illustrious, if relatively short, history of ballet, its course is defined by those who changed what ballet – in its various guises – looked like and how it was done. Marie Taglioni, Vaslav Nijinsky, Pierina Legnani, Anna Pavlova, Margot Fonteyn, Rudolf Nureyev, Suzanne Farrell, Mikhail Baryshnikov, Sylvie Guillem….as we get closer to the now, it is harder to identify who the gamechangers are, because it is history that dictates who has had such an effect on the culture or aesthetic of an artform.
How were these dancers received in their own time? Nureyev rebelled against the norms for the time and embraced elements of feminine ballet technique – high demi-pointe, exaggerated passé position, florid ports de bras. It took time for many to digest. In the documentary La Danse (d. Wiseman, 2009), Pierre Lacotte tells Ghislaine Thesmar that the flaws of Suzanne Farrell have became desirable qualities. Sylvie Guillem, blessed with every enviable physical ballet trait and not afraid to utilise them, was polarising; too much, many said, but over time, hers became the desired aesthetic of a generation.
We have come so far, physically, that it is hard to identify where we can go and who our gamechangers will be. Or more precisely, who our gamechangers currently are. Who are those dancers and choreographers setting the immediate future course for ballet?I’m going to take a look at some, and have a little chat about why they might be steering this ship.
Alexei Ratmansky – choreographer
Ratmansky is radical in that amid a field of choreographers pushing the dancers’ physical boundaries; he is glancing back to imperial Russia and mining the rich tradition that has become somewhat buried in recent generations. Delicate, filigree transition steps, luscious épaulement, speed, dexterity and above all, musicality are hallmarks of Ratmansky’s work. It is grounded on technique which feeds a dancer, rather than fillets them. His work is sustainable, tasteful and beautiful, and proves that new works needn’t push the dancers’ bodies to their limits. (I’m giving a strong side-eye to certain choreographers here – if you’re reading this, you know who they are).
Sara Mearns – principal dancer, New York City Ballet
Any friends of mine are fully aware of the iconic role Sara Mearns has in my life. She is a dancer who has fully embraced social media and through it we see her daily struggles, her dedication, her ups, her downs and the work it takes to create the magic that she brings to the stage. She doesn’t aim for perfection and by her own volition, she never knows what is going to happen on stage. She has been described by Ratmansky as a “stage animal”. Her dancing is big, wild, dramatic, balls-to-the-wall. She has a gorgeous technique to fall back on, but she wants the audience to have a theatrical experience first and foremost. Like all the principal dancers at NYCB, she has a unique approach to ballet, which she has forged herself, and I hope she inspires others to do so too.
Maria Kotchetkova – international guest principal, formerly San Francisco Ballet
I have long been impressed by Maria Kotchetkova’s dancing. But that isn’t why she’s being discussed here. She is a seemingly single-minded, self-assured and very dedicated dancer who is always seeking out the best training, coaching and opportunities for herself. She took her career in her own hands when leaving SFB and has since been navigating a course akin to Sylvie Guillem’s, working with contemporary choreographers, but also maintaining a strong link to classical ballet. Her career is on her own terms. Not everyone has the platform for such a move, but she is an excellent role model for those seeking autonomy in any walk of life.
Matthias Heymann – étoile, Paris Opera Ballet
The dancers of the Paris Opera Ballet rarely seem to seek out the kind of international or recognised career that many in other companies do. They rarely make guest appearances, partake in galas and their dancing is rarely the fodder eaten up by the YouTube and Insta generation. I include myself in that generation, by the way, but I adore Matthias Heymann. Like all male étoiles at POB, he has fabulous line, clean technique and an understated elegance. Heymann, however, excels in petit allegro, nuanced transition steps, fine footwork, that frequently become overshadowed by the tiresome male variations from Le Corsaire and Don Q, grand pirouettes and pyrotechnics. Heymann, can do all those too, but he’s keeping an eye on the rest of his repertoire too. Look after your petit allegro and your grand allegro will look after itself. No, it is not how the old adage goes, I just made it up on the spot.
Taylor Stanley – principal, New York City Ballet
I remember a teacher once telling us to “stand like men”, as if there was only one way a man could stand. I knew what he meant – proud, cocky, arrogant, self-assured – the usual. This way of thinking is still pervasive. We haven’t gotten over the bravura male yet. But Taylor Stanley has. He is male, he dances like a man, he looks and stands like a man. He also dances with a poetry, lightness and sensitivity that reveals a man who is completely at ease with himself as a dancer. The next time I’m teaching a boys class, I’m going to say, “stand like Taylor Stanley”, instead of the alternative.
Zoe Ashe – Browne, a native of Dublin, Ireland is a dancer with Royal Ballet of Flanders in Belgium where she has been dancing since 2018. She previously danced with Ballett Vorpommern in Germany after several years freelancing with companies including National Ballet of Ireland and English National Ballet.
Photo: Philipe Van Roe
Dance Monologue [DM]: How did you find ballet, Zoe?
Zoe Ashe – Browne [ZAB]: I found ballet in my primary school, which was St. Olaf’s (Sandyford, Co. Dublin). They were providing ballet lessons by a woman who was originally in the circus, she was elderly at the time, her name was Miss Bowie. I would do one ballet class with her a week. When I really wanted to take it seriously I signed up to the Debbie Allen School of Dance in Windy Arbour, so it really came from having it as a service in primary school but also I was inspired by my older sister Lindsay who was taking ballet lessons: I was jealous and I wanted to copy her.
DOM: Do you come from a creative household?
ZAB: I would say yes. I have two uncles who are in the music industry. A dad who’s very passionate about sport, in particular rugby but he approaches it in a very creative way, now he coaches. My mom never really got to explore her creativity but she’s always been a fan of artistic things, like clothes and costume making and arts and crafts, baking, cooking. My brother is a writer, my sister dances. My grandmother was a model which then turned her into an entrepreneur and a creative writer also, she used to write for the papers, so I’d say yes, I am from a creative household.
DOM: When did you realise you wanted to dance professionally?
ZAB: I realised I wanted to dance professionally when I was about 15 and I had a really terrible flu, I was really, really ill, I remember that, but we went to see my sister in her 1st year [show], she was at London Studio Centre, and it was her end of year show. I was really blown away. It was the first kind of star-studded show I had ever seen. I actually remember thinking at that moment that I really want to go into musical theatre and do jazz dancing and stuff but ballet really took over and I went down the ballet route. Maybe I was 14 but I remember watching that show and thinking wow, this is so amazing. Up until that point I had been on the fence about whether this was a hobby or something more serious.
DOM: Do you feel like you have sacrificed anything to pursue a career in dance?
ZAB: I remember when I was a teenager I felt like I was sacrificing friendships and a really happy future in Dublin because I had a really great social circle in high school. And I definitely had prospects to go to university and I remember really, really missing them and missing out on birthdays and vacations and that used to really upset me because it took me a while to connect with people in my year group in ballet school [English National Ballet School, London] because they were just so culturally different and [coming from] Ireland, it’s a small island and we’re all very similar in how we look and how we sound and it was an unnerving experience to go to England and feel so alien for the first time. So I remember thinking…I remember feeling like that was a sacrifice, but in hindsight it wasn’t. I’m really happy with the route that I took and no, I never really focus on what I had to sacrifice if I’m honest.
DOM: You were a freelance dancer for many years. Looking back, how did this benefit you, as a dancer?
ZAB: It has benefitted me in the connections that I have made with other people. I have so many wonderful friends from that time. It was a particularly difficult time and I am honestly in awe of people that continue down this route until the end of their careers because a lot of women, and men, that I’m still in contact with, that are even still based in London, are still freelancing, even if there is more stability in their life as they’ve gotten older because they’ve made connections and, you know, a bit of pattern in their year. I think it’s incredibly stressful to not know where your paycheck is coming from, especially when you have the pressure of maintaining a certain level of stamina and aesthetic at all times. And then you have the added pressure of keeping up with your bills and doing your tax by yourself and all those things. I am particularly in awe of those and I definitely have an appreciation that I don’t think I’d have if I had gone to a full-time company straight out of school. I think I would have lost my perspective pretty quickly and I will always have those years in London to reflect on and if I’m having a bad day in work or feeling a bit ungrateful or moaning to one of my colleagues, I can always think about those days in London when I paid so much money for classes, so much money to keep fit, when any job offer I got was just fantastic, I was deliriously happy and so appreciative of anything I could do creatively, that didn’t involve working in a shop. It also gave me a really holistic feel for the industry because one day I would like to direct, a company hopefully, and I’m really glad that I have the experience of freelance and full-time work so that if I’m dealing with the next generation of dancers I really will know where everyone…I feel like I will have a pretty good sense of everyone’s background and how it feels to be in that particular position that they are in.
DOM: You’re 30 now. What do you still want to achieve as a dancer?
ZAB: I am 30, but I still feel like I have a lot of growing and developing to do as a performer. I’m really inspired in Flanders because we have such a huge versatility in the company. We’re a company of about 40 dancers but peoples’ backgrounds and peoples’ qualities and skill-sets are are so varied, which is part of the strength and intrigue of the company. I think physically I have a lot of developing and stretching to do still. There are lots of roles that would be on a list that I would love to get to perform. I’d love to tackle more narrative work, moving forward, I’d love to tackle physical work. I would like to progress further up in the company where I am now. I just want to keep developing and learning.
DOM: Do you see yourself continuing to dance after you leave the company?
ZAB: I’m not certain that I see myself dancing after Flanders, but I do see myself still performing in some capacity. I don’t know if that’s because I find it very scary to think that I might not perform after this. I don’t know if that’s like a psychological safety net that I have created for myself, but I do think that there’s never really an end point and I think people are often surprised once they’ve had a performance career, how often it follows them. It’s never really the last [performance]. In my first season here in Flanders, the ballet mistress had just retired. She had a farewell performance and then in January of that season, someone got injured and she had to put a costume on and get back on stage and perform again, months after she retired. So you just never know when your last time on stage will be. So, I would say, yes, I can see myself dancing or performing after Flanders.
I think I’ll always do something, movement wise. During this Covid pandemic, I’ve noticed that my body doesn’t feel great resting for long periods of time. I have to do something in the day, particularly in the morning, to get everything moving, in order to feel like I’m in my body. I don’t enjoy a sedentary lifestyle.
Ashe-Browne in Alexander Ekman’s Joy (Photo: Matt Foley)
DOM: How has your attitude towards ballet class evolved through your career?
ZAB: I’ve always been very hard on myself in class and I used to take class extremely seriously, and maybe to the extreme. I remember if I had a bad class it would follow me for the day and I would be angry and irritable so now I try to leave things at the door a little bit. If it’s not working I’ll just start again. I have a piece of advice that I got from my friend Nancy [Osbaldeston, Principal dancer with Royal Ballet of Flanders] a few years ago. She said it’s too difficult and intense to try and be perfect with everything all the time,so per class she likes to concentrate on one thing, so it might be trying to maintain her ports de bras slightly infront of the eyeline throughout the class and that is the thing she’s focusing on that day. The next day it might be foot articulation, the next day – passé position. I really enjoy that because it takes the edge off trying to do everything perfectly and precisely all the time. If I have just one thing in my head that’s going to be the focus of today, then it takes the pressure. To be honest, I’ve always had habitual patterns in class, that I still do now. I still stand at the front of the class, but off to one side. I don’t know why, it’s always where I feel comfortable in the studio. I always have a chat during pirouettes. Terrible but true. I always like standing front-on to the mirror during barre. I always like doing grand allegro. I feel really incomplete if I don’t do a full class. So, whenever my body feels like I can, I will always push for the full class. So, yeah, lots of things haven’t really changed over the years, to be honest.
DOM: You’ve been developing yourself as a choreographer in recent years. Is this something you see in your future or just something you’re exploring at the moment?
ZAB: Yes, I think I am going to be developing my choreography over the coming years. I feel very lucky that in Flanders we have a choreographic platform every year and I think it would be a waste not to take advantage of it every single year. I also have support from the Arts Council [Ireland], Dance Ireland and Ballet Ireland and those are relationships I greatly appreciate and want to keep fostering. It’s hard to focus on it when I’m still dancing and I always find it difficult to start a new piece but it’s immensely satisfying to do each work. I learn a bit more about myself everytime I make a work, so I think it probably also helps me as a performer, to have that in parallel to my performance career.
I really have a passion to go home to Ireland to stage work, in particular. And this is because I feel like I’m working in a medium of dance where we’re lacking a little bit in Ireland. I feel like there’s a strong definition between the classical world and the contemporary world there. And I would love to bridge that gap because that is what has happened in my career accidentally. I’ve gone from a very classical background into a place that explores all the possibilities of dance and I’d love to be able to bring all this experience I have in Belgium back home. I really allow all the experience I’m having now with all these fantastic choreographers like Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui to influence my choreographic practice and hopefully be something I can share with Irish audiences in the future.
DOM: What is your dream job?
ZAB: I’m currently in my dream job.
Zoe is using her time in lockdown to develop her next work, supported by an Arts Council Dance Busary. Her previous works can be seen here:www.zoeashebrowne.comNext season she will be performing in works by Anne Teresa De Keersmaeker and Alain Platel.
The real potential of this digital age is being tested since the beginning of the pandemic. Seemingly overnight, things migrated online which previously we wouldn’t have thought possible, necessary or worthwhile. I’ve been doing ballet and Cunningham from the comfort of my front room. I’ve browsed the Frick Collection in New York and the National Gallery in Dublin. While I have enjoyed these pursuits and felt they were worthwhile, it has made me long to share a dance studio with others in the common struggle of morning class and given me extra impetus to organise that next museum visit.
Once theatre and museum doors closed, there seemed to be an immediate outpouring of content, to which there was an almost unanimously positive response. Tours, archival material, workshops, presentations, engagement of all forms was now at the fingertips of anyone with a connected device. But then a murmur began in the dance community. All this free content is going to further devalue our artform, they said. I struggled with the argument from the outset. Surely online content wouldn’t deter people from coming back into the theatre, I thought.
I’ve consumed quite a bit of this online content over the past weeks. I’ve donated to people and institutions providing these wonderful opportunities, but I am more eager than ever to support them in person, when the opportunity arises.
There are several possible outcomes from what I’ll call providing free art: (1) No free art. People fill their days with cleaning and Netflix. Engagement with art institutions is not part of their lockdown lives and won’t be a part of their norm in the future; (2) Free art which is engaged with for the duration of the lockdown and then discarded when “normal life” is resumed. Net result: no new art aficionados created during lockdown; (3) Free art which is engaged with for the duration of the lockdown, and piques the interest of the consumer. Net result: these nascent aficionados will consider making art and its consumption part of their lives on the resumption of “normal life”. I’m a realistic optimist, so I think (3) is the most likely of these outcomes. Is my schema hugely oversimplified? Yes. Of course it is. There are so many more complications in everyday life.
I left a large cohort out of my hypothetical study. Those who already consume art. I’m one of those. And the free art available at this time is a lifetime. It has galvanized the fact that it is an integral part of my life.
There aren’t any parallels for this story, because nothing like this has ever happened in our contemporary world. But when Margot Fonteyn et al schlepped around Britain during WW2, they created a generation of ballet fans, the legacy of which carries on to this day. Maybe a new generation of dance aficionados are being created in the midst of this pandemic. Time will tell, but I for one think that free art is friend, and anyone doubting that might look at the longer game.
Very rarely has dance on screen even come close to the thrill of live performance. When I was in ballet school, I think I watched every piece of footage in the library and as much as I liked them, most failed to come close to the in-person experience. That’s why, when I saw that New York City Ballet was hosting a digital season, in lieu of their actual 6 week marathon in the Koch Theatre, my first thought was “how is that different from watching it on YouTube?” But that’s the thing about City Ballet; their work isn’t as readily available as many other companies. Yes, they have excellent, engaging online content, but it’s hard to get decent, full footage of their ballets. This is one of the reasons why their digital season is putting a smile on my face every Wednesday and Saturday morning.
Allegro Brillante (Balanchine/Tchaikovsky)
Tiler Peck and Andrew Veyette in Allegro Brillante (Paul Kolnik)
This is an example of one of NCYB’s Balanchine works which I had never seen in its entirety. From the snippets I had seen, I wasn’t waiting to be wowed, if truth be told and that opinion was only emboldened when I heard it was a mere 13 minutes in length. My interest was piqued when I heard that Tiler Peck was dancing the lead role and furthermore when Johnathan Stafford paraphrased Balanchine, stating that it was all of the choreographer’s classical ballet knowledge condensed into 13 minutes. Now, I love Balanchine, but never moreso that when he’s in classical humour.
The curtain rises on Allegro with the action already in full swing; A glimpse into a world in motion. There’s something about the musical imagination of the NYCB dancers that has always struck me – textured and very much alive, full of nervous energy. Tiler Peck and Andrew Veyette dance the lead couple. While there are some nice moments for Veyette and the other men dancing their brief pas de cinq, this is very much Peck’s show. How could it not be? She dances with an unrivalled clarity and intention, a conduit for the steps which seem to just emanate from her joy of dancing; she is her own dancer, expressing the choreography through her instrument, nothing more, nothing less.
Allegro packs a lot of dancing into the blink of an eye. I can imagine it is as much fun for the dancers as the audience members, and fun is the name of the game here.
2. Rotunda (Peck/Muhly)
Peck’s Rotunda (Andrea Mohin)
The interactions and motifs in Rotunda lead to unavoidable comparisons with Robbin’s majestic Dances at a Gathering. Given the hot-housing of students at School of American Ballet and dancers at NYCB in a Balanchine and Robbin’s-heavy ambience, such an occurance should not come as a surprise. While there is a similar atmosphere created in this ballet of community, at times, it can become a little blurred at the edges.
What I enjoy about Peck’s work is the surprising way he links steps; positions both familiar and new are threaded together in a way that flows beautifully. At times, particularly in extended solo material, these threads can become tied in knots and a stream of movement can become very heavy. Sara Mearn’s had one such solo, but I was taken by how she seemed to approach this at a more pedestrian pace, an easier journey to join her on (she is known for some spitfire virtuosity – see Ratmansky’s Namouna – A Grand Divertissement and hold tight).
Less complicated, but complex nonetheless, is Peck’s group choreography, and Rotunda is no exception. Here there is a real sense of togetherness among the dancers.
Peck’s choreographic output is prodigious. In my mind he is the true heir to Balanchine and Robbins. While Rotunda is eminently enjoyable and a suitable fit for the company’s rep, there is a definite familiarity when you watch. I can’t decide whether that is a good thing or a bad thing. I just hope that Peck is paced, so we can enjoy his work evolve organically over his career.
3. Apollo (Balanchine/Stravinsky)
Taylor Stanley in Balanchine’s Apollo (Andrea Mohin)
Having seen the Royal Ballet’s version on several occasions, I took it for granted that NCYB performed the prologue and apotheosis to which I was accustomed. It doesn’t, and I think it actually makes for a clearer reading of the choreographic text and a more enjoyable aesthetic experience.
This is the ballet I think of when I hear the term “neoclassical”. The look and feel of the ballet is very much rooted in the world of classical antiquity, but it is bumped into the 20th century through the lens of Stravinsky’s score. I spoke with a friend just before watching and even as a devout Balanchinian, I admitted that while there were moments in the ballet that I enjoyed, I couldn’t say I actually liked it. After this performance, I have a different take on it, because two of the dancers allowed me to see it with very different eyes.
Taylor Stanley danced the role of Apollo here with a poetic sensitivity. He is not afraid to show us the vulnerable Apollo, not yet in control of his powers. Previously, I had seen dancers approach this role from a virtuoso angle and it never sat well. It’s like when Aurora makes her first entrance in Act 1 and looks like she’s ready to go straight to her act 3 wedding. Stanley is certainly the first dancer I have seen imbue Apollo with such innocence and it certainly gave me a different perspective. While Indiana Woodward and Brittany Pollack conquered their roles as Calliope and Polyhymnia with aplomb, it was Tiler Peck who took the role of Terspichore, muse of dance, to new heights. I think in this instance it is her earnest reading of the choreography that speaks volumes; she doesn’t try to do anything extraneous with it, no distortion just because she can, if there is a bel canto equivalent in dance, it is she.
The performance closes on the iconic three-tiered arabesque. When I first saw Apollo, I felt short-changed that it didn’t finish with this, so thank you NYCB for finally giving me the Apollo that I always wanted!
4. Ballo Della Regina (Balanchine/Verdi) and After the Rain pas de deux (Wheeldon/Part)
A ballet that originator Merrill Ashley called “champagne bubbles” and a meditative ode to heartache are at the two ends of NYCB’s repertoire and while I wouldn’t have thought to pair them in a double bill, here they are, and they certainly made for an interesting watch.
Ballo, like Allegro Brillante, fizzes with virtuosity, but it takes some very interesting turns which elevate it above an exercise in bravura. A central adage that has moments of wild abandon, before ending long before you can have imagined. A procession which comes from nowhere, but offers a moment of gravitas. A false-ending which is like taking a mis-step in the dark, but thrilling. I felt confused and excited.
Anthony Huxley was a real surprise for me here: such glorious ballon and crisp execution. The sad thing for the danseur in this ballet is that all the solo moments seem to rocket out of the wings, electrify for a moment and then disappear from whence they came. Delightful nonetheless. Megan Fairchild, who first danced the role as a student, is a soubrette par excellence. I do not mean that in any pejorative sense, on the contrary I am endlessly impressed by her fearless approach. She whipped through her variations with ease and assurance.
Apart from Ballo and Robbin’s Four Seasons, I cannot think of any other ballets set to Verdi. I am open to correction and I’m not going to spend my afternoon researching. But it seems a pity, as the music is eminently danceable.
Megan Fairchild in Balanchine’s Ballo Della Regina (Photo: Paul Kolnik)
The pas de deux from After the Rain, set to the achingly beautiful Spiegel im Spiegel by Arvo Part, has become somewhat of a signature piece for NYCB and something that has been passed down with reverence from dancer to dancer since 2005. Craig Hall is a master partner, and anyone wishing to know how to do so needs to watch his performance here. Wendy Whelan is such a consummate performer and here is no exception. There is rarely a moment where you wish she executed a step differently or made an alternative artistic choice. She knows the artform so thoroughly and respectfully. With her career on the NYCB stage behind her, we can now fully appreciate the professionalism she brought to every performance. Simply beautiful.
5. Rubies (Balanchine/Stravinsky)
I’m going to set my stall out on Rubies from the outset; I have always found it to be a ballet that promises more than it delivers. It is a work that is spoken about with an exuberant reverence, which, despite numerous viewings, leaves me dumbfounded. Is it just me? As part of Jewels, Rubies is one of the most widely performed works of Balanchine, and of the three (the other two being Emeralds and Diamonds – both of which I am very fond, incidentally), it is the one performed independently most often.
I get the hype. Kind of. It’s punchy, the costuming is gorgeous, there are some fun steps, an engaging central couple and a solo female, that can only be described as a siren. Obviously for some, that adds up to a successful ballet. For me, the arithmetic is a little off. I guess it just comes down to personal taste. It is set up to be a “wow” ballet, but it just never comes through. I’m in the minority, I believe, and I’m okay with that. There are ballets in the repertoire that I love and others loathe. I remember after I fell head over heels for Theme and Variations on first seeing it at the Royal Opera House, Patricia Linton (formerly of the Royal Ballet and one of my wonderful ballet teachers) described it as a “bit of fluff”. Gobsmacked. One dancer’s fluff is another dancer’s ermine, I suppose.
Taste aside, the dancers did the choreography justice here. Megan Fairchild was her usual fire-cracker self and Gonzalo Garcia a very athletic and musical partner. These two have Balanchine in their bones and intuitively know how to perform the steps, without the affection we sometimes see when it is staged by other companies. The highly-coveted “tall girl” was danced by Mira Nadon. This young corps de ballet dancer looks like she could get out of bed and execute these steps before coffee, but I’m not sure she succeeded in creating the right ambience for the role. She will most certainly get there, and very soon I’m sure. The corps really get this work and make it look a pleasure to dance.
Maybe some day, the equation will balance out and Rubies will add up for me. Either way, I’ll hopefully have Emeralds and Diamonds on either side to keep me happy.
Mira Nadon in Balanchine’s Rubies (Photo: Erin Baiano)
6. Concerto DSCH (Ratmansky/Shostakovich)
It’s always a bit jarring when you see new choreography set to a score which you already know, and which already has a well established choreographed text. In this instance, the score is Shostakovich’s Piano Concerto No. 2 in F Major and the familiar ballet is MacMillan’s Concerto, choreographed on Berlin Staatsballett in 1966. I am immensely fond of the score – the slow movement is achingly romantic – and a fan of the MacMillan ballet with it’s military undertones and technical hurdles. Armed with this knowledge, I tried my best to remain open-minded and receptive to this new (to me) reading. It wasn’t long before I had fallen under Ratmansky’s spell, by way of some wonderful dancers.
There is certainly less delineation here between dancers and the movements to which they belong, with principal dancers wafting between all three movements. It seemed to me to be like a particularly vivid dream; moments of distinct narrative appeared and dissolved, leaving us grasping to join the dots. These vignettes did not serve to confuse, only to draw us in, wanting to know the full story.
The dancers were in their element here, particularly the trio of Ashley Bouder, Joaquin de Luz and Gonzalo Garcia. Have three dancers ever had so much brio? Bouder is a technical whizz-kid who seems to be able to stop time in her dancing, finding space in the music where there is none. Garcia and de Luz were pure symbiosis, feeding off each others energy to go to heights not attainable on one’s own. De Luz’s revoltade to forward roll to piqué arabesque with a cheeky smile summed up the pure joy of the ballet. The cut-and-thrust of the trio and the corps de ballet was balanced out by the soothing lullaby presence of Sara Mearns and Tyler Angle. Dressed in elegant eau-de-nil, they brought a soft, cool energy in their dancing. Mearns has a unique quality to transport the viewer; it’s like she has a key to a different, other world and through her we get a glimpse.
Another noteworthy element is Ratmansky’s use of humour. It’s hard to convey “funny” through a ballet step. Jerome Robbins did it to wonderful effect in The Concert and Ratmansky does it here. When it works, it looks simple and achievable, but it takes a dedicated genius to pull it off.
Joaquin de Luz, Gonzalo Garcia and Ashley Bouder in Ratmansky’s Concerto DSCH (Photo: Paul Kolnik)
Dance Monologue 