THE HUNGARIAN NATIONAL BALLET's SINGULAR SWAN LAKE, Nov. 7, 2018

The Hungarian National Ballet Company's Swan Lake

The Hungarian National Ballet's Singular Swan Lake

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

November 7, 2018

New York, New York

After having to cancel numerous performances earlier this week at the David H. Koch Theater, the Hungarian National Ballet went up in what would be their single performance of Swan Lake. I salute their chutzpah. The house was packed and they received a rare show of support. Conductor of the Hungarian National Orchestra, Balsázs Kosárs, unleashed the joyful, exuberant sound of what is one of three of the greatest scores composed by Tchaikovsky for the ballet, filling the house with ample volume. Swan Lake is one of his most uplifting and buoyant scores ever written for dance, but no matter which way you try to spin it, the story of Swan Lake is an out and out tragedy. Yet no matter how dramatic a ballerina's portrait of the doomed princess, Odette, when you leave the theater at the end of the night, you want to waltz out through the lobby dancing. It was clear from the start the HNB's Artistic Director, András Almási-Tóth did not wish to deliver a conventional version of this beloved classic--why bother putting New York audiences to sleep? Created by Rudi Van Dantzig after Petipa and Ivanov, the production takes numerous narrative and artistic risks that ensure the achievement of this end and make for a very unusual evening at the ballet. Van Dantzig attempts to make the story more accessible by embellishing the action and introducing several new features, such as a childhood friendship between Siegfried, danced by Gergely LeBlanc, and his friend, Alexander, danced by Dmitry Diachov. Those who are fond of the insane plot of Swan Lake may not appreciate Van Dantzig's clever use of narrative devices. The intrusion of Alexander seemed to strike more than a few jaded New Yorkers as an unusual ploy. Some imagined that they detected a homoerotic vibe between Siegfried and Alexander, something that clearly was not the intention of Van Dantzig. Hungary is well known for being an extremely homophobic place; it is doubtful that the HNB would have chosen a production that wishes to raise questions about Siegfried's sexual identity. Rather, the boyhood friendship between Siegfried and Alexander is a symbol of something that has become too comfortable and now prohibits Siegfried's growth. Appropriate in boyhood, it has run its course and Siegfried must discard it if he is to marry and become the ruler of his kingdom. By introducing this seemingly innocuous relationship so early in the ballet, Van Dantzig establishes an aspect of the theme of transformation that is central to Swan Lake.

In Act 1, we find ourselves at a party in the garden outside the castle where Siegfried resides with his mother. Toer van Schayk designed the sets and costumes, sparing no expense to evoke the lush, verdant landscape of 17th century Flanders and the opulent exterior of the palace. The ballet opens with the traditional birthday bash for the young prince, who has just turned 18. Numerous well wishers engage in Hungarian folk dances choreographed by the multi-talented Toer van Schayk, who also choreographed numerous national dances and variations in Act 3. In Act 1, the simplicity and charm of Hungarian folk dance was underscored by the presence of small children and female dancers in long, plain skirts and peasant blouses unadorned by ribbons or bows. Hungarian folk dance, like the Hungarian language, is something that is unique to Hungary. Ballet audiences would be mistaken to compare it to the character dances of Russia, Eastern Europe or Poland; certainly, it should not be confused with the acrobatics of the Moiseyev Dance Company of Moscow. The gentle candor of the movement of this unique dance form is yet another singular feature of HNB's Swan Lake.

In Act 1, Van Dantzig adds a slight twist to the plot. Siegfried's care free counterpart, Alexander, has made the party a surprise, forgetting that members of the court may show up and placing Siegfried in an awkward position. This establishes the difference in rank between the two boys. When the Queen appears suddenly, Siegfried is terribly embarrassed that he is not properly dressed to receive her. His attempt to straddle spontaneity and propriety leaves him looking very foolish. The Queen presents him with the gift of a wedding ring, underscoring the obvious. Soon he must choose a bride and resume responsibility for running his father's kingdom. Siegfried's father is dead; he never knew him. That, combined with the fact that he is shy and awkward with girls, makes the prospect of marriage and leadership weigh heavily on him.When the Queen departs, we watch him undergo a radical change in mood. Feeling that he cannot live up to his mother's expectations, he lapses into melancholy. Alexander, the more well-adjusted and extroverted of the pair, has no concept of the pressure that Siegfried is under. As the party winds down, he suggests that he and Siegfried flirt aimlessly with girls, hoping to cheer his buddy up. But this only makes Siegfried feel worse; he flees the scene. When he ventures into the woods, hoping to escape the pressure he is under by thrashing about with a bow and arrow, his actions simultaneously convey a reversion to the games of youth and a metaphor for his search for personal truth. Alexander follows behind loyally and is eventually told to bugger off. Siegfried finds himself alone last. Here he can create the solitude in which he will begin to grapple with the internal change that life is demanding of him.

Tatiana Melnik, an elegant ballerina with pale auburn hair, brings a new maturity to the dual role of Odette/Odile, one of the most demanding parts for a ballerina among the "story ballets." Today, it has come to be thought of as the test of a ballerina's mettle, but it is in fact a test of a dancer's stamina, emotional range and ability to imitate a bird. Odette is a princess who long ago was transformed into a swan by the wicked spell of an evil magician. The same ballerina portrays her counterpart, Odile, the magician's sister and accomplice. Melnik's tendency to play Odette as terribly fragile sometimes translated into sheer exhaustion but, overall, she was secure in her role. (She may have been recovering from an injury for, occasionally, at the beginning or end of a long passage, she teetered on pointe.) Melnik's Odette is neither a complainer nor a drama queen, but a grown woman resigned to her fate as the captive of the wicked magician, Rothbart, danced vigorously by Mikalai Radziush. Long ago, he transformed her into a piece of fowl; she can only manifest in human form at nightfall by the edge of the lake. During the day she resides in the water, gliding about like a duck, presumably. Rothbart presides over her affairs from atop a rock formation overlooking the water. A huge, gawking bird, he continually flaps his wings, which are covered with hideous green feathers. He watches Odette closely and for good reason; should some wonderful man stumble into the picture and fall in love with her, vowing to love her and prove his fidelity, Odette will be released from the wretched spell that has ruined her life. And thankfully, in Act 2, it appears as though that happy day has come. The fixed aspect of transformation that is part of Odette's character is indirectly reflected by the ballet's focus on this important transitional and developmental moment in Siegfried's life. He stumbles across Odette as he takes aim at a large bird circling in the air. Traditionally, Siegfried sees Odette in the sky and raises his bow and arrow, mistaking her for a bird. She flutters to the ground, pleading for her life. In this version, Rothbart is flapping about so much that it appears that Odette enters, pleading with Siegfried to spare Rothbart's life. Too much activity on stage wrought confusion, or perhaps Van Dantzig wishes to establish Rothbart's domination over Odette by having her patrol the skies. 

Transformed into a woman, Odette emerges in the darkness, preening and shaking off her feathers. Siegfried perceives a strange but ravishing vision of femininity. They enter into a dialogue in which she tells her sad story and explains why she's got feathers sprouting out of her hind parts. She brings out Siegfried's protective instincts, making him feel manly and noble. He vows to love her and be faithful to her, determined to free her from bondage. Odette has struck lucky! Siegfried's vow is sincere. But does he really love Odette? This is the question the ballet Swan Lake raises that nobody ever gets around to asking, usually because they're too busy trying figure out what the heck is going on. Certainly, Siegfried is infatuated, but just how serious is he? A few minutes later, he leaves Odette to attend a party in his honor back at the palace. It all seems a little impulsive, but, as a royal, he would be bound take his social obligations seriously. He intends to return--in fact, he must if he ever hopes to see Odette without her feathers in the light of day. But just how well does he really know this bird? Determined to keep up appearances, he dashes off to prepare for the big shindig.

LeBlanc struggled technically throughout the evening, but never faltered in his self-assurance or the straightforward manner in which he conveyed Siegfried's love for Odette. It is rare to see technical inadequacy and temerity of heart side by side in a dancer, but his was a performance that lacked inhibitions of any kind. Despite his limitations, I admired the sincerity that he brought to his execution of the role. In Act 1 he conveyed Siegfried's genuine misery, awkwardness and loneliness. As things progressed, he committed fully to every phase of his love for Odette. In Act 1, Diachov brought good cheer and technical verve to his part, projecting genuine affection for Siegfried. Although the court now discourages their friendship they remain loyal to each other. Much can be said about the skilled dancing of the corps de ballet. In Act 2, the swans moved beautifully about the stage in one, unified body., led by the handsome Ellina Pokhodnyk and Kristina Starostina. The beloved variation of The Four Swans was faithfully executed by Nadezhda Sorokina, Yuka Asai, Olga Chernakova and Lili Feméery, a dance that was performed expertly and with no affectation.

In Act 3 Rothbart and his sister and accomplice, Odile, arrive uninvited at the ball, the latter intending to seduce Siegfried so that he will break his vow of fidelity to Odette. Toer van Schayk's choreography includes national dances and variations of all sort.The spirited dancing of the highly qualified soloists, each adorned in bright silks and satin trimmed with braid or festive ribbon, was delightful to behold, but the old adage "less is more" quickly came to mind. Princesses who vie for Siegfried's favor provide some comic relief--one becomes tipsy and and another tries too hard push herself forward--the two lock horns. Myriad types of entertainment are offered up in honor of Siegfried and the Queen. By the time Odile and Siegfried began the Black Swan pas de deux, Act 3 has begun to lag. Nevertheless, Melnik made a dazzling Black Swan, polishing off 32 fouettés with finesse, working in double pirouettes between fouettés, and looking both delicate and regal in her black feathers. Siegfried asks his mother to allow him to ask for Odile's for her hand in marriage, instantly destroying his vow of fidelity to Odette. His realization that he's been duped by Rothbart and Odile comes about in a wave of intuition that sweeps over him. In the traditional version, we see a vision of Odette in Siegfried's mind's eye, a sole figure in white, upstage, flapping her wings in distress. But this is omitted from Van Dantzig's production. Instead, Siegfried is experiencing the pangs of an awakening conscience. After realizing that Rothbart's plot has ruined his chances of saving Odette, Siegfried flees the ball and runs into the forest to find her and beg her forgiveness.

Now comes the best part.

When the curtain rose at the beginning of Act 4, the audience was stunned by the sheer beauty of the formations of swan maidens frozen in a breathtaking tableau that filled the entire stage. Scattered about in random and spontaneous patterns, it took my breath away. The audience burst into spontaneous applause. This glimpse of balletic architecture on the part of Van Dantzig was well worth the wait. I only wish that I had photographs of it to share with the reader. The dancers began to move...Odette and Siegfried wandered into the woods and found one another. She forgave his betrayal, understanding that he had been tricked. Once again, Melnik's mature interpretation of Odette had a distinct impact, causing Odette to appear to suffer less than Siegfried, who is wracked with guilt. Her view of events is philosophical; thus she can comfort Siegfried. As Odette disappears into the woods, carrying on with her life trapped in a spell, Rothbart attempts to chase Siegfried away from the lake. Siegfried charges him and drowns trying to kill him. (If one did not read the synopsis in the program it would have been very difficult to put this together.) A search party arrives, led by Alexander. Siegfried's body is dredged up out of the water. In the final moments of the ballet, Alexander carries Siegfried's dead body up out of the lake and downstage in his arms. This moment of horror lends a Gothic aspect to the ending, terror and loss dominating in the final moment of Swan Lake.

BALANCHINE: THE CITY CENTER YEARS November 4, 2018

Balanchine: The City Center Years

New York City Center Raises Funds For Its Recent Face Lift

Matinee, Sunday, November 4, 2018 

While watching any other ballet company than the New York City Ballet perform works by Balanchine, it's probably not a good idea to get too hung up on detecting the clear imprint of "Balanchine style" nor searching for obvious similarities to the NYCB's version of the same piece, whether or not you're comparing it to a work recently performed by that company or some fossil of theirs preserved on video tape that was digitally remastered decades ago. The temptations of such a preoccupation are obvious in a retrospective such as Balanchine: The City Center Years, but are to be avoided. Nevertheless, when a fine company such as The Joffrey Ballet does an excellent job of capturing the Balanchine style in their execution of The Four Temperaments, as is did today in the final performance of this festival, it's worth mentioning. 

Yoshihisa Arai in The Joffrey Ballet's
production of "The Four Temperaments"

Several ballerinas were not quite secure in their footing during their solo parts, but that didn't detract from the overall affect of the performance, with its use of myriad dancers in a calm flurry of motion in four movements. The type of dance originated in this piece struck the earliest audiences of the NYCB as a form of ballet similar to modern dance. They were wrong, of course. It was simply a further exploration of what ballet dancers could do in space and time by Balanchine. In TJB's performance today, things such as the flick of the wrists in the port de bras, the quizzical tilt of the head, the angular thrust of hips and the precise placement of feet were consistently cast in the Balanchine mold. Although there was less distinction between the personalities of each of the 4 temperaments--Melancholic, Sanguinic, Phlegmatic and Choleric--than many people might have liked to have seen, these references to classical elements of Air, Earth, Fire and Water were intended by Balanchine as a starting point, not an end, in and of themselves. Becoming mired in their meanings can lead an audience down the wrong path. Several of these terms have fallen into disuse in the contemporary lexicon; their meaning has morphed dramatically over time. For example, we now associate the word "melancholic" with a person who is sad, depressed or suicidal when the classical meaning suggests someone who is "analytical, wise and quiet." And sanguine means "optimistic, active and social"; phlegmatic means "relaxed and peaceful"; and choleric means "short-tempered, fast or irritable." Matching each term to the specific interpretation of the personality of each dance by its lead dancers is probably a misuse of our energies. TJB’s attitude was perfectly apropos regarding its presentation; it captured this ballet's unique flavor with a sense of unity and wholeness, as though it had been performing it for many years. Yoshihisa Arai, the male dancer who led the Melancholic Variation, made an outstanding contribution to the piece and indeed the entire afternoon. He is an incredibly expressive, facile young dancer who he has a great future ahead of him. The curators of the festival--whoever they are (the program notes are deliberately vague) were wise to invite TJB all the way from their base in Chicago to participate in the festival.

Hugo Marchand and Sae-Eun Park of the Paris Opera Ballet in
Divertissement Pas de Deux from A Midsummer Night's Dream
Photo Courtesy of Kent G. Becker

Hugo Marchand, of the Paris Opera Ballet, perfectly captured the essence of chivalry buried in the text of Divertissement Pas de Deux from A Midsummer Night's Dream. Sae-Eun Park offered an utterly feminine counterpart to Marchand's brand of partnering, and while the intimacy of their pas de deux sometimes bordered on something precious, their choices were exquisitely executed and had an uncanny sense of relaxation. It gave me pause; I have never seen this pas de deux carried out with the same kind of serene tenderness. It came as a complete surprise. 

Although Balanchine's Tchaikovsky Pas de Deux is meant to be a joyful, athletic romp between two high spirited young lovers, Viktoria Terkshina and Kimin Kim of the Mariinsky Ballet, masterful interpreters of the classics, were cast in this virgorous and physical lost excerpt from Swan Lake that remained unused for years. When Balanchine got word of its rediscovery, he scooped it up and created the ballet at once. When playing teenage Kitri in a story ballet such as Don Quixote, Tereshkina is capable of seeming fifteen years old because she is playing a character. She hurls herself into that youthful part with technical flawlessness and a total lack of inhibition, using a brassy smile and outrageous playfulness that demands Kim, her frequent partner, pull out all the stops to keep up with her energy level through endless pranks and crazy-eyed interactions. Together, they are capable of anything. Yet when challenged to play herself in an abstract work by Balanchine, the prima ballerina assoluta was faced with a horse of a different color. She is quite a few years older than Kim, who just turned 26, and though in the womanly prime of her physical strength, would have looked foolish had she attempted to bound about the stage like a 17 year old colt. She had to play herself in an abstract work, and though it was joyful and boundless, it was essential that she maintain her dignity and stature as a great ballerina and a woman of the world. In order to approach the piece like dancers of the NYCB, Kim would have needed to be matched with a vivacious 17 year old who was willing to inject the vigorous assault of movement on stage into the ballet that it demands. under 5' 5" to go at this with the vigor and freedom it demands. In order to balance the extreme enthusiasm of the piece with the age difference between herself and her partner, Tereshkina wisely approached it as a Romantic interlude between two extremely well-acquainted lovers. As it was a clear choice, it was a different but totally apropos way of flinging herself into a ballet intended for a couple of teenagers in its spirit and athleticism. She headed into their encounter as a playful but sincere flirtation between a warm-hearted, sophisticated, almost aristocratic woman and an eager, passionate young man. Perhaps one should think in terms of the happy part of Colette's great work "Cheri" and not its sequel, "The Last of Cheri." 

Tereshkina's technical acuity enabled her to approach extremely demanding passages with amazing simplification and ease. Sometimes she seemed to "mark" steps (abbreviated dancing sometimes used in rehearsal to spare the energies and physiques of the dancers), for example, carrying the arched passés that are meant to require the foot to go all the way to the top of the knee only to the middle of her calf. At other times she simply truncated whole passages to streamline the piece, underscoring the ease of execution. This currently of intense sexual attraction between a worldly woman at ease with herself and a much younger man was established repeatedly throughout the piece. 

The challenge to the male dancer in Tchaikovsky Pas de Deux is to keep up with the time, which moves along at an ultra-rapid clip. He must execute bravura leaps and challenging lifts without falling behind. Quite often male dancers who attempt this role find themselves fighting a losing battle, but Kim was on top of everything from go--delivering his lofty jetés with ease and simultaneously deferring to his partner. Karinska's classical costume was not flattering to him, underscoring his slender frame and youthfulness. He would have been wise to have worn his own costume, something that would emphasize the breadth of his shoulders and sculpted, muscly back. Mid-way through, he surprised the audience by unleashing a series of a pirouettes done á la seconde, pumping the floor at two turns per beat and creating a literal whirlwind that blew the lid off the house. The piece moves so swiftly that the stunt was over in seconds; as Kim finished up in a series of pirouettes and slipped playfully off stage I wondered whether he might have preferred a more vigorous attack to the entire piece as a whole. By saving up this stunt and slipping it in part-way, however, he made it all that much more exciting. At the very end, the pair abandoned themselves to a courageous execution of the well known fish dives, Tereshkina throwing herself into Kim's arms with great abandon each time and allowing him to raise her up on pointe in arabesque smack on the beat. He carried her aloft into the wings, her abdomen catapulting toward the sky, her legs trailing behind her, holding her fast, as though relishing every long, luxurious inch of her. Their performance was a subtly nuanced and unusual approach to what is usually a straightforward romp carried out with extreme adrenaline, but reminded me once more that this ballerina is all woman and this danseur is all man. With relatively few performances in the west under his belt, Kim already has a legion of female fans. In the course of the evening, it was undeniable that he and his partner received the largest response from the audience, which seemed a just reward for being asked to perform a piece in which they were not suitably cast as a team.

Viktoria Tereshkina and Kimin Kim in Tchaikovsky Pas de Deux
Photo Courtesy of Kent G. Becker

Symphonie Concertante was beautifully performed by American Ballet Theater. It was intimate, vital, elegant, exquisite—and bold. What a treat! In over 5 decades of attending the NYCB, this was the first time that I had ever seen this creation. First created by Balanchine for the School of American Ballet in the 1950’s, possibly for their annual Commencement Exercises or some function that provided an opportunity for students to try their wings. It somehow fell into obscurity, was rediscovered by the Balanchine Trust in the 1980’s and brushed off and put back together by ABT. (No other company performs it today.) On a large scale, it can be perceived as an introduction to the basics of partnering given to a group of fledgling female dancers, offering them a rich and varied taste of the transition from dancing alone as a girl to dancing with a male partner, from maidenhood to womanhood as it were, and expanding the territory from the dance studio to the professional stage. Ormsby Wilkins, my personal favorite among maestros with the ABT, conducted Mozart's score, which calls for two soloists on strings, parts superbly fulfilled by violinist Giora Schmidt and violist Shmuel Katz. Female dancers swathed in creamy pink or pale blue tutus decked the diminutive stage of NYCC in one lovely formation after another. They looked good enough to eat, creating an impression of a confectionery delight that was far more appealing than anything Alexei Ratmansky came up with in his recent revival, Whipped Cream. The costumes by Theoni V. Aldredge were so appealing that afterward I found myself craving vanilla cake with creamy white frosting. We saw strong performances from Christine Shevchenko, Devon Teuscher and Thomas Forster, who worked closely together in perfect harmony. The only man in the entire piece, Forster appears half-way through among so many fillies in lacy tutus. He is a tall, dignified figure and was dressed all in white, looking both powerful and elegant among the huge number of initiates, “student” ballerinas who, prior to his entrance, attempt to partner each other by joining their hands raised in the air. He introduces conventions of partnering between men and women by offering a firm, gentle hand to a few of the acolytes; at times the group surrounds him, ferrying him off stage or on again in circular formations. It is neither here nor there, but when Shevchenko first came on stage, for a second she so resembled Suzanne Farrell that I nearly fell out of my seat. She has large eyes and a similarly heart shaped face but, in reality, her features are more Florentine and distinct than those of Farrell, whose doe eyes and rounded cheeks blurred the overall impression of her visage. Shevchenko has the ideal face for the stage—one that is strikingly beautiful but visible from a mile away. Throughout her performance, her careful placement of her neck, head and shoulders enhanced her beautiful impression of a Balanchine dancer. All of the delicacy and femininity required of the female ABT dancers was so spot on Balanchine, making this a ballet something that every audience member could simply relax and enjoy. 

ABT cast following a performance of Symphonie Concertante

 

There was no rhyme nor reason as to what exactly was on the menu for this celebration of Balanchine and the NYCB’s years at NYCC. Clearly a fund raiser following the recent renovation of the renowned temple of dance and theater, the five performances were meant to be a week of assorted entertainment offering the opportunity for many dancers from major ballet companies from all over the world to unite under one roof in the name of Balanchine. No matter how carefully one reads the program, the curator’s identity remains unclear. His or her intention was not to create a thorough or exhaustive presentation of every work created by Balanchine and/or performed by the NYCB during the NYCC years (1948-1964). One work, Apollo, hearkened back to his tenure as Ballet Master and Choreographer with Diaghilev’s Ballets Russes in the 1920’s. While individual audience members naturally had their favorite programs, there is no value to be created, collectively, in attempting to decide what program was the best or which dancers did the most outstanding job. At this level, in the words of George Gershwin, "Who Cares?" It was a smorgasbord offering undeniable quality, variety, novelty and a chance to see a few rare works by Balanchine revived in an unusual context. The mere logistics of multiple companies in one theater performing multiple works by Balanchine can be an unnerving thing. In comparison to the 50th Anniversary of Jewels at the David H. Koch Theater, this festival was far less of an ordeal. Audiences clearly love this type of venue. To really enjoy it, it's necessary to stay open-minded and avoid the most obvious trap--demanding that highly skilled ballet dancers who were not trained at the School of American Ballet mimic members of the NYCB. Ultimately, avoid becoming fixated on having one particular wish fulfilled with regard to seeing a particular production of a rare piece from Balanchine’s repertory. (For years I've longed to see a revival Bugaku, a Japanese ceremonial dance in which the couple undresses down to their skivvies in preparation for consummation of their marriage vows, but from what I can tell I'm alone in this desire. I simply have to consider the possibility that this ballet may not be as great a ballet as it is in my memory, which dates back as far as 1967. Still, photographs of Allegra Kent in the costumes in various stages of this piece seem evidence enough to me of the ballet's value. But nobody gives a hoot!) Each program had something for everybody and didn’t take itself too seriously. Its only serious intention was to celebrate and promote Balanchine’s work and that’s what came through. Balanchine: The City Center Years packed the house.