American Ballet Theatre Sylvia Review
July 8, 2025 | Metropolitan Opera House – New York, NY, USA
I love ballets about love. And on the opening night of American Ballet Theatre’s Sylvia (choreographed by Sir Fredrick Ashton), my heart beats fondly again.
This time, it’s for a mythological tale of Eros matchmaking a heart-guarding huntress with a shepherd set to Leo Delibes’ victorious music that made me want to dance… even during the blackout.
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American Ballet Theatre Sylvia Review
The curtain goes up, unveiling a mystical dance amongst Naiads, Dryads, Fauns and Sylvans. Aminta, the shepherd (Calvin Royal III), penchés in quietly, exhibiting his chiseled ballet body that I cannot take my eyes off of. And Eros, The God of Love (Carlos Gonzalez), stands inside a fountain shrine surveying it all (for twenty-minutes in a B-minus position, to be exact).
Aminta falls love-at-first-sight for Sylvia (Catherine Hurlin), a nymph who has vowed to stay chaste. She leads a pack of helmet-clad huntresses down a bridge, leaping in like gazelles with bows in hands, each one marvelous to look at.
One of my favorite choreographic moments is when Sylvia piqués into an unforgettable arabesque at the apex of two diagonal lines, striking solidarity with her sisterhood. Their bold energies are reflected in their short metallic skirts that flash like icy armors, designed by Peter Farmer, after Robin and Christopher Ironside.
Ashton repeatedly uses grand jetés in the ballet not only to bring out the huntresses’ characters, but also to convey the main point of his work — that love is worth chasing for.
Hurlin, the program’s cover star and one of ABT’s newest Sylvias, debuts to immediate applause. The night is hers and she knows it! Holding a war horn, she tiptoes into a solid échappé, fighting for her balance, and trying not to rush in the music. A shaky landing after a pirouette did not derail her from delivering a world-class performance; her initial nerves soon vanished and winsome dancing lay ahead.
ABT’s Artistic Director, Susan Jaffe, believes in pushing young dancers into principal roles early, then giving them time to grow. Hurlin is a successful example of Jaffe’s method (another is Chloe Misseldine) and for the rest of the evening, she indeed danced like she was all grown.
Shortly after Sylvia requites her love for Aminta, Orion, an evil hunter (Cory Stearns) forces a struggle-to-break-free dance onto Sylvia, lifting her in a chilling upside down backbend, before abducting her off the stage.
From huntress to seductress, Act II’s Sylvia dances with Orion again, this time wearing a stomach-bearing costume (think Scheherazade and Le Corsaire), determined to get Orion drunk so she can set herself free.
In the final act, there were some things that caught my attention.
The Hunt Attendants in Act I are different from Sylvia’s Attendants in Act III, even though it would’ve made more sense to me for the dancers to have danced in both roles. One worthy mention is Soloist Léa Fleytoux for her eye-catching, luxurious arabesques.
And at first glance, I thought the Goats dance (Breanne Granlund and Takumi Miyake) and the Persephone and Pluto duet (Zimmi Coker and Duncan Lyle) looked just like the Puss in Boots and Little Red Riding Hood vignettes from The Sleeping Beauty. Although the confusing similarities of these divertissements from both ballets may require an in-depth analysis of its own, the remaining diverts prove to be decoratively utilized throughout the act.
Also interestingly, most often a pas de deux precedes the principals’ variations, but in Sylvia, it’s the opposite. (Perhaps Ashton couldn’t wait to show off Margot Fonteyn – the ballet’s original protagonist in 1952 – as his next muse after Alicia Markova left the Sadler’s Wells Ballet).
Kneeling at center stage with a veil over her face, Hurlin is catapulted into the most difficult solo of the evening – the pizzicato variation – when Gonzalez yanks the fabric off of her a La Bayadère. A dramatic presentation fit only for the best.
Hurlin danced with bullseye precision in her every move.
Each hop on pointe, every speedy passé or the endless sissonnés to fouetté arabesques, she never missed a target. Her playful executions made me say to myself “now, that’s a debut!”
It was during her solo that she seamlessly embodied her nickname in the company, Hurricane, with piercing technique, mimicking a young Gillian Murphy, who one New York Times critic once remarked “was born to dance this role”.
Hurlin is a tough act to follow, but fortunately Royal danced his variation like it was a breeze. His body alone is a work of art. Adding to that, he flew across the stage in glorious stag jumps to Delibes’ valse variation (my favorite music in the ballet); no wonder he was smiling the whole way through.
It is lovely to see the complementary pairing of “Cate and Cal” bring out the confidence in each other’s dancing.
Despite being a little out of sync, the return of the Goats and the rest of the ensemble provided some comic relief before the happy couple’s heavenly duet.
Possibly showing her off to the Gods, Royal carries Hurlin up to the sky in a breathtaking torch lift. She arches her back with her arms held in third arabesque, gliding through the air to a violin that sounded like it could diminish all worldly troubles.
Royal pulls Hurlin in for some shimmering fish dives, later framing her head in a gesture that suggests they are madly in love. She sails her double pirouettes before he catches her just in time for a smooth promenade.
Rolling through her Freeds, Hurlin prepares herself for a shoulder sit, then Royal flicks her around onto his other shoulder to place her gracefully in a backbend.
My clairvoyance sense tells me that Virigina Lensi and Elizabeth Beyer are due for their company promotions.
Lensi, who danced as Diana, the Goddess of Chastity, comes on to end Orion’s objections, and she dances with just the right amount of oomph. I saw her in Giselle as Zulma last month and her elegant grand allegros were gravity-defying.
And as a member of the corps de ballet, Beyer stood out with her laser-like grand jetés.
The best came last when all arrived at a happy ending pose. Sylvia sits triumphantly on Aminta’s shoulder and Diana on Eros’, reminding us that the experience of falling in love can make anyone leave their comfort zone, and that despite its risks, is well worth the leap.
Many can agree that dancers are by far their own toughest critics, their faces at curtain calls often revealing self-assigned scores. In tonight’s case, seeing satisfied smiles throughout the cast (captured onto hundreds of smartphones – mine included), I’m confident that Hurlin, Royal, and ABT were quite pleased.
Featured Photo of American Ballet Theatre’s Catherine Hurlin and Calvin Royal III in Sir Fredrick Ashton’s Sylvia. Photo by Nir Arieli.
