Classic NYCB Review
February 18, 2024 | David H. Koch Theater – New York, NY, USA
“Dancers are the athletes of God.” – Albert Einstein
And especially George Balanchine’s.
His ballets transcend people to higher realms, and his dancers are constantly challenged beyond their physical abilities. The matinee performance of Classic NYCB featured New York City Ballet repertory staples, confirming the aforementioned.
Balanchine’s Ballo della Regina launches the show, followed by a pas de deux of Albert Evans’, In A Landscape. The third piece is Peter Martins’ Hallelujah Junction, and the show ends with The Concert (Or, The Perils of Everybody), a comedic ballet by Jerome Robbins.
Classic NYCB Review
Ballo starts with twelve ballerinas in mystical blue dresses, four dancers clustered at the center, the rest posed on either side of the stage. They harmoniously temps levé around each other until the principal ballerina (Megan Fairchild), mirrored by her partner (Joseph Gordon), runs on to command the scene.
She bedazzles in pink, and the corps de ballet encircles the couple like calming waves. The dancers motion their arms like synchronized swimmers while others walk on pointe like flamingo birds by the sea.
The male soloist dives into five impressive attitude turns, then welcomes the lead ballerina to rejoin him. She runs in and they ease into a quiet duet to the sounds of a violin. The program denotes that the ballet was originally set to the music from Guseppi Verdi’s opera Don Carlo, which takes place in a grotto, with reference to the tale of a fisherman’s search for the perfect pearl.
One by one, four soloists in purple intricately waltz in. The fourth soloist lapses over the third soloist with some diagonal turns, like washing her offshore. The dancing flows back to the leads.
Gordon returns with another crowd-pleasing solo as Fairchild shows off airtight bourreés, dashing through the air, jumping while echappé-ing on pointe, and daringly piqués to the tips of her pointe shoes.
Just when her dancing is at its most technical, she tops it off with some assemblés en tournant and lands on her toes again and again.
With no shortage of turns, jumps, and Italian pas de chat, Balanchine choreographs tireless athleticism to match the score. The brisk dancing delights my heart, and at this point, I nod to the rhythm at my seat, completely enamored.
The corps de ballet sails back in together, their arms interlaced above their ballet walks. The purple soloists ebb and flow seamlessly into the group, creating kaleidoscopic formations. The lead dancers return for more virtuosic feats. Gordon pirouettes countlessly, as Fairchild tries to compete with his dancing with speedy walks on pointe.
Ballo della Regina, a 16-minute ballet (although felt shorter), ends with the ensemble posing to family portrait-like perfection.
It satisfies me to see elements of what Balanchine is known for:
- His plotless ballets of which I can always make meaning out of;
- The mannerism of having a hierarchy within his ballets, usually containing a star couple, some demi-soloists, and an army of corps dancers with plenty of dancing of their own;
- And the meticulous embodiment of the music as if the music notes are themselves doing the dancing.
Every sound is precisely choreographed to, and everyone is involved. Ballo left me immediately wanting to go take a ballet class!
Shifting gears completely after an intermission, Evans’ In A Landscape, insidiously creeps in.
Alec Knight walks on stage in pitch-black, dragging in a woman lying on her side, trailing behind his bold silhouette. She looks frail in a pool of spotlight like… a thing. Eventually, she gains her vitality but loses it all again.
(The late Evans, a former principal dancer at City Ballet, cleverly used the same conveyor belt from Balanchine’s Nutcracker to transfer the woman on the floor; possibly a way to salute his dance lineage.)
The duet continues with dramatic lifts and experimental transitions. A particular one stood out where the ballerina makes a “W” shape while ascending upwards to heaven. The piece was originally choreographed on Wendy Whelan, a former dance partner of Evans’ and currently the Associate Artistic Director of the company. Might just be that Evans wanted to honor her name.
Throughout the piece, the man tries to fit the ballerina onto the crevices of his body. Their arms also interlocking numerous times. To be exact, the shapes remind me of tangled hangers, trying to disentangle themselves. Such intimate bindings!
As a featured pas de deux, I also sense the piece is used as a rite of passage for young promising talents in the company, waiting for a promotion in the wings, a chance to shine in a breakout role.
And that chosen ballerina for the part is Dominika Afanasenkov, a corps de ballet member who also starred in On Pointe, a Disney+’ TV Series on The School of American Ballet in late 2020.
As a sleek blonde who willowy maneuvers from the floor to her toes, Afanasenkov stands charismatically amidst John Cage’s atonal music. She’s no scant! Not like a spontaneous understudy who got thrown into the deep end of a dark dance. She has risen to the occasion with elegance, clearly coming into her own.
Next up, the only living choreographer from the program, Martins, who sits with his family a few seats to my left, shares his Hallelujah Junction, a ballet that plays with momentum and explosive Balanchine technique. (Since his controversial departure from the company before the pandemic, I am a little surprised that he still has a hand in the NYCB jar.)
Hallelujah Junction begins with two pianists sitting facing each other at their grand pianos appearing as backdrops for a dancing trio on stage. The three dancers form a straight line – a woman in white leotard and skirt stands in the center, a man in black stands in front of her, and a man in all white stands behind her. They almost resemble the piano keys, dancing to the notes flying off from the pianists’ fingers.
John Adams’ music, which provides the title of the ballet, gently overlaps, repetitively chasing the dancers’ every move.
With every fleeting movement, there is urgency, similar to walking in New York City during rush hour.
And it is the only piece in the show where I hear the dancers’ heavy breathing. The dynamic partnering is embellished with flexed hands to the sides, one moment even reminding me of another Balanchine ballet, Apollo.
More dancers gradually make their appearance; five wear all black, and six, all white. The costumes suggest light can outnumber dark, making Hallelujah more spiritual than just numerical.
The leading ballerina wearing white performs a backbend over her partner’s shoulders. They suspend their pose as she melts over his thigh limberly. She abruptly kicks upstage a few times, allowing her partner to glide her around in space like an ice-skater.
I am reminded of even more Balanchine ballets as I breathe with Hallelujah – Agon, Concerto Barocco, Duo Concertant.
What impresses me is the final movement between four couples, raging in with physical holiness. The four women wearing black are supported by their skillful partners in white. Each dancer performs a featured solo, and their movement qualities, in contrast to the women in white, are direct, quick, competitive and momentous. The piano music crescendos as the dance grows darker and lighter all at once.
Hallelujah Conjunction demonstrates a conglomeration of Balanchine’s works through Martins’ eyes, a velocious piece that highlights the Balanchine technique in max rigor.
Finally, the exciting afternoon concludes with Robbins’ whimsical ballet The Concert. Even though I have seen the Paris Opera Ballet dance it once on YouTube, it thrills me to ponder it some more in real time.
Robbins, a highly theatrical choreographer, collaborated with scenic artists and the musicians to create The Concert; he even included the featured pianist in the dance, choreographing her every move as if she’s one of the dancers.
The music is by Frederic Chopin, a favorite of mine, and the ballet opens with one of his high-powered polonaises.
A sophisticated pianist walks on diagonally towards her bench at stage right. She plops down upon arrival, and prepares herself for her Concert. In her highly choreographed minute, she is able to relax the audience with some animated pedestrian movements, sending them on a journey of laughter.
The pianist starts playing. A peculiar crowd, each to their own, slowly gathers, miming and dancing around the piano respectfully, trying to be the ideal audience at a concert. They each bring on their own folding chairs one by one (or two by two), planting themselves across the stage, revealing their quirky personalities without much awareness of the others.
The Concert is an choreographic exemplar of relationships. The hodgepodge group consists of a neurotic ballerina, a cultured critic, a grumpy fan, a wimpy guy, a wealthy couple that’s on the brink of a nasty breakup, a clueless usher at the concert, a businessman, a girly BFFs, and of course, a concert pianist.
I wonder why Robbins chose to portray these characters in particular – did he cherry-pick from the actual humans in his personal circle?
Right after the opening dance, a group of frantic men, each carrying a lifeless doll-like ballerina in their arms, tickles the audience into more laughter. I thought it was the most bizarre.
The Chopin music settles the ballerinas down and they begin to dance the most imperfect ballet. One of them, wearing dark rim glasses, always seems to be a little off.
It might’ve been refreshing for Ribbons to create something purposefully faulty, just for the fun of it. An enjoyable break from constantly striving for perfection in the ballet world.
Next scene, the ballerina comes back, trying to pick out a hat for herself. The cultured critic and the wimpy guy are happy to assist. After the third try, she commits to a fun hat with fuzzy blue frills, only seconds later to discover another woman wearing the exact same one. She slouches and goes into despair.
The man from the wealthy couple develops a major crush on the ballerina. They sneak in some dancing here and there, skyrocketing the girlfriend’s envy. He even attempts to kill his soon-to-be ex with a knife, but fails miserably.
The stage is suddenly taken over by assumed raindrops. Dancers slow down, moving more pedestrian-like. They walk aimlessly with black umbrellas over their hats. Lights dim, I’m intaking a cleansing moment in the midst of a chaotic ballet. A very effective way of wiping away all of its heated drama from earlier.
At last, the dancers morph themselves into a lighthearted party of butterflies. Dancers leaping around, defying gravity, flapping colorful wings all around.
The ballerina and the wealthy man leading the pack of swirling rhopalocera to the side, the jealous wealthy woman tries to disrupt their romantic affair. Tension builds, overshadowing the concert altogether… until the pianist herself retrieves a life-size insect net and begins to chase them all into a pandemonium.
And that’s the curtain.
The highly esteemed Classic NYCB playbill highlights the company’s spirit, solidifies its trademark technique, and carries forward New York City Ballet’s world-class prestige.
Featured Photo for this Classic NYCB review of New York City Ballet in Jerome Robbins’ The Concert. © 2017 Paul Kolnik.
