I have been sitting in the Balcony Circle, and I don't know the dancers well enough to identify them without a scorecard -- with the exception of Muriel Maffre and Stephen Legate in
Maelstrom. I apologize in for not being able to "review" the dancing where the cast is listed as an ensemble.
Program 2:
Maelstrom (Mark Morris) is a strange ballet with which to open a program: not only is the music the most serious of the evening, but it is neither the happy romp with an occasional dark cloud and melancholy, like the Mozart serenades Stanton Welch used for
Falling, nor the happy music with serious undertones of the closing piece,
Company B. It requires far more concentration than either of the other two works, for it's possible to enjoy
Company B by treating it as an uplifting ending and ignoring the underlying anxiety of the piece.
While it has some underlying "signature" poses that are rooted in the modern tradition -- the most striking one is where the dancers plie in a position that looks like parallel fourth and hunch their shoulders down an into the movement -- the work on the whole is made from the classical ballet vocabulary. Particularly in the third movement, which is string of trios, duets, and the occasional solo, all of which could have come out of company class, and the root of which can be seen in, for example, the trio in
Tchaikovsky Piano Concerto No. 2.
The unifying signature phrase was a traditional fourth, like a Cechetti pirouette preparation, where the dancer reached forward with one arm, and then while closing in fifth, moved the arm to the side, while lifting the chest up and out a bit and shading the head to the side. What was most striking to me about the piece was how open, articulate, and expressive the women's upper bodies were in this piece, in constrast to the strictly classical
Falling. I wouldn't call it Kirov, but I've rarely seen this quality in the women, and certainly not in seven women in the same ballet.
The second movement of the Beethoven's "Ghost" Trio is one of my favorite pieces of classical music, but it doesn't lend itself easily to dance. The walks to the opening strains were as perfect a match to the music and mood as the final walk for the men's trio in
Emeralds. I thought the movement was strongest for the corps; I'm not sure where the duets were supposed to lead. Morris followed the staccato quality of the middle of the movement by having the until-then legato dancing "hit" several positions, but the choreography didn't reflect the reverb in the strings and the pedalling in the piano that is in the instrumentation. That also reminded me of the staccato movements in the Mimi Paul solo in
Emeralds, which make me cringe when I see them.
I've heard the "Ghost" trio played by established trios (including three different flavors of the Beaux Art Trio) and soloists who play chamber music (Ax, Kim Ma, for example), and in every case, there are three clear, but separate voices. And when watching chamber music being played, it's hard to ignore the physicalization by the players. With the trio on a platform on one side of the orchestra pit, the players were out of sight. If I hadn't know this was a trio, I would have thought I was listening to a small string orchestra with piano accompaniment, so blended and vibrant was the string playing by Concertmaster Roy Malan and Principal Cellist David Kadarauch.
The somber quality of the playing was a great canvas for the dancers, who in parts seemed a little ragged. (For example, at one point, there was a striking stage pattern in which four couples formed a line stage right while three men made a triangle stage left facing the line. I wasn't sure whether the line of couples was supposed to be straight or on a diagonal, with the chevron of men aiming toward them.) I would love to see this ballet again; on first viewing, while I loved whole passages, I'm not sure I loved the whole ballet. I don't quite know how to interpret the title
Maelstrom; while in parts serious, there was little
sturm und drang. While in many of Morris' serious pieces, terrible things can happen, ultimately, the group survives. I find great heart in his sense of quiet optimism of survival. And in the final image, where the seven men fall on the floor outstretched in back [edited from "front"] of the seven women, and the seven women perform the signature move and close in fifth, I had a firm sense that they have come Home.
I was very interested in seeing Stanton Welch's
Falling, because having seen maybe one other ballet of his, I knew that much of the Houston Ballet's repertory is his. I overheard several conversations around me about a previous piece he did for SFB, which was described as fluff.
Falling is a very clever romp, made for five couples, who perform as couples -- including one superb movement for two men, who mirror each other -- and the occasional short solo and trio. The men were dressed in 18th century period "lite," while the women wore short tunics with waists. While there was the occasional plaintive passage, most of the women were the cheery, happy "sprites" that Mozart, personally, would have liked. The pas de deux were clever and the games between the sexes equal, and the ballet was a very welcome change from the angst and agony and dragging around I've been seeing a lot of in recent years.
Kristin Long, Elizabeth Miner, and Tina LeBlanc danced superbly, as did the two men who performed the "mirror" duet, in parts that fit them like gloves. LeBlanc displayed beautiful line and complete phrasing, and Long exploded like a cannon in her movement. Kudos for Morris for casting Miner in
Sylvia; she's dancing with wonderful confidence.
There were two things I liked most about the ballet: the constant, surprising changes of direction, and the patterns on stage when all of the dancers were together. When all of the men and all of the women did the same movement, it was to support the stage pattern, not because Welch didn't know how to do anything else. It's not that often that I new ballets that are happy and joyful without cuteness, coyness, jokiness, or "wink-winks" (as in "we all know we're more sophisticated than what we're portraying.") The ballet requires precision, clean classical positions, and discipline in the ensemble made of the five couples. Despite its length (five movements), I think it would make a superb opener; Mozart's music sings right by.
SFB dances
Company B like ballet dancers; the "groundedness" modern dance was no where to be found. Only one dancer caught the social dance nuances: from the program this is Sarah van Patten, and for me, in her ensemble dancing especially, she stole the show. She has a plaintive solo, "I Can Dream, Can't I?" that was quite balletic, but it was like the dream ballet sequence in a musical, in contrast to her everyday life. While
Company B is clearly modern -- there were ghosts of Paul Taylor dancers throughout -- if SFB hadn't performed it, I don't know if I would have every found out what a deft commedienne van Patten is. In one group movement, the dancers bounce their head to one side in quick succession. In just about everyone else's physicalization, you could almost see the movement rooted in spines and abdomens and knees and toes -- the dancer's "motivation" -- while in van Patten's, no other part of her body moved: it was the fun part of the social dance that everyone waits to do, and she was the town dance diva.
Another highlight was Pascal Molat's "Tico-Tico" solo, which was the younger sibling to Baryshikov's performance in
Push Comes to Shove. This solo may have been rooted in ballet -- if it wasn't, I never once envisioned someone from Taylor's company doing it -- with stops and changes and humor, but with some softer passages, beautifully expressed by Molat, that weren't in Tharp's work. It must have been a cultural challenge in every way for Guennadi Nedviguine to do "Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy (of Company B)", because to me, this had Patrick Corbin written all over it.
What was missing from these fully balletic interpretations was the sense of social anxiety underlying the songs, which were performed by the USO poster girls, the Andrew Sisters. The young people doing these social dances were children during the Depression, and their political landscape went straight from the Depression to World War II, both of which had serious impact on the social fabric, and it was a time when personal insecurity and questions of identity could be considered frivolous. (There's a war on, don't you know? People are being killed. Be strong or you're playing into the hands of the enemy.)
What
Company B does give San Francisco Ballet is the challenge of creating character. That most of the dancers didn't quite meet it was actually a noble failure, in that they didn't cross the line to parody or over-acting, and treated it as a dance challenge. While the general spirit was the same as what NYCB attempted in the one-time Ray Charles special (was it
Fool for You?), the choreography was a lot better, and with time, the underlying tone of the piece may come through.
In light of the recent discussions about whether ballet companies should let modern dance and modern choreographers into their reps, I think this program should be considered in context: none of the pieces were cross-over, none were "the latest thing" -- former enfant terrible Morris is considered venerable at this point and he takes his ballet assignments seriously -- SFB repertory consists primarily of classical and neoclassical ballets, and having $25 of $35 million of the endowment raised shows, if nothing else, that the money in the city supports the direction of the company, which is firmly rooted in the classical tradition. In this sense, and looking at the rep for the remainder of the season, I think that Tomasson is feeding his company well.
Edited by hockeyfan228, 06 February 2005 - 11:58 PM.