Thursday, May 11

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A review of New York City Ballet by Ivy Lin for Bachtrack.

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Brandenburg was the raison d’etre of the evening. Is it the greatest Robbins? No, but it’s still delightful. In the first section, a corps of sixteen weaved in and out in patterns that resembled folk dance. Holly Hynes’ colorful costumes look like the villagers in Giselle, with shorter skirts. In the pas de deux, Anthony Huxley and Indiana Woodward were sharp and zippy, but this is probably the least compelling section of the ballet.

Gia Kourlas reviews the program for The New York Times.

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The fleet-footed humans in “Brandenburg” — two leading couples and an ensemble of 16 — create choreographic constellations as they weave among one another in formations that breeze across the stage under the glow of Jennifer Tipton’s lighting. Woven together, the classical dance and folk motifs — circles, flexed heels, quick runs backward and forward — knit patterns onto the stage, almost transforming its surface into a sky of gliding birds. This is a ballet to watch, if you can, from above.

 

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A review of the Ballet of the Teatro dell’Opera di Roma by Ilona Landgraf in her blog, "Landgraf on Dance."

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Two performances of Frederick Ashton’s hilarious “La fille mal gardée” in sunny Rome – doesn’t that sound irresistible? Laughter is inevitable when Lise, the wayward peasant’s daughter, mischievously arranges tête-à-têtes with her lover Colas. That’s how I’ve experienced “La fille mal gardée” previously.
This time, though, the laughter stuck in my throat. Too much did the overexcited quirks of Lise’s mother Simone – a role traditionally danced in drag – remind me of reality. A reality that – at least in some of the western countries – has been shaped by the LGBTQ+ community’s persistent effort to be celebrated within mainstream culture. Bearing in mind some of their avid advocates (the transgender model Dylan Mulvaney, for example, or the drag queen Joshua Kelley who recently was appointed the US Navy’s first digital ambassador), I don’t find Simone funny anymore. And worse, the moment a sense of reality sneaks into Ashton’s village folk, the characterization of Alain (Simone’s favorite son-in-law) as the village idiot becomes unbearable too. Though of marriageable age, he clings to his wealthy father’s coat-tails like an infant. Lise disdains him; the village youth laughs down at him – and so do we. But isn’t he actually the victim of nasty bullying?