“Vástádus Eana—The Answer is Land” opens outdoors, where the audience has gathered around a grassy area. Seven women in black skirts, ankle boots, red capes, and bonnets approach toting megaphones above their heads.
Inspired by her fascination with microphotography, Noelle Kayser’s “Scales on the Wings of a Butterfly” at BalletX’s midsummer series opened with a pyramid of 16 bodies under Drew Billiau’s shadowed lighting.
“I have nowhere to go, and I’m going there,” has been attributed to such disparate writers as Charles Bukowski, Carl Sandburg and Charles Simic, though this reviewer thinks the existential phrase sounds more like Cunningham or Cage.
The curtain rises on Prince Siegfried, asleep and slumped in an armchair. We enter his dream: a mysterious woman dances in the shadows, only to be abruptly seized by a somber, bird-like figure.
The Sarasota Ballet’s return to Jacob’s Pillow for five days of a triple bill that included two little-seen works by Sir Frederick Ashton and a world premiere by Jessica Lang, was charged with anticipation and curiosity.
Why Not Theatre’s bold, multidisciplinary adaptation of the Mahabharata drew a rapt audience at Lincoln Center’s vibrant summer arts festival “Summer for the City.”
Washington, D.C.’s 100° June weather wasn’t the only thing generating heat in the city. Chamber Dance Project’s 11th annual D.C. summer season production, “Red Angels,” produced its own scorching intensity as one of this summer’s early triumphs.
Watching Matthew Bourne's reworked version of the “star-cross'd lovers,” I was briefly reminded of Veronica, played by Winona Ryder, in the dark 1988 comedy by Daniel Waters and Michael Lehmann, Heathers, and her line, “my teen angst bullshit has a body count.” Yes, this is the darker side of Bourne's repertoire,...
Beneath blue California skies, manicured trees, and the occasional hum of an overhead airplane, Tamara Rojo took the Frost Amphitheater stage at Stanford University to introduce herself as the new artistic director of San Francisco Ballet.
After a week of the well-balanced meal that is “Jewels”—the nutritive, potentially tedious, leafy greens of “Emeralds,” the gamy, carnivorous “Rubies,” and the decadent, shiny white mountains of meringue in “Diamonds”—the New York City Ballet continued its 75th Anniversary All-Balanchine Fall Season with rather more dyspeptic fare.