World-class review of ballet and dance.
The curtain rose on New York City Ballet’s winter season on January 27, 2022, to a delightful showpiece of a set, designed by Eva LeWitt. Made for “Partita,” Justin Peck’s latest premiere, LeWitt’s colorful ribbons of fabric floated down from overhead, spanning wing to wing, the vibrant color palette creating circles of varying sizes. The dancers appeared in a tight clump center stage under these floating orbs, which hovered over their dance like so many moons.
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No, but I spent two sunny afternoons in the Philadelphia Museum of Art for dances based on or in reference to one of the museum’s greatest assets, its permanent Duchamp collection, and, in its waning days, the stunning Jasper Johns: Mind/Mirror exhibit. PMA curators collaborated with dance artists to produce two weekends of live performance in the new Williams Forum, site of the awe-inspiring cantilevered Gehry staircase that replaces the small auditorium where I once saw the likes of Trisha Brown dance.
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In the forest at night, the same place you know by day feels different. It sounds different, and the paths you might normally have taken are either obscured from view or no longer possible to traverse. Other senses come into play to orientate, perhaps those that seemed more dormant in the day, like smell or sound. In such instances I think of microbats capable of echolocation, sending out a call into their environment and reading the echo returned to them from nearby forms in their surroundings, in order to forage and navigate, as I listen to pinpoint where I might...
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The Good Lord came to Mother Rebecca Cox Jackson in a clap of thunder. It was July of 1830 and she was convinced she was going to die—either from the storm or from her deathly fear of it. As lightning struck, she prayed for redemption. Suddenly, “the cloud burst.” But what Mother Rebecca feared might be her end in fact became her beginning: She acquired what she called her “gifts of power,” and Mother Rebecca became a spiritual leader in the American Shaker religion.
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At a time typically associated with the ritual flocking of audiences to “The Nutcracker,” Montreal’s intimate Usine C theatre was packed over the course of four evenings to a very different kind of ritual: the unbridled, animalesque revelry of Compagnie Marie Chouinard’s “Le Sacre du printemps” (The Rite of Spring).
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I must admit, I was scared walking in. The warehouse was dark, and I got lost. I called for directions, and someone shined a cell phone light to show me the path to the front door. I walked in, and was asked to sign a document to ensure I would not sue the company if I tripped and fell over the string that would be present through the performance. I’ll repeat—I was scared at first. But wow, what an incredible evening! I’m so glad I drove through the dreary night, in the rain, to see this performance.
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The last edition of Cannes’ Festival de danse was a kind of mirror of the times. Biennial, it skipped last year’s lockdown but called to account the new incertitude of this season. Director Brigitte Lefèvre, at her last mandate before the arrival of the newly appointed Didier Deschamps, rooted her last program in the metaphoric security of two themes: “earth” (after the other three elements: water, air, fire) and “femininity.” A link with the territory was also essential in the program: in cooperation with the Cannes based École Supérieure de danse, professional students could benefit from masterclasses, the Nice University...
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The “Nutcracker” has a way of feeling magical year after year. But something new is always welcome—especially as the ballet has long perpetuated cultural stereotypes. In “The Gift,” Boston Ballet drastically reinterprets the “Nutcracker,” and in doing so, proves that the ballet’s holiday magic extends beyond just its storyline and costumes.
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Most farewell pièces d’occasion are filler. They come about when a retiring dancer calls in a favor from a big-name choreographer to demonstrate their clout, and to have something to perform that is tailored to their end-of-career skill set. Every once in a blue moon, however, a goodbye bauble becomes the meat of the show. The last instance of this was probably Christopher Wheeldon’s “After the Rain” for Jock Soto in 2005. (Though that was slightly different, as it was a repeating work—with a group cast—created for Soto’s last season; it wasn’t just a one-off.) It is rarer still for...
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Gerald Casel wears a green-grey tie-dyed t-shirt and moves his hands and feet in precise flicks to TLC’s pop hit “Waterfalls.” The text projected on the wall behind speaks in the first-person, telling us that he is performing phrases from Trisha Brown’s 1971 dance “Accumulation,” and that the song “Waterfalls” came out in 1994, the same year Casel saw Neil Greenberg’s “Not-About-AIDS-Dance”—a dance famous for, among other things, innovating the combination of text projections and dance Casel is now using.
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Beginning in the light of the moon, a remembering. Beginning with a much-loved (and most-performed) “Serenade” by George Balanchine in the State Theatre, the Australian Ballet’s “Celebration Gala” was a surprise foretoken to the 2022 season, and, as the name evokes, a celebration. A celebration to say welcome back to the theatre. A means for me, sat in the audience, to say ‘thank-you’ and feel what I’ve missed, the goosebumps of a live performance. Beginning at the close of the year, something unexpected: the gift of a new era.
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Upon entering the small blackbox theater of Dixon Place on Thursday, December 9, 2021, the all-white papered stage of Laura Peterson Choreography’s “Interglacial” was pristinely set with four large crumpled up balls of paper and a thin line of light, nodding to minimalist artist Dan Flavin and bisecting the upstage wall. I am both old enough to remember when Dixon Place performances were in an actual New York City living room and familiar enough with Peterson’s work to know of her obsession with Flavin (for instance: her 2007 work “I Love Dan Flavin”). I was delighted to be among familiar...
Continue ReadingWatching 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,...
Continue ReadingThe choreographer Alexei Ratmansky reflects on the war in Ukraine, the connection between geopolitics and ballet, and joining the house of Balanchine.
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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.
Continue ReadingAfter 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.
Continue ReadingAn “Ajiaco” is a type of soup common to Colombia, Cuba, and Peru that combines a variety of different vegetables, spices, and meats.
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