Ce site Web a des limites de navigation. Il est recommandé d'utiliser un navigateur comme Edge, Chrome, Safari ou Firefox.

All About Love

It starts out light and coquettish. George Balanchine’s “Sonatine,” set to the composition by Maurice Ravel of the same name, is undeniably lighthearted, as the dancers—here, Léonore Baulac and Germain Louvet—find themselves animated by the music, as they share the stage with a grand piano (and pianist Elena Bonnay at its helm).

Performance

Hugo Marchand: Artists at the Center

Place

New York City Center, New York, NY, July 23, 2026

 

Words

Rebecca Deczynski

Hugo Marchand in “Boléro” by Maurice Béjart. Photograph by Steven Pisano

Choreographed for New York City Ballet’s Ravel festival in 1975, the pas de deux is delightfully unpredictable, full of partnered petit allegro, fluttery bourées, and exaggerated steps backward and forward on pointe. It’s a work in which—true to Balanchine—the woman is largely the focus, but there are plenty of opportunities for the man to show off stylistically, too. Louvet has an easygoing musicality and an aquatic port de bras that gives him the appearance of floating in a salty sea. Baulac, meanwhile, is a touch more windswept, light on her feet and breezy. They make a good match; they come across as having a conversation rather than as performing to an audience. When they both jeté en manège in opposite directions, off the stage, there is a satisfying sense of completion.

It’s a strong opener for Hugo Marchand’s curation for New York City Center’s annual Artists at the Center. The program, he writes in the show notes, presents “six works of eros”—different expressions and examinations of love. “We invite you to recognize something very ancient and necessary,” he signs off, “the movement of human beings toward what they have not yet become.”

Léonore Baulac and Germain Louvet in “Sonatine” by George Balanchine. Photograph by Steven Pisano

Léonore Baulac and Germain Louvet in “Sonatine” by George Balanchine. Photograph by Steven Pisano

This year, New York has certainly seen no shortage of “Firebirds,” but Maurice Béjart’s 1970 version of the ballet offers a new take, as the second piece in Marchand’s program. In this version, we start with a group of “partisans,” who move together like one crawling organism, all dressed in gray. They form a circle, as if on patrol, when the Firebird—dressed in a red unitard—appears in their midst. Konosuke Takeoka, in the role, is ever-airborne. His movement has the frenetic quality that is signature to the Firebird across different choreographic interpretations; a coupé brisé derrière is a touch reminiscient of “The Sleeping Beauty’s” own avian character, the bluebird.

What’s distinct about this “Firebird” is that the titular character embeds with the partisans. There are no evil creatures here; just this citizenry who may be stuck in their own kind of trap. They cross the stage in big tour jetés and pirouette sequences and frequently strike angular poses, e.g. arms held at a downward diagonal to create a triangle with the stage floor. After this crescendo, the Firebird’s solo—what seems, at first, to be a swan song—is especially lucid in its clarity of movement: clean piqué arabesques and sharp cabrioles. 

I’ve never before read “The Firebird” as containing any biblical allegories, but in Béjart’s version, the idea of sacrifice and rebirth is impossible to ignore. The Phoenix (Zsolt Kovacs) arrives and moves forward in a distinctly birdlike retiré to plié walk. The partisans, in pairs, orchestrate themselves into different shape combinations (a supported shoulderstand, for instance) and hoist up the Firebird, Christlike. The ending is stunning in its geometry: the Firebird, balanced on the back of the Phoenix, with arms and legs aloft.

Konosuke Takeoka, Zsolt Kovacs (in red) and dancers of Béjart Ballet Lausanne in “The Firebird” by Maurice Béjart. Photograph Steven Pisano

Konosuke Takeoka, Zsolt Kovacs (in red) and dancers of Béjart Ballet Lausanne in “The Firebird” by Maurice Béjart. Photograph Steven Pisano

Three pas de deux follow this postmodern “Firebird,” with each exploring a different dynamic between a couple. “L’Abandon” from Angelin Preljocaj's “Le Parc” is Marchand’s first performance in the program, and—as to be expected—it’s a moving piece. The 6’3"-plus dancer towers above his partner, fellow étoile Dorothée Gilbert, yet they connect easily in the yearning, passionate work. When he lifts her, around a leg, floating horizontally, or, in the pas de deux’s climax, in a kiss with both legs extended out behind her, there is a sense of effortlessness to his partnering. In moments of unison, the dancers stay in lockstep while stretching to meet every note of the Mozart score.

Where the pas de deux from “Le Parc” deals in total abandon, “Trois Gnossiennes,” by Hans Van Manen, is all about structure. There is a sense of humor within this more rigid work, especially when Marchand lifts partner Baulac with her feet flexed, Swanhilda-style. Here, some of the simplest steps stand out with space to breathe—as when Marchand and Baulac take two steps in each direction with a rond de jambe forward, their arms outstretched in a V.

“L’esprit de Bleu,” a pas de deux from “Signes,” one of Paris Opera Ballet’s signature works, created by Carolyn Carlson in 1997. Gilbert and Louvet join together for this slow and searching piece, which finds a release as the dancers float across the stage in a partnered chassé. Their arms, more often than not, seem to dictate the way they shift directions and move around one another, as their expressive reaches outward help them fill the space. Where the pas de deux from “Le Parc” is a work in which the dancers appear to want to completely fuse together, this is one that seems to suggest more restraint or estrangement as the dancers repeatedly come together and part, often spiraling in on themselves. At the end, they separate.

 Dorothée Gilbert and Hugo Marchand in “Le Parc” by Angelin Preljocaj. Photograph by Steven Pisano

Dorothée Gilbert and Hugo Marchand in “Le Parc” by Angelin Preljocaj. Photograph by Steven Pisano

The finale of the program is the program’s most exciting work—both for its status as a masterpiece of Béjart and for Marchand’s ecstatic solo performance. “Bolero” naturally, is a ballet that builds just as Ravel’s score does, with the lead dancer performing as “La Mélodie” and 18 other dancers coming in bit by bit as “Le Rythme.”

What makes this solo so striking is that it requires the dancer to maintain a sense of contrast: fluidity and moments of softness in the upper body, while the lower body continuously marks the thrum of the snare drum. As the dance builds, Marchand keeps on the beat and maintains a sense of ease—almost an insouciance—in the way he carries his arms. This is both power and grace: the kind of balance that a ballerina must find when performing Odette. 

As the corps dancers join in, the work naturally becomes even more vivid, but most compelling is the sense of euphoria that Marchand exudes with he kicks a leg forward, throws his hands back, tosses his arms skyward, splays his fingers wide, jumps in an X position. It’s like watching a champion take their victory lap.

Rebecca Deczynski


Rebecca Deczynski is a New York City-based writer and editor publishes the newsletter Mezzanine Society. Her work has appeared in publications including Inc., Domino, NYLON, and InStyle. She graduated from Barnard College cum laude with a degree in English and a minor in dance.

subscribe to the latest in dance


“Uncommonly intelligent, substantial coverage.”

Your weekly source for world-class dance reviews, interviews, articles, and more.

Already a paid subscriber? Login

comments

Veuillez noter que les commentaires doivent être approvés avant d'être affichés

Featured

Oceans Apart
REVIEWS | Kris Kosaka

Oceans Apart

Waiting in the theater, the first unhurried trickle of French composer Erik Satie’s piano variation barely registers amidst the house chatter. Sparse and minimalistic, swelling with silences, the striking keys eventually conjure up a dancer.

Plus
Timeless Terrain
REVIEWS | Elsa Giovanna Simonetti

Timeless Terrain

“When you visit Kati Thanda–Lake Eyre, you realise that this is a place where time does not exist,” writes choreographer Frances Rings in her notes for Terrain, and the resonance with Wayne McGregor’s theme for the 2026 Biennale Danza, Time Does Not Exist, is unmistakable.

Plus
All About Love
REVIEWS | Rebecca Deczynski

All About Love

It starts out light and coquettish. George Balanchine’s “Sonatine,” set to the composition by Maurice Ravel of the same name, is undeniably lighthearted, as the dancers—here, Léonore Baulac and Germain Louvet—find themselves animated by the music, as they share the stage with a grand piano (and pianist Elena Bonnay at its helm).

Plus
Bodily Hymns
REVIEWS | Sara Veale

Bodily Hymns

When I say this work from Hofesh Shechter set my thoughts adrift, I don’t mean that the performance failed to capture my attention.

Plus
Good Subscription Agency