An Evening of Horror

To say the least, the true story of a juvenile axe murderer seems unlikely to inspire a ballet. But the legends surrounding the late nineteenth-century murders of Lizzie Borden’s father Andrew and her stepmother, Abby persist, perhaps because Lizzie was ultimately acquitted, and no other suspect was ever identified or brought to justice. She remains a fascinating character to exploit as a subject for television and Broadway shows, and several movies. A few companies, including American Ballet Theatre with Julie Kent in the lead role have performed Agnes de Mille’s 1947, “Fall River Legend” ballet over the years, but this is the first opportunity I’ve had to see it.

Performance

Philadelphia Ballet: “Fall River Legend” by Agnes de Mille / “Valley of Death” by Juliano Nunes

Place

Academy of Music, Philadelphia, PA, October 19, 2025

Words

Merilyn Jackson

Sydney Dolan with Gabriela Mesa and Charles Askegard of Philadelphia Ballet in “Fall River Legend” by Agnes de Mille. Photograph by Alexander Iziliaev

Kudos to Ángel Corella and the Philadelphia Ballet team for bringing it to Philadelphia audiences, who loved it. Corella wanted a companion ballet for the seasonal program, so he urged current resident choreographer, Brazilian-born Juliano Nunes, to create a new work for fall, birthing the unearthly titled “Valley of Death” in its world premiere.

The two ballets shared female protagonists of evil intent, but the vibe and aesthetic of each one differed to extremes.

“Fall River Legend” was pure American Gothic, rooted in the style of Martha Graham, complete with a brooding narrative, and vivid choreography for the characterization of the principals and the company. The choreography blended a fair amount of pantomime with dances that included community social dances by the corps, all expertly braided with popular dances of the time—waltzes, polkas, mazurkas and galops.

Agnes de Mille unblinkingly put the blame squarely on Lizzie. Her ballet opens with the gallows looming over principal dancer Sydney Dolan, who embodied the Accused on opening night and on the Sunday matinee I attended. It begins with Jack Thomas, also a principal dancer, as Speaker of the Jury, reading the verdict as Dolan hunches over in Graham-like contractions, wringing her hands.

The Sarasota Ballet loaned the set, designed by Oliver Smith and supervised by Rosaria Sinisi. On stage, the gallows slowly glide to become a wing of the sparely decorated Victorian home of the Borden family. The central room with its rocking chairs, could be both sitting room or front porch. Downstage left is a large tree stump with the axe hacked in at an angle, at the ready. It was well worth the three superhighway trucks that stopped traffic outside the Academy of Music as the audience left, reloading it immediately after the last show.

Sydney Dolan and Charlotte Erickson of Philadelphia Ballet in “Fall River Legend” by Agnes de Mille.Photograph by Alexander Iziliaev

Current ballet master, Charles Askegard assisted Paul Sutherland and Diana Gonzalez with the staging. He also played Andrew Borden, Lizzie’s overbearing father, as the self-righteous, stiff-necked, parsimonious, unlovable character he was reported to have been. Yet, he softens in the dances with his first wife, Lizzie’s mother, (Charlotte Erickson) and is the second most riveting figure in the cast next to Dolan’s Lizzie. Throughout, Lucia Erickson dances wistfully as Lizzie’s childhood self, and Gabriela Mesa portrayed the stepmother with dark and cruel intent. So Jung Shin and Arian Molina Soca flawlessly danced a nocturne pas de deux with running jumps and fish dive lifts. But who were they? It was the only unclear note in the ballet.

In other moments of poetic license, de Mille created love duets between Lizzie’s Pastor, danced by first soloist, Pau Pujol. The murders are not shown, but the scene comes up on Andrew and Abby knocked back on their rocking chairs. Here, Dolan performs a frenzied set of grand jétes, and, horrified at herself, she picks up the bloody axe and hides it in the folds of her skirt. Once the gallows slide away from the house, the set goes sparse and darkens. Lizzie rolls her neck in despair. Pujol, as Pastor, leads the company in prayer and lifts Lizzie in a dance of hope that she’ll be spared. He kisses her goodbye before she’s led off to the gallows. As if in a dream, Lizzie’s mother appears to her, both are wearing white. Her mother comforts Lizzie until she sees her daughter’s bloodied dress. Lizzie lifts her mother in one sorrowful embrace before her mother leaves her again.

Beatrice Jona Affron, decades-long conductor of the ballet’s pit orchestra kept to the somber tone with Morton Gould’s score for the ballet.

Thays Golz of Philadelphia Ballet in “Valley of Death” by Juliano Nunes. Photograph by Alexander Iziliaev

Juliano Nunes’ chose music by Sergei Rachmaninoff and Ralph Vaughan Williams for “Valley of Death.” It was pure ballet, with a self-conscious nod to Latin American stylization of over the top dramatics, fuelled by lurid love affairs blown up by jealousy. Musically, it would have been better served by something like De Falla’s El Amor Brujo.

I gathered that Agatha (Thays Golz,) in a dazzling black costume with her hair parted down the middle and brilliantly spiked like a weapon, is crashing the wedding of Oscar (Zecheng Liang) in white tails with floppy red boutonnière and his partner, Beth (Jacqueline Callahan) in a fabulously ruffled white corseted dress (White Swan/Black Swan anyone?) Callahan is exquisite in her lifts with Liang, looking light as a butterfly. But the scene where Golz/Agatha is lifted by the men of the company who then hold Liang, his head flung back to receive a potion she pours into his gaping mouth is melodramatic to the max.

Youssef Hotait designed the costumes and spectacular set which included three chandeliers and an imposing red drapery through which Agatha enters. The little red farthingales on the company women were highly original and seem to spoof tutus. Michael Mazzola designed the lighting, best appreciated in the second act where Liang/Oscar writhes and flops in a smoke filled floor like a fish out of water for what seems an interminable time. Finally, Callahan/Beth enters the valley of death to rescue Oscar. Is this a reversal of the Orpheus myth? Hard to say. On the whole, the action felt rushed, the characters undeveloped and campy. If the ballet hopes to keep this as a Halloween treat, Nunes is going to have to pull a few tricks to make this a more cohesive work. If it was meant to be campy, then maybe some comedic effects would camp it up more.

Merilyn Jackson

Merilyn Jackson has written on dance for the Philadelphia Inquirer since 1996 and writes on dance, theater, food, travel and Eastern European culture and Latin American fiction for publications including the New York Times, the Warsaw Voice, the Arizona Republic, Phoenix New Times, MIT’s Technology Review, Arizona Highways, Dance Magazine, Pointe and Dance Teacher, and Broad Street Review. She also writes for tanz magazin and Ballet Review. She was awarded an NEA Critics Fellowship in 2005 to Duke University and a Pennsylvania Council on the Arts Fellowship for her novel-in-progress, Solitary Host.

comments

Featured

REVIEWS | Karen Greenspan

Wish Come True

The Japan Society continued its Yukio Mishima Centennial Series with a newly commissioned dance work titled “The Seven Bridges (Hashi-zukushi)” based on Yukio Mishima’s short story by that name originally published in 1956.

Plus

REVIEWS | Eoin Fenton

Heralding the Bright Days Ahead

London is a changed city this week. The cold front has come, and daylight hours have plummeted. The city is rammed with tourists, buskers, and shoppers.

Plus

REVIEWS | Sara Veale

No Words, No Refrains

The Royal Ballet’s new restaging of “Everywhere We Go”—the Sufjan Stevens-scored ballet that secured Justin Peck his appointment as resident choreographer at New York City Ballet in 2014—challenges the company’s dancers to adopt a specifically American brand of pizzazz.

Plus

REVIEWS | Faye Arthurs

Our Generation

Quadrophenia is about young men . . . and I do weep for young men still, because we are still struggling,” Pete Townshend—80 years old—playfully told Stephen Colbert while promoting the latest incarnation of the Who’s 1973 rock opera and 1979 film: “Quadrophenia: A Rock Ballet,” which ran last weekend at City Center.

Plus