Then we were plunged into a space carved by laser-like beams of colour, shifting from cold to warm tones and animated by reflexive, conceptual movement—supple, loose-limbed phrases and fluid floor work. Titled “I,” the work—choreographed by Philippe Kratz and set to music by the Soundwalk Collective—resists direct narrative. It immersed the audience in a world of abstraction and sensation, where dancers traverse an ambiguous sonic landscape. Freelance artists Mikaela Kelly and Toon Lobach amazed the public with their expressiveness, fluidity, and powerful physical presence, fully embodying Kratz’s distinctive style, which probes meaning through spatial tension and sensory interplay.
And so the evening closed with two especially meaningful works—both offering a glimpse into Roberto Bolle’s identity. “Memories,” by Juliano Nuñes to the second movement of Shostakovich’s Piano Concerto No. 2, is an embodied meditation on his artistic legacy. The stage was framed by a semicircle of full-length mirrors, multiplying Bolle’s image and inviting the audience into a space of reflection, where he pays tribute to the iconic roles that have shaped his career: “Apollo” by Balanchine, Don José in Petit’s “Carmen,” and the solo from Béjart’s “Boléro.” Bolle moves seamlessly through these stylistic evocations—a living archive of ballet history—and ends the piece as a powerful dying swan. As his image fractured and echoed across the mirrors, a quiet question emerged: Who is Roberto Bolle?
That question found an echo in the final work of the soirée—a medley of two ballets set to contemporary Italian songs by Antonio Diodato, who sang live from the platform above the Arena’s main arch. The first, “Fino a farci scomparire,” created by Stefania Ballone—a choreographer and dancer based at La Scala—was performed by Manni and Bolle. A tender duet that recalled Manni’s early appearances in Bolle’s productions and celebrated their lasting creative friendship. It was followed by “Fai rumore,” choreographed by Massimiliano Volpini—a long-standing partner in Bolle’s many projects. For this piece, he brought together the evening’s two central couples, this time inverted: Hamilton with Andrijashenko, Manni with Bolle. The set, the music, the dance—everything converged into a final tableau that was both emotionally resonant and visually striking.
On this night, Roberto Bolle danced in five contemporary duets, brought together three classical and one experimental pas de deux, and appeared once more in a luminous finale set to live song. Around him, a constellation of styles and personalities gathered—and the Arena filled well before the cast had even been announced. But who is Roberto Bolle? He is a protean figure who moves in and out of the television screen, in and out of the codified language of ballet. He crosses boundaries between academic rigour and popular appeal, between elite and mass culture. He is a liminal presence—at once an immortal symbol and the man next door, an idealised model and a living dancer, a figure who inspires from afar and yet makes dance feel close and possible. And if Italy, a country of deep contradictions that so often turns against its own icons, continues to love him with rare unanimity—that, too, is part of his magic.
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