After his extraordinary career in Europe, one almost forgets that John Neumeier was an American born in Milwaukee. In “Yondering,” he turns to his own roots through the songs of Stephen Foster, sung by baritone Thomas Hampson, to create a sequence of vivid dances in which the sense of westward wandering suggested by the title is transposed into a more metaphorical journey: the passage from childhood into adolescence. The ballet was originally created in 1996 for the students of the Hamburg Ballet School, which Neumeier founded in 1978, before entering the Paris Opéra Ballet repertoire in 2002. Conceived for students and consistently kept by Neumeier from professional companies, on the grounds that only young dancers can truly embody its “idealistic topic and the naïve, idealistic, folk-talk atmosphere,” the choreography is undeniably beautiful. It unfolds as a cycle of youthful sketches, moving from the playful flirtation of “Molly! Do You Love Me?” and “Ah! May the Red Rose Live Always” to the bittersweet nostalgia of “Jeanie with the Light Brown Hair.” It all works remarkably well: from the girls’ loose hair, later gathered into ponytails, to the folk-inflected steps suggestive of communal festivity, the pantomime, hats, braces and shouted interjections all contribute to the ballet’s rustic joy and sense of first discovery, while also showcasing the Opéra students’ remarkable preparation, versatility and expressive talent. Several dancers who already stood out last year have since become genuine audience favourites, among them Prune Kaufmann, Ilyane Bel-Lahsen, João Pedro Dos Santos Silva, and Marc-Anthony Betta Ndabo. Yet a word must be said about this programming choice: whatever the ballet’s metaphorical meaning as a rite of passage shaped by loss and transformation, the world it evokes draws on a colonial imaginary that today feels strikingly uncritical.

Revisiting the past is, to some extent, part of the school show tradition. Nevertheless, unlike in 2024, when the celebratory beauty of Lifar’s “Suite en blanc” gave space to many soloists rather than resting on a central couple, or in 2025, with Béjart’s “Seven Greek Dances” and its stylised and affectionate backward glance, the 2026 programme feels more restrained by comparison, despite its undeniable beauty and the majesty of its dancing. There is so much art, skill and effort in this evening that one is left wondering why such conservatism was necessary for an institution that surely does not need to keep reasserting its roots. It feels as though one is taken on a long journey, only to land back at the point of departure. What also unites all three works is their deceptive ease: all seem carefree, light and almost simple, yet they all demand immense labour and discipline, an aspect these exceptional dancers concealed from our admiring eyes.