New School

San Francisco’s War Memorial Opera House is a grand, gracious theater, so it was a big deal to see the San Francisco Ballet School hold its end-of-year performances in that hall for the first time since at least 1985 (and a joy to see little ones who had just finished their grade-level demonstrations running around light-filled Beaux Arts corridors instead of being trapped in the cold, stark environs of the usual venue, the Yerba Buena Center for the Arts).

Performance

San Francisco Ballet School Spring Festival

Place

War Memorial Opera House, San Francisco, California, May 9, 2025

Words

Rachel Howard

San Francisco Ballet School Trainees in Esteban Hernández's “1941.” Photograph by Lindsay Thomas

An even greater luxury at these shows, though, was the presence of the full San Francisco Ballet orchestra in the pit. Both of these changes are thanks to Grace Holmes, the School’s new-ish director, and both changes made for student dancing that felt bigger, bolder, and more unleashed than in years past. Even in the opening demonstrations with their exam-style recitations of increasingly tricky steps, the Level 6-8 students were uninhibited and used the language of classicism with a sense of personal expression. (Surely talent scouts out there already have a close eye on brothers Sergio and Raul Noyola Morales, both incapable of doing even a tendu without charisma.) Where the live orchestra made the biggest impact, though, was in the new choreography.

Two San Francisco Ballet members were given the opportunity to create on the students under the company’s new and pretentiously titled dancer development program, Creation House. (These kinds of opportunities for company members existed in the past, but now they come with press release language about “suites of initiatives” and “bespoke experiences.”) Principal dancer Esteban Hernandez’s “1941” marked his choreographic debut, and it was a stunner. The choice of music and that music’s live performance was everything. Jose Pablo Moncayo’s composition “Huapango” is evidently so beloved in Mexico that it’s considered the country’s “second national anthem,” but if it’s ever been played at the War Memorial Opera House, I’ve certainly never heard it.

Moncayo was, like Hernandez, a native of Guadalajara, Mexico, and a sense of pride and celebration suffused Hernandez’s treatment of the sunny music. Dressed in warm hues with costumes partially borrowed from Justin Peck’s “Rodeo,” Sarah Lusetti and Logan Shaw began by clasping hands with the other six ensemble members in an entwined cluster that seemed more closely related to folk dancing than Balanchine’s daisy-chain patterns.

As the lively percussion came in, they bounced in a crouch, arms held with flexed biceps, and at times engaged in wonderful rhythmic surprises laced with soft shoe shuffling. Lusetti gave a little wink at the audience near the lip of the stage before being lifted by the group like a soaring airplane, her long lines sleeker than a 747. The lift became a motif as two trumpets played an airborne melody. The choreographic composition mixed just enough structure, invention, and surprise to keep you constantly interested in where it was going. “1941” actually had its premiere late last year during the school trainees’ tour to Sun Valley, Idaho, but this was Hernandez’s first time getting to see it performed. In the lobby afterwards, he glowed. He deserved to.

San Francisco Ballet School Students in Davide Occhipinti's “Time Will Softly Lull.” Photograph by Lindsay Thomas

Davide Occhipinti, a company corps member, has in the past made ballets to his own musical compositions. For “Time Will Softly Lull,” his first work on the school’s Level 8 students, he instead used Baroque music by Alessandro Marcello, preceded by a recorded passage of synthesized chords that he devised, building from a low rumble with ominous implications. He has cited Crystal Pite and William Forsythe as influences, and that was clear in the overall visual aesthetic—socks, stark and exposed lighting, loose pants and t-shirts—although not as evident yet in the movement.

It started quite compellingly, with the tiny Nicole Kosasih Widjaja alone in a harsh light, her right hand shaking, the other six dancers approaching from behind, tentatively, and looking to where her hand was reaching. Sharp gasps brought a whirl of group lifts and a huddled rocking until, with Widjaja in the center, her hands came together to flap like wings. It was after this that the orchestra came in with Marecello’s music, and curiously it was here that the ballet lost much of its command—the line of tension that had opened up with the initial shaking hand failed to go anywhere, to develop on a new plane. So it goes sometimes with the challenges of composition. I would like to see another dance by Occhipinti to see how he keeps developing.

But enough about the developing choreographers—what of these young dancers? Holmes, the new director, gave them chances to stretch themselves in a program honoring company directors past and present. Lew Christensen, one of the Christensen brothers instrumental the company’s establishment (and Balanchine’s first “Apollo” in the U.S.), is often represented at school showings; this year Laurel Ho and Grady George got to dance the knotty-yet-elegant partnering in his “Vivaldi Concerto Grosso,” the last ballet he made on the company, in 1981. It’s quite odd—seemingly influenced by Balanchine’s “Agon,” with the male dancer continually holding the female’s knee or ankle to guide her extensions, but with a completely different mood: gentle, trusting, lush, in floaty green costumes. Ho and George gave it steady dignity in former star Betsy Erickson’s staging.

San Francisco Ballet School Trainee in an excerpt from Michael Smuin's “Q.A.V.” Photograph by Lindsay Thomas

And then came something unusual. Michael Smuin was co-artistic director with Christensen in the 1970s and early 80s, but his work hasn’t been seen on the War Memorial stage in more than a generation. Shaw and Amelia Soh and Dongui Kim and Ava Kinzler were the two couples in an excerpt from his bravura showcase “Q. a V.,” to Verdi. All were technically confident through the nonstop challenges, but Kinzler had an especially natural and lovely épaulement, as if her neck and shoulders couldn’t help singing every step.

Helgi Tomasson, who led the company after Christensen and Smuin, was represented by an excerpt from his “Handel: A Celebration,” in one of the great highlights of the night. To a dreamy andante tempo, this is melting, romantically reeling choreography, the swoony close embraces in arabesque leading into big travelling lifts. Anna Chaziroglou danced like a girl in love, which is quite an accomplishment given the many unorthodox step combinations in this piece, but my eye kept returning to Shaw—how mature he appeared in his tenderness, how lovingly earnest his partnering attentions.

After the big tartan-clad reel from “La Sylphide’s” first act to show us the young dancers’ character skills, Holmes crowned the night with a nod to the company’s current director: the Grand Pas de Deux from “Raymonda” as staged by Tamara Rojo. Here came Shaw yet again for the heavy duty partnering. (No surprise to learn he’s been taken in by the company as an apprentice for next season.) The ebullient ballerina was Aaliyahmarie Key. She had a robust attack, gusto to spare, and an easy stretch into an ironing-board penchée. Music director Martin West’s conducting of the Glazunov score stirred the whole audience into a hopeful celebration of her gifts.

Rachel Howard

Rachel Howard is the former lead dance critic of the San Francisco Chronicle. Her dance writing has also appeared in the New York Times, the Hudson Review, Ballet Review, San Francisco Magazine and Dance Magazine.

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