The Dancers Have It

In Ballet West’s most recent triple bill, which featured Jiří Kylián’s “Symphony of Psalms,” George Balanchine’s “Apollo,” and Nicolo Fonte’s “The Rite of Spring,” the dancers shone brighter than the choreographers. This is, admittedly, a small dig at the choreographers—whose work felt largely dated and compliant—but it’s mostly meant as glowing praise for the dancers, who make up a company that is proving to be ever more dynamic, energetic, and diverse. Ballet West’s artists are not carbon copies of one another—they’re distinct parts of a larger whole, each one grabbing the eye like flecks of sunlight hitting a diamond.

Performance

Ballet West: Jiří Kylián’s “Symphony of Psalms,” George Balanchine’s “Apollo,” and Nicolo Fonte’s “The Rite of Spring”

Place

Capitol Theatre, Salt Lake City, UT, April 4, 2025

Words

Sophie Bress

Lillian Casscells and Tyler Gum in “Symphony of Psalms” by Jiří Kylián. Photograph by Beau Pearson

The first work on the program, Kylián’s “Symphony of Psalms,” felt the most current of the three. The piece’s sexual undertones felt provocative when programmed for Utah’s conservative majority, and moments that switched up traditional gender roles—male dancers laying gently atop their female partners, women positioned behind the men, in deep, enveloping, grand pliés—created interest that was beyond visual.

The dancers’ interpretations, primarily, brought this work into the present. Corps artist Loren Walton stood out, emerging with a movement quality that was powerful, daring, and soft, defying traditional male bravura in a way that felt distinctly ‘now.’ Principals Katlyn Addison and Hadriel Diniz were also notable due to their expert artistry. In their capable hands, Kylián’s choreography was revealed to have even deeper depths.

Ballet West in “Apollo” by George Balanchine. Photograph by Beau Pearson

Balanchine’s “Apollo” followed. There are seemingly endless discussions of Balanchine’s genius, and they often make grand, sweeping statements that encapsulate all of his works equally. But isn’t it only natural that some age better than others? “Concerto Barocco,” for example, never fails to feel transcendent. “Apollo,” here, paled in comparison. The depiction of the Greek god (Adrian Fry), and his three muses, Calliope (Lillian Casscells), Polyhymnia (Rylee Ann Rogers), and Terpsichore (Katlyn Addison), felt reductive. Through Balanchine’s choreographic perspective, these strong female artists were reduced to a sort of manic pixie dream girl, whose main purpose was to elevate Apollo. (Both literally and figuratively—the work ends with Apollo posed on a pedestal).

Though Apollo was made beautiful via the muses, one can’t help wondering what they gave up along the way. Perhaps a women’s perspective could help answer this question—a sentiment felt even more strongly given the noted absence of female choreographers during Ballet West’s 2024–25 mainstage season.

Ballet West in “The Rite of Spring” by Nicolo Fonte. Photograph by Beau Pearson

The evening closed with Fonte’s “The Rite of Spring,” which began promisingly with demanding choreography that played to the company’s strengths. Nicole Fannéy, a demi-soloist, burst into the spotlight and quickly became one of the stars, even if the casting didn’t reflect that. The costuming, designed by David Heuvel, changed throughout the work, but was at its most interesting when each dancer was clothed identically, creating an androgynous quality that felt groundbreaking after “Apollo.”

The choreography became more traditional as the piece wore on. Choreographic ideas recycled and my mind wandered. Stravinsky’s music—which accompanied not just this piece, but the whole evening—became grating. The piece ended with a splash—literally. The sounds of a silver dish—which had hung above the stage like an ominous moon throughout the work—filling with water brought me back to the present. The cast struck a group pose, reminiscent of a stylized cheerleader pyramid, and the water was unceremoniously dumped over them. Paired with the lackluster choreography, the water felt like a gimmick thrown in to ensure the show ended on a high note. It succeeded—but, after largely carrying the whole evening, shouldn’t the dancers have remained the focus?

Sophie Bress

Sophie Bress is an arts and culture journalist and dance critic. She regularly contributes to Dance Magazine and Fjord Review, and has also written for the New York Times, NPR, Observer, Pointe, and more.

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