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By the Letter

A nearly 200-year-old story is having a moment. “Eugene Onegin,” the novel in verse by Alexander Pushkin, which published in 1833, has made its way to countless stages in ballet and opera adaptations in the past few months—the most recent being American Ballet Theatre’s production of “Onegin,” the John Cranko ballet, which was originally created for the Stuttgart Ballet in 1965.

 

Performance

American Ballet Theatre: “Onegin” by John Cranko

Place

Metropolitan Opera House, New York, NY, June 25 and 27, 2026

 

Words

Rebecca Deczynski

Chloe Misseldine and Thomas Forster in “Onegin” by John Cranko. Photograph by Rosalie O’Connor

It’s not hard to see why the story still resonates. Sure, imperial balls and duels over perceived slights may be relics of the past, but the core narrative is as relevant as ever: a young woman falls for a man, who seems to entertain her adoration, before harshly rejecting her. When he reencounters her years later—and sees her happily married to a man of higher stature than himself—he pleads to get her back. To our satisfaction, she rejects him.

Cranko’s three-act ballet organizes the story neatly, and there is ample talent across the ranks of American Ballet Theatre to bring the characters to life. In two of several casts, the dancers all play to their strengths, with some demonstrating surprising aptitudes for acting, a necessary skill to deliver the impact that Cranko’s choreography demands.

In the lead roles on June 25 and the evening of June 27 are, respectively, Chloe Misseldine and Christine Shevchenko as Tatiana, Thomas Forster and Jarod Curley as Eugene Onegin, Takumi Miyake and Jake Roxander as Lensky, and Léa Fleytoux and Zimmi Coker as Olga.

It’s a fine play of foils: Tatiana is demure and shy while Olga is vivacious and teasing, Lensky is sincere and adoring while Onegin is cold and egotistical. Even in these character portraits, the differing casts add nuance to their roles. Shevchenko’s Tatiana is more dreamy than shy—infusing her variation in act II, as she tries to get Onegin’s attention, with sparkling girlish energy. That is, until his outburst sends her scurrying away in shame. Coker’s Olga is a touch more playful than Fleytoux’s, fully embodying a younger-sister archetype. And where Forster’s Onegin is a kind of bad boy of ballet, Curley (who stepped in for Corey Stearns, who was originally cast for this performance) leans more aristocratic.

Léa Fleytoux and Takumi Miyake in “Onegin” by John Cranko. Photograph by Steven Pisano

Léa Fleytoux and Takumi Miyake in “Onegin” by John Cranko. Photograph by Steven Pisano

The first act of the ballet is especially strong, with engaging choreography for the corps, which fills the stage. A character number—which starts with the men flying in from stage left in a series of various whirling jumps—helps establish the Russian setting, especially when the men, in a line, jump from double retiré down to their grand plié on relevé. The most thrilling moment is when the dancers, in pairs, cross the stage with the women traveling in endless saut de chats—before repeating it on the second side.

A lighthearted pas de deux between Lensky and Olga also offers a lighthearted moment, with the kind of sweetness you might see in August Bournonville’s “Flower Festival in Genzano.” Miyake—always a standout soloist for his magnificent jumps and turns—proves his strong partnering skills with Fleytoux, who is light on her feet and at ease in many a promenade. Roxander (who, a week later earned his long-coming promotion to principal dancer) is ever-crisp in his technique. As she runs en pointe, Coker has a feathery touch to her movement.

The pas de deux between Onegin and Tatiana—which occurs as a dream, after Tatiana writes the mysterious man a love letter—goes heavy on the dramatics. Here is where Misseldine shines, with her long lines as Forster practically throws her around. Shevchenko’s Tatiana is a touch more self-assured, and in her lifts with Curley, she displays less a sense of abandon than of self-directed passion.

Lensky’s solo in the second act—performed just before his duel with Onegin—is a welcome moment for both Miyake and Roxander, giving both dancers an opportunity to indulge more in their artistry with an adagio. Miyake’s extraordinary sense of balance gives him the appearance of floating through his arabesques. Roxander’s acting is also worth calling out; his transition from charming to vindictive enhances his already technically refined performance.

The weakest point of the ballet may be one of its most dramatic moments: the moment a shot is fired, Lensky and Onegin stand upstage, near opposite wings. After such displays of emotion, this turning point feels unsatisfyingly conveyed. In their reactions, though, Shevchenko and Coker bring this moment the drama it demands. Coker is particularly affecting as she falls to the ground in agony.

Christine Shevchenko and Jarod Curley in “Onegin” by John Cranko. Photograph by Natalia Sánchez

Christine Shevchenko and Jarod Curley in “Onegin” by John Cranko. Photograph by Natalia Sánchez

As Prince Gremin, Curley (on Thursday) and Roman Zhurbin (on Saturday) lead their respective Tatianas in a tender pas de deux in the third act. They lift her as if presenting her—a contrast to the Onegin pas, where the dynamic between the dancers suggested a power imbalance, the man throwing around the ballerina. Both Misseldine and Shevchenko sail through their movements, with the latter especially conveying a sense of adoration for her partner. 

Contrast arrives, again, in the final scene of the ballet, as Onegin and Tatiana reunite in private. He drags her backwards in arabesque and holds her, nearly depleted, on outstretched arms. Misseldine, again, is shy—shaking her head as he lowers her, attempting a kiss. Forster, with a powerful presence, remains in pursuit. 

Shevchenko, however, appears in absolute internal strife. In her expressiveness, she conveys the complexity of her character in the push and pull of the pas de deux. The depth of her emotional portrayal makes a real difference, leaving the audience with less a feeling of vindication—as one feels when Misseldine turns Forster away—and more a sensation of devastation, as Shevchenko directs Curley, now frazzled, to leave and she stands alone, strong but clearly shaken.

 

Rebecca Deczynski

Rebecca Deczynski is a New York City-based writer and editor publishes the newsletter Mezzanine Society. Her work has appeared in publications including Inc., Domino, NYLON, and InStyle. She graduated from Barnard College cum laude with a degree in English and a minor in dance.

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By the Letter
REVIEWS | Rebecca Deczynski

By the Letter

A nearly 200-year-old story is having a moment. “Eugene Onegin,” the novel in verse by Alexander Pushkin, which published in 1833, has made its way to countless stages in ballet and opera adaptations in the past few months—the most recent being American Ballet Theatre’s production of “Onegin,” the John Cranko ballet, which was originally created for the Stuttgart Ballet in 1965.  

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