Frederick Ashton's Sylvia at American Ballet Theatre

American Ballet Theatre bowing after Frederick Ashton's Sylvia. My photo.

Thurs, July 2 - I ultimately enjoyed American Ballet Theatre's performance of Sylvia last Thursday, though with considerable reservations. Frederick Ashton's choreography for Sylvia, originally created in 1952 and revived here in 2004, just doesn't seem to fit naturally on ABT's dancers (a concern that I voiced the last time I saw them do Sylvia in 2006). And especially in Act 1, the lightness, delicate musicality and, to a certain extent, the joy of Ashton's steps was missing. They seemed to be tracing the outlines dutifully, but dancing them without the heart. But I did say that I enjoyed the performance, and this because of some really wonderful dancing in Act 3 to close out the show, as well as Leo Delibes' wonderful music for the ballet.

This production was created in 2004 at the Royal Ballet as a revival of Ashton's original 1952 ballet, which had fallen out of repertory (Ashton's version of Sylvia was his own creation, based only in libretto and score on the original 1876 ballet). The choreography for the revival was restaged by Christopher Carr, who used memory and an old archive videotape. Darcey Bussell danced the title role at the premiere, and later casts were led by Marianela Nuñez and Zenaida Yanowsky. Subsequently, the production was recorded, aired on BBC and released on DVD. I loved Sylvia in the Royal's incarnation: I thought it was fun, the choreography delightful and the performances really wonderful - Bussell and Roberto Bolle danced in the DVD production, which is really dazzling to watch. American Ballet Theatre brought the revival across the pond in 2005, performing it during its spring season at the Metropolitan Opera and on tour in Costa Mesa, California, where I saw it twice more.

Gillian Murphy as Sylvia, in Act 1. Photo by Rosalie O'Connor.

Delibes' music for the original 1876 ballet is gorgeous, featuring a full range of orchestral sound (including a saxophone!), and buoyantly tuneful melodies. Characters and emotions emerge from score's many colors, and it's symphonically pleasing as well as danceable. It has been said that Tchaikovsky was inspired by the example of Delibes' ballet compositions as he set out to compose his great scores for Swan Lake, The Sleeping Beauty and The Nutcracker. Delibes' work here is really gorgeous.

As wonderful as the score is, the music and the ballet's libretto also hem in a clunky narrative and less than ideal dramatic structure. The way the musical scenes are arranged, there isn't much room to fully develop the characters and their relationships. This is perhaps part of the reason that Sylvia teeters on the edge of silliness in performance - neither version of the ballet that I have seen tells a very satisfying story (I've seen Mark Morris' and Frederick Ashton's versions - there is also one by John Neuemeir, on DVD with the Paris Opera Ballet, which I am intrigued about). You can read a full synopsis here on Wikipedia, but basically, it is a vaguely mythical story about a huntress Sylvia and shepherd Aminta who fall in love at the hands of the god Eros. She gets kidnapped, gods intervene, and various complications ensue. Then, in Act 3, right where the finale should be, a new character randomly charges in from the heavens to display her rage. Diana, chaste goddess of the hunt, has appeared to smite Sylvia for falling in love with Aminta, but all is saved with Eros reminds her that she too fell in love when young. It's a very random moment, one that you'd have to read the program to fully understand.

But a few things can override this dramatic deficiency in performance. The sweet sound of the score very nearly does it on its own, but good choreography on stage is needed too. When the Ashton choreography is done right, it is wonderful to watch this ballet. The quick-moving steps provide a fast romp: it's not very heavy, and it's easy to just sit back and watch the choreography without thinking too much about the story. But when the choreography is not performed as well as it should be, when it's weighty rather than buoyant in Act 1 - things don't work out so well.

Curtain Call: (1) Gillian Murphy and Maxim Beloserkovsky; (2) Murphy in front of the Met's gold curtain; (3) Murphy and Beloserkovsky. My photos.

The ballet is problematic at ABT. I'm not an expert on how the choreography supposedly looked under Ashton's direct supervision, but it felt a lot different when I saw the Royal do this a few years ago. At ABT, nearly the whole stretch of Act 1 felt labored, where it was more bouncy and quick at the Royal, and more dramatically focused. The difference was apparent in the very first bit of dancing, with eight fauns and dryads cavorting in the forest. In the choreography, there's a small drama happening here, where fauns observe dryads playing in the woods, then run out to capture them: the dryads, however, are smarter. They stun the fauns with a look, but then take to them softly anyway. The steps involve lots of quick jumps and scurrying in several directions. The ABT corps walked (in measured ballet steps) rather than scurried, the jumps were there but then the dancers looked out at the audience and smiled brightly - inappropriately. There was even more smiling happening when the dryads got caught. The music goes into a minor key to spell danger, and here the ABT girls were smiling, oddly. Then, when the dryads turned to look at the fauns, I could almost see the fauns counting '1, 2, 3' before they then turned to look away in fear - it was not organic, even though it could have been since both the drama and the music provide cues. The heart, as I mentioned in the first paragraph, was not there.

Things were better with the soloists and principals in Act 1, though still not as natural as they could have been. The ballet looked cute and pretty with ABT, the company doing everything as correctly as they were. When I watched the Royal's production, I had really felt there was much more to it than just cute.

Gillian Murphy, as Sylvia, was a possible exception in Act 1 - her fast footwork and jumps made a very good case for the choreography. She has, however, a tightness in her upper body and shoulders that detracts from her overall look. Especially in arabesque, it's odd to see her upper body so stiff. She did, though, act the part fairly well, taking authoritative control over her huntresses and effectively playing coy for Orion in Act 2. The role of Aminta is a thankless role, and Maxim Beloserkovsky barely has anything to do until Act 3. He dances one solo at the beginning, which Beloserkovsky did well, then gets shot with an arrow and hobbles around some. But in Act 3 he gets a really wonderful solo with very impressive jumps and leg work. I didn't notice Beloserkovsky very much until this moment, and it was a fantastic moment.

Gillian Murphy and Maxim Beloserkovsky in the Act 3 pas de deux. Photo by MIRA.

The company's dancing in Act 3, with its tutus and pure dance divertissements, was much better than in other parts of the ballet. This seems to be the type of Ashton choreography the company is more used to, after several weeks of story ballets in the spring Met season. Murphy gave a great performance of Sylvia's very difficult Act 3 variation (in a tutu her upper body doesn't seem to look as much of a problem), and Beloserkovsky was, as mentioned, particularly exciting to watch in his high-flying solo. Their pas de deux was grand and elegantly romantic, actually making the awkward ear-hug moment look good on Thursday. In small parts as visiting gods and goddesses, Veronika Part, Alexandre Hammoudi, Caroline Duprot, Issac Stapas, Hee Seo and Grant DeLong were also great fun to see. The corps de ballet was spot-on and celebratory in the general dances, especially in the Bacchanal March, probably the most famous part of Delibes' score.

And I can't go without mentioning Peter Farmer's sets and costumes for this production, based on original 1952 designs by Robin and Christopher Ironside. They are beautiful, colorful and totally enveloping - a big part of why this production is ultimately enjoyable. Mark Jonathan's lighting design makes the stage glow with adventure and even more color.

Happy 4th of July!

Nina Ananishvili bids farewell in ABT's Swan Lake

Sat, June 27 - Nina Ananiashvili bid a fond farewell to American Ballet Theatre at tonight's performance of Swan Lake, giving a memorable performance in one of her most iconic roles. If her technique has deteriorated slightly with age (and only slightly, it seemed), she still has all of the magic and magnetism that made her a star: she commanded the stage with old-fashioned ballerina authority and held the audience spellbound with her bold, dramatic style. The audience went wild at the end of each of her major solos and pas de deux.

It was a wonderful way to say farewell. As Odette, in the White Swan Pas de Deux and Odette's variation, she was the tragic heroine, melting into Siegfried's arms and showing off her expressive arms at the same time. She still has a remarkably beautiful arabesque, can whip into turns with clarity and speed, and conceals late-career deficiencies in strength as interpretations of the music. And did I mention those arms? She's a master of the "ripple effect," where her arms seem to ripple like delicate waves in the water.

(Ananiashvili with Angel Corella at curtain call, my photo.)

As Odile, the Black Swan, she pulled out the old-fashioned Bolshoi flash and dazzled in a technically daring performance of the Black Swan Pas de Deux. At the end of the pas de deux, with the audience already stirred into a frenzy with her fouettes and turns, she had Marcelo Gomes – dancing von Rothbart – pick her up and throw her into her Prince Angel Corella's arms, ending in a spectacular fish dive. It was a neat trick that the audience went wild for. (During her fourth curtain call, she, Corella and Gomes repeated the trick for the cheering audience.)

Bows continued for nearly 20 minutes after the performance. After the the usual curtain calls for the corps and principals, bouquet upon bouquet was brought out for Ananiashvili. The female corps did a cute mini-ceremony where each girl dropped a flower at Ananiashvili's feet. Then, each of the company's principals brought out a bouquet and added it to the enormous, growing pile in front of Ananiashvili. Confetti flew at the end of the flower parade and the audience demanded at least five or six curtain calls in front of the Met's gold curtain.

(Nina bowing to the corps de ballet.)

Through it all, the most impressive thing about it was Ananiashvili's generosity and thankfulness for the other dancers on stage, for the orchestra musicians in the pit and for the audience. She repeatedly bowed to her partners and bowed in deference to the corps – she kept waving the entire ensemble to the front of the stage to bow with her, thanking them just as much for creating the performance. It showed her to be a fantastically classy ballerina as well as a true star.

Though tonight truly was the Ananiashvili show, there were other good performances as well. Marcelo Gomes, as the ballroom von Rothbart, is reliably seductive and sexy in this role, and he really turned on the heat in this performance. Angel Corella was his usual virtuoso self as Prince Siegfried, with impressive tricks, jumps and turns; it was highly enjoyable, but compared to last night's beautiful performance by Roberto Bolle, Corella looked a bit crass and less of a noble Prince. We saw Corella on stage, not necessarily Prince Siegfried. It seemed a difference between American and European styles of performance mannerisms, and I think I prefer the Europeans. The swan corps was particularly good tonight, every bit deserving of the shared bow that Ananiashvili offered to them. The production itself remains ingratiatingly uneven in any dancing that was not the most iconic Swan Lake choreography.

I have to admit that, early in my ballet-watching, I had the opportunity to see her Swan Lake and totally skipped it, not yet knowing who she was - I was younger then. I've learned better since, getting the opportunity to marvel her work in other roles she has done with the company, including Le Corsaire, La Bayadere and in various Balanchine roles in Mozartiana and Ballet Imperial. But she's altogether in another class as Odette/Odile, and I'm glad I got to see this performance at the very end of it all.

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More photos from the occasion:

Members of the corps de ballet each giving Ananiashvili a white rose.


Confetti falls on the stage in celebration.


More bows and flowers.


The curtain closes on sixteen years of memorable guest appearances with ABT.


More bows in front of the Met's gold curtain.


The cheering crowd brings her back for several curtain calls.

Veronika Part and Roberto Bolle in ABT's Swan Lake

(Curtain call for American Ballet Theatre's Swan Lake, with Part and Bolle, center. My photo.)

Fri, June 26 - For all of its shortcomings, American Ballet Theatre's production of Swan Lake nevertheless provides an efficient, attractive-looking Swan Lake that manages to hit all of the major "Swan Lake" moments. And, perhaps more importantly, it provides a vehicle for the company's bevy of star dancers. Tonight, the stars were Russian-born Veronika Part, an import from the Mariinsky Ballet who has recently been promoted to the rank of principal, and Italian star Roberto Bolle, a guest from Teatro alla Scala in Milan.

With these two on stage, it was a night of beautiful people. Part, in a tutu, has a voluptuous hourglass figure and her gorgeous arched feet that move like silk, and Bolle has tall and runway-model handsome looks and authoritatively graceful movement - quite a pair to watch. They are ideally suited to each other in height and temperament, and even more, they shared a remarkable chemistry in this their first performances together. In the Black Swan Pas de Deux, heat radiated from the stage.I n Odette and Siegfried's reconciliation scene that followed, their relationship was touching, filled with simultaneous sorrow and urgency.

Bolle was particularly good tonight. His every stage moment was focused and dramatically present; his acting and mime were appropriately large and theatrical, but seemed unforced and completely natural. I loved the way he really looked into Odette's eyes and reacted to her in every moment. When Odette told him that she was the queen of the swans, his eyes grew large and he meant it when he bowed down in respect to her. Then there was his dancing: it was powerful and athletic, yet totally graceful and controlled. It looks surprising particularly because of his height; you almost don't expect that sort of elegance from a guy with such muscular legs. But there he was, a model of princely nobility and grace. And more – he's a fantastic partner, always supporting and deferring to his ballerina, knowing that in many ways, Swan Lake is about showing off the woman in the white tutu.

With Part as the woman in the white tutu, there was plenty to show off. In the right roles, Part can be a very compelling dancer, and she is at her strongest in Swan Lake. The creamy, liquid quality to her dancing is particularly suited to the role, and her Russian background gives her a kind of easy access to role's grandly stated moments. She was particularly good tonight in the Black Swan Pas de Deux, where she played up the glamour and was flawless in the sparkling, technically tricky steps, and in the final lakeside scene, where she and Bolle played off each other to convey the scene's tragic beauty. The more famous Act 2 lakeside scenes, including the White Swan pas de deux and Odette's variation, were good as well, though in Act 2 she started off a bit stiff, some of her movements slightly jerky. She warmed into the White Swan pas de deux, though, and the variation was very good.

More curtain call images: (1) Part and Bolle on stage; (2) Bolle in front of the Met's curtain;
(3) the continued standing ovation.

The surrounding production has all of the charms and flaws (mostly flaws) that I noticed last time I saw it (in Los Angeles, last year): act one, in the prince's court, and the act three, with its national dances, are a total bore with uninteresting choreography and clunky narrative. The sets are bright and colorful, providing an attractive frame to the proceedings. This time I sat in the orchestra and did not have to see at the overgrown-moss green floor. Thankfully iconic Ivanov choreography in the Act 2 lakeside scene, and the romping Petipa Black Swan Pas de Deux remain mostly intact, along with the delightful Pas de Trois in Act 1.

Tonight, the pas de trois was danced with verve and brio by Stella Abrera, Blaine Hoven and Maria Ricetto. Abrera was particularly bouncy in her variation and in the coda, Hoven was fantastic (and thud-free) in the very athletic male solo, and Ricetto was charming and solid in the second female variation. Genadi Saveliev danced the ballroom part of the dual Von Rothbart role, making a convincingly seductive case for the scene's visiting pricesses. Maria Bystrova was a wonderfully regal and grand Queen. Though the corps lacks the effortless precision of the Russians I saw last weekend, tonight it nevertheless looked very good in the two lakeside scenes.

The Royal Ballet in Washington DC: Chroma, A Month in the Country and DGV

(The Royal Ballet after Christopher Wheeldon's DGV: Danse a Grande Vitesse,
while on tour in Washington, DC. Designs by Jean-Marc Puissant.)

June 23 & 24 - The Royal Ballet, visiting from London, gave a pretty spectacular and varied mixed repertory program at the Kennedy Center in Washington, DC this week. Over the course of the program, the company showed its treasured past, in a beautiful production of Frederick Ashton's A Month in the Country; a provocative look towards future, if the aggressive Chroma, by the company's current resident choreographer Wayne McGregor, is to be taken as such; and a solid present that seemed to combined the two viewpoints, in Christopher Wheeldon's pulsing, fast-paced DGV: Danse a Grande Vitesse. I was lucky enough to see the full program twice in performance and once at the public dress rehearsal – the Royal is my favorite company and I don't get the opportunity to see them very often, so three times in one week it was.

Chroma, the first work on the program, is set to music originally composed by The White Stripes, reorchestrated and reinterpreted by Joby Talbot – the sound is loud, cacophonous and heavily percussive, with recognizable tunes poking their heads through the noise only every once in awhile. It works entirely for Wayne McGregor's ballet, and I really liked some of the percussive sounds that came out of the orchestra pit (I even went and found Talbot's recording of the songs and downloaded it from iTunes when I got home).

(Bows for Wayne McGregor's Chroma, scene design by John Pawson.)

The ballet is aggressive and stark: the stage is a giant, brightly lit white box where the dancers perform all sorts of overextended acrobatics, the women throw themselves into the men's arms, everyone bends and throws their limbs around in all sorts of gymnastic positions, and the stage is filled with all manner of frenzied, hyperactive commotion. Edward Watson and Mara Galeazzi were standouts in the mostly principal and soloist ensemble, and Sarah Lamb and Eric Underwood were also fantastic in their parts as well.

Seeing it the first time, Chroma came off impressively simply for the sheer skill and energy of the dancers. They performed with such conviction and full-bodied force that it was simply awe-inspiring to watch. The second viewing, however, brought fewer pleasures. I noticed this time that the choreography is filled with gimicky effects that don't really build up to much over the course of the work. Its aggressiveness seemed less bold, more noisy.

McGregor has now made three works for the Royal. After Chroma premiered in November 2006, he was named the Royal Ballet's resident choreographer, and he then made Infra in 2008 - based on the BBC television broadcast of the it last year, Infra seems a much calmer, much more subtle and interesting piece, with McGregor's full-bodied style used for more suble effects. In the spring of this year, he also staged a double-bill of Handel operas, for a collaboration between the Royal Opera and Royal Ballet - dancers were used to convey the drama on stage while singers sang the music (a recording of the performances is scheduled to be released on DVD later this year). Before he was making work for the Royal, he had his own contemporary dance troupe, Randomdance. I have to admit that I wasn't a huge fan of his work when Randomdance appeared at UCLA several years ago, but that was just one work, and I really liked Infra from seeing it on television.

Chroma was at least interesting for what he does with the dancers, and dancers like Mara Galeazzi and Lauren Cuthbertson (who was in Infra but not in the DC performances of Chroma due to illness) looked truly fantastic in his work. But it remains to be seen whether McGregor's style will become a larger part of the Royal Ballet's future direction; with the company's heavy back-catalogue of very classical works, it will be interesting to see how much of his very different style it will be able to absorb.

Frederick Ashton's A Month in the Country is one of Ashton's one-act dramatic masterworks. It is filled with quiet, subtle emotions that ride beneath a more heated narrative melodrama, about a bored young country wife who falls in love with her daughter's tutor. Ashton, the founding choreographer of the Royal Ballet, is wonderful at communicating a character's inner thoughts and traits through quick steps and movements that are small scaled but read with burning clarity. Set to plaintive orchestral rearrangements of Chopin, danced with clear classical technique and bedecked in elaborate 19th century costumes and a full drawing-room set, Month in the Country was a decided change of pace from the comparatively wilder Chroma (though after the nearly 30-minute long intermission - presumably to allow for the large scene shift - we had plenty of time to change our moods).

(Wednesday night's cast of Frederick Ashton's A Month in the Country.)

Created in 1976, Ashton's ballet is loosely based on the Russian play of the same name, written in the 19th century by Ivan Turgenev. Each character gets a short solo to establish his or her personality, and the dances are very Ashtonian in their quick, delicate turns and steps. The ballet movement becomes as much a part of the characters' language as regular walking and gesturing in the way that Ashton folds the dance into the drama. Relationships are very effectively conveyed in pas de deux, long looks and silences. The climactic pas de deux between Natalia and Beliaev is particularly effective: it is at once tender is tender and tense, communicating many mixed emotions simultaneously - attraction, reluctance and yearning all bubble to the surface. Sure, there are several moments of over drama - the audience giggled at moments like Beliaev's arrival, and with a thundering down chord in the orchestra everyone on stage turns their heads outward with an ominous look - but the quiet moments more than compensate. Heightening the drama is Ashton and arranger John Lanchberry's choice of Chopin piano music to underscore the proceedings (incidentally, I found this interesting article about their selection of music for the ballet, over at ballet.co.uk). The melting, quiet cords of Chopin's Andante Spianato were the perfect accompaniment to illustrate Natalia and Beliaev's tentative embrace at the end of their duet together.

The Tuesday night cast led by Zenaida Yanowsky and Rupert Pennefather was very good, and better overall in its acting and dancing than the Wednesday cast. Yanowsky is one of the Royal Ballet's most dramatic dancers, and she naturally fits into the role of Natalia with her taller stature and glamorous looks. With her acting ability, she was able to convey many shades of the role, and she gave a wonderful performance. Pennefather was a tall, handsome Beliaev, it was easy to see why both Natalia and her young ward would both fall in love with him. Secondary roles were filled with great character dancers: Bethany Keating as Natalia's ward Vera, Paul Kay as her son Kolia – giving a very impressive variation jumping around the room dribbling his ball – and Christopher Saunders as Natalia's older husband.

On Wednesday, Alexandra Ansanelli gave her final American performances with the Royal Ballet (her very last performances will occur during the company's tour to Cuba next month – see here for a story about her retirement). She sketched out the role just fine, but she did not yet seem entirely settled into it. Her Natalia was dour for most of the ballet's first half, and bit over dramatic in the second. It was not as rich a portrayal as one might have wanted, but she has only performed the role a few times so far – perhaps more performances would have drawn her further into the role, but alas this was among her last. Her dancing, though, she was soft and subtle, the pas de deux was very emotional, Ashton's choreography seeming to have worked its magic anyway. As Beliaev, Ivan Putrov does not have the tall, immediately handsome looks that Pennefather or the role's originator Anthony Dowell both have naturally, but he compensated with polished dancing and earnest acting. Some of the secondary roles were weaker as well tonight: Jonathan Howells looked too young to be Natalia's older husband. But overall, the ballet is solidly enough constructed that the drama still came through, and the pas de deux at the end still brought sighs.

Christopher Wheeldon's DGV: Danse a Grand Vitesse was a shot of energy at the end of the program. It felt like a combination of the postmodern aggressiveness of McGregor's piece and with the classical traditions represented by the Ashton. The work is performed in pointe shoes, but with contemporary leotards and an industrial age stage design comprised of wavy metal structures designed by Jean-Marc Puissant at the back of the stage - the structures looked very much like a Frank Gehry piece.

(Christopher Wheeldon, left, in the white shirt, bowing with
the company after DGV: Danse a Grande Vitesse.)

It is set to a 1993 score by Michael Nyman, MGV: Musique a Grande Vitesse that was written to celebrate the opening of the French high-speed TGV train service, and there is a propulsive, constantly chugging sound overlaid with a slick, smooth musical line providing the melodies and atmosphere. The music dominates: it is played loudly and its constant beat is inescapable. It culminates with a drum that literally pounds away for the last five minutes, at which point, as a viewer, your brain is now moving just about as quickly as the driving beat and dancing on stage.

The main choreography tends to follow the music's smoother overline, and coming in four stretchy, bendy pas de deux for four sets of principal couples. In the background, the corps runs on, off, behind the metal structures and all around the stage as the music builds and recedes, and in groups and formations they also catapult onto the stage from the wings when the music takes abrupt turns, as though the train is abruptly switching tracks.

The cumulative effect is a major rush. I just sat back and took it all in, marveling at the way Wheeldon built and moved around ensembles and the principal couples. Wheeldon makes use of the stage in a very full, theatrical way, choosing not to confine himself to the formal classical patterns established by Petipa or Balanchine. Every corner of the stage is used for dancing and for effect, and they rarely line up in symmetrical, even lines – dancers leap and roll behind the scenery up stage, they enter from unusual corners and spread themselves out in unusual patters. It's a ballet that takes full advantage of contemporary notions of theater and visual space.

There was ample opportunity for some fantastic performances in the principal roles. Marianela Nuñez and Gary Avis danced the third couple at both performances – they adage couple, if you will, in a pas de deux is more extended, slow and controlled in this fast-moving ballet. I'll admit to loving Nuñez in practically everything she dances, and her performance was no less wonderful here, with her long lines, quicksilver turns and full-bodied expressiveness. Her gaze is intense and powerful, too, making a complete performance. Avis' partnering was dazzling; amidst all of the slow contortions, he had to hold Nuñez in various awkward positions and carry her on and offstage high above his head – all with full power and full control.

Also impressive: Leanne Benjamin and Edward Watson as the second couple, in an exposed, athletic pas de deux. Benjamin is another dancer who impresses me a lot, and it was great to see her on stage. Laura Morera and Stephen McRae danced this duet on Wednesday night with a different kind of attack, more emphasis on the flow and less on the role's angular qualities, but still interesting. Cindy Jourdain and Eric Underwood were the first couple and Mara Galeazzi and Federico Bonelli the fourth at both performances. Galeazzi and Bonnelli's performances were even more impressive because they had already done major work in McGregor's Chroma earlier in the evening.

Looking back over the performances in three ballets performed on this tour, I love the Royal dancers' style and their on-stage intensity. They all look completely present when they are dancing, whether it is in a dramatic situation or one that is more abstract but nevertheless fully engaging. The works they performed in this mixed bill fit those styles perfectly, and the sheer variety of the work kept everything interesting for every performance. They really chose a great mixed rep to bring this time, picking the best of the company's recent work in London, and I'm really glad that I got to see it in DC live.

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The company's run continues through Sunday with five performances of Kenneth MacMillan's full-evening story ballet Manon. I have seen the Royal do this work before (in Boston four years ago, when I flew out specifically to see it), so I did not stay in DC to watch – Veronika Part and Nina Ananiashvili were calling with their Swan Lakes in New york. But it's interesting to note that the works the company has brought on tour this year represents a full range of the Royal's creative heritage. They are all works created in the last 50 years, from its founding choreographer Frederick Ashton, through the narrative works of Kenneth MacMillan, to new experiments by Royal Ballet school alum Christopher Wheeldon and its current resident choreographer Wayne McGregor. Pretty remarkable to think of it in those terms.

Curtain call photos by me. In-text photos: (1) Edward Watson and Mara Galeazzi in Wayne McGregor's Chroma, photo by Bill Cooper; (2) Zenaida Yanowsky and Rupert Pennefather after Frederick Ashton's A Month in the Country on Tuesday, June 23, 2009, my photo; (3) Alexandra Ansanelli and Ivan Putrov after A Month in the Country on Wednesday, June 24, 2009, my photo; (4) Marianela Nuñez and Federico Bonnelli in this 2006 photo of Christopher Wheeldon's DGV: Danse a Grande Vitesse. Nuñez danced a different role and Bonnelli danced with Mara Galeazzi during the Washington performances. Photo by Johan Persson.

The Bolshoi's overstuffed Le Corsaire

(The Jardin Anime scene in the Bolshoi Ballet's production of Le Corsaire. Photo by Damir Yusupov.)

June 20 & 21 - The Bolshoi's new production of Le Corsaire, shown in Washington DC last week, is a reconstruction of the original 19th century production that also includes many of the little bells and whistles that have been added in the intervening yeaers. The whole thing is really more of a spectacle than an evening of ballet. There are big sets, a live on-stage shipwreck and a ridiculous amount of costumes and costume changes. The story is told with the maximum amount of kitsch and political incorrectness; one might even say that this spectacle revels in its outmoded attitudes towards women and foreign cultures. Somewhere in between lies some bravura classical dancing, done big and brassy because this is after all the Bolshoi Ballet. The show had its fun parts, but I can't help but feel that I may have outgrown such lavish kitsch: I'd rather see more dancing, or at least a story ballet that isn't so outlandishly corny.

Corsaire tells a fairly convoluted tale of merry pirates, slave women and a Pasha with a harem full of beautiful women in tutus and tiaras. The main characters are Conrad, a free-spirited pirate, and a beautiful girl Medora. They fall in love, but Medora is sold away to the Pasha. To steal her back, Conrad takes himself and his pirate gang on several swashbuckling adventures that involve plenty of sword fighting, backstabbing subplots and a not insignificant number of tutus and flowers.

(Curtain call, with the shipwreck in the background. My photo.)

The story and character details in this production differ in many ways from the story that American audiences are familiar with, most notably in Anne-Marie Holmes' production for American Ballet Theatre and Pyotr Gusev's production for the Kirov/Mariinsky Ballet. The Medora/Conrad relationship is mostly the same, but Gulnara is very different in this Bolshoi production: we don't meet her until Act 2, where she is already a member of the Pasha's harem and is quite happy to be there. Gulnara and another harem girl Zulmea compete to be the Pasha's first wife, and much scheming and plotting is scene accordingly. Gulnara is much more playful and giddy here, scene playing many jokes on the hapless, overdramatic Zulmea. The pas d'esclaves that Gulnara dances in the ABT and Kirov productions is reassigned to two nameless slave characters – effectively another place for young Bolshoi soloists to step in and shine.

This production's Act 1 contains all of what the ABT and Kirov productions split into Acts 1 & 2 (the bazaar scene and the pirate's cave scenes). Act 2 is the Pasha's palace and the Jardin Anime scene, and Act 3 is entirely new to American audiences. Here, there is a complicated sham wedding, in which the pasha thinks he is marrying Medora but instead is wed to Gulnara in disguise – meanwhile Medora is fleeing the palace with her beloved Conrad. The escape scene on the pirate ship is elaborate and ends in a spectacular shipwreck, with the giant stage ship splitting into two pieces. Miraculously, Medora and Conrad are the only survivors, washing up onto the shore to live happily ever after.

The story tends to be an excuse to arrive at various showpiece classical dances, though in the version presented at the Kennedy Center in Washington last week, there was much more story and groan-inducing mime, and much less dancing. (Repordedly, the full production, which was seen in Moscow and on tour in London during past seasons, includes a few suites of dances that were excluded from the Washington run due to time constraints.)

What dances we did see, though, were spectacularly entertaining, in true Bolshoi style. The company specializes in grand classical dancing: the technique is crystalline, the style is brash and showy, the jumps are always big, the turns always in multiples. Both the women and the men possess these qualities, and the Bolshoi amplifies it in numbers. Nearly everyone that parades in front of the audience has this spectacular technique and it can be dazzling to watch. The Jardin Anime scene in Act 2 is the prime example of this glory – nevermind that it is a scene that comes, narratively, when the Pasha decides to show off his garden of beautiful ladies (groan). It's a big classical showcase that is so overstuffed that one can ignore the story and just watch the spectacle on stage. The corps here showed the marveled unison of a company that dances with unity of style, and the principal women showed off in dazzling variations.

There were other showpiece moments: the famous pas de deux for Conrad and Medora in Act 1 (in many other productions it is a pas de trois for Medora, Conrad and the slave Ali, but in this Bolshoi production it is cut to just the two characaters – it makes more narrative sense to me), the dance for the three odalisques in Act 2, and the pas d'esclaves in Act 1. They're fun enough to watch that I was nearly – nearly – able to ignore the filler in between. Act 3 is nearly entirely mimed (a major dance was cut from this act for time), and features the story's resolution and the big shipwreck.

Ekaterina Shipulina and Ruslan Skvortsov ended up dancing at both performances that I attended. Originally, Natalia Osipova and Ivan Vasiliev were scheduled to dance the Sunday afternoon, but both had to bow out due to illness, so Shipulina and Skvortsov heroically stepped in to dance what was reportedly their third performance this weekend. Shipulina was glamorous and technically up to standard for the role, I thought she looked very pretty and was appropriately funny and technically dazzling. Skvortsov did everything he was supposed to with satisfying athelticism and fun as well.

Unfortunately, this production is really not interesting enough to be seen twice in a row with the exact same cast. It would have been fun to see Osipova swing through its acting and technical challenges, especially after seeing her spectacular performances with American Ballet Theatre earlier in the week (I was particularly looking forward to seeing her showoff her spectacular technical abilities). However, it was not so fun seeing the exact same performance yet again with no surprises. Shipulina and Skvortsov were fine, but neither were compelling enough to command immediate repeat performances. On Sunday, after reliving the Jardin Anime scene – the best part of this production – I decided to skip the rest of show, which was all mime anyway.

Inset photos: (1) The Act 1 bazaar scene, photo by Damir Yusupov; (2) Ekaterina Shipulina and Ruslan Skvortsov during bows after Act 1, my photo.

Natalia Osipova in ABT's La Sylphide

(Natalia Osipova and Herman Cornejo at curtain call.)

Wed, Jun 17 - Natalia Osipova was even better in tonight's La Sylphide than she was in Giselle on Saturday. Her jumps, as they were over the weekend, were still gasp-inducing, yet light and airy, but in Sylphide, that remarkable technical feat was folded into a complete performance, used as part of a seamless artistic performance. Osipova's Sylph was at times mischievous and childlike, at others mysterious and an otherworldy beauty.

When she wasn't in the sky, her dancing was fluid and easy, high extensions and developes unfolding languidly. Her attack is big and bold, and though it sometimes clashes with the delicacy of the choreography – created in distinctive "Danish" style the 1800s by August Bournonville – she still captured the role's many qualities. This Sylph was the perfect foil for Herman Cornejo's James – we totally get why he would chase after her into the forest.

Cornejo's James placed heavy emphasis on his jumps and virtuosic solo moments. It didn't seem a particularly refined performance, more of an athletic one, and it was even less Danish than Osipova's Russian-inflected performance. Dramatically, he was much more intense than the rest of the company, and so I'm not sure if part of the incongruity in his performance was because of this mismatch. Basically, I could see the effort in his performance, even though his jumps were mighty fun to watch.

ABT's production is fairly straightforward, though the company performs it more like any old story ballet, rather than taking into the details of style and drama that are unique to the work. The story gets across clearly enough, I suppose, but it perhaps wasn't as charming as a well-staged Sylphide could be.

(Natalia Osipova as the Sylph, in this photo from Bolshoi Ballet's production of
Bournonville's La Sylphide. Photo by Damir Yusupov.)

La Sylphide is interesting as one of the few still-performed examples of a Romantic drama and ballet. The Romantic (with a capital "R") movement in the 18th century literature and art that placed a strong emphasis on idealism and an elusive higher state – characters and images chase after higher, unattainable ideals and expressed an aspiration for some sort of higher reality than the flawed human one.

The story of La Sylphide captures this Romanticism, while mixing in a morality tale of its own: a Scottish nobleman James sees visions of a pretty female creature with wings. She is in many ways an Romantic vision of ideal femininity, with her airy purity, white dress and sprightly character. He chases after the sylph, abandoning his human bride-to-be at their engagement ceremony, only to kill the sylph when he finally manages to capture and kiss her. He has ruined his ideal by tarnishing it with his flawed human touch, and in the meantime, practical happiness has escaped him as his bride chooses another to marry while he was distracted chasing his unattainable ideal.

It's a story out of a specific era, but it remains a fascinating drama: steeped in societal traditions as it is (James afterall pays for his decision to chase after woodland creatures rather than stay put in the "correct" human world), perhaps it is a warning of sorts not to get too overly carried away chasing ideals. Or, be nice to homeless old people because it might come back to get you later: the story also contains an old witch, who acts as the catalyst for James' doom when he is cruel to her, mocking him when he is in a daze chasing after the Sylph.

The dramatic structure is strong enough to tell the story clearly and without too much outdated mime, and the choreography is also good enough to be entertaining dance. It is a fairly short ballet, only taking about 80 minutes total with an intermission. Act 1 is mostly narrative, where we see the Sylph teasing James, James chasing after her, and James with his bride and her friends at the lodge. In Act 2, James is in the forest and we see the Slyph and her friends dance in an extended sequence of classical dancing – the "white acts" of Giselle, La Bayadere and Swan Lake might be seen as descendants of this type of all-in-white divertissement. Finally, James obtains a charmed scarf from the old witch to capture the Sylph, she dies and is carried into the clouds.

(1) The corps and ensemble at curtain call; (2) Natalia Osipova and Herman Cornejo.

Tonight's program also included Paul Taylor's Airs as a curtain raiser, in order for the company to make a fuller evening of it. Set to sort Handel pieces and danced on flat foot, the piece was a lovely, mindless way to mark time until La Sylphide. To be fair, the choreography is quite sensitive to the music and was pleasing to see, and the work also gave a good opportunity for the young corps dancers in the cast to shine in solo parts. LeAnn Underwood made a particularly strong impression tonight, after standing out in Saturday's Giselle as well.