The Suzanne Farrell Ballet, 8 & 9 (matinee) November 2013: Program B, Tempi/Agon (3/3)

Program B: Pas de dix/Duo Concertant/Tempi de Valse/Agon

The Suzanne Farrell Ballet

Eisenhower Theater, Kennedy Center

Washington DC

Friday, 8 November 2013

Orchestra S105

Saturday, 9 November 2013, 1:30 PM matinee

Orchestra Q106

The Waltz of the Flowers stalked me from coast to coast in 2013. I would blame somebody, but it's choreographic catnip and I'm too busy gorging on it to formulate paranoid conspiracy theories.

TSFB presented it as Tempi di Valse, or to be absolutely correct, an excerpt of the same, as only one tempo was given at these performances and four of the five original components in the suite were missing.  The program claims that its unadorned setting makes the viewer more acutely aware of the geometry in Balanchine's vision. To repeat the paltry text thus far, I cheerfully partook of the revisions, but I also spent half of my time missing the traditional setting in an appalling display of orthodoxy.

Tempi presents the Waltz of the Flowers without sets or costumes. We got a stage, some orange lights, and dancers attired in the "modern Balanchine" school of dancewear: minimally decorated leotards attached to wispy skirts, or vice versa. However, the crisscrossing bust detail on everyone reminded me not so much of Allegro Brilliante as much as Amazons waiting to go on stage for some Soviet dramballet.

It's a minor detail, but as with movement 2 of the Brahms-Schoënberg Quartet that TSFB put on in 2008, Waltz doesn't work as well without the triple-tiered poofy dresses . The modern Balanchine skirt is filmy and slices through the choreography when I want weightless froth to float above it, a distraction rather than a complement to the music.

I don't have much to say about the dancing except that the corp danced exuberantly. At the Friday performance, Paola Hartley was competent but does not sufficiently differentiate herself from her companions. In the same role at the Saturday matinee, Heather Ogden suggested full-bodied delight about thirty minutes after cranking out the lead in Pas de Dix, even in (slight) panic as she threw herself at her mark after missing an entrance cue.

The Eisenhower Theater is so small that the corp fills it without allowing for even the imagining of scenery or bigger skirts. At one point, what had been two lines of revolving girls, originally designed to hide Dewdrop's exit behind them, now looked like two panes of a very large and heavy door swinging shut. Yes, program, this production did allow me to more clearly see Mr B's geometry. The increased prominence of the dancers as (womanly) bodies and not flowers also made me fear for my life a little. One flying leap from stage, and there will have been a flattened ex-blogger in row Q.

After almost ten years, I've finally reached the point when I can speak carelessly about a piece of choreography through the years, or even across companies. Like my Ph.D., it is a highly specific—though slightly more useless—sort of expertise.

I first saw the Dance Theater of Harlem perform Agon in 2004. My ears wrestled with Stravinsky and my eyes unsuccessfully tried to uncross themselves at sight of the highly incomprehensible action. TSFB last put on Agon in 2010, and that time I had the good taste to enjoy it.

I'll save readers the agony of reading a summary of the action, and myself the effort of having to write it. TSFB's Agon perpetually looks on the verge of being finished but never achieves that promise, and the impression solidified over the three performances that I have now seen. I had wondered in Duo whether sameness became an issue when I mainlined performances, and the concern reappeared with Agon. Well, I'm about to go see Jewels four times in one weekend in Seattle, so stay tuned for the twitching.

In the first pas de trois, Kirk Henning frivoled languidly, which provided a surprising contrast against the music; Jane Morgan was alertly lissom (I wonder if this combination of words had ever been said before) while Amy Brandt danced well and courteously but occasionally mugged for the cheap seats. In the second pas de trois, Ian Grosh found the dignity that he was looking for in Mozartiana, while Matthew Renko (listed for Friday and Sunday but performed Saturday as well) appropriately restrained his Tigger-ness; I want to use some other word besides competent to describe Paola Hartley, but the synonyms all sound like faint praise when I simply mean that she can do better in this highly excellent company. Fatigue did become an issue at the matinee, as the men nearly dropped her at the end of the Bransle Double.

Michael Cook and Elisabeth Holowchuk danced the central pas de deux in both performances that I saw. Their dancing tended toward adversarial and passionately arctic—I hate you, but we dance well together, so I'll let you live today if you don't miss any steps—which suits the competitive aspect of Agon. Cook was sharper on Saturday afternoon to match his foe.

Agon is Greek for "contest". This is repeated ad nauseum in programs, often without the annotation that the movements are named for French court dances. The cold adversarial competition seems to be a trend, but having received volume 2 of VAI's series of NYCB in Montréal, I think that companies who program this piece have gone too far in pushing that interpretation. Violette Verdy can still smile at both of her partners in acknowledgement in the second pas de trois and wallop them both with her execution of the choreography. Instead of studied disdain, Brandt acknowledged that she was dancing with someone on stage, and I didn't know why it pleased me until I saw Verdy.

As always, I cringed over the finger snaps in the Double Pas-de-Quatre, cringed over my anticipation of that silly moment, and cringed over why Balanchine ever thought the overt mickey mousing of the music was a good idea. The orchestra smeared themselves all over the score on Friday and all but the mandolin and strings redeemed themselves on Saturday.

More whinging about costuming in Mozartiana next.

The Suzanne Farrell Ballet, 8 & 9 (matinee) November 2013: Program B, Duo concertant (2/3)

Nothing spectacular comes out of a retrospective five months late, but myopia will ensure that I condense my impressions into slightly more manageable chunks of writing. If that isn't victory, then at least it's slightly more digestible.

The real reason is that I can't seem to finish this review and might as well post what I have before I see the company again.

Program B: Pas de dix/Duo Concertant/Tempi de Valse/Agon

The Suzanne Farrell Ballet

Eisenhower Theater, Kennedy Center

Washington DC

Friday, 8 November 2013

Orchestra S105

Saturday, 9 November 2013, 1:30 PM matinee

Orchestra Q106

When done well, Duo Concertant looks almost spontaneous. What do I know, this is only my first and second live viewing of it, and my initial contact was with a dizzying Germany recording that was more endurance challenge than a watchable historical document.

Natalia Magnicaballi and Michael Cook danced both performances. Over the years, Magnicaballi has occasionally looked frightened, complacent, adjective, etc etc etc. Whatever she does, she is always reacting in the moment, pushing against the choreography to see what she can get away with. In Duo, she reminded me of a child arranging her limbs this way and that in a summery backyard, seeing (and laughing at) what shapes and angles she can contort herself into while rolling around in the grass.

Cook has matured considerably since I first saw him in 2008, but I was surprised to see premeditation in his dancing. It wasn't flat and it would not have bothered me had I seen only one performance, but there was a creeping sameness in his performance of each piece over multiple performances. Would I buy multiple tickets to see Farrell or d'Amboise dance the same way or emote in the same places (yes, yes, I mean not emoting, Mr B) every night? There is considerably more in a story ballet on which to hang one's eyes and opinions, but Duo is small and depends on the ability of its dancers to be interesting. I could excuse my complaints on insufficient caffeination, but I also saw it in Mozartiana when he took the male lead in the evening performances on Wednesday and Saturday. 

I'll return to the theme of spontaneity here and note that I couldn't tell and can't remember if Magnicaballi emoted or danced the same way twelve hours apart. She would be deadly if this were a superpower. Clark Kent should study up to better maintain his disguise.

Anyway, over the years, I have thought that the familiarity and comfort of Cook and Magnicaballi's partnership eliminates the tension inherent in some of Balanchine works. I first noticed (and complained) about this when I saw them in Movements/Monumentum (a series of performances for which I have notes but never managed to write about). Friendliness is not necessarily a detriment, but Balanchine's men and women never seem to share the same purpose in movement, or even the willingness to achieve the same goal. This is more apparent as we ascend the ladder of abstraction, as the spareness of music, staging, even the leotards, amplify that conflict. Fortunately, the chirpy Stravinsky music in Duo can be interpreted as "play" and we got to see two highly capable principal dancers romp about while flirting on stage, a diluted conflict (of sorts) that take advantage of their mutual feelings.

I spent Friday's performance thinking that the action looked flat. This is pretty odd given that I was in center orchestra, to the right of center, in my preferred flocking area.  In my first years watching ballet, I saw whatever I could afford in student seats or whatever the box office couldn't sell to other chumps. In the case of ABT's Swan Lake in 2004, I never saw any of Gillian Murphy's 32 fouettés. Fortunately I didn't know that they were supposed to be there until later in the week and was only confused by the sudden burst of applause at an empty stage. In this case, my seat was excellent, the dancing was excellent and my interest was academic.

I migrated left, past the center line, into an unoccupied seat at the matinée, . The perspective change was minor but the action didn't look so uncomfortably squashed anymore. The dancers didn't suddenly dance better, but the change in perspective made them look better.

If the current staging was as Balanchine wanted it, then my hypothesis is that we weren't supposed to look at Duo straight on. This is a sneak peek of a interaction between the music and the dance, where  the dancers are dancing (regardless of where they're projecting their smiles) for the musicians. It's also possible that I don't particularly like Duo.

Last and very least my mental Duo ends before Movement 5, the Dithyramb. Movement 5 is an exercise in stagecraft, a love story rendered in stark German Expressionist lighting. But it, like all the cascading hair in the revised Serenade, laboriously tumbles into Ham territory and make me long desperately for the Intermission.

Ballet Chicago Studio Company, 15 May 2011: A Balanchine Celebration

Serenade/Rubies/Who Cares?
15 May 2011, 3 PM
Athenaeum Theater
Orchestra Row K Seat 9

I think I like watching Serenade with students, or at least young dancers, best of all. When the curtain first opens, one can spot the little gestures of nervousness, small disagreements about where to arrive in the beat, heads in disharmony, etc etc. What I love about this work is that in the most satisfying performances, we can observe the dancers lose their self-consciousness and their nervousness in the escalating music and choreography until they are wholly absorbed in movement.

A few particulars:

The "Russian" couple (an always impressive Hamilton Nieh and Ellen Green, BC alumna) partnered well, but it wasn't always clear whether Ellen Green was dancing for her partner or for the audience. That outward projection of self was jarring after the mesmeric rush of corp bodies before it. I couldn't take my eyes off of Rachel Seeholzer's beautifully expansive dancing but was struck by her determinedly neutral (and sometimes almost pained) expression. She has a delightful smile in Who Cares?, performed later, and I wonder if there could be some acceptable medium between the two, particularly as expression (even in a Balanchine work) is an integral part of one's performance.

I think there was too much artifice in the lighting design in Serenade (and really throughout the performance). At times it was uncomfortably murky and at others it deflated the theatrical tension by calling our attention to particular dancers. Who matters? Why not let the audience determine that through the dancing on stage? This was unnecessarily heavy-handed stagecraft.

Rubies started off rather slowly, and I was actually concerned that the corp had run out of energy since Serenade. Jane Morgan is a coltish demi-soloist and shows promise in the role, but dances small without encouragement. Fortunately everyone got a shot of adrenaline from Matthew Renko in the Villella role. Unlike Villella, who rules with charisma and attack, this guy rules because his kung fu reigns supreme. Woe betide the man who tries to challenge him in a dance-off, because he'll never keep up. Rachel Jambois in the soloist role danced with wit and humor, does not quite hold her own when standing still. I've always read McBride's pose as compelling the audience to pay attention to _her_ even when Villella is dancing, Jambois tells us to look at Renko.

After seeing Who Cares?, I can honestly say that I've now met the nicest bunch of New Yorkers. This was a gentle performance, but one danced with dedication and humor. Ellen Green was more effective here than in Serenade, though she does not yet smoulder in stillness as the role has potential for. Seeholzer was delighted in the jumping girl solo and Morgan danced clearly but has room to project more effectively. Ballet Chicago wisely united the cavalier roles for one danseuse (as was originally performed at NYCB), and in the process magnified the Apollon imagery for at least this one observer.