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American Ballet Theatre
Kennedy Center
Washington, D.C.
by Alexandra TomalonisSunday, October 4, 1998
Ronald Hynd's The Merry Widow, which American Ballet Theatre presented at the Kennedy Center this weekend, is more a dansical than a ballet. Made in 1975 as a vehicle for Dame Margot Fonteyn when she was nearly sixty and thus a tad past her prime, it's a grand costume show with a very thin book that's almost totally dependent on its performers to make an effect. Luckily, ABT brought two good, and one excellent, cast to D.C., and the frothy confection acquired emotional resonance, if not depth, through their performances.
The story is borrowed from the well-known turn-of-the-century operetta by composer Franz Lehar. A small Balkan state is in (deserved) dire financial straits, and fears losing the wealth of widow Hanna Glawari, should she marry a foreigner. The Pontevedrian ambassador and his cronies decide that Count Danilo Danilovitch, a rakishly handsome minor diplomat, would make a perfect suitor for Hanna, and sets about to marry them off. Trouble is, they've met before. . ..
The operetta is a delight, and its subplots, intrigues, misunderstandings, forgivenesses and happy ending could well be wonderful ingredients for a ballet, too; think of what Ashton, and Bournonville did with slight material. Hynd's version, however, barely tells the story, but instead inserts yard after yard of padding. His idea for corps choreography is to take one very simple movement and have each dancer repeat it, seriatim. The dances for the principals is not much better, and the ballet requires dancers gifted at making much out of nothing to carry it. It's the kind of show where the sets get the most applause. Desmond Heeley's white, black, red, silver and orange designs are opulent, if tinsely, and, like the choreography, depend heavily on readily recognized clichés. We know the embassy, the Pontevedrian warrior dancers, the waiters and can-can girls of Maxim's, from other ballets. The men are dressed in finest ballet hussar style, the women's dresses are pretty in a sugary way. The dresses for the widow, especially the black gown in which she makes her entrance down a long, curving staircase, are stunning.
On Friday, Susan Jaffe as the Widow was as beautiful as a fashion model in those dresses. Her dancing was beautiful, too, especially in the waltz that ends the first act, when she shows her love for Danilo by relaxing in his embrace, her arms extending, reaching for happiness, her back bent as far as a back can bend in surrender. The rest of her characterization, as that of her partner, José Manuel Carreno, was monochromatic. They were appealing as people, but they illustrated the story, responding to events as they unfolded, but didn't really tell it. Ashley Tuttle, as Valencienne, the wife of the unbelievably aged and fumbling Ambassador (Victor Barbee at all three performances) who falls in love with the French attaché, Camille (Angel Corella) was immensely likable, and suitably ladylike. Corella nearly stole the show with his liveliness and comic timing; there were times when only his eyes told you what was going on.
Saturday afternoon, Christine Dunham made a game attempt at characterization, but there really isn't very much in the choreography to work with. It's all poses and glances. Fonteyn, the greatest of stars, had a marvelous ability to seem to be onstage even when she wasn't; you never forgot her, and her presence was the glue that held this ballet together. Dunham's Danilo, Guillaume Graffin, looked dashing enough, but is not a strong dancer (Danilo does have some bravura folk-inflected dancing to do). They were both so scheming, their performance suggested that the sequel to Merry Widow would have to be written by Strindberg. Of all the characters throughout the weekend, Maxim Belotserkovsky, as Valencienne's lover, Camille, seemed best to understand operetta style. From the minute you saw him, you knew he was French--the very twirl of his moustache marked him as a Parisian. His was a very deft performance, every move in just the right key, and he made this imaginary world, where champagne can solve every problem and a men challenge each other to duels for the smallest slight, seem absolutely believable.
Saturday night, Julie Kent and Robert Hill gave a completely enjoyable performance. Both are actors, and not only created flesh and blood characters, but made the story clear. The action is stretched over three acts because that's how long it takes for Hanna to forgive Danilo for jilting her in an earlier, peasant incarnation, and Danilo to forgive her for the various insults she hands him after their reunion. With Kent and Hill, the chase was fun, and the bond between their characters was always visible in their eyes, and in the way they danced with and for each other. The ending is corny, but can be immensely touching: Hanna thinks she's gone too far and lost Danilo. Alone at Maxim's, she asks the waiter for her wrap. It is Danilo, of course, who brings it and she knows him by his touch as he places the cloak on her shoulders. Kent's reaction, her joy and relief, were obvious without being in the least overdone, and their final, swirling waltz together was as beautiful as it needed to be.
There aren't very many subsidiary roles--another of the ballet's weaknesses from a repertory point of view. It was made for a company far less accomplished than ABT, and the female corps has nothing of substance to do. (The men have a thigh-slapping, low-jumping folk dance that no one save Russians, or Pontevedrians, could bring off.) Clinton Luckett, as Kromo, an undersecretary, was often the most elegant man onstage, and made the few steps given him seem almost interesting. Joaquin DeLuz led the Pontevedrian dance with real panache, and Gil Boggs was wonderful, as always, as the Ambassador's private secretary. Paloma Herrera gave a very good performance Saturday night as Valencienne, the scheming, yet goodhearted, Ambassador's wife. She wasn't quite a lady, but she wasn't mercenary, either. Her last scene, when her husband realizes she's in love with Camille and accepts it, was quite touching; she left him his dignity. Her dancing, not surprisingly, was quite strong (Valencienne has more dancing than Hanna), but, rather surprisingly, was not too strong. The fouettés that come from nowhere in the middle of the folk dance act seemed appropriate, the result of youthful exuberance rather than showing off. Kent, who's becoming a great ballerina, had so little of interest to dance and so much obvious talent, one couldn't help but resent seeing her in Merry Widow rather Giselle or Swan Lake.
Merry Widow is a fine ballet for the Saturday-night-out crowd, and there's nothing inherently wrong with that. But the last time we saw ABT, it brought Coppèlia. Washington is becoming Frothtown as far as ballet goes. Just a few years ago, we were a major dance center, and the Kennedy Center often presented companies and programs that were not available in New York. The ballet "season" has shrunk to a few companies, a week at a time, spread out through the year. ABT, both this season and last, brought kiddie matinee fare. There were a lot of children in the audience this past week, which is all to the good for the children themselves as well as for audience development. But what are they being developed to see?
Friday, October 2, 1998
Clark Tippet's Bruch Violin Concerto, which ABT has been dancing this week at the Kennedy Center, is ample proof, should any be needed, that it is possible to make a contemporary classical ballet. The work, for four soloist and eight corps couples, is one of four choreographed by Tippet before his death in 1992, and is the only post-Balanchinean classical or neoclassical ballet I've seen that looks neither like a Balanchine ballet, nor a Not By Balanchine ballet. It's a young work, and there are a few awkward experiments, but it's a mature work as well, with the exuberance channeled into sound architecture and choreography of genuine interest.
The influences visible in Bruch are mostly from ABT's repertory--Theme and Variations, Sleeping Beauty, Symphonie Concertante, and (as my colleague, George Jackson, pointed out when the work was new) Tudor's Gala Performance. There are a few quotes, but for the most part, what Tippet borrowed was point of view and atmosphere: a sense of the necessity and usefulness of style, and the notion that personalties can be differentiated through steps and genre. He also picked up some pointers on structure; the finale is very Balanchinean, though not specifically so. The beginning of the third movement, when the corps bursts on, has the same festive feel as the beginning of the final section of Theme; the solos for the couple in pink are cousins of those for the third movement pair in Symphony in C. I don't mean that anything is copied, but rather that Tippet seems to have looked at those (and undoubtedly other) models, digested what he learned from them, and created something very much his own.
It's obvious that Bruch is a late 20th century ballet because of the complex partnering, the fact that there are brief passages of dancing for the men of the corps, and the jaunty cut of the women's tutus (long in back, short in front, with underskirts that bounce to show contrasting colors as they dance). Tippet has worked within ballet's classical traditions; the men are primarily porteurs, but the partnering itself is not at all traditional. It's as though Tippet were experimenting with all the possibile variations of a man, a ballerina and a shoulder. The women, in best ballet tradition, are exotic creatures, sometimes taking a group pose reclining on the floor with fingers to chin, a la Alahambra adorables, sometimes perching on their partners like dryads in trees. (This notion is suggested by the colors of the corps costumes, a sort of vile kiwi green for the tutus, with screaming cintronella underskirts for the women, and mocha jackets for the men. The cut of the tutus is magnificent, and the colors for the soloists are fine, but the corps colors are sometimes a distraction, though they certainly keep the ballet from looking too sweet.)
While the men, except for the one in pink, serve mainly as partners, the four ballerinas are very distinct, not only as personalities, but as representives of genre (a way classifying dancers analogous to "voice" in opera). There are two classical and two demicaractere ballerinas. The classical, light and lyric, is in turquoise, the neoclassical in blue violet; the semi-classical character ballerina wears red, her demicaractere sister, pink. The original women were, respectively, Amanda McKerrow, Susan Jaffe, Leslie Browne, and Cheryl Yeager. McKerrow and Jaffe, probably a bit young for their roles ten years ago (which may be part of the reason why the ballet didn't have quite the impact at its creation as it does now) are resplendently confident in them now. These roles are so specific to their genres, in terms of technique, style, personality and body type, that they need to be cast properly for the ballet to look its best, and that only happened at the first of the three performances, with McKerrow and Jaffe as the classical/neoclassical pair and Pamela Herrera and Ashley Tuttle as the demicaractere ballerinas.
The ballet's subtexts are the relationship of the dancing to the music, and of the men and women with each other. The couples seem to represent aspects of love, or lovers: lyric, young love (turquoise); a deeper, more mature love (blue violet); a tempestuous, passionate relationship (on her part, at least) for the red couple; and a playful one for the pinks.
The first movement is led by the turquoise and red ballerinas (McKerrow and Herrera). McKerrow's dancing, light and clear and pure, contrasted with Herrera's fiery waywardness. These two couples are self-absorbed, in love with love. The turquoise pas de deux is intricate, all lifts and air (and very awkward, possibly because McKerrow was partnered by a last-minute substitute), the red pair are terre-a-terre. The music for the red ballerina's pas de deux hints "gypsy" and Herrera's stabbing legs stubbornly said "tango, tango," but the suggestion of ballroom dancing was quite clear.
The entrance for the blue violet couple (Jaffe and Hill opening night) in the second movement is as magical as anything in Balanchine or Petipa. The corps bourrees away, like curtains parting, to reveal Jaffe and Hill in a tender pose. Their pas de deux is gorgeous, combining the lyricism and passion shown by the others in the first movement, but it's a richer lyricism, the passion tempered and private. Jaffe has depths now that she didn't have a decade ago; it's marvelous that Tippet somehow knew that. Her solo, which looks spun out of her body as created roles often do, is adagio, slow and measured and luxuriously beautiful. Hill's partnering was strong and invisible (he provided the same support for McKerrow and Julie Kent at the subsequent performances) but, just as important, intense and intent, and the pas de deux seemed like a conversation between lovers.
The pink couple doesn't appear until near the end; they're the allegro complement to the blue violet adagio. Their solos are brilliantly constructed and were brilliantly danced, especially by Ashley Tuttle on Tuesday and Angel Corella on Thursday. The woman's solo is all flashing feet, the man's mostly turns. "A new ballet with real steps in them," one thinks, elated, then remembers that Tippet died six years ago, and never had the chance to build on what he learned from creating this ballet. Perhaps some day others can learn from him. In the meantime, this is a very ABT ballet, rooted in its repertory and now enriching it. I think the company is wise to retain it. The corps danced Bruch Violin Concerto as well and as happily as anything I've seen it do..
Thursday, October 1, 1998
American Ballet Theatre has long had a special place in Washington's ballet world. In the early days of the Kennedy Center, ABT was the Center's "resident company." In those days, before the Met was available in the late spring, there was much talk about ABT actually being based in D.C. When I started going to the ballet, the company danced here seven weeks a year, four in the winter (including two weeks of Nutcracker) and then another three weeks in the spring. Baryshnikov's productions of The Nutcracker and Don Quixote had their premieres here--New York may have considered them "out of town tryouts," but to us, they were premieres. Washington dancers filled the roster: Washington School of Ballet's Marianna Tcherkassky, Amanda McKerrow, Bonnie Moore, Hillary Ryan, Kevin McKenzie, Robert Wallace, now Stephanie Walz; Tensia Fonseca's pupils, including her late son, Peter, Susan Jaffe, Cheryl Yeager, Julie Kent. These dancers dominated ABT's Washington seasons, and it never occurred to us to ask whether, in Orange County or Minneapolis, little California or Minnesota girls danced ballerina roles for their home town crowds.
All of which is to say that ABT always looks at home here and is always warmly welcomed, and we've followed, and shared in, its various turns of fortune. I had heard and read glowing reports of ABT's spring Met season with pleasure, but also with surprise, as the company's week here shortly before the Met season had been disappointing in some respects. The Weekend Classic (a long and not very admirable Kennedy Center Rule: Thou must danceth a full-length ballet on the weekend) was Coppelia--the Ballet Russe version without the Ballet Russe. There were some interesting performances in the mixed bill (Les Patineurs, very nicely done; Fall River Legend, in which Susan Jaffe and Christine Dunham were stunning; and an unevenly danced trio of Theme and Variations, but all in all, the week had not been one for the books.
And so it is with pleasure, if also a bit of surprise, that I report that the company looked very good in Jiri Kylian's Sinfonietta and the late Clark Tippet's Bruch Violin Concerto on opening night, and, as often happens, even better at the second performance. Last night, Sinfonietta crackled, Bruch glowed, and Robbins' Fancy Free, which had seemed dangerously off-track the previous evening, was once again a delight. (A similar situation occurred last spring, when the closing ballet, Theme and Variations, was not well-danced, technically or stylistically, opening night, and seemed transformed at the second performance. Possibly lack of rehearsal time is to blame in both instances, though it seems curious that two ballets that should be so deeply embedded in the company's psyche should be so fragile).
Sinfonietta is a men's ballet. Women are rag dolls, born to be tossed from man to man, turned inside out and upside down, then pushed or thrown back into the wings when the men tire of them. (Gently tossed, turned, pushed, and thrown, granted; there's no sadism here. But they do seem afterthoughts.) On Tuesday, the opening section, where the men jump, jump and jump across the stage, was a bit flat (Angel Corella, unflaggable, a notable exception), and without a confident explosion of leaps and bounds, the ballet deflates. Last night, however, the dancers were splendid. Ethan Stiefel and Giuseppe Picone danced so cleanly the choreography looked classical. When the dancing is good, Sinfonietta is fun to watch, especially if you're partial to jumps, and I can almost forget to be annoyed by that inscrutable, mutable, pastoral backdrop, and that Kylian's response to Janacek's glorious music is awfully basic. (When the music soars, so do the dancers, by leaping or raising their arms; when the trumpets' blast begins to fade, the dancers roll on the floor or lower their arms, et cetera).
My main objection to the Kylian dances that I've seen, including this one, is that the dancers could be anybody. I gather this is his point, and he certainly makes it strongly, but one of the things I love most about classical ballet is the individuality of the dancers: how if you've seen 50 different dancers dance a particular role, you've seen 50 different ballets. The Kennedy Center is an intimate house, compared to the Met, yet both nights I was chagrined during the curtain calls to find I'd been watching dancers I admire, yet I hadn't recognized them. There were some exceptions, of course. You couldn't hide Kathleen Moore in Times Square on New Year's Eve, and I was delighted to see her actually dancing instead of playing somebody's mother. Her dancing is creamy smooth, her movements luxurious, and the way her body unfolds, holds a balance, and then, as though there is all the time in the world, turns and folds itself back into her partner's arms was one of the ballet's glories. I also liked Sandra Brown's intensity in the cruciform pas de trois (Tuesday) and Paloma Herrera's soaring passionate leaps (Wednesday); here, Herrera's wild arms are appropriate.
Perhaps the most enjoyable part of watching these Sinfonietta preformances has been how much the dancers seem to have enjoyed dancing them. In some ways, it's the perfect ABT Now ballet, with its democratic mix of principals, soloists and corps, for the Company looks as much like a company as it has in the twenty years I've been watching it: no stars, all stars, all friends. Watching them dance with such pleasure--especially the men, who can be so open and free in this work--was pleasure in itself.
Wednesday, September 30, 1998
American Ballet Theatre opened its one-week run at the Kennedy Center last night (9/29/98) with Sinfonietta, Bruch Violin Concerto, and Fancy Free.
I wanted to post a review last night, but came in to find that AT&T Worldnet had disconnected me -- for no reason that any of the 8 fine employees I talked to between midnight and 3:00 a.m. could determine. Nor could they get me back on until 10:00 a.m. (Consider this a commercial for Worldnet's vaunted 24-hour service!)
The postcard review (which is written in haste and is the ten-minute version of a more considered one, I hope, this evening) is: The company looked very good overall, and Bruch Violin Concerto looked gorgeous, especially Susan Jaffe and Robert Hill in the pas de deux and Ashley Tuttle in the third movement. Sinfonietta was a bit loose, especially the opening section for the men which, if it is to have any effect, has to be an explosion. I especially liked Kathleen Moore and Sandra Brown in this dance, although the work itself is not one that I admire. Like all of Kylian's work that I have seen, it's all big effects and superficial emotions, and he makes the dancers look anonymous.
The program closed with Fancy Free, about which much more later. The ballet looked dated--the first time I've ever felt that about an ABT performance of this work. Worse, it looked like it was fresh out of the microwave: parts overdone, parts underdone. I don't fault the dancers (Carreno, Gardner, Corella; Kent, S. Brown, O'Connor), but whoever staged/coached/directed it. The dancers looked as if each had worked on his or her solo in different studios; there was no sense of the ballet as a whole, or that it was supposed to tell a story. The acting and sense of period were way off, as though the cast of "Friends" had decided to do a flashback episode for fun. There was no subtlety, no innocence. What has happened here? Everyone involved should watch about three WWII movies made in the '40s, and a few Gene Kelly films for good measure.