“Swan Lake,” “The Steadfast Tin Soldier,” “Romeo and Juliet,” “Slaughter On Tenth Avenue”
New York City Ballet
David H. Koch Theater
New York, NY
February 13, 2009
by Leigh Witchel
copyright © 2009 by Leigh Witchel
Balanchine’s one act production of Swan Lake hasn’t been seen at New York City Ballet for a while; Peter Martins’ full length version incorporated large elements of the Balanchine into its second act, and the Martins setting is what has been in repertory. This earlier production attracted notice for its sets and black swan costumes, following an idea it was said that Balanchine had but never acted upon. Alain Vaes’ set is an icy blue grotto; “Napoli” moved to the arctic.
Wendy Whelan was a swan with long, bony lines and a very human intensity. She reproduced the requisite bird moves and as with other classical roles, got as close to a classical line as she could and filled out the rest with a sense of the situation and predicament. In the coda, she went for footwork over the drama with small, detailed entrechats passés, but not in the finale. As the corps looped infinitely around her, she almost touched Siegfried before she left him forever. She rose through her back from agony, past tragedy to destiny.
Charles Askegard looked charged up to get the chance to be the Prince. He handled the mime with staccato briskness and matched Whelan’s long lines when partnering but didn’t always finish them in jumps and turns. Everyone’s getting older, and some cracks in the technique show. Dena Abergel led the pas de neuf with a dark, lustrous glow; Ellen Bar attacked brightly the Valse Bluette with an interesting, eccentric timing.
Like Askegard, the corps de ballet looked almost tickled for the chance to get soulful. It was an NYCB corps in the manner of the late 20th - early 21st century: More and Bigger. Martins upped the number of swans to thirty in some sections; it fills the stage but also causes traffic jams. The corps wasn’t held together by drilling or polish. Heads were at every angle; closing arm poses were syncopated. Its cohesiveness was its energy, intensity, and yes, identity.
What are the differences between Martins’ and Balanchine’s version? Besides the obvious ones of length and finale, it’s going to get harder and harder to tell. “Swan Lake” was mutable in Balanchine’s version even during his lifetime; variations and numbers went in and out. The current “Balanchine” production was set three years after his death by Martins. The actual difference lies less in the steps than in how they are danced. As Martins mentioned in a recent interview, they are all his dancers now, save one – and he married her.
“Swan Lake” was grouped with three other narrative works for the “Short Stories” program. “The Steadfast Tin Soldier” is a tragicomedy set in a toy theater; the story of a tin soldier and the paper doll he loves. The story was played for comedy rather than pathos; there was no attempt to make the doll’s consumption by the silk flames of the fireplace look like anything other than slipping behind a built-in black curtain The fake tear and mechanical salute as the soldier recovers his tin heart from the nonexistent ashes was appropriate.
Daniel Ulbricht retreated into technical execution as the soldier doll with high, showy Russian splits and propulsive tours, but the dance is a show piece. It doesn't bring out the best in Megan Fairchild either; it plays into a neat, saccharine quality she’s better off working against and she didn’t start to look her best until she clapped in glee like a human rather than a doll.
Kathryn Morgan danced in place of Yvonne Borree in Sean Lavery’s setting of the balcony scene in “Romeo and Juliet.” She looked lovely; she’s got youth and fluidity coupled with accuracy but the inner tragedy was missing, at least at the outset. There is something there beyond her physical gifts, but Juliet didn’t bring it out. Watching her “Flower Festival” made me wonder what the more moderate passions of “A Folk Tale” or “Napoli” would show in her.
Her Romeo, Tyler Angle, had a lot of toting and carrying to do, as is usual in most versions of this scene. The full ballet would suit him. As the end of their stolen encounter approached with passionate kisses, fevered prayers and nervous glances towards the lights inside, you were drawn to his romantic passion and her innocent reality.
“Slaughter On Tenth Avenue” was in fine form, particularly in the leads but also in smaller roles. Kyle Froman chewed the scenery with a Trockadero Russian accent as the villain Morrosine. It was either studied comic effect or magnificently bad acting. There were a few debuts in smaller roles; Ask La Cour played the Striptease Girl’s boss by affecting a convincing thuggish weight. Vincent Paradiso looked great in a sharp suit and hair gel; casting him as a Mafiosi gangster brushes against the adage about typecasting not being acting.
And then there was Maria Kowroski. She’s donned the Striptease Girl’s high heels and fishnet tights many times before, but perhaps never so well. She’s lightened her hair and it tumbled alluringly as she threw her legs with complete abandon. She was so sexy as she did those impossible extensions that Philip Neal threw the chairs off the tables and looked at her like he was in rut. He was inspired and did a great job in the final stalling-for-time tap dance. Sure, Kowroski’s always had those legs, but I haven’t always seen her use them. She’s never been so confident of her own powers.
copyright © 2009 by Leigh Witchel
Photos by Paul Kolnik
Top: Wendy Whelan in “Swan Lake”
Bottom: Maria Kowroski and Philip Neal in “Slaughter on Tenth Avenue”
