"Petrouchka," "Diving Into the Lilacs," "in the middle, somewhat elevated"
San Francisco Ballet
War Memorial Opera House
San Francisco, CA
March 2, 2010
by Rita Felciano
Copyright © Rita Felciano, 2010
It took San Francisco Ballet almost a hundred years to premiere Fokine's "Petrouchka." (Oakland Ballet first performed it in the Bay Area in 1990). While this Diaghilev era gem was the evening's most anticipated event, in pure dance terms Yuri Possokhov's reprise from last season, "Diving Into the Lilacs," and William Forsythe's "in the middle, somewhat elevated", which entered SFB's rep in 1989, proved to be more rewarding. As for the music, Stravinsky, particularly in the lively and crisp reading that Martin West gave this timeless score, by far out-bested Boris Tchaikovsky and Thom Willems.
There was a wonderful almost filmic quality to the way the Nursemaids' dances wove in and out of the crowds; the demureness of their sliding steps a response to the Coachmen's robust earthiness. The athletic Grooms (James Sofranko and Matthew Stewart) popped in and out of nowhere; the tiny contrasting Street Dancers (pristinely rendered by Dores Andre and Frances Chung) had barely enough room to show off their turns and back bends. Instead of being highlights, these dances were just part of the festivities. As the snow fell more heavily and animal-costumed revelers joined the crowd, the celebration entered a sense of dreamlike abandon from which everyone was shaken back to reality by the sudden appearance of the three puppets who apparently had become alive. It was a highly dramatic, well prepared for moment that heightened the tragedy
The ballet was well cast. Pascal Molat danced the floppy, sad-faced Petrouchka with great nuance; Clara Blanco's wide-eyed Ballerina -- I am not sure she ever blinked -- made it difficult to believe that in fact she was not a puppet. In Brett Bauer's hands, the Moor, starting with marvelously splayed stomps and ending with that swing of the sword, acquired just the right mix of dimness and brute force. It was a fine performance for Bauer. In smaller parts, Daniel Deivison's splits in the air as the Devil and Quinn Wharton's large-scale Wealthy Merchant stood out.
Possokhov's "Diving into the Lilacs" looked improved from last year though Tchaikovksy's (not related to you know who) score did not. I am not sure what Possokhov heard in it, but let it suffice that this romantic, slightly soupy symphonietta inspired a limpidly translucent ballet in which dancers moved in disciplined formation downstage but could as easily flop into pile of carcass-like bodies. From the first moment when an arched back rippled through supine dancers, the choreography opened into spacious encounters in which four corps couples supported soloists yet still retained their own identity. Throughout, Possokhov blurred but did not eliminate distinctions between corps and soloists; it made for an airy fluidity, one of "Diving's" most attractive qualities. Lorena Feijoo and Vitor Luiz, for instance, pealed out of the female corps while the same women later discretely shadowed Yuan Yuan Tan. Yet in the opening passage, it was the soloists who watched over the corps from the sidelines.
The choreography for the three duets highlighted the individual couples' temperaments Maria Kotchekova and Molat's involved a playful, high-speed tug of war, full of shifting balances. Feijoo -- at one point fetchingly hopping backwards -- and new partner Luiz's was a more dramatic, even tempestuous relationship. But Possokhov, who has always had the ability to inspire Tan to reach into territory she didn't know was there, designed the grandest duet for her and Anthony Spaulding. She rewarded him (and us) with a performance that won't soon be forgotten.
Spaulding has partnered Tan before, not always all that successfully. Here his manly elegance and restraint provided an excellent foil to her yielding and demanding limbs. But theirs was a modern relationship. Softness does not mean lack of determination; Tan was a woman who would not give up her man. She went after him repeatedly, tapping him lightly on his back, but when he threw her over his shoulder, all she could do is slither down. At one point, she even seemed to have died. For him?
Forsythe's "in the middle" appears in SFB's rep every so many years. The current cast of nine -- perhaps with the exception of Tiit Helimets -- are thoroughly at home in Forsythe's skewed classicism. They revealed a choreographic trajectory that, I am sure, has always been there though I have never seen it as clearly. Perhaps it is in part because Thom Willems' pounding beat, no longer proves a distraction. We can safely ignore it the way the dancers do.
This crop infused the ballet with a sense of purpose. These people had a job to though they didn't seem to be quite sure of themselves. They watched each other, hung around, looked for and found, or perhaps not, a partner. Gennadi Nedvigin scooted around after his pristinely performed solo as if not knowing where to go. When Helimets refocused his partnering on Sofiane Sylve, Katita Waldo just stood there. At one point, the dancers lined the stage and shifted standing positions, suggesting a sense of time passing. So when the piece ended with a duet, which redefined the concept of grand pas deux (Sylve and Helimets), Forsythe left behind a sense of satisfaction because it's that good old-fashioned climax that "middle" had been striving for. Sylve, as impressive in her extensions as in those fearsome off-balances, just about overpowered Helimets, good as his premiere in the role was.
The other excellent dancers were Feijoo, Davit Karapetyan with a razor-sharp Vanessa Zahorian, Elana Altman and Courtney Elizabeth.
