“Square Dance,” “Almost Tango,” “In the Middle, Somewhat Elevated”
Ballet West
Janet Quinney Lawson Capitol Theatre
Salt Lake City, UT
April 18-9, 2015
by Leigh Witchel
copyright © 2015 by Leigh Witchel
Balanchine’s “Square Dance” has two separate lives. When first performed in 1957, it was a novelty; seven couples dancing simple steps in neat patterns recalling square dancing. To clinch the resemblance, Balanchine had the baroque music played by an onstage band and the dancing “called” by Elisha Keeler.
In 1976, Balanchine stripped the production elements, eliminated the caller and added a male solo. This pristine, apollonian version is the one most dancegoers have seen. But the caller isn’t yet extinct.
Katherine Lawrence and Rex Tilton in “Square Dance” Photo © by Luke Isley
The steps appear to be from the later version. Details such as a partnered soutenu turn that once ended in arabesque have not been reverted. The musicians, a small baroque chamber ensemble, are onstage, tucked onto a corner platform. (They’re excellent; Salt Lake City is a musical town). The costumes are the same practice clothing and short draped skirts as the ’76 version, only with the token addition of a bandana for the men, and a small red hair bow for the women.
As he did at The Joffrey, Sklute called the dancing. There is a score created a decade ago with the calls notated to the music. The script is based largely on the original ’57 patter by Elisha Keeler, updated with names and one or two topical references as well as some ad-libbing. Per Sklute, when The Joffrey used an authentic square dance caller, the effect was problematic. The caller worked as he would at an actual square dance – through the music rather than on the rhythm. Simon told Sklute that Balanchine had the same dissatisfaction.
The beautiful, pensive solo that Balanchine created for Bart Cook in ’76 comes from a completely different world. It’s integrated into the earlier material by speeding up the tempo, which better fits the mood. The caller withdraws for the solo – not odd, as he also leaves for the pas de deux. But in a tacit admission that this dance really is from another ballet, the man dances without his bandana, putting it back on again for the finale.
Two casts danced. Ballet West isn’t a Balanchine company, but it is leggy, and the lines were clear. Because the musicians were onstage, the spacing was compressed and the dancers had to dance under themselves and hold back on some traveling steps.
Rex Tilton forged the links to social dance with a happy smile and a playful mood; he and his partner Katherine Lawrence gave a fresh performance. In the other cast, Adrian Fry’s cool but elegant demeanor, careful placement and long, sharp lines would have been at home in the New York City Ballet production. Emily Adams was warm and feminine; the pair’s opposing natures formed an attractive partnership. Adams’ light touch in the women’s dance kept the exaggerated pliés and turned-in lines from caricature. She’s not a jumper, but her gargouillades were beautiful: two tight, accurate circles as if she were drawing the outlines of marbles.
Each production has its adherents: If you’re used to the ’76 version, the caller becomes an annoyance, distracting focus from the pure, architectural quality of the choreography. If you’re used to the ’57 version, the later revival might seem anonymous and bland: yet another abstract Balanchine music visualization with classroom steps.
The effect of the caller is mostly novel; the audience enjoyed the folksy humor. What was harder to see was the link between ballet and square dance that Balanchine was pointing out. It’s most visible in the finale with the converging lines of gents and ladies, and couples bobbing in and out from the center. But in a square dance, the caller is the choreographer; the dance is formed by his commands. Here the steps were already made.
There were some references to this in the patter: “Rex is giving you the clue, telling you what to do. Now you do it too.” But there was little interplay between Sklute and the dancers, and for the caller to integrate into the ballet, there would need to be more interaction. Given Balanchine’s reported dissatisfaction with the caller and his later removal – did he actually want a caller, or just a spoken accompaniment?
The ballet was the opening course of a well-balanced meal that continued with Nicolo Fonte’s “Almost Tango” and William Forsythe’s “In the Middle, Somewhat Elevated.” Dancers crave Forsythe’s choreography. Even though it’s more than a quarter century old, “In the Middle” still feels contemporary to them – something in which they can release themselves. The company, particularly the evening cast, did a marvelous job, going past the late-‘80s ‘tude that turns the work into a period piece for a deeper sense of what the original cast – Nureyev’s children at the Paris Opera Ballet – brought: the power and natural confidence of lion cubs at play.
In Sylvie Guillem’s role, both Sayaka Ohtaki and Jacqueline Straughan used their attenuated lines – part amazing, part scary – to showy effect. Straughan stressed the popped hips and quick feints from club dancing along with high extensions and a predatory air: a man-eating Gumby doll. Ohtaki was all about the whack (she managed in a back kick to sniff her pointe shoe) as well as her mischief: a kitten with claws.
The role that Fanny Gaïda originated isn’t one of the two central roles; it was referred to by the ballet’s stager, Jodie Gates, as “Girl #3.” Beckanne Sisk made Girl #3 vie for Girl #1. Sisk has ferociously casual technique, with natural aplomb, strong, arched feet and jointless extensions. Her line is classical, and as in Paris, it let you see clearly what Forsythe was distorting.
But good dancing was tucked into every corner. Jenna Rae Herrera snapped onto point in as wide a position as she could muster. In the shadows at the sides, Allison DeBona went up for a pirouette and somehow stayed turning for five.
Before the curtain fell, there were several sweet moments: Ohtaki’s boyfriend surprised her by coming onstage after her curtain call with an armload of flowers and a green diamond engagement ring. Happily, she said yes. At the final show, the company saluted retiring principal Christiana Bennett, who had danced throughout the run as she had for the past 16 years – with a beautiful back and exquisite footwork – with a knee-deep pile of bouquets.
copyright © 2015 by Leigh Witchel
All photos © by Luke Isley
Bottom photo: Sayaka Ohtaki and Christopher Ruud in “In the Middle, Somewhat Elevated”