“Woolf Works”
American Ballet Theatre
Metropolitan Opera House
New York, NY
June 26, 2024
by Marianne Adams
copyright © 2024 by Marianne Adams
For its second week of the 2024 New York summer season, American Ballet Theatre stuck to the literary works theme, but with an unexpectedly modern, multi award-winning twist. Created in 2015, Wayne McGregor’s “Woolf Works” is everything one would expect from him – highly physical, seemingly stripped-down yet loaded with meaning and detail, and pushing the boundaries of traditional ballet. But it was also more than that – a deconstructed exploration of key themes of the underlying writings, presented in a novel way by both the choreographer and the dancers new to his movement lexicon.
Photo of Devon Teuscher and James Whiteside in Act 3 of “Woolf Works.” Photo © Marty Sohl.
In forging this Laurence Olivier Award-winning ballet, McGregor turned to Max Richter for the original music and Lucy Carter for the lighting stage design – proven successful collaborators in bringing his vision to the stage. The choreographic substance was rooted in, though didn’t narratively follow, three of Virginia Woolf’s classics – “Mrs. Dalloway,” “Orlando” and “The Waves.” Each work got its own act, and for each, smartly, McGregor took a step back and presented his own vision of just one element of the particular book. The themes of personal identity and the challenges of finding it and wrestling with it, however, permeated through all three sections.
The “Mrs. Dalloway”-inspired first act titled “I now, I then” was focused on showing characters, as well as Virginia Woolf herself, dwelling on their pasts in different ways. It opened with Virginia Woolf’s recorded voice (believed to be the single existing recording of the author) and projections of words onto the stage, written and crossed out. A choreographic echo of the act of writing and rewriting in search of the right expression came shortly after, as Devon Teuscher appeared as Virginia Woolf (but also dancing the role of an Older Clarissa Dalloway), and started to take tentative steps. A few tendus developpé testing the ground soon turned into larger, more fleshed out movements -- as with first drafts, trying out different words, editing, restarting and then finding a footing.
Much of the act focused on relationships among the many characters, and, in parts, Woolf herself as she interacted with her creations, shedding light on how they informed each others’ lives, but without a traditional storyline. Teuscher’s dance with Roman Zhurbin, as Clarissa’s husband Richard, showed him as a very supportive figure of a somewhat unsettled woman. A dance between the Older Clarissa and Young Clarissa, danced jovially by Léa Fleytoux, seemed like Clarissa’s processing of a memory of her younger, innocent self. Then, scenes for Fleytoux with the ever-impressive James Whiteside as Peter, Clarissa’s boyfriend from her youth, added a romantic dimension which flourished in a duet with Cassandra Trenary as Sally – Clarissa’s female love interest. In that playful duet between Trenary and Fleytoux, McGregor presented one of this ballet’s overall themes of spotlighting diversity of gender and sexuality, with many whispers suggesting the young ladies were keeping a secret, and even a tender kiss.
Later, in the role of Septimus, the war-scarred soldier whose story parallels Clarissa’s in “Mrs. Dalloway,” Daniel Camargo changed the mood, twisting and turning in a standing motion, as if trying to crawl out of his skin – this character’s internal struggles were overtaking him from within. Sunmi Park as Rezia, Septimus’s wife, appeared briefly with attempts at easing the torment, but it was the duet with Jaxe Roxander as Evans, Septimus’s war-slain friend, that made it clear this character was beyond saving, so much of the dance contained a connection, and grief lingering over the displayed memory. Throughout these sections Richter’s music contained a gentle and muffled beat that grew more pronounced, as if the tolling of time. It grew louder toward the end, when Camargo was holding up Teuscher as her legs kept crumbling under her and the music became layered with sounds of chatter, horse carriages and even the Big Ben – the external world was moving on.
Detailed, multi-character storytelling, even in such deconstructed form, is not typical ground for McGregor, who is best at more abstract presentation of the human body and emotion through dance, and the effort in tackling something like this was evident. What helped make it really work were the dancers, to whom McGregor’s text seemed to be second nature in all its multifaceted attempts to show emotion, drama and elements of a story all at once. For the second act though, McGregor returned to his element. Based on “Orlando” and titled “Becomings,” the dance took inspiration from Woolf’s novel’s unique character that existed over several centuries and even changed sex, and presented a hyper-modern take on permanence of existence and life as energy. The whole of it had a primordial feel, and was never static, constantly changing trajectory in the evolutionary paths of characters and movements it displayed, even if it started with dancers appearing in modernized old English dresses.
Choreographically, and sonically, this was classic McGregor. Extreme physicality, geometric blocking that interacted with the lighting, and many moves that interweaved and looked like improvisation to the music but in McGregor’s unique language – it was all there. To build on the theme of evolution of a being, and continue some of the earlier themes, men danced with men, women with women, nothing was verboten as tutus were worn around necks, on heads and by either men or women. In the end, the dancers stripped to identical leotards, and with identical steps the gender binary appeared completely erased – underneath all the flourish they were just beautiful beings in motion. For those who like the McGregor aesthetic the entire act was thrilling, made more so by the many laser light projections that added dimension and even broke the fourth wall when two triangular light paths were projected into the audience and somehow images of sky emerged within those wedges.
The final act, called “Tuesday,” after the first word of Woolf’s suicide note the recorded reading of which (by Gillian Anderson) lead things off, was more subdued, and drew on Woolf’s most experimental novel “The Waves.” While McGregor focused on emotions in the first act, and physical beauty in the second, here, visual representation of water itself dominated, even though messages of cyclical nature of life, and Woolf’s own suicide were also layered in. It was the least daring section of the night, and the best of it was in the group dances, which resembled people caught in the waves, or the ocean itself. The many lifts suggested rising water splashes, the overall movement of the cast forward and back resembled waves crashes against a shore. There were solos as well, with Teuscher presumably as Woolf again, and Whiteside there to partner her, including ultimately carrying her back and laying her down to end it all.
Most of the steps for Teuscher here and elsewhere were not as physically demanding as would be typical for McGregor, and it made sense, as the role was set on Alessandra Ferri when the ballerina was 52 years old. Rather than challenge her with acrobatics and off-balance extensions, a lot of the steps were focused on displaying a beautiful natural line and capitalizing on sheer presence and acting ability. It is commendable then that the role hasn’t faded in Teuscher’s translation, as it is evident how it can too easily become unremarkable in the hands of a dancer who couldn’t quite fill the space so compellingly with a mere pose or look. Although McGregor’s bread and butter is abstraction, showing feelings and colors and letting the audience feel the beauty he seeks to underscore, this foray into deconstruction of literature was a compelling journey.
copyright © 2024 by Marianne Adams
All Photos © by Marty Sohl.
Top: Devon Teuscher and James Whiteside in Act 3 of “ Woolf Works.”
Bottom: Catherine Hurlin and Daniel Camargo in Act 2 of “Woolf Works.”