Tao Dance Theater at Lincoln Center

(photo courtesy of Tao Dance Theater)

Last Friday, on a whim, I bought a ticket to the Tao Dance Theater at Alice Tully Hall. This modern dance company from China was founded in 2008 by Tao Ye, who not only performs but also choreographs its cutting edge, and decidedly polarizing, dance pieces.

The program began with 4, a half-hour piece that featured a quartet of female dancers in black masks moving around the stage in an unvarying square formation. The soundtrack, composed by Xiao He, consisted of monosyllables set to a percussive score, resembling an electronic Buddhist chant with alternating fast and slow movements.

The dance motifs included undulating spines, rotating shoulders, lots of twists, and a general sense of struggle and imbalance wherein one motion led to another in an organic way.

My companion was visibly restless. It's the same movements over and over again, she said during the intermission. Ten minutes would have been enough.

It was hard to disagree with her, and yet I was mesmerized by the whole thing. I thought it was the dance equivalent of serialism, for lack of a better term, that is, repetition as a form of art, just like Andy Warhol, Yayoi Kusama, or Agnes Martin in painting.

The second piece was 2, danced by Tao Ye and his wife Duan Ni. In contrast with 4, there were only a few moments of synchronicity. 2 began with both dancers lying face down on the floor for several minutes while static noise emanated from the speakers.

My companion buried her face in the hands. God, thirty minutes of this?

But soon there were isolated movements: a flick of the hand, a twitch of the leg, which slowly gained momentum into some sort of deconstructed writhing on the floor. At times the dancers stood but they quickly fell down again.

It's hard to say what the dance was about. To me, their gestures recalled fragmented moments of predation, worship, and even sex, all mixed up and rearranged into something not quite decipherable. The soundtrack, also by Xiao He, alternated atonal music with screeching sounds and silence, wherein only the dancers' heavy breathing was audible.

As we were leaving my companion said, That was a waste of time.

Perhaps that might be true for those who seek some kind of meaning or resonance in dance performances. But for me, all this strangeness was exhilirating in a purely formal way. In spite of some similarities with Pilobolus, Tao offered something radically new and challenging and stretched my own preconceptions of modern dance.

The company is touring dance festivals around the world. Click here for Time Out's interview with Tao Ye.

Paris Opéra Ballet at the Lincoln Center

(photo courtesy of Dancetabs)

I last saw the Paris Opéra Ballet at the Metropolitan Opera House sixteen years ago in Nureyev's staging of La Bayadère. The company returned to Lincoln Center last week and so I got tickets to three different programs that showcased its latest roster of dancers.

On July 15 I attended the mixed bill which opened with Serge Lifar's Suite en Blanc, a plotless ballet about a series of variations d’école, pas de trois, pas de cinq, adages and ensembles. It's a bit like Harald Lander's Études though not quite as dry and formulaic. Indeed Sabrina Mallem, Audric Bezard, and Vincent Challet imbued the Theme Varié with elegance and poetry, and the cast as a whole danced with crystalline lightness and precision.

Roland Petit's L’Arlésienne is a different sort of ballet. From what I gathered, the story is about the marriage of young man (Jérémie Bélingard) to his fiancee (Isabelle Ciaravola). The young man can't reciprocate the affection of his new wife because he is tormented by his first and true love's infidelity.

The choreography seemed inspired by Les Noces and Le Spectre de la Rose but the whole point of the ballet seemed to be the "mad scene" on the wedding night, where Bélingard rips his shirt off in despair and dances a manic solo before leaping out the window to his death. Melodramatic, for sure, but entertaining nonetheless.

The program concluded with Maurice Béjart's delightfully trashy Boléro, a reinterpretation of Nijinska's original choreography, this time setting the soloist (of either sex) on a platform surrounded by leering male onlookers who, as the music progresses, one by one start gyrating in an equally suggestive manner.

The basic movement is the slow thrusting of the hips to the repetitive beat. Aurélie Dupont was a suitably slinky temptress who managed to exude supermodel hauteur instead of vulgarity.

On July 19 I attended the highly anticipated Giselle, perhaps the most famous French ballet. The sets and costumes, recreated from a 1924 production designed by Alexandre Benois, had a misty nostalgia that suited the French dancing style: soft arms, restrained acting, precise footwork, and a breathtaking synchronicity among the corps.

In keeping with the company's mandatory retirement age of 42, Clairemarie Osta gave her farewell appearance in the title role. Her husband Nicolas Le Riche played Albrecht and there was such a sweet, melancholy aspect to their performance. Their acting was understated yet tender and moving. Their dancing emphasized correct form over virtuosity which gave the ballet a seamlessness that I haven't noticed before.

Yann Saïz almost stole the show as Hilarion. His elegant line and charismatic presence lent a visceral tension to his scenes with Le Riche and the willis. Heloise Bourdon and Axel Ibot performed the peasant pas de deux with clarity and vivacity.

My final ballet was Orpheus and Eurydice on July 22. I'm familiar with Pina Bausch's work only through Youtube videos  and was curious to see how she would adapt her raw expressionist style to Gluck's  lyrical score.

Well, the choreography wasn't anything like the videos. It didn't even seem like Pina Bausch. Rather, I thought it was derivative of Martha Graham, particularly Lamentation, Errand into the Maze, and Night Journey, among her other works. The set evoked Graham's symbolism as well.

There were a few ravishing moments such as the entry into Hades, and it was a nice change to see modern dance performed in near perfect unison. Part of the appeal was the extreme physical beauty of the dancers, both male and female, as well as each gender's nearly uniform builds and heights.

Stéphane Bullion (Orpheus), Marie-Agnès Gillot (Eurydice), and Muriel Zussperreguy (Love) performed their roles with great ardor and commitment but unfortunately the effect was somewhat dulled by the sheer repetitiveness of the movements (which didn't seem to vary with the libretto).

Musically, Thomas Hengelbrock conducted with true feeling and the Balthasar-Neumann Ensemble and Choir sounded marvelous from the orchestra pit. Maria Riccarda Wesseling, Yun Jung Choi, and Zoe Nicolaidou sang their parts with distinction.

My one regret is that I didn't see more performances, particularly of Giselle. I do hope that this most aristocratic of ballet companies plans to return New York City again soon.

Swan Lake at the ABT

(photo courtesy of American Ballet Theater)

Composer: Peter Ilyitch Tchaikovsky
Choreography: Kevin McKenzie after Marius Petipa and Lev Ivanov
Conductor: David LaMarche

Odette/Odile: Polina Semionova
Prince Siegfried: David Hallberg
Benno - Sacha Radetsky
von Rothbart - Roman Zhurbin (Acts 2 and 4), Alexandre Hammoudi (Act 3)

The last time I saw Swan Lake was Nina Ananiashvili's farewell with Angel Corella (Siegfried) and Marcelo Gomes (von Rothbart) in 2009. I was looking forward to last night's American Ballet Theater performance which featured two dancers that I haven't seen before: Polina Semionova and David Hallberg.

Semionova and Hallberg are visually stunning together - both are tall, long limbed, and technically flawless with gorgeous extensions and arched feet that project across the Met's auditorium. Hallberg's buoyant jumps and wide eyed look made his character seem like an impressionable and easily manipulated prince. His presence is rather weightless and otherworldly (partly because of his pallor and slight frame) - he seemed as though he was more at home in the lake of tears rather than the palace.

Semionova's Odette was absolutely captivating. Her fluttering arms and arching back in Act 2 were full of vulnerability and aching longing. Her Odile was equally brilliant with superb balances - I think she did all 32 fouettes to the rapture of the audience. Her characterization was one of hauteur rather than calculating seduction. The only thing that was disconcerting was her fixed smile - there wasn't much nuance to her facial expression apart from a few side glances.

Hammoudi was a princely von Rothbart but lacked the menacing charisma of Marcelo Gomes, who pretty much owns that role. Radetsky was a pleasing contrast to Hallberg. He has an amiable stage presence as well as solid technique.

McKenzie's production, after all these years, still seems to end abruptly. Nevertheless, there are few things in life that are as wondrous as Swan Lake, especially when it's as well performed as last night's production. Hallberg and Semionova will reprise their roles on Friday. I'm so tempted to see them again.

Romeo and Juliet at the ABT

(photo courtesy of Ballet Magazine)

Choreography - Kenneth MacMillan
Music - Sergei Prokofiev
Conductor - Charles Barker

Romeo - Marcelo Gomes
Juliet - Diana Vishneva
Mercutio - Aaron Scott
Tybalt - Gennadi Saveliev
Benvolio - Jared Matthews
Paris - Alexandre Hammoudi
Lady Capulet - Kristi Boone
Lord Capulet - Roman Zhurbin
Nurse - Kelley Boyd
Friar Laurence - Alexei Agoudine
Lady Montague - Jessica Saund
Lord Montague - Vitali Krauchenka

Last Friday I attended Romeo and Juliet at the Anerican Ballet Theater. Prokofiev composed the score in September 1935 for the Kirov Ballet (the Bolshoi Ballet had rejected the music as undanceable). The original choreography for the Kirov was by Leonid Lavrovsky.

The ABT production features Sir Kenneth MacMillan's staging for the Royal Ballet in 1965. It is a sprawling piece which emphasizes acting as much as dancing, and therefore each performance can look totally different depending on the cast.

I've seen the ballet a few times though not since Alessandra Ferri and Julio Bocca performed it a decade ago. This time, Marcelo Gomes and Diana Vishneva brought their distinctive rapport into play, and the effect was like watching a couple reenact their first romance.

As Romeo, Gomes was a rather brash heartbreaker - not innocent at all but knowing and confident in the ways of love. When he first spots Juliet at the Capulet ball, he looked like a vulture circling his prey before moving in for the kill.

Vishneva's frail beauty suited her characterization of a young girl who at first didn't know what to make of her attraction to (gasp) a boy from the enemy clan. Her tremulous bourrées conveyed her excitement and apprehension on meeting Romeo for the first time. A century ago Vishneva would have been a major silent film star - her emoting was utterly convincing, particularly in her solo bedroom scene right before she swallows sleeping potion.

MacMillan devised four duets for the principals with similar motifs but which vary markedly depending on Juliet's frame of mind (or physical condition): first at the Capulet ball, then the balcony scene, then the bedroom scene, then the crypt scene where Romeo mourns the seemingly dead Juliet and carries her around in grief. Vishneva and Gomes were astonishing in all four.

Hammoudi was a noble and sympathetic Paris. I'd love to see him as Romeo one day. Scott likewise made a wonderful impression as Mercutio - he was like an innocent pup who gets killed in gang warfare and his death scene was quite affecting

I guess it's a sign of my own, umm...  maturation that the character that I most identify with nowadays isn't Romeo but rather the Nurse, played by the excellent Boyd. These kids, tsk, tsk, what are we going to do with them.

Barker conducted Prokofiev's magnificent score with clarity and passion. The march of the Capulets had a brooding grandeur that foreshadowed the tragedy.

In spite of the dead spots (as a choregrapher, MacMillan was no Petipa, or even Balanchine for that matter) I really enjoyed this ballet. It's what ABT does best. The performance was s bit campy at times but always entertaining and ultimately very moving, as evidenced by the thunderous cheers during the curtain calls. I wish I had the time to see the other casts but hopefully the ABT will revive Romeo and Juliet again next year.

Onegin at the American Ballet Theater

(photo courtesy of the American Ballet Theater)

Choreography - John Cranko
Conductor - Ormsby Wilkins

Eugene Onegin - Marcelo Gomes
Lensky - Jared Matthews
Madame Larina - Susan Jaffe
Tatiana - Diana Vishneva
Olga - Natalia Osipova
Nurse - Susan Jones
Prince Gremin - Gennadi Saveliev

I've never seen a ballet by John Cranko and so last night I bought a ticket to Onegin at the American Ballet Theater. The cast included Marcelo Gomes and Diana Vishneva who were so radiant in Giselle last year. I was eager to seem them again in a new work.

Onegin is based on the poem by Alexander Pushkin which Tchaikovsky adapted into an opera. For his ballet, Cranko didn't use any of Tchaikovsky's opera music. Instead, Cranko cribbed bits and pieces from the composer's other scores. This was the main weakness of the production: the music did not have the dramatic sweep of Swan Lake or Romeo and Juliet. Instead it sounded like "classic lite" background muzak which didn't do much to propel the plot or project the characters' emotions.

As for the choreography, there were a few memorable moments: Onegin stepping through the mirror during Tatiana's dream sequence, and prostrating himself when he begs her forgiveness in the last scene. The miming was clear but otherwise the choreography was rather generic. I was hoping to get a sense of Cranko's style but didn't come away with a clear impression other than his love (and endless repetition) of grand gestures to make the same statement over and over again.

The pairing of Gomes and Vishneva though was worth the price of the ticket. Gomes is a superb actor and the sort of danseur noble that makes his prima ballerina shine even brighter. Their chemistry was palpable and a pleasure to watch.

Osipova was a bit of a scene stealer but she's a minor character here. Mathews and Saveliev were superb foils for Gomes - they projected an insouciance and noblesse oblige that contrasted with Gomes's dark and disruptive presence.

Onegin will always be popular because we can all identify with either Tatiana, Onegin, or both. I was surprised by the resonance of the story which seemed so silly on paper. The full house and deafening applause during curtain calls attest to the accessibility of this ballet and ensure its permanence in the repertory of the ABT.

Jerome Robbins at the New York City Ballet

The Rubinstein Atrium across from Lincoln Center is offering half-price tickets to the New York City Ballet this season so last night I attended a program that featured four works by Jerome Robbins.

In the Night (1970), set to Chopin's nocturnes, featured three duets that portrayed romantic love (Janie Taylor and Tyler Angle), courtly love (Maria Kowrowkski and Andrew Veyette), and tempestuous love (Wendy Whelan and Jared Angle). The final nocturne featured all three couples in various configurations and it still packs an emotional wallop - such an achingly beautiful performance by everyone involved. I rarely cry at the ballet but came very close with this one.

Whelan was as good as ever in one of her signature roles, The Novice in The Cage (1951). The theme is a colony of female creatures that prey on men, set to Stravinsky's Concerto in D for String Orchestra. Andantino (1981), on the other hand, was a more standard classical duet seemingly inspired by Balanchine, featuring Tyler Peck and Gonzalo Garcia in a radiant pairing, set to the second movement of Tchaikovsky's Piano Concerto No.1.

The program ended with In G Major (1975) featuring Ravel's complete piano concerto. I heard the piece with the Boston Symphony Orchestra back in March and it was such a different experience seeing the music animated by ballet steps. Robbins's choreography here is full of wit and humor and he captured the youthful, jazz-age insouciance of the score. Sterling Hyltin and Adrian Danchio Waring were wonderful in the second movement. Danchio Waring in particular has such a noble stage presence and breathtaking line - he deserves to be promoted to principal soon.

Now I'm in the mood for Balanchine. I'll have to check the calendar.

Here's an except from In the Night performed by Sara Webb and Connor Walsh of the Houston Ballet.

Paul Taylor Dance Company

I'm probably the last to know but the Rubinstein Atrium across the street from Lincoln Center sells same-day tickets to certain performances at half price. So yesterday I bought a first ring seat to Paul Taylor Dance Company at the New York State Theater.

Cloven Kingdom (1976) opened the program. Set in a debutante cotillion, dancers in formal dress start moving to a baroque piece Arcangelo Corelli. Then the choreography turns primal, almost ape-like, as the soundtrack morphs into a modern percussive score by Henry Cowell and Malloy Miller. It was a fascinating study of primal impulses that lurk beneath civilized behavior, marred only by the occasional lack of synchronocity among the dancers.

House of Joy (2012), a new work with music by Donald York, was a bit of fluff about prostitutes and their clients, a sailor, an old man, and a biker chick who each get their pick, and a young client who is beaten for his inability to pay. There was nothing particularly interesting about the solos or storyline.

Big Bertha (1970), on the other hand, was quite shocking. It starts with Mr. B, Mrs. B, and Miss B dancing innocently to big band tunes. Then Mr. B starts behaving lewdly towards his daughter, ultimately raping her with his wife's knowledge (or consent). This is the dark, violent side of Paul Taylor that I had only seen once before in Private Domain.

Piazzolla Caldera (1997) was all about tango, set in a working class bar (or brothel?) but without any overt tango steps. The piece seemed derivative of Jerome Robbins's choreography in West Side Story. The male duet, in particular, seemed inspired by the male duet in Goldberg Variations, another Robbins piece, with Taylor substituting the tenderness of the original with a suitably drunken, bromantic vibe.

The program pretty much summarized Paul Taylor's strengths and weaknesses. I'm still ambivalent about him but was happy to see his work again after almost a decade.