Awkward was the word that came to mind most often during ABT’s Spring Gala last night.
The out-of-context snippets representing works presented this spring season were D.O.A. Sylvia’s entrance variation by Maria Kochetkova consisted of timid, tiny dancing that made no impact and made one feel sorry for some of the corps huntresses who could have done a much better job. Just what is Kochetkova’s problem with the opening grand jete combination that switches legs? If a ballerina can’t do the steps, she shouldn’t put on the costume. Period. Whether it’s a tough grand jete combination, 32 fouettes, or hops on pointe – do the steps or don’t waste the audience’s time and money. With no strength or importance to her dancing, Kochetkova looked like some little bunny hopping around. Awkward.
Following the Sylvia excerpt Kevin McKenzie appeared before the curtain to make his usual garbled remarks of gratitude. Every single year instead of using a handheld microphone that will make him heard, he opts for having one attached to his shirt which does absolutely nothing for his mumbling. One thing was very clear, though. When he announced the return of retired ballerina Ferri, he called her Alexandra. Uh huh. Not Alessandra, but Alexandra. Awkward.
The Sleeping Beauty excerpt from the Vision Scene followed. Hee Seo (Aurora), Cory Stearns (Desire), and Veronika Part (Lilac Fairy) gave it the old college try, but unfortunately the excerpt held little magic when viewed out of context and looked more like a stage rehearsal. However, the Nymph ladies were quite ready to go and impressed with their acutely synchronized traveling ballonnés – a very good sign.
La Fille mal gardee PdD from Act I was danced by Isabella Boylston and Jeffrey Cirio. There was no belief or charm in this match-up. Colas made an effort to spark some energy and joy out of his charmless Lise who was too tall and too awkward for him to partner.
With the exception of Veronika Part, not one of the dancers in a principal role commanded the stage up to this point in the evening. The exclamation point to that observation came when the curtain rose to reveal 53-year-old Alessandra Ferri who stood motionless in the center of the stage and instantly grabbed the attention of the audience. As she danced Kenneth MacMillan’s simple Pie Jesu solo from Requiem to music by Gabriel Faure, she easily conveyed the peacefulness and acceptance of death that the music and lyrics (sung beautifully by soprano Ying Fang) so powerfully communicated. Not as steady on her pointes as we had hoped to see, but nevertheless, in about three minutes she managed to make herself the highlight of the night.
As strange as strange could be, instead of proceeding with the next item on the program, which was to be Alexei Ratmansky’s premiere of Serenade after Plato’s Symposium, the curtain opened to reveal a curtain downstage with a black horizontal obstacle across it. Suddenly Kochetkova, who danced 30 minutes ago, scampered out and bowed and was given some flowers. Then the rest of the dancers who had performed in principal roles filed out to bow and accept flowers. It was the damndest, most awkward thing. Awkward.
Finally, we got to the premiere which has been set to Leonard Bernstein’s 1954 composition of the same name. Bernstein greatly admired Dmitri Shostakovich’s music. He had a special fondness for Symphony No. 9, which he recorded twice and featured during one of his televised New York Philharmonic Young People’s Concerts. Bernstein loved the fact that Shostakovich thumbed his nose at the Curse of the Number 9 which suggests that if a composer gets to the point of writing a ninth symphony, he’d better make it a whopper because it likely will be his last, e.g., Beethoven's 9th, Mahler’s 9th, Bruckner’s 9th. Shostakovich’s Symphonies No. 7 and 8 had been huge affairs, and so, he composed his ninth symphony as a humorous stab at the curse and fate and, of course, at Stalin who commissioned it expecting to get a Victory Symphony. We’ll hear No. 9 tomorrow night as part of a week that consists exclusively of Ratmansky’s choreography.
The influences of Shostakovich and Stravinsky on Bernstein frequently can be heard in the latter’s work whose exposed nerve passion for music and life led him in so many different directions at one time. So it is no surprise that Ratmansky, a Shostakovich devotee, would discover inspiration in Bernstein’s music. For his latest creation for ABT which premiered last evening, Ratmansky chose Serenade After Plato’s Symposium, a five movement concerto that was inspired by Plato’s work in which seven men have a symposium (read drinking party) where they engage in a dialogue about the meaning of love. In those good ole days, women were excluded from these dialogues so as not to impair their seriousness.
Seven men (Herman Cornejo, Marcelo Gomes, Blaine Hoven, Calvin Royal III, Gabe Stone Shayer, Daniil Simkin, and James Whiteside) cavorted about doing the same sort of stuff that one sees in most all of Ratmansky’s ballet’s – ballet vocabulary combined with his own gibberish which rarely illuminates the former. There was little of interest in this piece other than a couple of solos by Herman Cornejo who always seems to understand how to make Ratmansky’s choreography pop with life. Cornejo’s music began with strains that sounded like they might lead into a West Side Story ballad, and there was Herman looking for all the world like a tough Bernardo dressed as a Greek. The others mostly applied enormous energy to their steps. Men did diagonals of bourrees on demi-pointe while switching their feet from front to back in fifth position. It was unusual enough, but it came across as gimmicky and yielded none of the beauty that bourrees on pointe yield.
Each of the men danced a solo section. Predictably, Whiteside and Shayer tried to inject humor and cuteness into their phrases; Simkin was the trickster who did an extended manege of grand allegro and also staggered onto the stage to convey his drunkenness; Royal danced an adagio sequence; and Hoven and Gomes did a little of everything. About three-quarters of the way through, Devon Teuscher appeared in a wide ray of light at the back of the stage. Remember now that women were not supposed to be at these symposiums. But Gomes invited her in for a PdD which if applied literally to Plato’s Symposium would have represented where Socrates spoke on behalf of Diotima (a woman who taught him much), because she was not permitted to speak for herself. The PdD, hampered by unfortunate bulky layered costume design and terrible lighting, revealed little. A few lifts, extensions, same-old same-old. Let us repeat the unfortunate costume design (Jerome Kaplan) and terrible lighting (Brad Fields).
This ballet was an example of trying to base choreography on a literary source without really doing so because it would be too difficult and take too much time. Ratmansky sketched in a few vague references among his many steps but never really said anything. Unfortunately, the costumes were so literally Greek inspired in their long robes that one expected to see a full story. If one is going to hint at a story, the costumes should only hint as well. The PdD for Gomes and Teuscher seemed to have the dancers' faces down cast much of the time – certainly not up cast, but the lighting didn’t find the faces.
Speaking of light and just to lighten things up a bit – how funny it was to watch Alastair Irrelevant’s facial reaction when he discovered that Ratmansky was sitting across the aisle from him. He seemed genuinely perturbed as though someone had intentionally planted him there to try to influence the NYT review. Then he began giggling with his seat mate and motioning with his head towards the choreographer. Surely Mr. Irrelevant wishes that Ratmansky had an Instagram account that he could stalk and soil, although he seems to have a preference for the IG accounts of the young ones who might be more willingly coaxed to share gossip, complaints, and nonpublic information with him.
While Symposium wasn’t a terrible ballet, it simply didn’t offer anything that we haven’t seen from Ratmansky. Strangely, even though Bernstein’s music was packed with emotion, the ballet left us feeling a little empty.
Unfortunately, Haglund had a pressing 7:48pm obligation and had to beg out of watching the Firebird which was the second half of the show.
The Pump Bump Award, a giant's stiletto by Guiseppe Zanotti, is bestowed upon Alessandra Ferri who towered over everyone and gave quite the pointed lesson in what it means to hold the live stage. It requires a different skill set than on Instagram.