. . . before pointing us the wrong way into the water.
The New York City Ballet Gala performance taxed our patience as we have come to expect over the years. Gianna Reisen’s Signs included a lot of hugging & tugging & skipping & sudden pauses to express emotion about whatever. “But we want to act and emote on stage” the dancers seemed to be saying. How about trying some ballet steps and leave the acting to the professionally trained actors? Ballet dancers create such a kerfuffle when models or actors are shown in ads or online pretending to “do ballet”. But they have no problem wading into areas on the stage that are outside their bailiwick.
Reisen’s Signs offered no signs of progress for the choreographer. Dull beyond dull, academically cute beyond cute, at times it showed great admiration for Twyla Tharp — who by the way will be blowing the roof off here next week with In The Upper Room. Reisen’s Signs is not NYCB main-stage ready. The content is not there. The organization is not there. The creativity is not there.
Choreographer Caili Quan checked all the boxes for NYCB: female, non-white, young, photogenic & personable, not too terribly ballet-ish. In her choreography entitled Beneath The Tides, here the principal dancers went again: “We want to act.” There was too much emotional display over nothing and a lot of watered down ballet-ish movement. We can’t even give the costumes by Gilles Mendel a good grade. Different? Yes, sort of — corsets on both men and women. But the overall effect was hodge-podge. We were able to appreciate Tiler Peck’s costume and output which reminded us of her output in Justin Peck’s works — right down to the fouettes. In fact, it was Tiler Peck who saved the evening with her own choreography.
Peck’s Concerto for Two Pianos is technically, musically, and artistically skilled and a joy to watch. Her problem, though, is the same as other choreographers who have first-cast her in their new works. Once Mira Nadon (or Tiler Peck) originates a role, it will be a long, long time before anyone else can make balletomanes happy in it. Nadon, Chun Wai Chan and Roman Mejia dazzled in the work. The corps de ballet ran with the choreography like race horses. This is what they have been brought up to do since they were foals.
It seems impossible for New York City Ballet to put on a gala without wading into identity politics these days. Can’t the company stick to dancing and fashion? Can’t we just put tribal politics in ballet aside? Detractors within ballet continually try to claim that women are its victims from grand plies to grand battements. Last evening's emphasis at NYCB’s gala that all of the choreographers for the evening were women was a point made to underscore how the ballet brotherhood has locked out women from choreographic opportunities. All of those obnoxious white males who have been monopolizing ballet choreography over the years — you know, Twyla Tharp, Agnes de Mille, Susan Stroman, Anna Marie Holmes, Bronislava Nijinska, Alicia Alonso, Lynne Taylor-Corbett, Birgit Cullberg, Ninette de Valois, Martha Graham — they’re getting their comeuppance now, aren’t they? NYCB has Tharp choreography socked away in the basement. It has Taylor-Corbett, too. And Stroman. And Nijinska. If the company truly wants to celebrate the accomplishments of women choreographers, why not stage a celebratory evening of Tharp, Taylor-Corbett, Nijinska, and Stroman? The truth is: ballet hasn’t locked out women from choreographic opportunities; the post-boomer generation simply forgot about women for a time while free-riding along on previous women’s generations’ accomplishments.
Everyone should go see McNeal at the Beaumont Theater. Robert Downey Jr. is brilliant. The play offers a lot to think about in the way of borrowing others' work for one's own, quoting others' work, using others' work as a so-called tribute or inspiration.
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