AMERICAN BALLET THEATRE
The first movement, an eruption of vibrant male energy, establishes the tone and texture of the entire work. In Sinfonietta, musical and choreographic phrases are perfectly synchronous but independent in mood, emotion, and climax. Seven men hurtle through space with unremitting force–leaping over and over with no preparations, no transitions, no accents, very few steps. We see the same movements doubled and redoubled: no dancer is ever alone on the stage for more than a moment; the ensemble is all.
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The second, third, and fourth movements focus on duets doubled and repeated; they are taut and high-strung rather than free and spirited. The men throw the women in grands jetes, tether them, cover their eyes. The women are tossed back and forth, seemingly interchangeable. The men quickly lower their partners from a supported jete to lying flat on the floor with no apparent landing or transition; they swing them around the floor, spinning the women in splits, then on their knees. Six dancers jete in unison; the women are flung to the floor; the three men continue to leap. It’s almost as if the simple presence of women encumbers the men, renders the movement earthbound. The women certainly have little to do: the movement is something done to them. Balanchine is often quoted as saying “Ballet is woman,” an attitude forcefully displayed in his choreography. Kylian’s work suggests that ballet is man.
Swan Lake–originally choreographed by Wenzel Reisinger in 1877, cast in the form we know by Marius Petipa and Lev Ivanov in 1895–is standard fare for ballet audiences everywhere. There’s a Balanchine staging, a Cranko staging, a MacMillan staging, a Neumeier, a Nureyev, a Vaganova, a Lopukhov, a Grigorovich . . . Baryshnikov staged Swan Lake for ABT in 1988, interpolating additional Tchaikovsky music and his own choreography; it featured the costumes and scenery of PierLuigi Samaritani. Since Baryshnikov’s departure, ABT has reintroduced the second act of David Blair’s 1967 staging, designed by Oliver Smith. Swan Lake is a touchstone: principals, companies, and directors are measured by their interpretations of the work. But though Swan Lake is an important ballet, it’s all too seldom a transcendent one.
The narrative provides many natural occasions for dancing: the tender, nearly vernacular duet for her Mother and Father; the waltz jumps and lovely unconventional lifts of the neighbors’ moonlit idyll; the weaving lines and circles of a jubilant church service; and two duets–one tentative, one passionate and pleading–for the Accused and her Pastor (Victor Barbee).
