BALLET CHICAGO
In their first full downtown season, Ballet Chicago put musicians on the stage at Orchestra Hall and bravely dispensed with the elaborate sets, stories, and costumes often used to cloak a multitude of weaknesses. They emerged as a genuinely new company, not just a new arrangement of Chicago City Ballet; their programming, dancing, and staging underscored the differences between Ballet Chicago and their predecessor, and emphasized how seriously they take their endeavor.
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Ballet Chicago’s weaknesses are obvious, but they are no more and no worse than one would expect of any fledgling company: several company members lack technical polish; the dancers need to project less effort and more ease and enjoyment.
In the first variation, Muniz and Ward enter carrying Adelfang poised high overhead, all with straight arms and legs. They set her down, and when she erupts in fouettes, they can do nothing but look at each other, at us, shrug, and join in. They repeat the initial, huge lift: straight-legged, seven feet above the floor, she seems to stride across the stage. An unexpected transformation, and she is seesawing in midair.
The opening section begins with the dancers in a semicircle around the musicians. The movement, which accords with the music precisely and literally, is elegant and restrained, with just a momentary suggestion of masculine Rockettes. We see a number of choreographic allusions, some handstands, an odd, crablike sidling backward, hints of flamenco. The feet move ever so quickly, forming an uneasy juxtaposition with the dance’s moments of stillness and rendering them mere poses, static and obvious. The solos are all about eloquent arms, lifts, and elevation. Appropriately enough, Orchesographie ends with the dancers turning once again to look at the musicians.
