home | art & architecture | books & cds | dance | destinations | film | opera | television | theater | archives
|
|
|
|
The way a
choreographer responds to music often helps an audience visualize aspects of the music
heard only by trained ears. The latest program of
the San Francisco Ballet’s 2003 season is an object lesson in the way movement
reflects music. Tchaikovsky’s unfinished third piano concerto has a single movement,
marked allegro brillante, which is the title of
the George Balanchine ballet that opened the program. Balanchine
is the undisputed master of musicality among 20th century choreographers. This twelve minute ballet is a beautiful example of his
use of classical forms to illustrate the composer’s technique.
It is a joyous work for a central couple and a corps of four subsidiary
couples. Balanchine achieves great eloquence
with simplicity, building tension through the way he marshals his forces. The corps is dancing as the curtain rises, and the
momentum of the piece builds as inexorably as the music. The
couples perform in cannon, each by turn repeating the movement stated by the first couple. Then the central couple enters. They dance together and then the woman has the
stage to herself as the piano has an extended solo section. The
other dancers re-enter as the orchestra returns. When
the music reaches its climax, so does the dance. The
dancing stops with a finality that matches the music’s conclusion.
The central couple was danced by Julie Diana and Sergio Torrado. She is usually a cold, reserved dancer, but in this
instance she seemed inspired. Her solo
approached the level of passion in the music. Perhaps
it was the partnership with Torrado that made the difference, as he brought a welcome
vigor as well as elegance to the performance. The
corps performed cleanly. If only conductor
Andrew Mogrelia had achieved a better balance between the orchestra and the piano playing
of Roy Bogas.
Second on the program was Helgi Tomasson’s newest ballet, Concerto Grosso, set to music of Francesco
Geminiani after Corelli. It is a brilliant
exercise for five men, who, after a stately opening in which the musical theme is heard,
proceed to a series of individual variations. That
is what this concerto is: a theme and
variations. Each of the men is given a
distinctive movement vocabulary. At the end,
when the music ties everything together, all the men are on stage with each performing
some of his own variation.
The cast was uniformly excellent, demonstrating the high standards of
the company’s men today. Pascal Molat, a
dynamo in red, had the central role, filled with rapid and difficult beats. Jonathan Mangosing showed smooth control in his
legato phrasing of the slow variation. Hansuke
Yamamoto was sharp in his precision. Rory
Hohenstein and James Sofranko each danced with distinction and performed a dance together
that was warmly applauded. In fact, applause
erupted repeatedly during this welcome addition to the company’s repertoire.
Christopher Wheeldon, whose roots are with the British Royal Ballet and
its tradition of narrative dance, has taken an interest is the dense music of Gyorgi
Ligeti. Last season SFB gave the premiere of
his Continuum, and this season is presenting Polyphonia, which was first performed by the New
York City Ballet in 2001, where Wheeldon serves as resident choreographer. Both are abstract works set to the piano music of
Ligeti. Wheeldon has now added a third
Ligeti ballet (Morphoses) which entered the NYCB
repertoire last season.
Polyphonia is a spare dance
for four couples dressed in dark purple leotards. The
ballet opens with all four couples, followed by a pas
de deux, then a waltz that begins with one couple who are joined by two more. The three women remain on stage for a dance, then
two men dance (in cannon alternating with unison dancing), and so forth. Wheeldon seems to
be interested more in shapes than in mood. The
ballet is a little antiseptic, and overlong. However
he achieves some fascinating interplay between his movement and the music. Muriel Maffre and Damian Smith are given two pas de deux in which her long legs become the
object of attention. She almost becomes
disembodied in the second of the two, as she is held aloft most of the time going through
contortions where her legs rivet your attention. All
the couples danced with concentration and precision.
Pianist Michael McGraw made the music flow.
Principal dancer Yuri Possokhov, whose first ballet (the surreal Magrittomania)
was a big hit, was asked to create another work. Titled
Damned and based on the story of Medea,
it was first presented in 2002 and is being revived this season. He selected the music of Ravel (the Pavane for a Dead Princess and the piano Concerto
in D Major for the left hand) to tell the story of Medea and her revenge on the faithless
Jason. Medea has their two young sons deliver
a poisoned cloak to Jason’s lover and then kills the two boys as additional
retribution. The story is told quickly and economically. The
ballet begins with a passionate pas de deux for
Jason and his lover, set to the orchestrated version of the Pavane. There
is a disconnect between the emotion expressed in the dance and the elegiac quality of the
music.
Then Medea takes the stage as the deep rumblings of the bassoon begin
the piano concerto. All the shifts and
dramatic moments of the music are echoed on stage. Medea’s
anger is punctuated by a sudden orange light (effective lighting by Kevin Connaughton). Possokhov times the action to the music. The boys appear when the lighter music of the
flutes is heard. The insistent, almost
frenzied portion of the score (reminiscent of La
Valse) supports the anxious pas de deux for
Jason and Medea. At the conclusion of the
concerto, the repeated chords become the stabs Medea makes as she kills her children,
mercifully concealed under a cloak.
Despite the careful tailoring of the story to the music, it
doesn’t really work. There are obvious
connections between the music and the movement, but they are superficial. The music remains at odds with the heart of
the drama. These reservations notwithstanding,
Possokhov demonstrates an imagination and a talent that is worth fostering. The role of
Medea was danced by Katita Waldo, who gave a dramatic performance that captured the anger
and the anguish of the character. Pierre-Franois
Vilanoba was the fickle Jason, spurning Medea’s advances with a mixture of hostility
and disgust. Nicole Starbuck was a sweet,
lyrical lover.
– Larry Campbell
