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San Francisco Ballet
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In mounting a new production of Don Quixote, San Francisco
Ballet was not just tilting at windmills. This is a big ballet, on a scale although
not a par with Giselle and Swan Lake and its been around for about as
long. It takes a big company to do it proud and, judging from audience reaction at
Fridays opening, San Francisco fills the bill admirably. But the designation of this
as a world premiere is a little misleading. The actual premiere was in 1869 at the Bolshoi
in Moscow. The legendary Marius Petipa choreographed to that much maligned Ludwig Minkus score. The
work has undergone numerous revisions since, the first by Petipa himself and another by
Alexander Gorsky some 30 years later. Those in our day include Nureyevs for Vienna
in 1966, Baryshnikovs 1978 version for American Ballet Theatre, and, of course, this
one, a revamped version of the original with staging and additional choreography by San
Francisco artistic director Helgi Tomasson and principal dancer Yuri Possokhov.
In spite of all that history, the full-length Don Quixote
rarely has been seen, at least in this country. Commonly seen is the final pas de deux, a
showcase for soloists on mixed bills across the land and a particular favorite of
Baryshnikov's. But there are a couple of hours of dancing and story that lead up to that
pas de deux and, if you can sit still for Minkus oompah pah all that long, Quixote
definitely has its rewards, especially in the character dancing and the ensembles, often a
kind of ersatz Spanish flamenco by way of Mother Russia.
With Don
Quixote, Miguel Cervantes wrote a big book, rambling, picaresque and indelibly
burned into the American consciousness by way of Dale Wassermans musical Man
of La Mancha. But, surprise! This is not exactly the tale you may recall. The Don
is there, doddering and deluded as ever, but as more of a tangential plot device. Present
too is his drunken sidekick Sancho Panza, but only briefly and for comic relief. The major
characters are the village lass, Kitri, and her lover, the barber Basilio. The story,
taken from Book Two of the rambling work, centers on Kitris fathers attempt to
marry her off to a rich fop. True love, of course, triumphs in the end.
Bravura turns by the lovers are the centerpiece, framed by
divertissements from the fan-fluttering, tambourine-tapping corps. The San Francisco
casting is variable throughout the week long run of the piece but it is hard to imagine a
more perfect pair of Spanish lovers than took the stage Friday night. Both Cuban-born and
trained, it may be that Lorena Feijoo and Joan Boada simply have the right Latin
temperament for this piece--or just that they are superb dancers. From the moment Feijoo
enters the village square in a red dress, with a black fan and Spanish comb in her hair,
she commands all attention. The high-leaping Boada is a perfect match for her. Together,
they provide a visual feast of flirtatiousness and seemingly effortless technique.
The Don (Benjamin Pierce) is given more to mime as he imagines Kitri to
be his beloved fantasy, Dulcinea, and Sancho (Pascal Molat), Kitris father (Ashley
Wheater) and, especially, Damian Smith as the bumbling wealthy suitor add moments of broad
comedy. The horse and donkey, which provide transportation for the knight of the woeful
countenance and his squire, were remarkably well behaved.
There is an ethereal dream sequence, reminiscent of that other
Petipa/Minkus collaboration, La Bayadere,
that is enlivened by a pas de trois for Feijoo, a sprightly Elizabeth Miner as the lead
Cupid and the elegant Muriel Maffre at her most regal. Feijoos dazzling pirouettes
and battements and Maffres exquisite arabesques dazzled the audience, as well as the
Don.
But the business with the windmill is given short shrift, so short
that, if you blink, you might miss it, and in the gypsy camp where the lovers briefly seek
refuge the music is more Hungarian than Spanish and the steps are as Russian as you
please. Nevertheless, there is a gorgeous pas de deux here for the gypsy leader (Peter
Brandenhoff) and his lady, (Sherri LeBlanc, who really chews up the scenery with true
tsigane passion).
Whether as gypsies, matadors, townsfolk or dream spirits, the corps
performed admirably and, to cap it off, there was that famous pas de deux at the very end.
Don Quixote may be something of an old-fashioned historical curiosity but
its a lot of fun to watch.
March 15, 2003 Suzanne Weiss