From Robbins, To Neumeier, To Stephen Sondheim - The Riches Of One Weekend in New York City.
...and that's not to mention the symphonies, galleries, opera. Buy an unlimited Metro Card and let the weekend begin with the New York City Ballet just as the program itself begins with the indestructible "Serenade," a ballet one should see as regularly as one should celebrate living. As a life sustaining force, this ethereal Balanchine experience knows no equal. Every time the curtain opens to reveal the dancers, feet in sixth position, arms raised, wrists flexed, the stage bathed in a soft aquamarine light, and the Tchaikovsky strings resounding through the silent auditorium, it is like a pathway to choreographic heaven. There isn't another ballet in existence that can beat the effect of that first picture. Take a deep breath and be lulled by a small porte de bras, and then the surprise as the feet snap open to first position. It is the period to the most beautiful, musical sentence ever constructed.
However, the real news, both historically and theatrically, was the major revival of Jerome Robbins' 1974 production of "The Dybbuk." Inspired by S. Ansky's Yiddish theater classic, the text of the "Dybbuk" is all mysticism -- supernatural forces as prescribed by Eastern European Orthodox Judaism, that seem eons away from the pristine atmosphere of New York City Ballet. Packed away in the NYCB suitcase for over 30 years it has been treated to a superb revival with Jenifer Ringer, luminous as Leah, the possessed bride, and Benjamin Millepied as Chanon, the wandering soul who possesses her. Both principal dancers were perfectly cast, and the sections of men's dances were powerful and unyielding, projecting the requisite ominous tone. Ringer, soft, vulnerable, pushed by a bond between two families into a marriage she wants no part of, and Millepied, poetic but determined, linked to her by ties earthly mortals cannot understand. He comes to claim her on her wedding day to another. Together they dance until death does them part.
This production is quintessential Robbins. Costumes with elegant touches of Judaic reference designed by Patricia Zipprodt, spectacular Jennifer Tipton lighting, and group dances for seven men, if not a second cousin to the memorable 'Fiddler On A Roof" then pretty close to it. The men were like chess pieces moved across the stage, threatening, ominous, brilliantly patterned, serving to remind us that God's will is not to be tampered with.
Despite his lifelong mixed feelings about his heritage Robbins certainly portrayed Judaic symbolism with an unquestioned touch. The references to the Kabbalah, mystical teachings few other than scholars truly understand, served to inspire Robbins who was to utilize these ideological teachings in movement for this piece. Set to the powerful music of Leonard Bernstein it was to be their last collaboration, It is said these two geniuses of our decade feuded during the process of bringing "The Dybbuk" to the ballet stage. That information is for history books, what is now is the chance to see again one of Robbins' less performed masterpieces in a captivating revival.
Closing this program was Balanchine's "Stravinsky Violin Concerto" with lots and lots of steps, patterns, and a sinewy Maria Kowroski, using her considerable acrobatic ability to wind herself around partner Sebastien Marcovici, and unwind as well. She is a Balanchine dancer extraordinaire, in the mold of Allegra Kent, bringing to mind the things Kent used to do with her exquisitely flexible limbs that mesmerized audiences. Yvonee Borree strummed through the vocabulary with dexterity but no particular impact.
Off to BAM for the Hamburg Ballet's "Death In Venice," an ambitious project choreographed by John Neumeier to the music of Bach, Mahler, Wagner, Liszt, with some Jethro Tull to lend a hand. Neumeier has also employed a live piano score played with concert hall expertise by Elizabeth Cooper. He has done a fine job with this heady group of composers, and the live music segues easily into the recorded portions complementing the sequence of episodes to perfection.
Gustav von Aschenbach, as Neumeier envisioned him, is a great choreographer having a choreographer's block. He cannot finish his ballet "The Frederick Project" and a stranger suggests that perhaps travel will ease his creative frustrations. He goes to Venice and as he sees Tadzio, a beautiful young man, he is taken with his spirit, youth, and beauty. Later in the ballet Aschenbach visits a barber hoping to change himself into a young man via a wig and some ghastly make-up, but instead he is only hidden beneath a grotesque mask. Now cholera takes over in Venice, and people are dying. Tadzio and his family leave, but Aschenbach, having had enough of the bonds of creative life, decides to stay and face death.
Neumeier follows the Thomas Mann story closely and forms the character of Aschenbach eloquently with the help of Lloyd Riggins who is on stage for the entire length and is faultless. His portrayal played on the heartstrings, evoking pathos, pity, and poignancy. Though he must be exhausted he plays out his last heart-wrenching scene with such conviction that at the curtain call he still seems in a fog of emotion. As the symbol of youth and innocence, Tadzio, as danced by Edvin Revazov, was disappointing largely because his physicality was not in keeping with Mann's written image of the boy. According to Mann, Tadzio is supposed to be around thirteen. Revazov is taller than Riggins for openers and possesses long limbs that seem disconnected from his center. His friend Jaschu, danced to the hilt by Thiago Bordin, has the gracious smile, the joie de vivre, and the stature to be a superb Tadzio except he is dark eyed, olive skinned with black hair, and not the fair-haired youth of the story. The interweaving of life images; dancers rehearsing Aschenbach's choreography, young people frolicking on the beach; elegant Venetian society women in ravishing gowns parading in the hotels; all this is pitted against Aschenbach's secret sexual longings. What comes out strong and clear is his sense of the emptiness of his past life. Suddenly creating dances does not seem all it's cracked to be.
The spring Encores season at City Center opened with "Follies," the Stephen Sondheim/James Goldman musical of the early 70's, given a brand new face by director/choreographer Casey Nicholaw. And what a face it was. Gathering together stars like Victor Garber, Victoria Clark, Christine Baranski, and Donna Murphy and coupling them with a fresh-faced dancing chorus, some beloved old-timers like Mimi Hines and Joann Worley, and you have an enriching evening of musical theater. Nicholaw has made a steady rise from chorus gypsy to choreographer to director in so little time. At the talkback following the matinee performance he was seated near Sondheim and seemed in awe that he was sharing the same space, much less having the opportunity to revive one of his most popular shows. Nicholaw is modest, and he is very good.
The scene is a reunion of the Weismann (think Ziegfield) girls, and a last look at a famed theater before it becomes a parking lot. Coming to the party are all the one-time showgirls who haven't seen each other since their performing days. They bring with them backstage memories and stories finally ready to be shared. The plot lines and big numbers pit two couples McGrath and Clark against Murphy and Garber and the lines between them blur as truths come out to startle them and the audience. The Encores stage has always had limited space, and lavish choreography is tough to incorporate. But as with "Chicago" (reborn at Encores) Nickolaw has worked miracles with the "Follies" cast. Not only does he move the principal actors, most of whom as Murphy said "...have never done a time step in my life," but he has brought in a chorus of superb dancers to portray the stars at a younger age. Some of the choreography as they weave in and about the guests at the party is startlingly beautiful. A staircase, usually long and illustrious in Zeigfield Follies days, was about six steps on the City Center stage, but managed the proper effect. The long-legged girls strutting behind large feathered fans in Nickolaw's precise patterns enriched and illustrated the drama of the principals. And what drama, based on a script by James Goldman, the ladies and gentlemen in leading roles could chew scenery with the best of them.