Saturday, November 02, 2024

"Carnival of the Animals"

Stanford Live presents
Carnival of the Animals
A SOZO Production
Bing Concert Hall, Stanford
October 27th, 2024

Making my way to Stanford last weekend for SOZO Production’s Carnival of the Animals, I didn’t know what to expect. On purpose, I had read very little about the show, but I was privy to a few details. First, it was a response to the hideous January 6, 2021 insurrection. Second, it was an interdisciplinary experience performed by legendary artists. And last, the musical source material was Camille Saint-Saëns’ 1886 fantasia, Carnival of the Animals. My curiosity stemmed from the fact that as a classical trained musician, I know that Saint-Saëns famously regarded his fourteen-chapter suite as rather light fare - a fun, entertaining, even whimsical, composition. How was that going to work as a frame or container for such serious and downright frightening subject matter?

Saying it worked is indeed an understatement. What transpired over one hour at Bing Concert Hall was a powerful, post-modern, political concerto of movement, music and spoken word. Episodes of dance and evocative text would take the stage, and then the work would return to two pianists and two string players for its musical ritornello. Created and written by Marc Bamuthi Joseph, choreographed by Francesca Harper and performed by Bamuthi Joseph and Wendy Whelan, the piece asked its audience to consider January 6th as a carnival of animals. To think about that horrific day through a lens of tents, creatures, jungles and zoos. The performance was miraculous. And it completely succeeded in re-contextualizing Saint-Saëns for me. With layers, textures and shocking audio clips from that day, the music completely transformed into something haunting, sinister and at times, nefarious. The score was an active cast member, a living organism, rather than a static entity written over one hundred years ago. If you have the opportunity to see this SOZO Production, go. Immediately. 

With poetic spoken word that pierced the consciousness and soul, Bamuthi Joseph was utterly transcendent. Vulnerable, real, even occasionally humorous, it was impossible not to be affected and changed by his words. The phrase ‘that’s a lie’ kept returning throughout the script, jokingly at first, but in due course, somber and penetrating. 

Carnival of the Animals
Photo Jamie Lyons

Whelan’s movement phrases evoked the natural world at every turn – avian arms, double attitude gazelle leaps, a protruding gestural beak. Much of her gait featured coordinating, rather than oppositional motion, common of many different animals. And there was one choreographic chapter that deserves special mention. Midway through Carnival of the Animals, Whelan changed into a long, black, floor-length gown. With all the aspects of a funeral dirge, she cycled through the space, mesmerizing the viewer with equal parts specificity and grief. A mourning dance for everything that died on that day.


Tuesday, October 29, 2024

RAWdance 20th Anniversary Home Season

RAWdance's Stacey Yuen and Juliann Witt
Photo Maximillian Tortoriello Photography

RAWdance
20th Anniversary Home Season
ODC Theater, San Francisco
October 26th, 2024

Discerning choreographic intention takes practice. And even with a lot of practice, it’s still pretty tough. Sometimes it’s obvious what a dance is about – whether it be from program notes, onstage remarks or steeped in the history of the piece. But more often than not, it’s a bit of a guessing game. Viewers weighing movement choices, score and other theatrical elements in an effort to solve the artistic puzzle at hand. This process also begs a deeper question, does it matter whether you figure out what the dancemaker intended? To some, I’m sure it matters a great deal and for a variety of reasons. Though for this audience member, I’m not sure it does. When I comment on a work, I’m sharing how I experienced a particular dance in that moment in time. While that may match the choreographic intent, it may not.  

These were the questions percolating as I took in the Saturday evening performance of RAWdance’s 20th Anniversary Home Season at ODC Theater. The collection of world premieres joined two works by co-Artistic Directors Wendy Rein and Ryan T. Smith with two pieces created by RAWdance collaborators. The program, Smith shared, was designed to cast a gaze on the future of the company, and it looks like the years ahead are going to be filled with joy and innovation.

Now back to choreographic intention. Social Circle, created by Rein and Smith, looked to etiquette. From the courtly gestures to careful gaits to delicate footwork, the hoop-skirted and crinoline-clad quartet were the picture of grace and elegance. The soundscore sang with instructions on how to comport oneself, dos and don’ts, and the foundational patterns of various dances. But as the piece wore on, it became clear that Social Circle wasn’t about following norms, rules and conventions, rather it battled against constraints and injected newness into a rigid system. Movements began to shift off-balance. Tempo increased from demure walking to full-out running. Heads and loose flinging hair swung back and forth. The upper body revolted as fully as was possible. 

One aspect of the score provided an additional narrative layer. Broken chords certainly repeated on a loop, although they alluded to a specific compositional format: an Alberti bass line. This type of structure, famed in eighteenth century classical music, uses broken chords to create fluidity. But in addition, it introduces a home anchor note, while allowing the other notes of the chord to shift and change. Consistency and experimentation present in the same moment – a perfect sound match for Social Circle. The quartet was also a great opener for the celebratory evening, though it went on a little long.

Refer choreographed and performed by company artists Kelly Del Rosario and Erin Yen was all about fun, camaraderie and entertainment. A non-contentious dance battle, b-boying, b-girling and breaking took center stage. Each had a turn showcasing their own robotic, angular and occasionally inverted movement, but they were also learning and copying each other. It was a dynamic, physical conversation and it was just terrific. 

Up next was Good Grief, a quartet from Nick Wagner and Stacey Yuen that began with a decidedly sacred, ritualistic tone. Dressed in drapey beige costuming, long embraces, bows and grounded rolls and spins imbued the early phrase material. Dancers leaned into each other and contracted in reaction to stimuli and impulses. Arms moved in a swinging pattern, only to be interrupted by body percussion. Unison played a huge role, though canon made an appearance as well. And the end of the work featured the addition of water, which again felt both ritualistic and cleansing. Good Grief was enjoyable and well-executed, though I don’t know if it defined itself enough from other modern dance compositions, at least for this viewer.

Off to a party-filled excursion with Rein and Smith’s second premiere, Escape, a group work for five set to a beachy soundscore complete with seagulls. Slowly, methodically and choreographically, the cast broke out of their business attire to reveal vacation leisurewear. As each shed their day-to-day skin, they were lifted into the air, seemingly taking flight away from the grind. A poolside quintet unfolded, full of recognizable gestures, like cleaning sunglasses. Beach towels evolved into active dance partners, facilitating sliding and spinning. But Escape wasn’t all party party. A tender mirroring sequence spoke to ‘being seen.’ One solo felt steeped in solitude and loneliness. And a children’s copying game, which began in fun, took a mean, rather nefarious turn. 

Escape was a work of Dance Theater, combining movement, scenework, props, costumes and sound. And because of that lens, it felt like it needed a bigger, or maybe just different, venue than the ODC Theater. I could imagine a big open space: piles of sand everywhere, deck chairs for the audience, bird-like figures suspended from the ceiling. I hope the company continues developing Escape - it has good bones.



Sunday, October 13, 2024

Smuin Contemporary Ballet - Dance Series 1

Smuin Contemporary Ballet
Dance Series 1
Cowell Theater at Fort Mason, San Francisco
October 11th, 2024

A stage awash in glowing gold. Song lyrics that reference “October’s able skies.” Dance architecture that conjured falling, scattering leaves. If ever there was a program that screamed Autumn, it is Smuin Ballet’s 2024 edition of Dance Series 1. Under the Artistic Direction of Amy Seiwert, the company glided into Fort Mason’s Cowell Theater on Friday night to open the San Francisco leg of their recent Bay Area tour. Before a packed house, the troupe offered a dynamic triple bill of contemporary ballet: the world premiere of Jennifer Archibald’s ByCHANCE, the company debut of Matthew Neenan’s The Last Glass (2010) and a re-engagement with Seiwert’s 2019 Renaissance. While I had my favorite amongst the three works, there is no denying that the entire program was quite dazzling. And the company, some of whom danced in all three pieces, looked totally on top of their game. A terrific start to a new season!

Smuin Ballet in Archibald's ByCHANCE
Photo Chris Hardy


In her welcoming remarks, Seiwert shared that Archibald’s ByCHANCE (which was created on the Smuin artists) was inspired by the chance encounters that we experience throughout life. As the ensemble work for eight unfolded, that throughline was definitely at play. Dancers entered and exited the space, meeting center stage for a conversation, albeit one without words. Mirroring human existence, some of those conversations were long, others short. Some were casual, others passionate. Some interactions were joyful, others melancholic. Some very temporary, others much more permanent. 

Choreographically, intense speed contrasted with moments of unrestrained quiet. Lifts soared through the air. Arms undulated and gestural sequences brought a sharp, staccato articulation to the table. Phrases flowed effortlessly from one to another, with an almost sculptural-like, fluid motion. 

While it may not have been the choreographic intent, I also saw something deeply organic and basal running through ByCHANCE. Reminiscent of the natural world in tone. Dancers cascaded in and out of the wings like whirling leaves. At other times, it seemed like we were peeking under a microscope at cells adhering together to form something new, only for that new entity to dissolve. Those large group pictures manifested, then broke apart, over and over again. It was mesmerizing and provided an unexpected textural layer to the work.

My first impression of Neenan’s The Last Glass was a wild party with an even wilder guest list. The hopeful ingenue. A tortured Elizabethan heroine. Flirty Moulin Rouge dancers. A couple brimming with equal parts volatility and passion. And in each of the subsequent solos, duets, trios and group sequences, all set to a score by Beirut, each guest had ample opportunity to reveal their persona. Neenan’s choreographic syntax similarly ran the gamut from classical petit allegro to percussive variations to jazzy barrel rolls and axles. With a nod to yoga practices, an accumulation phrase flowed breath to movement. Social line dances were aplenty; there was even a tipsy pseudo-limbo. If there had been additional theatrical elements (like props or text, for example), I might have categorized The Last Glass as Dance Theatre. But the genre didn’t really matter. What mattered was that the entire cast of ten was all in from lights up to final blackout and it was a party that you wanted an invite to. 

Smuin Ballet in Seiwert's Renaissance
Photo Chris Hardy

As its title suggests, Seiwert’s Renaissance is of another time. It feels otherworldly, prayerful, and while it certainly has dynamic range, the ballet elicits an undeniably peaceful and serene tone. Scored by the Kitka Women’s Vocal Ensemble, the largest group piece of the evening had much to convey. But the strongest element was indeed the power of a collective working together. Unison chapters abounded. Hands were clasped together in tender support. Balances and partnering were imbued with a mutuality where all parties had to commit with the same force and attention. Renaissance has its fair share of serious, somber moments, but instead of abiding solely in that emotion, it counters with significant, palpable joy. Arms and legs reached to the heavens and to other souls on stage. Floaty leaps provided a sense of lightness and hope. Mid-way through the work, a soloist (Tess Lane at this performance) appears on the scene. As the only dancer costumed differently, there is a bit of a ‘chosen one’, Rite of Spring comparison that happens. But unlike Rite of Spring, which is always gruesome to me, here that character feels protected and cherished by the kinship of her tribe. I’ve loved Renaissance since I first saw it, and once again, it was my favorite dance of the night.

Dance Series 1 runs in San Francisco at the Cowell Theater until October 20th.

 

Monday, August 19, 2024

EIGHT/MOVES

EIGHT/MOVES
Z Space, San Francisco
August 16th, 2024

While a new dance company vaulted onto the San Francisco contemporary dance scene this past weekend, the artistic visionary behind this endeavor is no stranger to audiences. With a resume that includes stints with top regional dance institutions (like ODC/Dance, Post:Ballet and Robert Moses’ KIN), Mia J. Chong is beloved in her community and in Bay Area performance spaces. You could feel that admiration and affection percolating in Z Space on Friday night as EIGHT/MOVES offered their inaugural performance. Filled with poise, confidence and joy, Chong greeted the crowd and shared her mission for EIGHT/MOVES, noting that this new troupe would be committed to an unlimited creative environment where BIPOC, AAPI and marginalized voices could shout and sing. If the debut performance was any indication, this company is certainly going to be one to watch in the coming years. The program featured three premiere works, each one co-choreographed - for Common Gradient, Chong teamed up with Keerati Jinakunwiphat, Themes of Remembering with Rena Butler and finally Steam with KT Nelson.

EIGHT/MOVES in Common Gradient
Photo Maximillian Tortoriello

Common Gradient
was my favorite work of the evening; a physical novella whose chapters communicated different tones, qualities and dynamics. Six dancers, costumed in dark pants and flowy silk tops, entered the space for Gradient’s joyful beginning. It was like we were witnessing atomic structures breaking apart and coming back together to form collective tableaux. Some of these living pictures would recur throughout the dance as new tonal layers and textures were simultaneously unveiled. Sometimes there was an atmosphere of caring. Sometimes of frustration. Of indifference. One duet felt quite charged, maybe even tortured. It was a fabulous start to EIGHT/MOVES debut performance.

As the lights went up on Themes of Remembering, I (and I’m sure many viewers) found myself pondering what the act of remembering entails. What is required in order to remember? As the trio unfolded, one answer was evident in the staging and the choreography – that remembering often involves searching. Searching for details; searching the mind; searching for a person. Themes began with each dancer taking a solo turn sitting in a spotlight, while they smiled upon an empty pool of light diagonally downstage. The moment was both sweet and poignant. And then came the movement phrases, which certainly evoked that sense of searching. Shifting gazes and altered directions; arms reaching outward and staccato reflexive motions. Backtracking through space, being propelled forward and throwing oneself off-balance. 

EIGHT/MOVES in Steam
Photo Maximillian Tortoriello

Steam
was the longest piece on Season 1’s program, danced by the full company of seven alongside a very unique guest artist. Chong had mentioned in her earlier remarks that Steam was going to mine the frightening truth of climate change, and to that end, Chong and Nelson invited an eighth participant into the mix: the explosive smoke and billowing haze that blanketed the stage from beginning to end. Composition-wise, Steam saw post-modern modalities meet with this urgent narrative frame. Sometimes with such topical works and theatrical elements, the movement itself can get a bit lost. But not here. The choreography was quite technical and aptly handled by the cast. One throughline that was readily apparent was that of purposeful struggle. Struggles to breathe or to fully extend. The struggle to stop shaking, stay upright or even remain prone on the ground. The struggle for balance. Steam was primal, a true fight against reality and circumstance. Beautifully danced in all chapters, a unison quartet mid-way through was a particular stand-out. Having said that, I did lose the thread during the lengthy middle sequence – its slower pace was interesting, though overall, it felt out of sync with the rest of the piece. And from time to time, the sound (though this was true in all three works) was too piercing.


Wednesday, August 14, 2024

Ballet22

Ballet22
ODC Theater, San Francisco
August 11th, 2024

Ballet22 is a dance company on the move. Since debuting in 2020, they have been staking their claim in the ballet world, upending conventions, disrupting presumptions and impressing audiences with every performance engagement. The company’s website says it best, noting that they are dedicated to “presenting men, mxn, and non-binary artists “en pointe.” And this past weekend they, once again, lived into that vision with 2024’s summer season - a mixed repertory bill of classic and contemporary dance works. The pointework was sparkling, phenomenal and textbook precise. Every pointe dancer can gain valuable insight into their practice from witnessing these talented artists.

The program’s first half transported viewers to the 1800s with excerpts and variations from Acts I and II of the beloved Giselle. While Giselle is not a Bournonville ballet per se, one couldn’t help but notice that each divertissement had that specificity of execution. Delicate, yet fast footwork, bright briseés and shining diagonal turning combinations. Control and balance abounded as did lofty airiness and an exactitude of foot placement. It was quite dazzling. Arms floated in 3rd arabesque. Renversé sang through the space. Fluttery boureés skated along the stage’s surface. And the jumps! Cabrioles hung in the air before returning to earth. Sissone assemblé darted forward with intention and purpose. And Giselle’s final batterie series, danced Sunday afternoon by Ashton Edwards, was both artistically and technically flawless.

Daniel R. Durrett and Ashton Edwards in
Forsythe's Approximate Sonata
Photo Gabriel Lorena


Contemporary sensibilities were in store with Ballet22’s second act, a collection of four diverse, intricate pieces. First up was William Forsythe’s Approximate Sonata, a duet created in 1996, whose choreographic material was revisited in 2016. Like many Forsythe ballets, Approximate Sonata celebrated extremes. Exaggerated splits, extensions and attitude postures coupling with supple arms, avian wrists and a sinuous spine. Houston Thomas’ Solo02: KANA, danced by Kobe Courtney, had a delicious off-balance feel with intense, swift directional shifts. I also couldn’t shake influences of Wayne McGregor and Alwin Nikolais throughout the dance. 

A world premiere commission for Ballet22, Christian Denice’s Love Me Tender was the only work on the program without a pointe element to it. It was emotionally charged. It was evocative. It was nuanced. For a trio of performers, Love Me Tender had a number of modalities and forces at play. One was the sense of pulling and pushing – being pulled one way and pushed another. Cantilevering also imbued the pas de trois: positions and partnering that require equal support and strength of others to build and sustain. Love Me Tender also had an incredibly interesting finale. The physicality and the score (by Perfume Genius) came together in a modern-Baroque dialog where movement phrases and musical voices were simultaneously independent and interdependent.

Ballet22 closed their summer event with a second Thomas creation - a pointe quartet titled Bass Am Wasser – and in reading the program notes, it becomes immediately clear how important nature and water are to this ballet. Costumed in plain black unitards and jewel-tone, opera-length gloves, the choreography spoke of the waves that fueled Johannes Goldbach’s score. Sweeping arcs and balancés were everywhere. Arms started in a high 5th position and then dynamically broke apart like waves crashing, while boureés coasted on the ODC stage like water skimming the sand. 


Wednesday, August 07, 2024

State of Play Festival

State of Play
August 1st-4th, 2024
ODC Theater, San Francisco

Turning the calendar from July to August has much significance, often symbolizing the final weeks of summer vacation. At ODC Theater, the new month ushered in the State of Play Festival, a four-day artistic extravaganza featuring work from ten individual artists and ensembles. Co-presented by CounterPulse and curated by Chloë L. Zimberg and Maurya Kerr, this twelfth edition offered three categories: Risk-Takers, Curious Creators and Experimenters. I took in two shows from the first category – Paufve Dance’s Sisters on night one and SFDanceworks in Bryan Arias’ The Broken Glass on night two.

A world premiere ensemble piece, Artistic Director Randee Paufve’s Sisters takes its audience on a vulnerable, intimate journey.  Though we were seated for Sisters’ entire hour, the suite of vignettes (solos, duos, trios and full cast) felt like it was transporting the viewer from one space to another, each chapter conveying a different mood, quality and emotion. Narratively, the common thread sang, screamed and sobbed from the stage. As stated in the program materials, Sisters investigated “a woman’s right to choose” and the many different aspects of reproductive rights. The joy of motherhood. The medical realities and dismissals surrounding birth. The urge to be, or not be, a parent. And the loss of autonomy that women are facing today. 

Molley Levy and Madison McGain in 
Paufve's Sisters
Photo Hillary Goidell

Arms free in flight were suddenly clipped and bound. A group ritual variation felt forceful and defiant, the supported strength of kinship taking centerstage. Crawling, pleading and running motifs spoke of frustration, desperation and disbelief, while long embraces marked the comfort of togetherness. Jumping sequences mirrored the release of rage. With a percussive step touch foundation, one duet reflected the act of treading water, at least for me. The attempt to stay present and alive. And a brief Western-inspired episode posited the devolving of society into the ‘wild west.’  

Perhaps the most stunning and moving moments were found in Sisters' many picturesque tableaux. One dancer would initiate a movement, and that movement would prompt the others to physically react and respond. There was a poignant ripple effect at play. How the erosion of one right may lead to the erosion of others. How the experience of one affects the whole. What might be taken next?

At sixty minutes, I did find Sisters to be on the lengthy side, lagging a little in the middle of the dance. But there were a number of performers in the cast that moved so exquisitely that I couldn’t take my eyes off them, whether the dance felt long or not.

If I had one sentence to describe Bryan Arias’ The Broken Glass (2023), danced Friday evening by SFDanceworks, it would be this: a phenomenal piece, danced exceptionally by five extraordinary artists. That may seem like a blanket, complimentary sentence. But it’s not (and let’s be honest, I am going to say more than just that one phrase). The Broken Glass was great. It made you feel something, and that is what great art does. Your experience may not have been the same as the person next to you. You might have thought it was about one thing and a dozen other viewers may have had a dozen differing ideas. Your observations might not have been what the choreographer intended. But you felt something, and it was something profound. 

Emily Hansel (c) in Arias' The Broken Glass
Photo Valentina Reneff-Olson

As the work began, it was clear that masks were going to play a significant role. And for me, the masks, which re-appeared several times, prompted questions. What is hidden by a mask? Is it protective armor? How does it speak to loss and lone-ness? Does it provide a false or real sense of security? Over the next forty minutes, the quintet’s performance of Arias’ choreography kept those questions in my viewership lens.

The dancers’ loose, breezy, linen attire deliciously contrasted with the full throttle movement. There was suspension and release. Falling and rebounding. The mutuality of cantilevered partnering. Abandon. Charged dynamics. Outside forces exerting themselves on one’s reality. Off balance postures. Capoeira influences. 

Powerful choreographic repetition abounded. Dancers rose, and then were pushed down, or pushed away, over and over again. Bodies melted to the ground and were saved seconds before their heads hit the stage’s surface. Crumpling and catching; crumpling and catching. The repetition had that curious duality of emphasizing and anesthetizing at the same time. 

And the score – so amazing. Open cadenzas were everywhere – scalic and arpeggiated passages free of constraint, free of meter and free of dynamics – ready for the musician to unleash everything within them. The advanced press material shared this: “inspired by the rhythms of [Arias’] Puerto Rican heritage - the music of bomba and plena, boleros and other musical styles…”. That is certainly what rang through the ODC Theater space on Friday evening. 


 

Saturday, July 27, 2024

San Francisco Ballet - "Starry Nights"

"Starry Nights" at Stanford Live
Photo © Reneff-Olson Productions

San Francisco Ballet and Stanford Live present
“Starry Nights”
Frost Amphitheater, Stanford
July 26th, 2024

San Francisco Ballet’s outdoor, summertime performance has been a Bay Area tradition for quite some time – a special opportunity to catch a renowned dance company outside of their regular season and in a different theatrical space. For years, this event was included in the long running Stern Grove Festival, the phenomenal, and free (!), Sunday concert series that runs in SF between June and August. But in recent summers, SFB has been on the move, venturing a bit further south with their signature repertory of classical and contemporary dance alike. And while this isn’t their first year at Stanford’s Frost Amphitheater, I was new to this Peninsula stage and to what has become their “Starry Nights” program. It was a dazzling evening. Perfect weather. Brilliant artists. A solid program (save a few inorganic moments) blending beloved, familiar works with SFB premieres. The venue was great, though I did miss the undeniable community spirit and excitement of those Sunday afternoons in the Grove.

Swan Lake was an ideal start to the evening, a beloved classic to be sure. And focusing on Act II was a smart choice with all its iconic moments. There was much to marvel at. A sense of complex unrequited-ness between Odette (Sasha De Sola) and Siegfried (Aaron Robison) bookends the Act. The otherworldly pas de deux transforms Odette into a cascading bird with its weightless, supported lifts. And her series of diagonal en dedans turns (commonly referred to as ‘lame duck’ turns) was clever and succinct.

San Francisco Ballet in 
Tomasson's Swan Lake
Photo Lindsay Thomas


But the real stars of Swan Lake’s second Act are the corps de ballet, including the featured cygnets and maidens. And shine they did - the entire flock. The footwork of the famed cygnets variation was perfectly in sync Friday night, though the unison head motions proved challenging. Rebecca Blenkinsop and Jacey Gailliard were some of the best Swan Maidens I’ve seen, with long, exquisite lines and lighter than air saut de chat.  

SFB audiences know Swan Lake and specifically, they know this Swan Lake, by former Artistic Director Helgi Tomasson (after Lev Ivanov), frequently part of the regular season since its premiere in 2009. I get it. It’s a beautiful production and a widely popular ballet. Perhaps it’s just my viewership lens that’s become saturated, but I look forward to different perspectives at some point in the future. 

Three Preludes was up next, choreographed in 1969 by Ben Stevenson, who served as Artistic Director of Houston Ballet for nearly thirty years. Not only was it an SFB premiere, but also the standout piece of the night. A duet set to three Sergei Rachmaninoff compositions, the work presents a dramatic and touching relationship arc; each musical prelude noting a different life chapter. A ballet barre stood center stage. Jasmine Jimison and Harrison James began cycling through classroom barre exercises. Right from the start, Stevenson had created a sense of place and a shared understanding. From there, the viewer watched as that common reality transcended into other realms of human connection. How simple port de bras became a tender invitation. The second episode was filled with intoxicating passion – inverted attitude poses; swift, sliding turns and a crumpled fish dive – while the third was filled with jubilant, joyful sweeping lifts. Jimison and James were spectacular throughout, especially in the moment where a standing slide across the barre mimicked the glissando in the score.

A trio of work by Hans van Manen rounded out the “Starry Nights” program, two pieces which might be familiar to SFB fans and one company premiere. While all three ballets were very different, one could see some stylistic throughlines first introduced in Variations for Two Couples – contemporary sensibility, a delicate mixture of modality and nothing fussy nor ostentatious. Austere and angular positions met whimsical head motions. Attention to clarity was the heart of every movement. These qualities continued with Solo (which is actually a trio for three men), with an added dose of fast, continual motion. Solo offers a constant stream of movement, each dancer taking the stage for their phrase material and then signaling to the next that it is their turn. It’s a perfect reflection of Bach’s Baroque compositions. Musical subjects, answers, countersubjects. There’s play. Camaraderie. It’s like a vibrant tennis game of dance and was another highlight of the program. 

I was intrigued with the title of the final van Manen dance, 5 Tango’s, because of the placement of the possessive noun. Was the ballet going to comment on ownership? Was there going to be intense passion or even jealous rage? But as the ensemble work unfolded, it didn’t really go to those places for me. In fact, staying pretty slow-moving for the most part. Again, the mixture of modalities was strong and present. The flexion of contemporary dance fusing with tango’s bent knees and strong embrace. And Esteban Hernández’ solo added fire to the scene. But 5 Tango’s seemed more like an opening ballet than a finale. 

There was also a bit of confusion surrounding when the event was over, even though the program order was clearly posted at the entrance to the amphitheater. Conductor Ming Luke and the San Francisco Ballet Orchestra took their much-deserved bow in the middle of the program (the last two works danced to recorded music). Solo was still to come, then a second intermission and finally, 5 Tango’s. As mentioned, Solo has a real finale feel to it, so when it concluded, and the bright ‘house’ lights came on coupled with the orchestra packing up, it seemed like the program was finished. I can’t speak for every section in the space, but many patrons around me clearly went home and never saw the last offering.  

"Starry Nights" at Frost Amphitheater
Photo Chris Hardy



 

Wednesday, July 17, 2024

SF Playhouse - Evita

Evita
San Francisco Playhouse, San Francisco
July 16th, 2024

Sophia Alawi and the cast of Evita
Photo Jessica Palopoli

I’ve never seen Evita live, but of course am familiar with its true story. Set in Argentina during the first half of the twentieth century, the musical follows the circuitous and storied life of Eva (Evita) Duarte Perón, who becomes the wife of equally controversial, and often brutal, Juan Perón, twice Argentina’s President. Several throughlines weave through the show’s two Acts. Power. Political upheaval. Penetrating personas. The potency of charisma. And the negative, sometimes catastrophic, consequences of idol-worship. Conceived in the 1970s by iconic musical theatre duo Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice, the show won the 1980 Tony Award for Best Musical and was adapted to the screen in 1996, starring Madonna, Antonio Banderas and Jonathan Pryce. The intoxicating tale is currently in the middle of its run at San Francisco Playhouse, directed by Bill English with Dave Dobrusky‘s musical direction and Nicole Helfer’s choreography  – it’s onstage until September 4th.

This production had a lot going for it (great character development, Abra Berman’s stunning costume design); I really enjoyed the entire evening. Though as a dance critic, I was mostly focused on Evita’s physicality. And the dancing was indeed strong. Both Helfer’s choreography, as well as the interpretation/execution by the company artists, was on point. Tango took center stage in the majority of dance sequences: close embraces, purposefully bent knees, tenacious on beat marching. There were stretchy, elastic extensions of the leg, syncopated rhythms and sharp directional changes. From duets to large group ensembles, the audience was treated to the range of what tango has to offer. While Helfer definitely deserves kudos for her creativity and attention to authenticity, there are two other facets of her work that also impressed. In much of the choreography, there were hints and injections of the early twentieth century modernists, internationally renowned creators who were developing their individual styles in the same era as this story. Martha Graham contractions made an appearance, as did José Limón arm pulses. This mixture of modalities not only provided a deep textural layer but also a surprising historical nod. The second is that Helfer got strong movement quality from everyone – singers and dancers alike. Too often, choreographers separate the ensemble and have one group stand, while the others move. Of course, there are always more difficult, technical phrases that should be performed by trained dancers (and they were here), but it looks contrived and frankly, a little fake, when half the cast just stops and watches. Brava to Helfer for creating a true community in the choreography!  

Through-sung musicals (without spoken scenework) can be tricky, and Lloyd Webber/Rice roles famously (or infamously, depending on who you ask) have their fair share of wide, vast vocal ranges. In a single song, the vocalist can be asked for super high notes and incredibly low ones. Evita is no exception and for the most part, it was handled well. Alex Rodriguez as Che was exceptionally good (we also got to see his significant dance chops in Act II), as was Sophia Alawi in the titular role. The ensemble vocal sections were solid and Chanel Tilghman’s turn as Perón’s mistress singing “Another Suitcase in Another Hall” was the vocal highlight of the evening for me. 



Monday, June 17, 2024

RAWdance - Yerba Buena Gardens Festival

RAWdance: Drawing on a Decade
Yerba Buena Gardens Festival, San Francisco
June 15th, 2024

Summer weather in San Francisco is famously unpredictable. And yet, every time I’ve attended a dance event at the Yerba Buena Gardens Festival, it’s been beautiful. The weather gods seem to consistently smile down on this family-friendly, free collection of music, movement and multi-discipline performance, and this past weekend was no exception.

Saturday midday brought RAWdance back to YBGF, a staple participant on the downtown esplanade for the past ten years. For 2024, the remarkable bi-coastal company, under the co-Artistic Direction of Wendy Rein and Ryan T. Smith, offered an afternoon retrospective – three penetrating, site-specific works from past festivals entitled, Drawing on a Decade. While each was distinct, a throughline emerged as the day went on: a deep reflection of the dance’s chosen title.

RAWdance in Circuit
Photo Amal Bisharat

Circuit (2019) opened the program on the steps adjacent to the Leroy King Carousel, a work for six performers that aptly lived into its title. From a completely literal perspective, the piece was certainly a circuit of varied choreographic material. Clad in denim shirts, jeans and tomato-red sneakers, the cast was ferocious as they marched between the different steps. Subsequent partnering sequences not only introduced a soothing fluidity to the vista, but also explored boundaries as bodies were cantilevered out into space. We saw levels changing on a levelled structure. Airy extensions met grounded feet. And there was a fascinating play on texture as smooth, circular rolling phrases came up against the architectural Brutalism of the staircase. 

From a more conceptual perspective, the presence of an actual gym-like circuit was undeniable. A yoga inspired progression. Stretching postures that you find in a barre class. Lunging stadiums up the steps. And then, bookending the dance was a brilliant embodiment of 1980s step aerobics, but step aerobics on a deliciously heady artistic trip.

I saw Requiem when it first premiered in 2017, and its powerful, emotional spirit abides in 2024’s reimagined version. The word requiem has a number of definitions, one being a work of remembrance. And this is definitely a work of remembrance, composed after the 2016 Pulse nightclub massacre in Florida. Rather than focusing on that night’s horrific violence and hatred, the dance takes on the act of remembering through an emotional movement poem. Its tone is, of course, sober, serious and somber, powerfully honoring the lost and mining the reality of collective grief.

Set in YBGF’s East Gardens, and blending several theatrical devices, Requiem opens with couples leaning on each other; embracing and comforting with tender, tactile intention. And then, the piece takes flight. Arms and wrists pulsate like wings. Limbs suspend in the air before floating to the earth. Billowy arabesque jumps abound. As do supported, lifted positions, like a soul was flying. It’s a dance that you must see if you get the chance. 

Last stop was the Terrace, overlooking the MLK Memorial and waterfall for 2018’s Slipstream (with additional material from 2023). Being in front of a water feature was an ideal site for a work whose title refers to water currents and to assisting forces. Created for the full RAWdance ensemble, Slipstream put together a number of the company’s signature movements: long lines, flying motions, spirals, cantilevered lifts, picturesque vignettes. Though there were some surprise sequences too, including a courtly social dance phrase. The company was costumed in bright white, and on Saturday afternoon, there was an added visual of white seagulls flying around and amid the dancers. At times, the birds came pretty close to the performers, and it is a testament to everyone’s intense focus that no one even remotely flinched! Slipstream’s finale was exuberant, buoyant and full of motion – the cast, so joyful. In fact, any commentary on this performance has to include a shout out to RAWdance’s extraordinary company members. Drawing on a Decade had the group performing three totally unique works with different costuming, different locations, different qualities, different moods. And they nailed it. To say, it was an impressive feat doesn’t quite feel sufficient. But it was.  


Monday, May 20, 2024

Diablo Ballet

Diablo Ballet
Lesher Center for the Arts, Walnut Creek
May 18th, 2024 (matinee)

This past weekend at the Lesher Center for the Arts in Walnut Creek, Diablo Ballet concluded its historic thirtieth season. It’s been a minute since I’ve seen Diablo Ballet live and in person, and Saturday’s matinee was a lovely way to get reacquainted. The performance was delightful, a triple bill marrying a work from the 1980s, a 2016 composition and a world premiere. The company roster has changed quite a bit over the last few years and this current cohort is looking very strong indeed.

The program’s first half was all about tone and mood, beginning with the pas de deux from Gerald Arpino’s Light Rain, a striking work made for Chicago’s Joffrey Ballet in 1981. As one watches the duet, danced on Saturday afternoon by Lizzie Devanney and Luis Gonzalez, adjectives flood the mind. Sensual, hypnotizing, ferocious, intimate. Not surprisingly, it is absolutely packed with extreme movements, extensions and shapes. Ninety-degree flexion of the hands. Splits. Pencheé. A back lay out with accompanying kicks. Torso contractions. And of course, the final flying pose. In this partnered sequence, as well as other sections of the larger ballet, it has always struck me how long the female lead stays on pointe without a break. It’s astonishing and quite a feat. I so look forward to the day when the entire Light Rain is in Diablo’s repertoire. If their treatment of its pas de deux is any indication, it will be great!

4 in the Morning (An Entertainment) is Val Caniparoli choreography at its best. Created for Amy Seiwert’s Imagery back in 2016, the whimsical, multi-episodic romp charts a four-hour course of time (understandably sped up). Each short chapter opens with a digital clock reading high on the curtain’s corner, indicating where we find ourselves on the journey between midnight and four am. As the sections unfolded, it was anyone’s guess as to where the movement might reside. The scene might be stuffy and courtly. Phrase material could be mischievous and bold. Or cheeky, quick and unapologetic. My favorite was a humorous Celtic solo where a kilt costume piece transformed into a participant in the dance. The entire chamber ensemble (eight dancers) could be onstage, or it might be a duo, trio or quartet. 4 in the Morning was not only cleverly unpredictable, but totally entertaining (as the title aptly relays) and by far, the highlight of Saturday’s triple bill. 


Diablo Ballet in Caniparoli's 4 in the Morning (An Entertainment)
Photo Tue Nam Tom

The score, Façade by William Walton, was an ideal match because, like the capricious choreography, it too was full of surprises. At times, a sea shanty sang through the air; next , a British pub song in 6/8 time; then, undeniably, musical theater. But it was Susan Roemer’s costume design that really sealed the deal. The women were clad in slinky, ivory slip dresses while the men wore boxers, tank tops and socks, complete with old-fashioned sock garters. It felt very European in look, like we could have been watching Tanztheater Wuppertal, Nederlands Dans Theater or Cabaret. Funnily enough a production of Cabaret goes up at the Lesher Center in a week. With this nighttime attire and the timeframe of the piece, I wondered, were we watching a dream or reality?

If the first part of the program was all atmospheric feels, the second half was certainly all narrative. Enter choreographer Brian Enos’ new take on the mysterious Firebird. A one-act story, The Firebird has all the right elements. Royalty, a forest setting, mythical birds, an evil orchestrator, a benevolent matriarch and a love story. There’s fantasy, intrigue, forgiveness and super-hero, save-the-day moments. Props were symbolic and functional. Dramatically charged plot points were revealed. What more could one want from a narrative ballet? I’m not usually a fan of reading synopses or program notes, but here it was super smart to have a brief overview of a ‘not quite as well-known’ tale.

Enos’ choreography for the Firebird character (danced by Jackie McConnell) was terrific. Fast, sparkling, fluttering footwork – boureés, emboîté turns and much more. The finale unison sequence was also very well done with full out dancing from every member of the cast (all eighteen!). And partnering variations were solid, save some awkward transitions. One act narratives are tough – they just are. Trying to tell so much story in a short time is a challenge and then adding the real estate of a smaller stage presents another obstacle. But Enos and the Diablo Ballet artists faced those challenges head on. I think The Firebird is going to percolate well in the company’s rep over the next little while.   

 

Sunday, May 05, 2024

Smuin Contemporary Ballet - Dance Series 2

Smuin Contemporary Ballet
Dance Series 2
Blue Shield of California Theater at YBCA, San Francisco
May 3rd, 2024

Last Friday night brought the opening of Smuin Contemporary Ballet’s Dance Series 2 – a captivating visual feast that serves as the conclusion to the company’s current season. And this is one for the record books. Not only does Smuin mark an epic three decades, but also a change in Artistic leadership. Soon Associate Artistic Director Amy Seiwert will take the helm as Smuin’s new A.D., as Celia Fushille moves on from a post she has held for seventeen years. Fushille and Seiwert have come together to craft next season, an exciting collection of past and present work which was just recently announced. But first, the 30th year must come to an end, and the Dance Series 2 program was a dynamic and entertaining finale, indeed. A quadruple bill of Founder Michael Smuin’s Starshadows, Brennan Wall’s Untwine, Seiwert’s Broken Open and the world premiere of Annabelle Lopez Ochoas’s Tupelo Tornado

Cassidy Isaacson and Brandon Alexander in
Wall's Untwine
Photo Chris Hardy

The first two pieces certainly had a throughline; and it was the notion of pairs, of couples. A lyrical waltz set to a Maurice Ravel composition, Michael Smuin’s wistful Starshadows (1997) had romance to spare. Three couples entered and exited the starry backdropped stage with dreamy, romantic abandon. Splits were imagined on and off the floor as the dancers created a woven tapestry of sublime ease. Calming and flowy, Starshadows was not just an ideal introduction into the performative space; it was a perfect counter for what would unfold next. Untwine, choreographed in 2022 by Smuin company artist Brennan Wall, shared a penchant for pas de deux. But unlike Starshadows, it began with a burst of dramatic charge. Danced by Cassidy Isaacson and Brandon Alexander, the first duet featured a plethora of moving lifts. The pair spinning, interlacing, and defying centrifugal forces at every turn. Then suddenly the mood shifted. Three additional couples joined the scene, and the atmosphere changed to one of quiet restraint. Classical ballet lines peppered the phrase material; subdued body postures grounded the composition. Then, the two sensibilities merged, showing the exciting play that can exist between quiet restraint and dramatic charge. It is important to note that all seven pairings were heteronormative – I wonder if the current casting decisions could be different.

Another mix of modalities was in store after the first intermission with Seiwert’s Broken Open (2015). A dazzling mélange of contemporary and traditional ballet, Broken Open invites its viewers to experience a multi-chapter physical novel. And it truly is quite an emotional ride, journeying from a serious, somber tone at the onset to a happier and brighter reality at the end.

Smuin in Seiwert's Broken Open
Photo Chris Hardy

The idea of ‘breaking open’ was everywhere in this full ensemble suite. Second position was abundant – in plié, in developpé, in attitude. Group vignettes were never stagnant. Rather, they were in constant motion, evolving and creating new landscapes and vistas. Legs and arms flicked into the air, seemingly ridding themselves of constraint. Pirouettes unfolded with high arms, opening up the front of the body. There was even a ‘breaking open’ of the stage area as Seiwert employed the wings as an active place, a place to onboard movement phrases. The dancers were tremendous throughout, with a stand-out, passionate pas de trois from Mengjung Chen, Dominic Barret and Yuri Rogers. And there was an extra infusion of energy on opening night as composer Julia Kent provided live cello accompaniment. The only thing that felt somewhat out of place for me were the costumes.

Many theatrical devices were present in Annabelle Lopez Ochoa’s Tupelo Tornado, a world premiere ensemble work that took a deep dive into Elvis-Presley-land. There were blue (suede?) gloves. A television set headpiece. A neon on-air radio sign and accompanying static. Masks, crowns, fringe. Music. And of course, much choreography, including a genius Fosse-style dance line. It was entertaining; engaging, and the differing elements all worked in concert to bring the audience and Elvis into a shared environment. 

Brandon Alexander in Annabelle Lopez Ochoa's
Tupelo Tornado
Photo Chris Hardy


But Tupelo was not all bell bottoms and screaming fans. It was a dance drama, a piece of dance theater. Dance theater with a narrative message and theme. Tupelo investigated the birthing of image. The machine that may be behind the building of a persona. The created self and the loss of self. Fame, yes, but also costs, realities, consequences and appropriation. It was deep, nuanced and layered, and in the titular role, Alexander was transcendent.


Dance Series 2 runs in San Francisco until May 12th, before heading to Mountain View, Walnut Creek and Carmel.  


Saturday, April 13, 2024

San Francisco Ballet - "Dos Mujeres"

San Francisco Ballet
Dos Mujeres
War Memorial Opera House, San Francisco
April 12th, 2024

It’s hard to believe that in less than a month, San Francisco Ballet’s home season will be over. The final two programs, currently running in tandem, close in the next few days. And after weeklong encores of Mere Mortals and Swan Lake, the company exits the War Memorial Opera House to embark on their summer engagements. It has been a stunning season filled with upending surprises and comforting classics. And upon entering the lobby and theater on Friday night, it was clear that something equally special was in the offing with Program 6.

Kudos to the SFB artistic team for making the whole environment feel alive and immersive. Rich, jewel-toned florals made ordinary surfaces smile. Art installations peeked out from every corner. And Maria Guzmán Capron’s breathtaking multi-fabric curtain, commissioned specially by SFB, adorned the proscenium arch. Program 6’s title spoke on two levels. First, it shares its name with a Frida Kahlo painting from 1928 or 1929 (sources differ on the year it was created). Kahlo was the inspiration for the second work on this double bill. Second, Dos Mujeres translates to ‘two women,’ and the evening featured work from two high-octane Latina choreographers - Arielle Smith and Annabelle Lopez Ochoa. Both pieces were premieres; Smith’s Carmen, a world premiere, and Ochoa’s Broken Wings (2016), an SFB premiere. While there were was much to comment on in each, it was the visuals and dance drama of these twenty-first century story ballets that captivated. The drama was heavy and intense; the dance, a little less so.  

San Francisco Ballet in Smith's Carmen
Photo © Reneff-Olson Productions
Smith’s Carmen has been described in many different outlets as a ‘re-imagining’ of Bizet’s opera. And that word was chosen because it is truly apt. The main characters are present as are themes of jealousy, resentment, passion, duty and rage. But the setting, premise, relationships, gender and definitely, the ending, are different. I quite enjoyed this new take. I also loved that it was edited from the typical four-acts to just one. Having said that, with only forty-ish minutes, Smith had a lot of story to tell in fairly short order. Carmen’s pace was brisk. On the one hand, that fast-moving tempo was energetic and dynamic. It demanded its audience’s attention and engagement from one instant to the next. At the same time, the pace meant that the viewer wasn’t able to sit with the various plotpoints or characters for very long. This made some twists and turns hard to envision and digest.  

Riccardo Hernández’ set design and Gabriela Hearst’s costumes were arrestingly on the nose, though the lighting didn’t always work for me. I get what they were trying to accomplish with darker light patterns highlighting the dilapidated environment. But it was too dark on occasion. Dance-wise, it was wonderful to see a pas de deux between two women - Sasha De Sola’s Carmen and Jennifer Stahl’s Escamillo – which I would argue is still somewhat of a rarity in ballet. And the circular phrase for when Joseph Walsh’s Jose was spinning out of control was Carmen’s standout choreographic and technical moment. But it was the drama that was the focus here as opposed to the dancing. 

Like Carmen, Broken Wings sought to convey a formidable narrative – the life and work of Mexican painter Frida Kahlo. For fifty minutes, Ochoa invited us to be part of Kahlo’s personal and creative existence, with all its pain, uncertainty, whimsy, volatility and love. A tall order, to be sure. And a very successful result. 

San Francisco Ballet in Ochoa's Broken Wings
Photo © Reneff-Olson Productions

Ochoa’s pacing of that journey felt reasonable, perhaps even a little slow in the middle. But the vibrant visual feast more than made up for any lulls. Color leapt from the stage – in fabrics, in headpieces and in the choreography, which was also a little more present. Imaginative creatures and beings that spanned the natural and physical worlds were introduced. Gender constructs were disrupted. A mammoth set box skated on the stage’s surface leading to penetrating questions. Was the box a metaphor for Kahlo’s imagination or a frame for her art? Was it somewhere she went to think, to hide or to escape?

Choreographically, Ochoa suggested Kahlo’s carefree joy with light, crisp batterie (entre chat quatre, and briseé). In contrast, she also injected twitching and tremoring motions into much of the phrase material, mirroring the physical ailments and chronic pain that Kahlo endured for much of her life. As one might expect, Broken Wings is a vehicle for the dancer that is cast in the titular role. Isabella DeVivo was a consummate Kahlo, commanding the stage with grace, clarity and depth. I liked the piece, though I will admit that it didn’t knock my socks off, but based on the reception on Friday, many in the audience clearly adored it.


Monday, March 18, 2024

The Joffrey Ballet - "Anna Karenina"

Alberto Velazquez and Victoria Jaiani in
Possokhov's Anna Karenina
Photo Cheryl Mann


Cal Performances presents
The Joffrey Ballet
Anna Karenina
Zellerbach Hall, Berkeley
March 15, 2024

If you look on my bookshelf, you will indeed find a copy of Anna Karenina, by Leo Tolstoy, procured at the beginning of the pandemic. It was going to be a homebound season, so what better time to tackle such an epic and mammoth novel. Well, four years later and it’s not yet finished. Someday. Thankfully, there are plenty of online resources to fill in the blanks – characters, plot points, overall themes. So, when attending any dance adaptations of the book, I can, for the most part, follow the narrative line. 

This past weekend, Chicago’s Joffrey Ballet brought their 2019 version to Cal Performances on the UC Berkeley campus, accompanied live by the Berkeley Symphony. Choreographed by Yuri Possokhov (well-known to local audiences as the longtime choreographer-in-residence at San Francisco Ballet), Anna Karenina takes the viewer on a wide-ranging emotional journey of duty, yearning, lust, hope and despair. Weaving classic movement with video projection by Finn Ross, song by Lindsay Metzger and stunning scenic design by Tom Pye, the two-act ballet was entirely engrossing. Possokhov had a lot of story to cover in a short time, and he did it. A multitude of scenes unpacked all the action, and each was cinematic, grand and fast-moving without feeling rushed. The motifs were all there: the trains, the idea of flying informing every pas de deux. And the theme of rebelling, resisting, and reacting to the era’s structural, cultural and societal norms was abundantly present all the way to the final blackout. This ballet gets many things right. From the undeniable passion to the compositional structure to the relation of a complicated narrative, if you get a chance to see it, go.

Act I has a lot going on, but again the transition from one landscape to another was incredibly smooth and well done. Early in the act, we visit Kitty Shcherbatskaya’s (Yumi Kanazawa) home where Possokhov’s choreography really shines. The partnering and solos were clean, inventive and surprising without feeling fussy. It is here that the audience encounters Anna’s (Victoria Jaiani) infatuation and entanglement with Alexey Vronsky (Alberto Velazquez) despite the fact that she is already married with a family. And from then on, the thesis of the ballet is set - the chasm between satisfaction with what one has and the desire for the ‘other’. What follows are multiple large group sequences – ballrooms, train stations, a racecourse. Whether there were too many dancers or too large a set for the Zellerbach stage, the movement within these larger scenes got muddled and crowded from time to time. For me, the choreography was stronger (and quite mesmerizing) when there were fewer people present - smaller groups, solos or the many duets. 

Act II’s first scene was perhaps my favorite of the evening, a brilliant pas de trois between Anna, Vronsky and Anna’s husband (Dylan Gutierrez). What a moment Possokhov built showing the interconnectedness and shared reality of these three characters. Arising out of that trio was an equally moving pas de deux for the two men. Unison phrases indicated and acknowledged how their lives were following the same track – in love with Anna, wanting her, and wanting her to want them. While I found this part of the ballet particularly compelling, I must say that I was totally enthralled with all of Act II. I know this because I barely took any notes. I just wanted to be in the room, witnessing the wonder that Possokhov, his team and the company was birthing onstage. The only spot where Act II lost momentum was during the lengthy epilogue, where the ballet heads to the rural countryside. The urban/rural dichotomy certainly plays a role in the source material, but these were the final moments of the ballet. It felt rushed (and a bit of an afterthought) to introduce a new theme at this juncture. 

The Berkeley Symphony, conducted by Scott Speck, impressively rose to the technical challenges and grand dynamics of Ilya Demutsky’s score. And Metzger’s vocals were equally sublime. Though as often happens when vocalists are paired with a full orchestra, the sound balance isn’t always ideal. When the orchestra was at full volume, it was sometimes difficult to hear the vocal line.


 

Thursday, March 14, 2024

San Francisco Ballet - "A Midsummer Night's Dream"

San Francisco Ballet in Balanchine's A Midsummer Night's Dream Choreography by George Balanchine © The Balanchine Trust Photo © Lindsay Thomas

San Francisco Ballet
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
War Memorial Opera House, San Francisco
March 12, 2024

I think a number of Bay Area dance goers have déjà vu right now. I certainly do. In the first week of March four years ago, I was scheduled to take in two shows – The Joffrey Ballet at Cal Performances and A Midsummer Night’s Dream at San Francisco Ballet. I was super excited for both performances. Midsummer, in particular, for two reasons. In 2020, I had had the lovely opportunity to interview Sandra Jennings, who had staged the work on the company, and in addition, this was going to be the first time SFB would dance the narrative in over thirty years. But the universe had other plans, and COVID shut down everything. SFB did give one performance of the ballet (and a filmed version of Midsummer was included in SFB’s 2021 digital season), as I sat in the audience at Zellerbach Hall in Berkeley. Most of us never did see Midsummer live, that is until this past Tuesday night. What a treat to finally witness George Balanchine’s 1962 sojourn into Shakespeare’s comical story, made all the more dazzling by Christian Lacroix’s updated and rich Scenic and Costume Design. It was fun. It was joyful. And while titled A Midsummer Night’s Dream, there couldn’t be a ballet more suited for spring, with the florals, the forest, the winged beings and all the sparkling colors.

Those familiar with Shakespeare’s source material know that the play opens with the promise of an ultimate celebration, the soon-to-be wedding between Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons, and Theseus, Duke of Athens (Nikisha Fogo and Daniel Deivison-Oliveira on opening night). Five acts of hilarious romps and entertaining shenanigans follow. There’s humor, crossed connections, romance, confusion, impatience, mischief and spells. Very Noises Off. Balanchine envisioned a shorter, compressed adaptation for the ballet audience. His Midsummer unfolds over two acts, with an expanded wedding (for three couples) taking place in the final thirty minutes and the bulk of the action playing out in the first seventy-five (truth be told, Act I does come off as a bit lengthy). So, when the viewer is thrust into this mystical fairyland of wonder and amazement, it really feels like one is entering a living storybook, where we encounter all the various characters, see how they relate to each other and learn of their wants and desires. The romantic and lovelorn. The confidently regal. The prankish personalities.

Speaking of the different characters, there was an abundance, to be sure! Midsummer boasts a huge cast, and it truly is an ensemble ballet if ever there was one. There are the expected principal moments, but so many different roles are featured and highlighted throughout, including over twenty talented and well-rehearsed young students from the San Francisco Ballet School. Sasha De Sola and Esteban Hernández were the picture of royalty and elegance as Titania and Oberon, while Cavan Conley’s Puck orchestrated events like a gleefully wicked child. Hernández was the stand-out performer of the evening, with a flawless batterie variation in the first act. Oberon’s choreography seems impossibly difficult, yet Hernández more than delivers. All of the choreography was really quite magical. Flowy and lilty phrases abounded, as did some of Balanchine’s signature movements. The purposefully bent knee on relevé; the flexed palms. Flingy double attitude jumps; the exploration of demi-pointe in pointe shoes. We had been transported to another land that night, but it was definitely Balanchine’s land.

Act II’s wedding serves as a longer coda to the ballet, almost like a visual expression of the ‘happily ever after’ line at the end of classic fairytales. The dancing was celebratory and sweet, especially the pas de deux from Frances Chung and Isaac Hernández. But it was a shame that not everyone saw the splendor of the wedding scene. As Act I concluded, there was a full cast series of bows. Empty seats after intermission clearly indicated that some folks assumed that the ballet was over. And it did feel like the end. Did we really need the bows at the midway point?

A Midsummer Night’s Dream runs until March 23rd.


Monday, February 12, 2024

San Francisco Ballet
British Icons
War Memorial Opera House, San Francisco
February 10th, 2024 (matinee)

If there is one word that can describe San Francisco Ballet’s current British Icons program, it is most definitely ‘cinematic.’ Onstage at the War Memorial Opera House until February 15th, the double bill brings the work of two legendary British choreographers in two SFB premieres, Sir Kenneth MacMillan’s Song of the Earth and Sir Frederick Ashton’s Marguerite and Armand. There was much to take in throughout the afternoon, and based on the reception each ballet received, SFB patrons were delighted with the grandeur transpiring before them. Though if one had to choose a highlight of the afternoon, my choice would be 1963’s Marguerite and Armand. Not only did Ashton provide an epic love saga, but he also showed audiences that you don’t necessarily need three acts and three hours to get a story across. His narrative was more than successful in a tight forty-five minutes.

Marguerite and Armand is a quintessential soap opera, in a really great way. With a score by Franz Liszt, there was everything that a soap opera coupling might have - love at first sight, love forbidden by outside forces, desperate pleas from an ill woman, jealousy and ultimately, death. It was romantic, tragic, turbulent and sweepingly dramatic. At the same time, there is something quite sophisticated about it. Cecil Beaton’s décor was full of billowy curtains and draped bunting; the gilded statues and chandelier felt inspired by 1920s art deco. Jasmine Jimison and Wei Wang in the title roles were stunning and sublime. Every pas de deux they danced felt like a love letter to each other. And the cleanliness of the technique, particularly Wang in his opening solo variation, was a thing of beauty. 

In contrast, technical cohesiveness was a bit elusive in 1965’s Song of the Earth, at least on Saturday’s matinee. There was certainly refinement over the one-act’s six sections, but the first group sequence had issues with both unison and Ashton’s choreographic phrases. Having said that, the composition itself is quite a tour de force. A conceptual suite that contemplates life and death, togetherness and lone-ness, Song of the Earth blends contemporary ballet with avant garde sensibilities. The movement and shapes were striking yet delicate and subtle. A grand plié in sixth position, fluttery parallel assemblés, flexed feet and hands, upper body contractions and sharp directional changes. Set to a song cycle by Gustav Mahler, with live operatic vocals by Nikola Printz and Thomas Kinch, each chapter had its own unique quality – somber and serious sections were followed by fun and whimsical moments. The third song was almost courtly, with the men of the company supporting Carmela Mayo through a series of split cartwheels. Sweeping arms and complex gestural hand phrases imbued the equally light fourth episode. 

Song of the Earth has decidedly neo-classical moments peppered throughout. The accent of various musical motifs with choreographic steps. The use of demi-pointe in pointe shoes. The super quick footwork. And when it comes to the neo-classical genre, SFB is well-versed. The company’s repertory is full of Balanchine ballets, as well as multiple choreographers who are often considered part of the Balanchine lineage. I’m excited for the artistic staff and the dancers to spend more time with other choreographic voices in this neo-classical realm and experience how they interpret movement and physicality. 

San Francisco Ballet in MacMillan's Song of the Earth
© Reneff-Olson Productions

Song of the Earth was lengthy, clocking in at one hour. And while I loved the live vocal presence, when the orchestra was at full volume, it was difficult to hear the superb soloists.

British Icons runs until February 15th in San Francisco.