by Leigh Witchel
The Danes have done their best to whittle away at Bournonville as they praise him. Luckily, no matter how reduced, he persists.
A small Danish touring group returned to New York after four years, bringing back a Hit Parade of Bournonville. Several of the dances were the same as last visit. Yet time had changed the group. Its organizer, Ulrik Birkkjær, had left the Royal Danish Ballet to join San Francisco Ballet. The group’s ballerina in 2015, Gudrun Bojesen, had retired, and Ida Praetorius, the rising star of that time, now danced in her place. If the differences taught us about time and change, what didn’t change gave us hope us about quality and constancy.
The group danced a reduced version of “La Sylphide” with an uncredited staging. There was no Effie, no Gurn, and just two witches: young men in hoods without any makeup. At the end of Madge’s scene, they bore out her cauldron on their backs. What remained was James, the Sylph (with three sylphs representing her domain) and Madge. Yet even in a Reader’s Digest “La Sylphide,” the themes of the ballet bubble up in the shifting equilibrium between those characters.
In 2015, Ida Praetorius danced the pas de deux from “Flower Festival in Genzano.” Here, she graduated to the Sylph. Her portrayal struck a balance; she was light without being twee. Her James, Ulrik Birkkjær, started as a man in wonderment, as if this was the first day he was ever truly alive.
It was easy to notice little virtues, such as ease and clarity in mime. “This is yours?” James asked, gesturing around him to a stage empty except for a tree stump so that we could see the woodland. “Yes,” the Sylph responded. “and I love you.”
There did seem to be some travel fatigue. Praetorius had trouble rolling off pointe, and collapsed through her arch once; Birkkjær did a turn and a half in tours and swiveled to make a double, but also did sharp, articulate beats. Beats are the brand for the Danes.
In any good performance of “La Sylphide,” there’s a lot to think about. The balance between comedy and pathos puts us on uncertain ground. Like many witches, Madge turns from comic to deadly. The fortunes of the Sylph and James go from high to low in minutes.
As well as compressing the action, the narrowed focus made the parallel in the two encounters we saw, Madge and James and then James and the Sylph, more pronounced, and as decorously unsettling underneath the surface as Hitchcock’s “Vertigo.”
Sorella Englund used to make explicit her belief that Madge was a ruined Sylph with an attraction to James. Her attraction is still there, but farther in the background. It’s what makes you shift in your seat when she touches James and when she forces him to kneel to receive the scarf.
A few moments later James does the same thing to the Sylph and the parallel intentions are there to see: possession. James and Madge want the same thing. Birkkjær even made a similar motion as Englund, running his hand near Praetorius’ back.
There are also parallels to #MeToo. James wrapped the scarf around the Sylph so that he could finally touch her. Then he went even farther, embraced and kissed her – and the contact killed her. The difference was that Birkkjær realized immediately that what he did was wrong.
Birkkjær is older, and his James is a man. He was horrified by what happened, but also finally aware. He walked to the Sylph upright and dry-eyed, as if he knew it was his responsibility to face what he did. When she was borne away by the Sylphs he dropped the ring, stumbled over to the tree stump and just looked with stunned eyes.
When Englund returned Birkkjær still had the strength to try attacking her, before Madge’s magic got him first, and was what killed him (every James interprets that differently). But what also killed James in a greater sense was knowledge. The 20th century reading of the 19th century Romantic hero (and this reading fit into that 20th century mold rather than the current century’s anti-hero) is an awakening journey towards awareness – of who you actually are, of what your destiny is. That knowledge makes you greater than an ordinary man. It also kills you.
Englund did not do either the “you and me” mime she sometimes did at that moment to indicate her attraction, or showing a hint of tulle under her skirt to indicate the link to the Sylphs. Spare and direct, the moment of James lifeless and Madge standing over him in empty triumph was bleak and powerful. The themes were so pungent that you would wonder why anyone would think the ballet needed a complete reworking.
The second half of the show, “A Bournonville Square,” was a loose pretense to stitch together a series of great dances. If the conceit was thin, the choreography and the talent of the cast wasn’t. Birkkjær had assembled a great group.
In the pas de trois from “The King’s Volunteers on Amager” Liam Redhead, trained in Canada and also Billy Elliot a decade ago on Broadway, had both a light jump and full, breathy port-de-bras and extension, as well as virtuosity in turns and beats. Emma Riis-Kofoed showed her strength in pointework, neatly rolling down from toe. Rounded out by Camilla Ruelykke, all three gave a vibrant performance. Tobias Praetorius (Ida’s younger brother) performed the Streetsinger’s mime from “Napoli,” with Redhead as the forgetful drummer.
Jón Axel Fransson was promoted this year to Principal at the Royal Danish Ballet, and he’s bound to become better known outside Denmark as well. Together with Stephanie Chen Gundorph, he gave a beautiful performance of the pas de deux from “The Kermesse in Bruges.” Her footwork was precise without making the choreography about individual steps rather than full phrases. His beats were stunning, but not as impressive as his effortless jump.
They also did Gennaro and Teresina’s variations in the pas de six from “Napoli.” Fransson did wonderful jetés, both light and soaring. Gundorph did her variation with the same subtle musicality as earlier, hitting her balances on the music without turning them into a trick.
Mr. Praetorius was not only comic relief, but danced the first variation in the pas de six. His sister led off the tarantella with Birkkjær, but during Praetorius’ own part, his prop spectacles went tumbling into the audience. Someone handed them back.
Thanks to all for bringing Bournonville back to New York, kudos to Birkkjær for assembling such a group. Even if all we saw was Bournonville’s Greatest Hits, it was still only slightly less Bournonville than you can see next year in Copenhagen.
copyright © 2019 by Leigh Witchel
“La Sylphide Act II,” “A Bournonville Square” – The Bournonville Lagacy
The Joyce Theater, New York, NY
July 9, 2019
Cover: Sorella Englund and Ulrik Birkkjær in “La Sylphide.” Photo © Dave Morgan.
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