by Leigh Witchel
New York City Ballet’s All-Balanchine program brought back a ballet, only with a new name. Even better, they brought in a coach. Errante (which Balanchine titled Tzigane after Ravel’s score) followed the structure of the music almost exactly. A long, almost improvisatory violin solo was augmented by an orchestral section that grew in volume. At those markers, Balanchine began with Suzanne Farrell alone, then added in Peter Martins, and finally a corps.
Coached by Farrell, Mira Nadon flung her leg up, and slowly came off balance. Nadon was all flashing eyes and fire, serving drama and risk as she whirled round the stage and fell to one knee. She ate her solo up.
At the end of it, Aarón Sanz appeared, using his arms as if to reel her toward him. The parts aren’t in balance; it’s Nadon’s ballet, but Sanz added to the picture and was not completely overpowered. By the time the music changed and added orchestral coloration, Balanchine was thinking about the stage geometry as well. The corps arrived and, as we’d expect from a Balanchine corps de ballet, remained neatly symmetrical.
Errante hasn’t been around much, but it almost feels as if it had been waiting for Nadon. Finally, there’s a dancer who can bring something to the table that is analogous to the presence Farrell had. And we finally get to see what Farrell’s coaching can be on world-class dancers.
Opening the evening, Bourrée Fantasque existed in a world of imaginary Parisian chic, where every woman dripped with jewels and carried a fan, and every man wore a beret. Andres Zuniga made his debut as Nadon’s swain in the first movement; they both burst onstage.
The part is often cast, like too many others, to exaggerate a height difference, but the original in the part was Jerome Robbins, who was just under 5’8”. Zuniga also is medium height, and the humor wasn’t sight gags, but in the action, as Nadon joyously flirted and deigned to give him a kiss concealed by her fan.
The woman’s part, with all those echappés and passés, was originally Tanaquil Le Clercq’s and is great for another leggy glamourpuss like Nadon. Zuniga is starting to get solo roles, and he’s strong technically. It’s funny to see him doing a comic version of Balanchine’s worshiper of the unattainable woman; crashing to his knee, burying his head in her waist in adoration. Together, Nadon and Zuniga made an argument for the work.
The second movement Prélude is one of Balanchine’s brisk adagios that dances more like an allegro. The women is continually on the move here and there, so Emilie Gerrity’s brightness worked. Gerrity was shaky in some turns all night; she got thrown into Symphony in C as well, and it may have rattled her.
Gilbert Bolden III is turning into the man you want standing below if you have to jump out a window; he took over an en dedans turn and guided Gerrity safely into a neat dip. He had a small moment in the coda of the final movement with the other leading men, and he made the most of that as well. Victor Abreu made an early debut the night before in the third movement; he had an angular, wristy quality like a terrier ready to spring.
The Steadfast Tin Soldier is a duet that walks the line between a pas de deux and a dance for two dolls. Fortunately, Daniel Ulbricht can crank out accurate air turns with one arm up, changing directions as if he were mechanical.
He courted Megan Fairchild with doll movements but Fairchild sometimes responded with human emotions: He fell stiffly towards her to his knee, kissed her hand, as she put her hand to her face, her mouth opened wide with delight. And since it’s a good moment and it’s Balanchine, she repeated it.
Later, Ulbricht and Fairchild fell into one another with arms locked straight front, less to embrace than fall into each other. In affection, he gave her a tin heart and she did a promenade, but with a flexed foot because she’s not a ballerina, but a ballerina doll.
Fairchild looked lovely and wore her years lightly, but the final section has never looked convincing. The moment is supposed to be partially hidden, but surely the woman could look as if she’s a paper doll blown into the fireplace, not stepping gingerly into it to move out of sight?
Another problem to solve: putting Bourrée Fantasque and Symphony in C on the same program is bad programming. Bourrée isn’t meant to open a performance, (it’s referred to in Repertory in Review as “the ultimate closing ballet”) and there are moments in Bourrée that reference Symphony in C, including the final pose. Pairing them just highlights Bourrée’s weaknesses.
Temperamentally, Gerrity is a good choice for the first movement; she’s clean, not given to exaggeration, extremities or emoting. She was thrown on tonight in place of Isabella LaFreniere, who got sidelined from her debut with a minor injury and Gerrity looked wobbly. Perhaps she gets jelly-legged when she’s under pressure. As often happens, she recovered and looked better in the finale.
Her partner, Chun Wai Chan has turned out to be one of the best recent transplants to the company. He was clean and strong in a neat series of multiple pirouettes to air turns: a strong all-rounder who has blended in.
There were two debuts; KJ Takahashi gave a clean performance in the third movement, doing high, tight jetés that went up more than out. Alongside him, Baily Jones did neat, detailed footwork, and a gargouillade that was actually a gargouillade.
In the fourth movement, Alston Macgill wasn’t fazed by an early debut to cover for Indiana Woodward. She nailed the motif turn and on a later inside turn, floated around for a extra revolution because she was on.
In the second movement, Unity Phelan also got the benefit of Farrell’s coaching. Phelan upped her game in both shapes and perfume. Phelan added volume with a fuller, more expansive carriage. She’s not one to milk a port de bras, but she lingered long enough to let things register.
Partnered by Alec Knight, she went for one of Farrell’s most well-known Farrellisms, putting her head to her knee in a big arabesque penchée. She got close, there was about an inch of daylight. In another famous moment, the swoons to penchée, Phelan doesn’t serve the full-out drama that is Sara Mearns’ house specialty, but it’s OK to see that moment less about the ballerina’s mystique and more about the choreography. Phelan looked well-coached, and if taking center stage isn’t fully natural to her, she made good choices, coming down from her retiré in the fugue just slow enough, lingering just enough in the finale.
About that posthumous name change to Errante. There’s nothing wrong with deciding the title Tzigane is now offensive, (or deciding that it isn’t,) but when the score’s name is still Tzigane, when the costume is still a stereotypical costume, when tropes such as palm reading are still retained, it seems as if the name change is nothing more than a fig leaf, poorly applied. Since NYCB has left the Rondo alla Zingarese in Brahms-Schoenberg Quartet untouched, that’s a good bet.
copyright © 2024 by Leigh Witchel
Bourrée Fantasque, The Steadfast Tin Soldier, Errante, Symphony in C – New York City Ballet
Lincoln Center, New York, NY
April 24, 2024
Cover: Mira Nadon and Aarón Sanz in Errante. Photo © Erin Baiano.
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