by Leigh Witchel
Through much of its history, New York City Ballet has had pairs of dancers who came to represent two ends of a spectrum: Suzanne Farrell and Merrill Ashley, Peter Boal and Damian Woetzel, or now Tiler Peck and Sara Mearns. This isn’t because the company wants to save on its choreography budget. Still, casting those dancers in the same ballet can be like seeing two different ballets.
In Mozartiana, Tiler Peck was working with a role originally conceived for Farrell. Farrell’s role, the last major part Balanchine made for her, was a soulful adagio role that unleashed into an allegro. Peck’s a technician, though one with perfume. She’s comfortable at extreme speeds with the ability to drift sloooowly and then floor the pedal. Her sense of timing, especially in her upper body, is how she handled the opening Preghiera without having limbs that go on forever. Even the little girls seemed to cooperate, the company surrounded her with a quartet of the tiniest to keep in scale.
In the Theme et Variations, you could see Peck’s dialogue with Tchaikovsky (and Tchaikovsky’s dialogue with Mozart, and Mozart’s dialogue with Gluck) as she held in retiré, then descended right at the end of a phrase. Her variations in mood and speed were immaculately sculpted as she drifted round in hops on pointe or went into toe work at a blur. She played with her rubato without hammering it, so it didn’t feel as if she were shouting over the music.
After her variation, Anthony Huxley sailed in on an angle into turns and beats. He was a little early on some of his finishes, and finally smiled at her on the last variation before their duet, when the xylophone chimed like bells. Where Peck emphasized timing and to a lesser extent shape, Huxley’s dancing was about unbroken phrases, chaining together a necklace of movement with extraordinary skill.
The final duet was beautifully shaded; Peck changed moods and brought all her timing to stretch it out. Huxley’s grave demeanor suited that music; he managed all the partnering and hit his turns silently. The head on shoulder lean at the end of the duet, while braced in arabesque, had an interesting allusion to another recycled work from the forties, Divertimento from ‘Le Baiser de la Fée.’
Supporting the main couple, Troy Schumacher, like Peck, danced the Gigue with maturity and timing. He emphasized his walks, his flourishes and attack, not trying to be a jester or a bouncing ball. The four ladies in the Menuet had a moment of good fortune; they all did a developpé without being able to see one another, and they hit it together.
When the dancers reassembled for the finale, the picture was well-balanced to bring out the hierarchy of the ballet. The four tiny girls who shadowed Peck in the first movement became miniatures of the corps women. Schumacher and Huxley also paired well, balanced on either side of Peck. The final pirouettes showed the personality of the casting. Peck couldn’t see Huxley before she started turning, so when he came to her for the final promenades, he was done before she began; there was never a point where they were both turning. It still worked, but was risk management. Peck’s cadenza right before was sparkling, but less about risk and improvisation, more ability and planning.
The performance was bright, elegant and accomplished, but not spiritual. Peck isn’t physically extravagant; she didn’t touch her head to her knee where Farrell or Kister (if I recall correctly) did in a front extension. But she’s neither Kistler nor Farrell, she’s Peck. We learn to savor the contrast.
Monumentum Pro Gesualdo is one of Balanchine’s most serenely beautiful works. From the opening, where the ports de bras are like the flickering of moth wings, to the final quiet salute, the ballet, with a lead couple echoed by six others, is a story of courtly love played out in a hall of mirrors.
Because of her youth and her jointless, plush movement, Nadon is the company’s most natural ballerina right now. When she looked at Adrian Danchig-Waring, she was able to write a whole story. Another drama was in her privilege and confidence as she slid down his leg at the end of the first madrigal, as if she expected him to carry her across a stream. Her expectation turned into fearlessness when she was tossed from man to man in the final madrigal.
Even so, the puzzle box quality of Movements for Piano and Orchestra perhaps suited her more than the curdled elegance of Monumentum. Throwing herself into the reaches and collapses, or fearlessly plunging and revolving, she ripped into the fragmented phrases. Movements suited Danchig-Waring as well. In the same way it does in Pam Tanowitz’ work, his equanimity felt more focused.
Concerto DSCH, the second ballet Ratmansky made for the company, has always felt like a test, as if Ratmansky saw the company like a slick new sports car he got to take for a spin. He decided to try and see how fast it could go; the corps raced about at top speed.
The lead roles, particularly the trio in blue originated by Ashley Bouder, Joaquin De Luz and Gonzalo Garcia were just as overstuffed. The ballet got two new dancers: KJ Takahashi and David Gabriel made their debuts in the twinned blue roles, with Takahashi sailing round the stage, then Gabriel coming forward in jaunty tours.
Putting Takahashi and Gabriel side by side was an interesting contrast. Because Takahashi has shorter arms, his ports de bras are very neat. He’s also very straight up and down on his axis, which is why he can turn so cleanly. Gabriel is longer-limbed, so there’s more range of motion in his arms and neck. It makes his poses more punctuated and slightly quirky.
Of the other three leads, Indiana Woodward made Bouder’s part look easy, entering pretending to teeter in the eccentric role. It isn’t that she’s better (or worse) than Bouder, that’s the inevitable track of roles over time. Merrill Ashley’s part in Ballo della Regina seemed sui generis. Then, of course, other people did it.
At the end, Ratmansky used the trio to distort time; the three moved in slow motion as Mearns and Tyler Angle traveled round them. This was repeated more than once until the end where Takahashi jumped on Gabriel like a flying squirrel.
As the lead couple, Mearns never rushed with Angle. She entered, shrugging him off her as as if dreaming, then offering her hand for his head. At the end of their duet, a sextet from the corps joined them, all linking arms and walking forward shoulder to shoulder, then separating by sex with a final glance.
Seeing Peck and Mearns in the same ballet, or even on the same bill, shows the range of the company roster. If Peck’s, or Huxley’s, superpower is the ability to stitch steps in time, Mearns can chain mood to mood. She made sense of every mercurial switch Ratmansky asked for, from pensive to flirtatious to melancholy, with the force of her personality.
copyright © 2024 by Leigh Witchel
Mozartiana, Monumentum Pro Gesualdo, Movements for Piano and Orchestra, Concerto DSCH – New York City Ballet
Lincoln Center, New York, NY
September 25, 2024
Cover: KJ Takahashi and David Gabriel in Concerto DSCH. Photo © Erin Baiano.
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