by Leigh Witchel
Every ballerina has to get through her first Rose Adagio. Unity Phelan made it through hers, and was in better shape for her debut in “The Sleeping Beauty” than she thought she was, in a performance that contained several other debuts.
She busted in for her first appearance, moving at a bright pace for her entrée, with her feet in constant motion. But she was in danger of psyching herself out in the Rose Adagio, grabbing for her partners yet nailing the final balance on both go-rounds. She did remember to smile when given a rose, and to look at her partner in thanks. Once she got through the hard parts, and knew was in the clear, she gained confidence for her variation and the coda, moving through the phrases more comfortably.
There have been a changes to Peter Martins’ production, which is now over three decades old. A deliberate one is that the names of Aurora’s partners, who used to be the Princes of Asia, Africa, Europe and North America, are now stripped of their titles and realms in the program. Their costumes were also slightly changed, removing any ethnic hints – turbans or furs – to become just compass points, North, South, East, West. That was a minor design element added by either Martins or the costume designer, Patricia Zipprodt. It was a harmless change, but also peripheral enough to wonder why it needed the proactive effort and cost.
One change that’s less felicitous. The spindle Carabosse gives Aurora has been hidden various ways. This time, the bouquet was set up so that it had a big, shiny, dangerous-looking metal needle sticking out of it. It made Aurora look awfully dim.
Désiré isn’t an easy role to fill out for the best of stagers, and Martins doesn’t bother to try. In an abbreviated hunt scene, the prince got mad at the Duchess for trying to blindfold him. Then he told her to go away, while he stayed onstage to think. Who knows why except that it’s the story. After Andrew Veyette nestled his hat, cape and sword inside a wing when he arrived and ignored them for the rest of the scene, he had to retrieve them before embarking with the Lilac Fairy. So there was this weird, “Wait, let me get my stuff” moment.
It’s not easy for him to look eager and noble instead of dim on the voyage to the castle, and it didn’t happen here. As the Lilac Fairy, Miriam Miller seemed as if she were coaching and spoon-feeding every answer to Veyette, from following her, to using the sword to cut the briars, to finally having to almost spell out how to awaken the princess. “One riddle, Désiré. You’ve got one freaking riddle to figure out.”
Marika Anderson, who retired last season, always threw herself into a zesty, cartoon-like Carabosse, and that’s always worked, but it seemed to be at the center of the tone now when the King is making silly gestures, or in the first act, after Aurora’s collapse, Anderson went full metal Bellatrix LeStrange: TADA! I KILLED HER! SHE’S DEAD HAHAHAHA. Miller maintained her calm dignity, to her credit.
The gradual tone shift is throughout the production. It’s become more broad, almost like a panto. Adam Hendrickson, coming back to guest as Catalabutte, made a big deal of going round the court with his list, checking against it. That made sense, but it a good look for the queen, Naomi Corti, to blame the king, Gilbert Bolden III, when Carabosse accosted her. This isn’t new business, nor the King grabbing the guest list impatiently, scanning it and throwing it down. It’s just now shaded to be less imperious and more comic. Taken on its own, the broader interpretation still works but watching over time, it felt like a slow degrading of the signal. Still, what feels like degradation may feel like evolution if you only see the final result.
“Beauty” is also about company strength, and the ensemble did well. The friends and cavaliers in the prologue were in good shape. In the fairy variations, Mimi Staker made the long phrases yearning, and her far and diffuse gaze added mystery to the first solo. In a complete change of mood, Mary Thomas MacKinnon exploded in with a bright grin and ate the space, shooting her leg out so fast you almost missed it. Meaghan Dutton-O’Hara performed the third variation with delicacy, and her entry in the coda was a flashbulb pop of sudden starts and stops. Baily Jones was bright and strong in the Finger variation. Miller was lush in her solo, even at a quick tempo. Some of her fullness came from an axis that went past vertical to sit slightly back, as if being straight up and down could not contain her.
Including Dutton-O’Hara, several dancers besides Phelan made their debuts at the performance or earlier in the week. Mira Nadon is gorgeous, but not in Martins’ Jewels divertissement. She looked uncomfortable and hectic at top speed, all angles, wrists and tilts. Her lush lines looked wonky, and she didn’t look as she usually does until there was a slow diagonal. Roman Mejia made Gold look effortless, with double beats that were soundless and unforced. Alexa Maxwell did a double Ruby, covering for Ruby Lister in the Ruby variation. She was vibrant and secure, if with an arabesque line that was a little knobby.
Harrison Coll and Emma von Enck have also done Puss and Boot and the White Cat, and though their pacing was on, it still felt like a strange Me Too parody, with Coll reaching up von Enck’s leg and her slapping him repeatedly. Who knows if it was the tone that changed, or the times. Red Riding Hood also seemed to be different, didn’t it used to be that she and the wolf ran in opposite circles? Davide Riccardo, who made his debut with Stella Tompkins earlier that week, barely went the other way, and just went after Tompkins. That didn’t work for surprise or timing.
It was strange to see Daniel Ulbricht have an off day as the Bluebird; he was fighting both for tours and his arabesque. Erica Pereira danced Princess Florine with ease and projection. Cainan Weber and David Gabriel (who also made debuts earlier in the run) along with KJ Takahashi, cracked out tours as the three jesters, echoing younger versions of Ulbricht.
One aspect of the tone that has been there since the production made its debut in 1991: Martins made a commuter version designed to get you home in time to forget the whole thing. 32 years later, everything is still very brisk. The corps in the Vision scene was racing, and decoupling the Awakening from the Vision by inserting a poorly-placed intermission made only slightly more sense than, say, having Romeo do a love duet with Juliet right after he kills Tybalt.
Oh wait. Martins always favored his stopwatch over logic.
Back to our heroine, with the Rose Adagio out of the way, it was smooth sailing for Phelan. Her Vision Scene had clean balances in her variation and coda as she flicked her leg in a grand rond de jambe to a kneel. She took her wedding variation at a spacious tempo. Every Aurora feels compelled to tinker and embellish the diagonal of simple port de bras, for fear it will be bald. It isn’t actually needed, but Phelan’s version did no harm: She did the first set palms up, the second palms down.
Andrew Veyette isn’t a natural prince, but he is a strong partner. The infamous fish dives in the grand pas were done with an easy, two-step sweep as Phelan brought up one leg, then the other. All went well; he had her in a performance that hopefully added to her confidence. It would have been hard not to love the smile he gave her when she was done: “Congrats!”
copyright © 2023 by Leigh Witchel
“The Sleeping Beauty” – New York City Ballet
Lincoln Center, New York, NY
February 18, 2023
Cover: Unity Phelan in “The Sleeping Beauty.” Photo © Erin Baiano.
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