by Leigh Witchel
Two marathon works from New York City Ballet’s repertory can be a rewarding, if long, night. But even though this cast had gotten two shots at Dances at a Gathering and Brahms-Schoenberg Quartet to get their feet wet, it was still a shaky performance.
Brahms-Schoenberg looked as if it had been had thrown together. In the first movement, Taylor Stanley and Emilie Gerrity weren’t a blessed pairing: she’s too tall for tham, so the overhead work was shaky and everything was handsy. Gerrity looked better alone, with some lovely foot work as she drifted in a solo entrée with a more serious demeanor than her usual, smiley one.
Along with Preston Chamblee, Olivia MacKinnon also made her debut, but hers was unplanned, going in place of Indiana Woodward. The Intermezzo is a lot to live up to; it’s had some great interpreters after Patricia MacBride; I still fondly recall some of Jenifer Ringer’s performances from three decades ago. Alas, MacKinnon wasn’t able to scale up to the movement, with little abandon in her swooning lifts and timid embraces.
In the final Rondo alla Zingarese, Sara Mearns’ issues are never one of scale. She threw herself around in a decadent in-it-for-herself showing. She didn’t sweat any of the details as she walked around the stage flat-footed. It felt about 30% Balanchine, with more interest from her in delivering a performance than dancing this specific ballet. Andrew Veyette fared better. He threw himself into risky turns, and his brand of bro swagger worked here.
Andres Zuniga was the latest male corps member to be tried out in the accelerated lane. He made his debut going in as Erica Pereira’s partner in the third movement. The part, originated by Edward Villella, is also a lot of responsibility. Zuniga did it well, but he looked amped up and it was punchy. Go figure, but amidst the shakiness, it was a good night for Pereira. Moving through the shifting patterns of the corps, she finely shaped the adagio-flavored Andante, with lovely arms curved overhead on a diagonal and a tough series of inside turns.
Dances fared better, but was still a mixed bag. About half the cast was made their debuts the prior week, several of them jumping in for people originally slated.
Roman Mejia has exquisite technique and a high batting average this season, but here his opening solo as the man in brown felt pose-to-pose, until he raced round in jetés and the circle felt connected. He wasn’t certain either what to make of the last “this must be all in my head” gesture; it felt like a decoration rather than a thought.
Adrian Danchig-Waring and Unity Phelan, in green and mauve, both seemed to be working by rote, with Phelan as always getting the technique with lovely fast chaînés, but performing with a lot of duty and effort. Their duet looked like a homework assignment. In larger sections, the long sextet in the middle of the ballet with aerial tosses was awkward and sticky. The exaggerated slides only sort-of happened; the tosses weren’t quite there.
There were brighter spots. Tiler Peck and Tyler Angle spoke their steps easily in full sentences. Deliberately as well; Peck knew exactly when and how she wanted to bring the tips of her toes together to make a diamond in the air as Angle carried her sideways. Angle was spirited in his mazurka variation, and he and Mejia made something of their friendly competition.
Zuniga went in for David Gabriel in the brick-colored role; big parts in both ballets may have accounted for how hyped-up he was in Brahms. He’s speedy, technical and the latest one to be overused. One hopes the prizes on NYCB’s eternal game show, Promote or Kill, are worth the risks.
Megan Fairchild wore yellow well. Temperamentally and physically she’s likely going to be a believable soubrette until the day she retires. There was an added surprise when she came out instead of Mira Nadon for the flirting and walking section usually done by the woman in green. But Nadon went in for Isabella LaFreniere, and that may have had something to do with the apportionment.
Even in a truncated role, you needn’t to worry about Nadon giving a bland performance. She naturally projects an inner life onstage. It’s what makes her a ballerina, not just a principal dancer. That’s been the frustration with Phelan all season. Physically and technically she’s impeccable. Emotionally, she’s like a lightbulb someone didn’t screw in the whole way. Sometimes the contacts hit and it brightens the room, other times it’s dim.
As long as Dances is, it didn’t feel like the endurance test that The Goldberg Variations can be. It’s easy to get through, and re-watching still turns up small delights in Robbins’ craft. There’s a quintet where he paints with quick strokes the relationships of three men and two women jogging swiftly round the stage. You didn’t need to know more, you knew they knew one another. And the way Phelan came out on the last notes to complete the sextet and restore balance was lovely.
For this whole season, Peck has been in a long sweet spot. She’s in full control of her effects, from a fluent duet with Mejia to the delicately paced one with Angle, perfectly gauging the descent of her arabesque at the close and her refusal to take his hand before she raced away. She became a senior ballerina early, but what makes her one is the example she sets.
copyright © 2024 by Leigh Witchel
Dances at a Gathering, Brahms-Schoenberg Quartet – New York City Ballet
Lincoln Center, New York, NY
May 1, 2024
Cover: Mira Nadon in Dances at a Gathering. Photo © Erin Baiano.
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