by Leigh Witchel
Out of order, the fourth program of New York City Ballet’s all Balanchine programs out of five closed out the season on a question mark.
After 75 years, 40 of those without its founding choreographer, where is New York City Ballet? The healthiest place for the company, though likely the least comfortable for everyone, would be if the repertory was in active dialogue not with just the past, just the present, or just the future, but preserving the past, responding to the present and laying the ground for the future. That’s a tall order for any dance company, but more and more, NYCB has leaned on casting and the personalities of the dancers.
Isabella LaFreniere has been a mystery in casting, but that mystery is mostly that the Powers That Be seem to see her as a dancer with mystery. So far, she isn’t. But the second ballerina role in “Concerto Barocco” used her straightforward presence well, as she joined in the opening with attack and alacrity. Then – BOOM – in the finale she sailed out in a free, high jeté.
Mira Nadon has mystery. Making her New York debut as the first ballerina a few days prior, on her second outing she sketched the role with loose lines, not always pure nor in control, as when she sickled her foot in an arabesque penchée. Sometimes when she gets into the moment, her head bobs. In the pas de deux, she looked out, down, but not really at us. Like many of the most elusive ballerinas, she creates her own world and we’re spectators.
In “Prodigal Son,” Daniel Ulbricht was a very upbeat Prodigal, with few shadows. His approach to the character was very direct and clear, he was happy getting to see the world. His dissatisfaction seemed to be less anger than hunger for the big world outside his home. When he jumped his foot seemed to point the way past the gate, before he commanded to his servants, “Go!”
Miriam Miller’s Siren looked like an exhausted model who discovered the fashion world was not all it was cracked up to be; she wound her purple shmatte round her legs as if it were made of lead. Miller had a remoteness that vanished when she grabbed Ulbricht’s hands and put them on her hips. Then she went in for the kill. Ulbricht buried his face in her breasts, which were exactly at eye level for him.
We like to think of the story of the Prodigal Son in biblical, cosmic terms, but the simplest motivations make a lot of sense here: The Prodigal wants to leave his family and home, and get laid. He met the Siren and she sat with her crotch on his head. He couldn’t have cared less if she robbed him. It’s worth it. They drank and he got drunk, loping about before she threw him to the table.
When Ulbricht’s servants (Jules Mabie, pinch-hitting for Troy Schumacher, paired with Spartak Hoxha) met the Drinking Companions, they looked as if they were already in cahoots. Mabie and Hoxha danced their section like squabbling brothers.
The ballet went well technically, you would expect no less from Ulbricht. But it was less full emotionally. There were stronger moments; you could see and almost hear him asking for help from passers by. His final walk to his father was again positive in intent. He wasn’t trying to punish himself, he was trying to get to his father no matter what. Mary Elizabeth Sell also had a lovely moment where she saw Ulbricht, becoming horrified and concerned at her brother half dead. She called urgently to her sister, Jenelle Manzi, to come help.
Some things in “Prodigal” didn’t make sense at a glance – Ulbricht picked up an amphora and shook it. Why? They sometimes contained dried items, but just looking at the shape, you would know it likely contained wine. That felt like a lack of coaching and supervision, but some things simply don’t make sense if you think about them too hard. For instance, as mercenary as the Siren is, Balanchine made her a poor capitalist, always taking her share after everyone else.
And though performance logistics inevitably change, some changes are not good. Ulbricht came out for his final scene smeared not with dirt as has been usual, but with bright, fake-looking blood. That should not become the norm.
The final performance of “Symphony in C” was made up of shuffled casting that resulted in a few strong individual moments in a matrix of shaky ones. In the reprise, the dancers seemed at sixes and sevens. Most everyone lost their spot in turns at some point; Phelan got dizzy in the pas de bourrées en tournant. But Tiler Peck, after bowing out of “Theme and Variations” on Thursday, was clean and secure in first movement, albeit with a low arabesque. Chun Wai Chan, swapped into this part for Jovani Furlan, made his tours, but was off. Everyone felt slightly surprised.
With Chan now in first movement, Peter Walker added fourth movement to his repertory. His legs looked good in the choreography and costumes, but classical abstraction isn’t his jam. Sebastián Villarini-Vélez was slated for third movement, but Cainan Weber danced, and had an unlucky moment. When Baily Jones did the fast dive down after he spun her round, he didn’t have the bulk to keep her on balance and she wound up with both feet off the ground. He got it the second time and though he cracked out a beautiful tour to the knee, he was rattled the rest of the movement.
Second movement got a solid performance. Unity Phelan has lovely, open but sharp legs, so the shapes were always there; she knew where she was looking and where she was asking us to look. She waited with her arms high before swooning down in Alec Knight’s grasp; there was more focus and shading than a few days prior in “Concerto Barocco.” Knight doesn’t get the lion’s share of casting opportunities, but when he does he’s all in. He’s a good partner and he went for all the shading he could without stealing focus.
We headed out of the all-Balanchine season as inconclusively as we went in. There were few revelations or discoveries. The company didn’t make a jump in its dancing. In a sense it felt as if the Balanchine was taken down off the shelf, but mostly the stuff within reach, rather than moving some cans aside and seeing what had been hidden in the back. Nobody did much polishing or dusting.
When they did, as when Allegra Kent coached “La Sonnambula,” it made an important difference. The clock is ticking on how much more input like that can we have. We’re relying, as we mostly have in the era after Balanchine, on the prodigious talent of individual dancers over artistic leadership.
Still, that’s something. Gilbert Bolden III and Davide Riccardo were both promoted to soloist after the show. Bolden was everywhere this season; he made his debut in “Concerto Barocco” on Friday. The part showed many of his virtues; he’s a good partner, strong, handsome and tall. It was clear he was being looked at as a potential soloist and he earned it. The only shame was that Ashley Laracey, the season’s MVP, was overlooked.
Individual dancers have often been the salvation of entire companies. In the midst of the shaky reprise in “Symphony in C,” Peck looked fabulous with spicy musicality, and when she did the treacherous motif turn, snapping her leg out, revolving and finishing neatly to the knee, she did it textbook: exactly what it’s supposed to be. We can hope for a lucid map and a clear path, but more often than not, we take the breadcrumbs we’re left and make our way home from them.
copyright © 2023 by Leigh Witchel
“Concerto Barocco,” “Prodigal Son,” “Symphony in C” – New York City Ballet
Lincoln Center, New York, NY
October 15, 2023
Cover: Mira Nadon and Gilbert Bolden in “Concerto Barocco.” Photo © Erin Baiano.
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