by Leigh Witchel
Alexei Ratmansky’s newest work for New York City Ballet had its debut at the New Combinations Evening and was repeated the next night. “Voices” was a conundrum: both a tremendous risk and business as usual.
The premiere was teamed up with works by Christopher Wheeldon, Justin Peck and Jerome Robbins, most of them sporting debuts. “Polyphonia” was mounted with an almost entirely new cast. Lauren Lovette got a shot at the role originated by Wendy Whelan that is the ballet’s backbone. She seemed to be hearing most the chaos and turmoil in Ligeti’s muddy chords. She let her shoulders weigh down in her duet with Andrew Veyette as if she were collapsing in slow motion. The last movement, when he flipped her upside down and she beat her legs as if they were his antennae, happened as quietly as a curl of smoke. Their partnership continues to develop; he’s become an invisible means of support for her.
An exuberant male duet was right up Roman Mejia’s alley, but also showed how good recent arrival Jovani Furlan is. An import from Miami City Ballet, which also has “Polyphonia” in repertory, he showed his strong technique and elegant lines both in the duet and in a waltz with Megan Fairchild. He’ll hold his own in New York just fine.
Fairchild, Alston Macgill and Sara Mearns moved through a fugue of glamorous nonsense. Mearns, the only veteran in the cast, long ago took Alexandra Ansanelli’s role and re-colored it from vulnerable to heroic. This gave Silas Farley impetus to re-shape Craig Hall’s part. Ansanelli’s presence made her seem abandoned by Hall. Farley hovered near Mearns solicitously and left the stage as if he didn’t want to disturb her.
Justin Peck’s “Bright,” set to Mark Dancigers’ high, chiming music, is pretty, but short. The dance started with the cast of six wandering about in a calculatedly aimless pattern, but just when you thought the work was going to dig in and really begin, it ended.
Mira Nadon and Peter Walker got their shot at the lead couple, echoed by two other pairs, like witnesses or echoes that approached and receded. Nadon gave the movement momentum by tossing her torso in the initial impulse.
Unity Phelan had a strong presence taking on the lead female role in “Opus 19/The Dreamer” opposite Gonzalo Garcia, who was stylish and secure. Phelan was less focused on Garcia in the opening movement and duet, and even more at home as his equal in the finale, jumping side by side or setting him spinning.
The logistics might have been better, or the company thought enough of Ratmansky’s “Voices” that it was moved to the closing spot in place of “Opus 19.” In a marked departure from his usual, Ratmansky choreographed to excerpts from Peter Ablinger’s “Voices and Piano.” The complicated and long score (the composer means it to be only heard in excerpts) is for a piano that follows recorded voices (Ratmansky chose only women) and underscores their irregular path. The costumes were simple; the set was black and unadorned except for lights on a black floor with lighter stripes. The score’s words were not always in English. Ratmansky wasn’t choreographing to the monologues, but the meter laid down by the piano.
He took five of the company’s women and fashioned solos for each, using five men both as a bloc and bridge: not only to move the women on and off, but as virtuoso punctuation. The men’s parts were danced in silence in ironic contrast: they had no rhythm at all to them. Instead, they were simple in structure and brutal technically: repeated steps such as brisé volé or turns in second. The kind of tricks men might practice at the end of ballet class.
Mearns tore with nervous energy through her solo set to radio patter by Bonnie Barnett. The steps weren’t easy – Mearns slipped and fell at one point, but quickly carried on. The men walked out arm in arm, Mearns forced herself into their center and exited with them as an odd man out, Mejia, did a wild manège.
Fairchild went next to the voice of Gjendine Slålien, a Norwegian milkmaid who inspired Edvard Grieg. She jumped, turned in and out and slapped her knee, then clapped and skipped. The men marched back on and she fell into them. They shuffled her off as Ask la Cour crossed the stage in brisés. Next, Phelan ran and stretched through arabesques, piqués, and leaps in attitude. Joseph Gordon danced the next bridge; double saut de basques.
Pazcoguin danced to an interview with Nina Simone. She threw her legs frantically, left the stage and quickly returned. She leaped into the returning phalanx and the men carried her off high as Veyette turned. The last solo was Lovette’s: shuffling, reaching and scrabbling on the ground as if she had lost a contact lens. Ratmansky asked a lot from her, making her rise on point repeatedly without any momentum. She continued after at top speed until Veyette prevented her from exiting by embracing her.
All the women return partnered for a coda of a sort, where they paired off with the men and each duet had a moment against the group. To finish, they assembled at the front of the stage on the floor in a line. They all stretched slowly and one at a time hit a neither-nor position with the right leg between the side and front: an “à la sebesque.” The curtain fell three-quarters of the way, held there and finally closed.
On first glance, “Voices” felt strange and contradictory; a major departure for Ratmansky and utterly familiar. His works take time – usually around a year – to settle into form, and this one isn’t an exception. In some ways it was an analogue to Balanchine’s “Variations for a Door and a Sigh.” Ratmansky approached a non-traditional score with a similar note-for-step literalness. He used the piano as a road map and never strayed. Even though this music was not like anything else he’s used, he seemed more under the tyranny of the score than he’s ever been. And by inserting the men’s showy tricks to link the sections, he also wound up with something like an artsy cabaret act.
The biggest mystery was, what’s it about? Is it really just an extreme exercise in visualization of the score? As Ablinger says, “Actually the piano part is the analysis of the voice.” Still, towards the end, Agnes Martin said in her monologue, “Musicians compose music about music. Most painters paint about painting but my painting is about meaning.”
How much did Ratmansky push himself by wandering even further into the thicket of danced visualization of a score? It’s one of the fields in ballet – at least in the U.S. – that has been the most over-cultivated. In her excerpt, Simone talked about the civil rights movement: words that have specific associations to his audience. Ratmansky cast Pazcoguin in that solo; she has been at the forefront of a campaign to eliminate Asian stereotypes in ballet. But that seemed coincidental. He choreographed note for step. At times, “Voices” felt like the dog that didn’t bark.
copyright © 2020 by Leigh Witchel
“Polyphonia,” “Bright,” “Opus 19/The Dreamer,” “Voices.” – New York City Ballet
Lincoln Center, New York, NY
January 31, 2020
Cover: “Voices.” Photo credit © Erin Baiano.
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