Freedom of My Mind

          A meditation more than a review

It is not always convenient for me to attend the ballet in the evening – I both drive and must catch a ferry – so I frequently attend Saturday matinee performances at the Pacific Northwest Ballet in Seattle. The disadvantage is that one is apt to see a more junior cast. Also, in the case of Coppelia or Swan Lake, it feels like one is attending a family matinee; people who do not necessarily regularly attend ballet bring their children, especially their little girls, dressed up in princess dresses and carrying cushions to place on their seats so that they can see.

This isn’t necessarily a bad thing. It was charming, during Coppelia, to hear the very audible and breathlessly excited voice of a child saying, “Look, Mommy, a doll!” as Swanhilda pretends that the doll Coppelia is coming to life. It was exciting to share, for a moment, the wonder of the child, which in a way, is how Dr. Coppelius also experiences that moment, since he really believes that he has turned an automaton he created into a living, breathing human: the would-be Pygmalion of the ballet world.

The other advantage is that you can witness the debuts of new, upcoming dancers. I was happy to catch the debuts of Sarah-Gabrielle Ryan and Kyle Davis in the lead roles of Swanhilda and Franz. Ryan (who is now married to Davis and shares an obvious chemistry with him), shone in particular; her enthusiasm and impeccable comic timing made the second act a special delight.

The Saturday matinee of PNB’s “All Balanchine,” however, was not a family matinee. It was poorly attended, mostly comprised of people of retirement age. My companion and I looked somewhat out of place, a good thirty years younger than most people there. It reminded me of the time when we had gone on a birding cruise and one gentleman thanked us for bringing down the median age of the event.

 Is Balanchine so little known, these days, by younger audiences? Or has such little appeal? Is attending Balanchine, that innovative and endlessly creative genius, the equivalent to birding? His choreography looks as modern and fresh as ever, but perhaps his pared down style of pure dance looks stark to younger audiences who have grown up in an age of multimedia saturation. Despite the half-empty auditorium, however, we found the afternoon both purifying and exhilarating, a welcome oasis from distraction and noise.

The first ballet of the Balanchine triple bill was “Square Dance,” a blend of classical ballet, folk dance, and baroque music. It has been described as social dance. This was much more evident to me when I saw the dance in person, as opposed to watching a recording. We were sitting on the first tier of the balcony, called the dress circle. This proved ideal for seeing the shape of the dance, as well as hearing the glorious music of Vivaldi and Corelli. You could see the dancers interweaving, circling, and acknowledging each other. All at an allegro pace. It’s infectious. 

Almost everyone dancing “Square Dance” were making their debuts, both the corps and the soloists (Sarah-Gabrielle Ryan and Mark Cuddihee), and there seemed to be some nerves at work. The dancing felt rushed. With time, however, they will settle down and grow more confident.

However, I have to mention Destiny Wimpye, in the corps, who always looks like she is the most infectiously good time of anyone. I recall her excellent comedic timing as Swanhilda’s friend in “Coppelia,” but she is always someone you notice, partly because of her obvious love of dance.

The following ballet was “Prodigal Son,” which was created in 1928, with music by Prokofiev. This is another work that is so much more fun to see in person than as a recording (or is that simply true for all of ballet, and especially Balanchine?). Like Square Dance, the leads were making their debuts: Kuu Sakuragi as the Prodigal Son and Audrey Malek as the Siren.

Immediately Sakuragi’s energy was evident when he burst on the stage and flung himself into flying leaps of protest across the stage. My companion and I turned to each other and nodded in anticipation. Because of his short stature and youthful appearance, he gave the impression of a teenager who is eager for life, hopelessly naïve, and in way over his head, especially regarding the Siren. I was not previously familiar with Malek, but was surprised and impressed by her presence, which seemed a touch more sensuous than most Sirens I have seen on film (Balanchine wanted her cold and venomous), but nonetheless totally dominating of the hapless Prodigal. There were tears in my eyes when, naked and robbed, he crouches in a ball and laments his fate, before dragging himself painfully on his knees back to his father. The music moves your heart, while the audience almost winces in sympathy as Sakuragi’s bare knees scrape across the stage floor, until he crawls up into his father’s arms (played by newly promoted soloist Luther DeMyer). 

And the last Balanchine work of the afternoon was Stravinsky Violin Concerto. I must confess that I am currently enjoying a love affair with that piece of music and I cannot seem to get enough of it. It’s an entirely different experience viewing this ballet live than on screen, which makes the ballet look flatter and less dynamic than it actually is.

I have always thought of Stravinsky as a spiky composer, with angles and edges and atonalities. But his violin concerto shows a composer who is also infectious, as well as plangent. His third movement, the second pas de deux of the piece, was unexpectedly yearning and even tender.

The ballet has four movements, corresponding to the movements of the concerto.  In the first movement, we meet the four soloists – two men and two women – each backed by four corps members. The second movement (Balanchine called it Aria I) is a combative pas de deux between a man and women, danced here by the fabulous Amanda Morgan and newly promoted DeMyer. I had not previously seen DeMyer dance, but was captivated by his quiet but commanding presence, his quality of movement, and his chemistry with Morgan. This pas de deux is a bit spiky and angular, and acrobatic, with unusual steps that you don’t usually expect in ballet.           

Aria II was danced by Jonathan Batista and Clara Ruf Maldonado. It is obvious that Batista comes from a more classical ballet background (his early training was received in his home country of Brazil) rather than a Balanchine one, but thoroughly enjoyed his debut (the entire afternoon was one long serious of debuts: I’m not sure any lead dancers had danced their roles before) with his tender partnering of Maldonado, who danced with great vulnerability.

The finale of Violin Concerto was simply impossible not to be swept up in, with a blend of Georgian folk dancing, classical ballet steps, and what even feels like jazziness. I didn’t know Stravinsky’s music could be so fun.

Each dance seemed to get better and more polished throughout the night, ending with Violin Concerto, which seemed to fly by in a matter of minutes, though it was 20 minutes long. At the end, my companion turned to me and said, “just so you know, I love Amanda Morgan.” She has a quality, a presence that you must notice and remember. We have liked her in everything we have seen her in, even small soloist roles. 

Balanchine rarely choreographed stories and in one preshow talk, PNB artistic director Peter Boal spoke of how Balanchine did not want his dancers to act while dancing (he presumably was not including ballets such as The Prodigal Son or Coppelia in this dictum). He had a saying: “see the music, here the dance.” Another saying is that ballet is “music made visible on stage.” The drama is in the choreography and the music. Although, it must be said, that the dancers do have to create some sort of impression around them. I have heard several dancers and former dancers speak of creating or projecting an “atmosphere.” Their meaning seems to be slightly different than creating a character, but is just as vital in dance, especially when dancing an abstract (or plotless) ballet, which is the majority of what Balanchine choreographed and what American ballet is about. 

Perhaps Balanchine creates a world where the concerns of the body, oddly enough given how obsessed ballet is with the human body, are left behind and all that remains is music, movement, and a sense of freedom. In an interview, the great ballerina Alessandra Ferri, on her retirement, said that she would miss that feeling of freedom that comes from dancing ballet, where paradoxically you feel free from your own body. Balanchine lets the audience share, in a small way, in that freedom.