Having Fun at the Ballet

David Hallberg in Alexei Ratmansky's "The Bright Stream." Photo by Rosalie O'Connor.

As an acquaintance said on the way out of the Metropolitan Opera House last night (June 9): “how wonderful it is to see people having fun at the ballet—onstage and off.” He could not more perfectly have captured what I was feeling at that moment, along with, I suspect, hundreds of other people in the theatre after seeing American Ballet Theatre’s first New York performance of Alexei Ratmansky’s “The Bright Stream.” For two hours, I (and many others) had been reduced to a state of child-like delight which seemed to spill over to the dancers onstage, though, it must be said, they were working much, much harder.  Even so, I think I can safely say that I have never seen the dancers at American Ballet Theatre perform with such a sense of happiness and presence in the moment, and I’m not just talking about the stars. The entire company, from character dancers to the rank and file of the corps de ballet seemed giddy with the joy of artistic expression, not to mention the challenge of Ratmansky’s choreography, which is, I assure you no small thing.

Sarah Lane and Sascha Radetsky as the Schoolgirl and the Accordionist. Photo by Rosalie O'Connor.

As I wrote in my “Playbill” essay for “The Bright Stream,” this ballet, for all its good humor, has a dark past: it was originally created  in 1935 by Shostakovich and the then director of the Bolshoi, Fyodor Lopukhov, for the Maly Theatre in Leningrad. It was meant to fit the category of what was then known as the “tractor ballet,” a celebration of peasant life on the collective farm. Never mind that Stalin’s collectivizations would result in years of violence and starvation. Shostakovich, who had gotten into trouble before for writing music that was too complicated and ideologically ambiguous, was eager to create something upbeat. He and Lopukhov came up with a romantic farce about a group of performers from the big city who visit a collective farm, sending the locals into a frenzy of infatuation. In their fear of touching sensitive issues, they went as far as they could in the opposite direction, but it is undeniable that the music, for all its cheerfulness, retains an underlying edge, a kind of ironic detachment that belies the composer’s inner turmoil. Even so, the ballet had a successful run in Leningrad, after which it went to the Bolshoi. There, disaster struck: it was attacked in the press as a “balletic falsehood,” a disgraceful parody of the true spirit of the Russian farm worker. Shostakovich was attacked, and would never write another ballet, and it took years for Lopukhov to restore his reputation.

Misty Copeland as the sexy Milkmaid. Photo by Rosalie O'Connor.

Ratmansky, attracted by the mystery that surrounded the ballet, and by its infectious music, decided to make his own version in 2003 for the Bolshoi, keeping the score and libretto intact. One can see why: the score is full of dance rhythms, including a polka, a tango, Russian dances, and endless waltzes.  The story suited his sense zany of humor—which we have seen before in works like “Concerto DSCH” and “Namouna”—and provided lots of opportunities for detailed mime (a specialty), as well as a funny cross-dressing scene, and, underneath it all, a deeply human story: a wife hurt by her husband’s neglect. In 2004, Ratmansky’s ballet was picked up by the Latvian National Ballet, with new designs; this is the production that ABT has now made its own.

Paloma Herrera and Marcelo Gomes. Photo by Rosalie O'Connor.

The cast list is long, and includes Zina (the local girl), Pyotr (her husband), the ballet dancers from the big city, an accordion player, two elderly dacha dwellers, a milkmaid, a schoolgirl, a tractor driver, and an “inspector of quality,” just to name a few. On opening night, Zina was danced by Paloma Herrera, Pyotr by Marcelo Gomes, the two dancers by Gillian Murphy and David Hallberg. The doddering dacha dwellers were Victor Barbee and Martine Van Hamel, both former stars with the company and still closely affiliated with it: Barbee is associate artistic director and Van Hamel is on the faculty of the company school. All of them gave vivid and compelling performances. Paloma Herrera was a bit shy and on edge, the kind of girl who is easily moved to tears. She and Gillian Murphy had a lovely rapport as two childhood friends, separated by life’s travels. The scene in which Murphy, the successful ballerina, asked Herrera, the country girl, to show her what she remembered from their ballet lessons of youth, and corrected her placement like a worried but gentle ballet teacher, was especially touching. Herrera’s dancing in the painful pas de deux for Zina and her star-struck husband was full of contradictory emotions: love and pain and anger and longing, all expressed in the rolling of her back and the swooning of her shoulders, combined with her angry arms and fastidious, nervous feet. I have not often seen her dance with such expressivity and freedom. It goes without saying that Gomes was completely in his element, dancing with the kind of irrepressible charm and gusto that he brings to every role. One simply could not be angry with him, despite his avid pursuit of a woman who was not his wife.

Gillian Murphy and Marcelo Gomes. Photo by Rosalie O'Connor.

Murphy’s dancing, both in the first act and the second act travesti scene, was electric, powerful, invigorating as a swim in the ocean.  In the steps Ratmansky created for the ballerina, Ratmansky gently parodies the heroic Bolshoi style of the thirties, with big powerful jumps, proud chins, out-stretched arms and lots of impressive tricks, and Murphy captures this spirit perfectly, legs shooting out like beams of light and jumps hurtling around the stage, while tingeing her bravura with a touch of American playfulness. She’s a proud ballerina, but also a playful girl. Hallberg, so often cast in princely roles, seemed to be having the time of his life, showing off his limpid technique and incredibly elevation in the first act and embracing his inner Sylphide in the second. Dancing in his gigantic toe shoes, he was not only hilarious—with excellent comic timing—but managed to turn (on pointe!) and roll through his feet beautifully as well. And there was much more: Maria Riccetto’s schoolgirl was naughty and adventurous; Roman Zhurbin’s “inspector” was fatuous but a good sport; Craig Salstein’s accordionist unleashed his inner Rudolph Valentino; Misty Copeland was a luminous, teasingly sensual milkmaid. I’ll never look at her the same way again. Van Hamel and Barbee were ridiculous and profoundly touching as the elderly married couple, still looking for love. It is an amazingly strong cast, but the others will doubtless bring their own nuances and personalities to the ballet.

Certainly, not everyone will find “The Bright Stream” as funny as I did—humor is a very personal thing–and some will doubtless feel that there is too much mime and not enough dancing. It is possible that the high jinks go on for just a tad too long in the second act. But the opportunity to laugh without reserve at the ballet, and to see the whole company performing at such a level, is certainly something to be pleased about. One can only hope that Mr. Ratmansky’s future creations for the company will be as energizing as this one has been.

Performances of The Bright Stream continue through June 15.

If you’d like to read more about Ratmansky and his background, you can check out this profile I wrote for The Nation back in 2009.

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