Here is my review for DanceTabs:

And here is a short excerpt:

“If one is able to forget about the celebrity hype and the Dior perfume ads, one begins to see Benjamin Millepied for what he is: an ambitious young choreographer and impresario, trying to find his place in the cacophonous, quarrelsome dance world. He has chosen to set up shop in L.A., far from his old stomping grounds. Of course, the celebrity and the perfume ads are inevitably part of the story, since to a certain extent they make the enterprise possible. The exposure provided by one facilitates the other. But the question remains: what does Millepied mean to accomplish with this small ensemble of six dancers which he has called the L.A. Dance Project?”

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Here is a link to my review of her final work: http://marinaharss.wordpress.com/

And a short excerpt:

“Bausch’s works are adored by fans the world over. Almodóvar has included passages in his movies, Wim Wenders has rendered them in 3D in Pina; great dancers dream of performing them. But I’ll just come out and say it: for the most part, they leave me cold. There are moments, I’ll admit, when an image or an idea will ignite something in my brain. I’ll think to myself: here it is, finally, I am about to enter Bausch’s enchanted garden. But it never lasts; the image passes, the idea is replaced by another, usually less compelling, and then another, and the door closes again. The colorful ball gowns, the high-heeled shoes, the feigned smiles and anguished moues, the little vignettes that lead nowhere, the Dadaist humor which almost never strikes me as funny, not to mention the endless repetition…it all wears me down.”

* Comments are welcome! If you would like to receive an alert when new pieces are posted on the Dance page, please drop me a line at dancinginthefastertimes@gmail.com. You can also check my updates on Twitter @MarinaHarss or peruse my personal page at http://marinaharss.wordpress.com/

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Marcelo Gomes, Polina Semionova, and the dancers of ABT in Alexei Ratmansky's "Symphony #9." Photo by Andrea Mohin for the Times.

The opening of Alexei Ratmansky’s new “Symphony #9” American Ballet Theatre (Oct. 18) was a moment of real excitement—ballet is alive and well, and has a lot to say. Like much of Ratmansky’s work, the new ballet is witty, grand in design, and full of detail. It seems to spring organically from the music, Shostakovich’s Ninth Symphony. One keeps discovering sounds one might never have noticed because Ratmansky has brought them to the surface and revealed them in the choreography. Sometimes his methods are clearly illustrative—as when the woman in the first movement “plays” the drums—but usually, the dialogue between music and movement lies at a deeper level. Shostakovich and Ratmansky understand each other, they get along. The ballet is also an impressive vehicle for the dancers—they look absolutely radiant in it. Especially Herman Cornejo; I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him pushed so far. What more can a dancer ask for?

Here’s my review for DanceTabs: www.dancetabs.com/2012/10/american-ballet-theatre-new-ratmansky-symphony-9-new-york/

On second viewing, with a different cast, the ballet offered up even more layers. Different details emerged, and the performances of Roberto Bolle and Veronika Part—particularly Veronika Part—revealed a thematic thread I had not noticed before. The symphony was commissioned as a celebration of Russia’s victory over the Nazis. It is essentially upbeat, snappy, even frenetic in its good spirits (at least at first). But it protests its cheerfulness too much, thus introducing a darker undertone. In the first slow movement, there is a sinuous clarinet melody that Ratmansky clearly hears as an intimation of danger. The tango-like pas de deux that dominates this section is furtive; the man and woman constantly turn their heads to make sure they not surrounded by spies or enemies. A creeping crescendo in the strings seems to evoke great forces encircling the couple, and the others that arrive, echoing their stealthy steps.

Here and in the movement that followed, the alternate-cast Veronika Part—a great dramatic ballerina—revealed powerful undercurrents of sadness. Where Polina Semionova’s twisting, supple body had given the duet the feel of an illicit tryst, Part’s powerful back and shoulders made it clear that the peril came from without. She communicated fear, desperation, and the desire to protect her lover from harm. Thus, it made even more sense to see the lone male figure—Jared Matthews, in this cast, Herman Cornejo in the first—as a guardian angel protecting the couple.

The feeling of conflict was echoed in the second slow movement (the largo), in which Part’s partner, Bolle, appeared to do battle with a group of men. He fended them off powerfully at first, but gradually lost steam and finally collapsed. Part gently touched his chest, his face, his mouth, with great intimacy. She tended to him. Across the stage, a row of women, reclining in horizontal poses, held fingers to their eyes, the mimed gesture for crying. The moment passed and then all was well again. Of course, none of this was as blatant or as heavy as it sounds from my description. But it was there—the story, deconstructed, braided into the glorious patterns and exhilarating dances. Ratmansky’s ballet, and, perhaps, Shostakovich’s music, is a deconstruction of war: the empty euphoria at the beginning, the danger in the middle, the shadow of death, and, finally, the jubilation of victory. As the ballet ends, the “angel” spins eternally, in an endless spiral; life goes on. Who knows what will happen in the other two Shostakovich ballets that will make up this trilogy? I can’t wait to find out.

On the evening of Oct. 19th, the company also gave an extraordinary performance of Mark Morris’s “Drink to Me Only With Thine Eyes.” The dancers have settled into the ballet’s casual, limpid, touchingly awkward choreography. They looked relaxed. The warmth flowed from the dancers onstage to the audience—one of those quiet, almost charmed moments at the theatre when all is well. The whole company, but especially James Whiteside (who recently joined from Boston Ballet), Herman Cornejo, and Isabella Boylston, danced with total lack of reserve, their steps blending with notes from the piano as if the music were pouring out from their bodies. It was a joy to behold.

* Comments are welcome! If you would like to receive an alert when new pieces are posted on the Dance page, please drop me a line at dancinginthefastertimes@gmail.com. You can also check my updates on Twitter @MarinaHarss or peruse my personal page at http://marinaharss.wordpress.com/

The post The Perils of War—Ratmansky’s New Shostakovich Ballet at ABT appeared first on The Faster Times.

Here is a link to my review, in DanceTabs.

* Comments are welcome! If you would like to receive an alert when new pieces are posted on the Dance page, please drop me a line at dancinginthefastertimes@gmail.com. You can also check my updates on Twitter @MarinaHarss or peruse my personal page at http://marinaharss.wordpress.com/

The post Mark Morris’s Eccentric Ode appeared first on The Faster Times.

Just a few disconnected thoughts on Shechter’s “Political Mother,” currently completing its run at the Brooklyn Academy of Music. The show comes wrapped up in a radical package: it’s loud, it’s angry, it’s a commentary on power and conformism! Suck it up! In reality, it’s vacuous: sound and fury, signifying nothing. The politics are vague and outdated: even the style of our dictators has changed. The authoritarian despot who screams and intimidates from atop a balcony (like the faceless man in Shechter’s nightmare vision) has, for the most part, been replaced by cajolers and folksy types who know where the real power lies—in the media and the services of the secret police. Today dictators know that lies and fast-talk are far more insidious than browbeating. What’s so enraging about Shechter’s critique is that it’s so un-specific. Who is the enemy? Third-world despots? Israel? The West? Ourselves? Your guess is as good as mine. The only clue comes at the end, when the words “where there is pressure there is folk dance” appear, spelled out in lights. Much of the dancing has a vaguely Middle-Eastern folk feel: circle-formations, arms upheld or intertwined, bouncy steps, and bent knees. Aha! perhaps the “system” Shechter is rebelling against lies somewhere in that part of the world. (After all, he was born in Israel; though his company is based in the UK.) If so, the figure screaming atop a raised platform, grunting gutturally into a microphone, seems even more misplaced, more Hitler or Perón than Netanyahu or Ahmadinejad.

The production values are impressive; really beautiful, sculptural lighting creates cones and beams and triangles of light which, with the help of a thick, omnipresent fog, appear solid enough to bite into. (The lighting design is by Lee Curran.) Tireless, liquid-moving dancers, seemingly able to morph into any shape, sink soundlessly into the ground only to spring up again with mad bursts. In the final section, they take it up another notch, dancing at a velocity meant to evoke sped-up film, without losing clarity. They are impressive, and impressively diverse to boot, and they make the most of Shechter’s very limited vocabulary, which combines the communal feel of folk dance with the boneless liquidity of street-dance forms like Jookin. But Jookin displays a far greater variety of moves than this choreography (and a sense of humor) and folk dance is capable of a far wider range of emotion and rhythmic complexity. (Not to mention that Shechter’s vocabulary in this work is very similar to that of a recent work he set on Cedar Lake, “Violet Kid.”) The first image, of a Samurai preforming hara-kiri to Bach choreal music, seemed to hover in a dreamlike, cinematic space that lingered in one’s mind more tenaciously than the dancing that followed.

Not to mention that most of the movement is done in unison—some counterpoint creeps in at the end—and to a relentless, ear-splitting 4/4 beat. The score is by Shechter, who used to play in a rock band, and consists of heavy percussion and wailing rock guitars, with further assistance from the aforementioned screamer and electronic backup. Four percussionists beat their drums onstage, cloaked in half-darkness, wearing military gear. The guitarists rock out from their perch above the stage, under beams of creamy light. Except for a few brief moments of Bach and Verdi—also broadcast at top volume—and some welcome passages of silence, the audience is treated to an hour-long barrage of un-varying rhythm, a relentless march toward oblivion. Little scenelets emerge, divided by blackouts, obviating the need for development of any single idea. The dancers kneel, tremble, run, grapple, and fold into themselves or, conversely, stand in submissive poses with their hands above their heads. They are the victimized, or, as Pink Floyd called them, the bricks in the wall. But then, Pink Floyd’s “Wall” was a more convincing, more anxiety-producing indictment of conformity and the abuse of power than “Political Mother.”

* Comments are welcome! If you would like to receive an alert when new pieces are posted on the Dance page, please drop me a line at dancinginthefastertimes@gmail.com. You can also check my updates on Twitter @MarinaHarss or peruse my personal page at http://marinaharss.wordpress.com/

The post We’re Just Bricks in the Wall (or so Hofesh Shechter would like us to believe) appeared first on The Faster Times.

So one cannot help but be excited to see what these dancers will show us about the choreography that we don’t already know. And curious about the reconstruction of a ballet we don’t know at all, the “Haieff Divertimento,” from 1944. There’s always the hope of rediscovering a lost masterpiece. If so, “Haieff Divertimento” is not the one. But the main problem, on opening night at the Joyce, was mainly a mixture of nerves, imperfect preparation, and canned music. Unlike Miami City Ballet’s excellent début in New York a couple of years ago, on opening night (Oct. 19), Farrell’s dancers just didn’t seem quite ready for the big time. It’s no small thing to dance Balanchine on the turf of New York City Ballet, with its wonderful wide stage, exceptional dancers, and full orchestra. One day, New Yorkers see Sara Mearns or Wendy Whelan dancing “Diamonds” as if technique were simply not an issue; the next day we see Violeta Angelova struggling with balances, behind the beat of a too-fast recording, and losing her nerve. It’s not really a fair comparison. And yet, even in this, the most problematic performance of the evening, there were little revelations which will stay with me. One was the benevolent, almost compassionate way in which the Angelova periodically gazed at her cavalier, as if to say, “you’re a lovely, sweet man, but I really must go fulfill my destiny.” I had never seen quite that note of queenly compassion. Clearly, this comes straight from Farrell, and it enhances anted deepens the rapport between the two dancers onstage. The second surprise was a moment I had simply never noticed before, in which the ballerina briefly rests her hand on the shoulder of her adoring partner, like a queen blessing her faithful knight for the last time. Wobbly and un-authoritative as this performance was, it was worth seeing even if only for these two almost insignificant nuances of color. This is what Farrell has to offer.

The rest of the evening had its highs and lows. The reconstruction of “Haieff Divertimento” (a mediocre work, in my opinion) was notable mainly for the way it foreshadows phrases from “Square Dance,” made thirteen years later. The courtly bows, the deep pliés in fifth, the square dance formations, the complicated piqué arabesque sequences and hops on pointe for the women, the non-stop entrechats and brisé jumping sequences for the men. One can also see Balanchine trying things out, just to see how they look, especially in the partnering for the principal couple. It’s interesting to see once, and helps us understand how Balanchine honed re-cycled and discarded elements of older works, but it’s not indispensable viewing.

Another rarity was “Meditation,” a pas de deux from 1963. It was the first role created for Farrell by Balanchine, and it reveals a choreographer completely in the thrall of his young dancer (it’s no secret that Balanchine was in love with her, even though she was still a teenager, and he almost sixty). A man in street clothes walks forward, kneels, covers his face in anguish; a beautiful young woman, hair loose over her shoulders, wearing a simple, gauzy dress, drifts onstage, embraces him from behind, removes his hands from his face. Their dance is all longing, caressing, gliding, falling. It is a distillation of Farrell’s essence: childlike, boiling over with emotion and sensuality, and ultimately elusive. At the end, the woman places the man’s hands over his eyes, and disappears. It’s almost uncomfortable to see Balanchine working in such a sentimental mode—telling his own story, laying himself bare for all to see. It’s one thing to read about his obsession with Farrell in the history books, another thing to see it enacted before one’s eyes. On Oct. 19, Elisabeth Holowchuk danced with Michael Cook; Holowchuk, a very precise, almost fastidious dancer, has none of Farrell’s ardor, but she gave a lucid, detailed performance in which each look, every move of the hand, had meaning, without being histrionic in any way. (I was most struck by the sensitivity of her hands.)

In “Agon,” what I found most notable was the sense of discovery that shone through the entire cast; more than half a century after its creation, this is still a remarkable ballet, full of surprises, wit, and moments of almost shocking vulgarity. The performance lacked brilliance, but in a way, it allowed the wildness of the choreography to shine even more brightly. Even so, there is not doubt that Farrell is at a difficult crossroads; the company is not really as good as it should be, and Farrell’s gifts deserve more. The troupe clearly needs more rehearsal time, a more consistent roster, live music, a higher all-around level of dancing. The key to all this, of course, is money, and money is a hard thing to come by, especially these days.

—

On Oct. 14, I went to the first official showing of the newly-formed Satellite Ballet, the creation of Troy Schumacher (a dancer at New York City Ballet) and Kevin Draper (an architect, poet, and multimedia artist). The company is very much a work-in-progress, but the basic concept is this: Schumacher and Draper have teamed up with a group of West Coast indie/classical musicians (led by Nick Jaina), and together they develop ballets based on images and themes drawn from Draper’s texts. These “librettos” are more like stream-of consciousness poetry, cascades of images and emotions with titles like “Epistasis,” “Cosmonaut,” and “Progress.” (They can be downloaded from the company’s website, satelliteballet.org.) To be honest, I’m not crazy about the poems—they seem muddled and meandering to me–but this is a matter of personal taste. The poems themselves are not part of the performance and serve mainly as a starting point, a launching pad for the collaborators’ imagination.

All in all, I was impressed by the group’s commitment to this collaborative working method, its seriousness of purpose, its lack of flash. The resulting synthesis (of original live music, projections, lighting, costumes) feels honest, elegant, and engaged. And the music? Pleasant, lush, melodic chamber pieces with hints of Satie here, Chopin there, and a touch of tango and gypsy melody. Most of all, without being particularly memorable, it served the dance.

All of the dancers come from NYCB, and they’re a fine-looking bunch: Marika Anderson, Daniel Applebaum, Samuel Greenberg, Lauren King, Ashley Laracey, Teresa Reichlen, and Taylor Stanley. The basic building blocks—outstretched arms, flexed palms, dynamic use of space, angular shapes—are familiar to followers of City Ballet. Of the two pieces, “Epistasis” was the more adventurous, and here Schumacher added gestures like plucking and grabbing the air, and non-balletic touches like a quick zapateo. Like so many choreographers, he is testing the line between “pure” movement and gesture, abstraction and representation. But even more, he is drawing in his dancers’ qualities and exploring their range. Lauren King, invariably cast in bubbly roles in her home company, was quietly lyrical, expansive, focused. It was nice to see her without all the makeup, hair down, feeling relaxed enough not to smile. I’d love to see her in the first section of “Vienna Waltzes,” or the mysterious second section of “Episodes.” The young Sam Greenberg was strong, manly and mysterious, and very much up to the task of partnering the lush, impulsive, and long-limbed Teresa Reichlen. By the end felt we knew them all a little bit better.

—

The same cannot be said for the Houston Ballet, who visited the Joyce last week (Oct. 11-16). Houston has the fourth largest ballet company in the country, led by a well-known choreographer, the Australian-born Stanton Welch. It has been around since 1955; it has money. By now, it should have a strong profile. Somehow, though, the troupe didn’t make much of an impression. It’s not the dancers’ fault; they are uniformly strong, well-trained, appealing, excellent jumpers, wonderful turners. The problem was the repertoire, which felt utterly generic. Jiri Kylian’s “Falling Angels” (1989), set to Steve Reich’s “Drumming,” is stylish and slickly-constructed but totally dated. Women in black leotards, standing in squares of light, performing repetitive short phrases of vaguely eccentric movement. They pluck at their leotards, crouch, tilt their heads, undulate their torsos. The genre has been pushed light-years forward by choreographers like Ohad Naharin. This was followed by “ONE/end/ONE,” yet another of Jorma Elo’s arch, mechanistic ballets, set to a Mozart violin concerto. It takes a certain je ne sais quoi to make Mozart sound totally mechanical. The men carry the women around like dolls, stiff-limbed and askew. They swivel their hips, swirl around in awkward poses, slide on point, twitch their fingers. The dancers pulled it off admirably—lots of triple pirouettes–but what a slog. It’s disheartening to think that this was the piece the company chose to commission with a large grant from the Nureyev Prize for New Dance (supported by the Joyce). The tutus, by Holly Hynes, were sumptuous (a dig at ballet’s grandiosity?); they must have cost a fortune. The final piece was a sentimental pantomime on commedia dell’arte themes by the British choreographer Christopher Bruce, set to pretty but bland music by Bobby McFerrin and Yo-Yo Ma. A sad Columbine drooped like a rag doll; a couple grew old, walking hand in hand (

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Cardona has a similar capacity to suggest stories. What struck me while watching him in “Tool is Loot,” at the Kitchen, was the potency of his imagination, and its specificity. One may not understand what story he is telling, but there is no doubt in one’s mind that there is a story, or perhaps, as in “Episodes,” many stories all jumbled up into one. “Tool is Loot” is not a perfect piece; it fails in several regards, especially as a collaboration, but, when Cardona is onstage, it is never less than interesting. As he emerges from behind a curtain, accompanied by a trumpet flourish (the sound-score, by Jonathan Belpre, is consistently vivid) and wearing simple trousers and a grey linen shirt, open at the neck, he begins to swivel his arms almost violently, like the young god playing at the beginning of “Apollo.” He walks on tiptoe, with knees bent, and then begins to prance about like Isadora Duncan unhinged. Then the mood shifts, he caresses his neck, kisses his hand, and stands, forlorn, eyes full of tears and fingers trembling (a whimpering voice can be heard in the sound-score). His solo is neurotic, charming, and crazed. One could watch him tell stories for hours.

Unfortunately, Jenifer Lacey’s contributions to “Tool is Loot” are not on the same level. It is almost as if there were two pieces in one, overlapping only in the most superficial way. It’s interesting to read in the program that that the two artists worked apart for a year (Lacey in France, and Cardona in NY), honing their ideas with input from people unrelated to the dance field (an astrophysicist, a sommelier, and an opera singer, among others). The outside influence is difficult to gage, but the distance between the two artists’ worlds is quite palpable. There is only one short section of perfunctory partnering at the end. The idea of overlaying the two solos might be intriguing if they were more complementary, and if Lacey’s ideas were as intriguing as Cardona’s. Her piece seems to be mainly about a chair; she speaks to it, caresses it, studies it, balances upon it, and—surprise!–makes out with it. The makeout session is a low point; it feels crass, and a little desperate. Here, even Cardona’s presence doesn’t quite manage to bring things back into focus: he prances about in the background and eventually indulges in his own “onanistic moment” (as a disembodied voice helpfully points out). Lacey has stage presence—her flirtatious one-sided dialogue with the chair got quite a few laughs–and a gritty sex appeal, but it’s not enough to pull us into her world or hold our interest, at least not mine.

“Tool is Loot” culminates in a kind of apotheosis: concentric circles of colored light projected onto a screen at the back of the stage, accompanied by a Coltrane-like crescendo. It’s a beautiful moment, but completely inorganic, disconnected from the rest of the piece. That said, kudos to Jonathan Bepler; the sound-score is swimming with ideas, contrasting colors and textures, and punctuated with curious sounds that make one sit up and listen. (The list of instruments used includes a viola, percussion, a saxophone, a flute, a children’s choir, and a group of people playing the recorder.) A far cry from the kind of amorphous electronic soundscape we’ve become so used to—young choreographers, take heed! I was especially struck by a strange, keening setting of a poem about a man waiting in a garden for a secret assignation with a sailor, sung in a squeaky, distorted voice. It doesn’t sound out of place or unnatural in any way, but rather like the kind of voice one might hear in a dream. Like Cardona’s performance, it has a quality of whimsy and wonder.

—

Whimsy is not something one usually associates with the art of flamenco, and certainly not with the artistry of Soledad Barrio. Her ensemble, Noche Flamenca, performed at the Joyce last week. I have seldom seen Ms. Barrio crack a smile, even when taking a bow. When she does smile, it looks unnatural, almost painful, as if the muscles of her face weren’t really meant to move that way. Flamenco is serious business, especially in her solos, where she seems to explode with rage, channeling all the pent-up frustrations of the world, her mask-like demeanor turning inward to a hidden source. She is not a virtuoso in the classic sense: no awe-inspiring “tricks” or particular physical gifts stand out, and she’s not particularly theatrical either—no showy dresses or studied care in her self-presentation. It’s refreshing, given the over-production most Flamenco shows suffer from these days. Thankfully, there is no dry ice or deafening amplification either. Flamenco isn’t really a theatrical form; it’s meant to be experienced in the informal setting of a tablao rather than in a theatre, and to be participated in by the audience, who traditionally encourage the performers with exclamations of ole and anda Soleá!

One of the pleasures of watching a good flamenco group is seeing the close interaction between singers, musicians, and dancers. On Oct. 2, there were two guitarists (Eugenio Iglesias and Salva de María), two singers (Manuel Gago and Emilio Florido) and three dancers (Barrio, Alejandro Granados, and Antonio Jiménez). Percussion was provided by the clapping patterns of the dancers and singers, and, of course, by the dancers’ feet. With the exception of two stylized set pieces (“Oda al Amor” and “Caminando”), the dancers and musicians tended to revert to the more informal tablao mode, remaining in constant communication with each other, creating that living, breathing atmosphere so particular to flamenco. The participants watch, listen, and encourage each other, building each number from the ground up. There are a few set pieces: the opening group piece, the final farewell, in which all the performers cluster together and the musicians dance a few steps of their own. But what happens in between is a ritual composed on the spot. Of course, this feeling of spontaneity is difficult to reproduce in a theatrical show with a printed program and a silent, seated audience. But, unlike many flamenco groups these days, Noche stays close to this form, and mostly succeeds.

One trick to achieving this spontaneity may be changing the playlist from night to night; my program contained an updated program list. Another is to have performers like the guitarist Salva de María and dancer Alejandro Granados. De María doesn’t sit back and play his instrument for its own sake; his eyes never left the dancers, and he was quick to respond to each shift in mood, shaping his sound in order to open a new chapter of dialogue with the dancers. Granados, who looks like the most senior of the dancers, is simply a stage animal, a ham, a piece of work. He could be in a tablao, onstage, or at a family gathering, no doubt he would be the life of the party. Well-fed, beefy, and a touch disheveled-looking, he seems to dance for the fun of it, without much care for precision or nuance. He, more than anyone, seems to focus his attention on the musicians, egging them on, teasing them, showing off a bit; they responded in kind, the singer echoing his footwork: “tra, tra, tra!” Granados is the least technical of the three dancers, and yet, because of his sheer joie de vivre, he got the loudest applause at the performance I attended.

There were a few theatrical flourishes in the show; some worked, some didn’t. I liked the moment when spotlights illuminated only the performers’ hands as they rapped out the complex rhythms. Antonio Jiménez’s tightly choreographed “Caminando” solo was well-crafted, and he has a has the most intricate, soft, quick zapateado, as witty as a passage of patter in Rossini; he also uses his torso in interesting ways, twisting a shoulder to complete the arc of a foot. He’s the most arty of the three. But the concept of “Oda al Amor”, in which Soledad Barrio and Jiménez dance a tormented, tango-inflected duet, while a cloaked figure hovered in the background, was slightly hokey, verging on the comical. All the ghoul needed was a scythe and he could have done a solo turn, as death does in Ratmansky’s “The Bright Stream.” But, the urge to giggle notwithstanding, this number was saved by the beauty of the song itself, “Chuscales,” which contains many a wonderful line, including this one: “Amor, como la sombra de los helechos.”

At the end of the show, Ms. Barrio performed her searing solo, “Soledad.” As always, she looked possessed, like an angry witch casting a spell. She circled and lunged, and dug her heels into the floor, raising her skirt to show off her piston-like legs. At times like these, she is a formidable force. When she took her bow, she still looked angry. And then, as her musicians crowded around her, there it was, that strange, stern, almost disapproving smile. Dancing is serious business.

* If you would like to receive an alert when new pieces are posted on the Dance page, please drop me a line at dancinginthefastertimes@gmail.com. You can also check my updates on Twitter: http://twitter.com/#!/MarinaHarss

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AMERICAN BALLET THEATRE RETURNS TO NEW YORK CITY CENTER, NOVEMBER 8 – 13, 2011

New York City Premiere of New Work by Demis Volpi and Revivals of

Merce Cunningham’s Duets, Paul Taylor’s Black Tuesday and

Martha Clarke’s The Garden of Villandry to Highlight Season

Season to Feature 25th Anniversary Performances of

Twyla Tharp’s In the Upper Room

American Ballet Theatre will present eight performances of new work, revivals and repertory at New York City Center, November 8 – 13, it was announced today by Artistic Director Kevin McKenzie.

American Ballet Theatre’s return to New York City Center will be highlighted by the New York City Premiere of a new work choreographed by Demis Volpi and major revivals of Merce Cunningham’s Duets in honor of the late choreographer, Paul Taylor’s Black Tuesday and Martha Clarke’s Garden of Villandry. The season will also celebrate the 25th Anniversary of Twyla Tharp’s In the Upper Room.

An Opening Night Gala on Tuesday evening, November 8, will include the Premiere of a new ballet by Stuttgart Ballet member Demis Volpi, Martha Clarke’s Garden of Villandry and Twyla Tharp’s In the Upper Room. The program will also feature Tharp’s Sinatra Suite, a suite of dances from Nine Sinatra Songs, set to classic songs by Frank Sinatra with costumes by Oscar de la Renta. American Ballet Theatre’s New York City Center 2011 Opening Night Gala performance will be followed by a benefit dinner at The Plaza Hotel. For more information on ABT’s Gala Benefit, please call the Special Events office on 212-477-3030 ext. 33

NEW YORK CITY PREMIERE

American Ballet Theatre’s 2011 New York City Center season features the New York City Premiere of a new work by Demis Volpi. A dancer with the Stuttgart Ballet, Volpi won the Erik Bruhn Prize for Best Choreography in 2011. He began his training in his native Argentina before studying at the National Ballet School of Canada and the John Cranko School in Stuttgart. He joined Stuttgart Ballet as an apprentice in 2004 and became a member of the company’s corps de ballet the following year. He began choreographing in 2006 for the Noverre Society’s “Young Choreographers” program at the State Theater Stuttgart and has been commissioned to choreograph for the Stuttgart Ballet and the State Opera Stuttgart. The new work, which will have four performances at New York City Center, will be given its World Premiere at The Richard B. Fisher Center for the Performing Arts at Bard College in Annandale-on-Hudson, New York, on Saturday, November 5, 2011.

REVIVALS

American Ballet Theatre will pay tribute to the late Merce Cunningham with four performances of his Duets at New York City Center. An exploration of the duet form set to music by John Cage, the ballet features six couples each in their own style and distinctive movement signature. Last performed by ABT in 1990, Duets will be given its Revival Premiere at The Fisher Center at Bard College on Friday, November 4, 2011. With design and lighting by Mark Lancaster, the ballet was created for Cunningham’s own company in 1980 and was first performed by ABT at the Metropolitan Opera House in 1982.

Paul Taylor’s Black Tuesday, an homage to 1930’s America, is set to songs from the Great Depression including “The Boulevard of Broken Dreams” and “Brother, Can You Spare a Dime.” The ballet for 14 dancers was given its World Premiere by American Ballet Theatre at the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts in Washington, D.C. in April 2001 and was last performed by ABT later that year. Staged for ABT by Andy LeBeau, Black Tuesday features sets and costumes by Santo Loquasto and lighting by Jennifer Tipton. The Revival Premiere of Black Tuesday is scheduled for Saturday, November 4, 2011 at The Fisher Center at Bard College. The ballet will be given four performances by ABT during the New York City Center season.

First performed by Crowsnest dance company in Paris in 1979, The Garden of Villandry was choreographed by former Pilobolus Dance Theatre members Martha Clarke and Robert Barnett, along with their fellow Crownest co-founder Felix Blaska. The trio for two men and a woman is set to music by Franz Schubert and has costumes by Jane Greenwood and lighting by Jennifer Tipton. Last performed by American Ballet Theatre in 2002, The Garden of Villandry will receive its Revival Premiere on Friday, November 4, 2011 at Bard College and will have four performances at New York City Center.

RETURNING REPERTORY

American Ballet Theatre will celebrate the 25th anniversary of Twyla Tharp’s

In the Upper Room with four performances of the ballet at New York City Center. A ballet for 13 dancers, In the Upper Room is set to music by Phillip Glass and features costumes by Norma Kamali and lighting by Jennifer Tipton. In the Upper Room was given its world premiere by Twyla Tharp Dance at the Ravinia Festival in Highland Park, Illinois on August 28, 1986. The ballet received its Company Premiere in 1988 and was last performed by ABT in 2007.

The pas de deux from Tharp’s Known by Heart will also be given three performances during the New York City Center season. Choreographed for ABT in 1998, Known by Heart features costumes by Santo Loquasto and lighting by Jennifer Tipton. The pas de deux is set to selections from Donald Knaack’s “Junk Music.”

Alexei Ratmansky’s Seven Sonatas, set to “Keyboard Sonatas” by Domenico Scarlatti, will return to the repertory for four performances at New York City Center. The former artistic director of the Bolshoi Ballet, Ratmansky was named American Ballet Theatre’s Artist in Residence in January 2009. Seven Sonatas features six dancers in a series of solos, duets and group dances with costumes by Holly Hynes and lighting by Brad Fields. The ballet was given its World Premiere by ABT at Bard College in

October 2009 and was performed in New York City for the first time later that month at Avery Fisher Hall.

Set to songs by the Andrews Sisters, Paul Taylor’s Company B will have three performances at New York City Center. The ballet was created for the Paul Taylor Dance Company and received its World Premiere in 1991. Staged for ABT by Patrick Corbin, Company B features costumes by Santo Loquasto and lighting by Jennifer Tipton. The ballet was first performed by ABT in 2008.

Black Tuesday and Company B are generously supported by a gift from Marjorie S. Isaac in honor of ABT Artistic Director Kevin McKenzie. Major funding for Black Tuesday has also been provided by the National Endowment for the Arts. Seven Sonatas is generously supported through an endowed gift from the Toni and Martin Sosnoff New Works Fund. Additional support has been generously provided by Leila and Mickey Straus. Duets is generously supported by a gift from Victoria Phillips Geduld. The Demis Volpi World Premiere is generously supported through an endowed gift from the Toni and Martin Sosnoff New Works Fund. Additional support is generously made possible by the Frederic and Robin Seegal Fund for Emerging Choreographers.

American Airlines is the Official Airline of American Ballet Theatre. Northern Trust is the Leading Corporate Sponsor of the Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis School at American Ballet Theatre. J.P. Morgan is the Official Sponsor of Make a Ballet. The 2011 New York City Center Season is also made possible with funds from the National Endowment for the Arts, the New York State Council on the Arts, a state agency, and the New York City Department of Cultural Affairs, in partnership with the City Council.

Tickets for American Ballet Theatre’s Fall 2011 Season at New York City Center, priced from $25, go on sale by phone at 212-581-1212 and on online at www.nycitycenter.org on July 25. The City Center Box Office will open for sales on September 6. For more information, please visit ABT’s website at www.abt.org.

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Guillaume Côté, guest artist-in-residence with The National Ballet of Canada, will dance the role of Her Prince Charming in James Kudelka’s Cinderella at the matinee on Wednesday, June 22 at the Metropolitan Opera House. It was announced today by Artistic Director Kevin McKenzie. Côté is replacing Cory Stearns who is injured.

Born in Lac-Saint-Jean, Québec, Côté studied at Canada’s National Ballet School and joined The National Ballet of Canada in 1999. He was promoted to principal dancer in 2004 and became guest artist-in-residence in 2010. His repertoire with The National Ballet of Canada includes Swan Lake, The Taming of the Shrew, The Merry Widow, The Sleeping Beauty, Romeo and Juliet, Giselle, The Nutcracker, Onegin, Grand pas Classique, West Side Story Suite, Opus 19/The Dreamer, Apollo, Violin Concerto, Theme and Variations, Diamonds and Rubies from Jewels and Le Corsaire, among others. He has created a number of lead roles in ballets by James Kudelka, including Ferdinand in An Italian Straw Hat, Her Prince Charming in Cinderella and Will in The Contract (The Pied Piper). As a guest artist, Côté has danced with English National Ballet, The Mikhailovsky Theatre, Colón de Buenos Aires, Berlin’s Staatsoper, Maggio Musicale Fiorentino,Teatro alla Scala, Alberta Ballet, Verona Opera and The South African Ballet Theatre.

Côté previously appeared with American Ballet Theatre in Cinderella in 2006 and 2007.

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