NEW YORK CITY BALLET
SARATOGA PERFORMING ARTS CENTER

WEDNESDAY JULY 14, 2010
The Steadfast Tin Soldier (Balanchine/Bizet)
Walpurgisnacht BAllet (Balanchine/Gounod)
Namouna (Ratmansky/Lalo)

“Ballet’s hip,” said one busy staffer of the Saratoga Performing Arts Center. That remark was less a hope than an observation, since healthy sized crowds are turning out for the second week of the New York City Ballet’s Saratoga residency.

It was Emma Willard American Girl night on Wednesday, so there were more aspiring little ballerinas in the audience than usual.  The opening piece, Balanchine’s brief “The Steadfast Tin Soldier,” probably held them spellbound.

Beside a Christmas tree and a roaring fireplace, Anthony Huxley and Erica Pereira played the toy soldier and the short-lived paper doll.  Each had a fine, fluid technique. But the predominant style was of rigid joints and slow stiff limbs, reminding us of their roles as old fashioned playthings before the age of digital animation.  Twice Huxley moved in a military lockstep as he led Pereira in a turn on point. But when the living room drapes were opened Huxley, light as air, was quickly swept away.

“Walpurgisnacht” refers to the witch’s eve of May Day and for his ballet Balanchine draped the cast of 24 women in purple and gave them unusually forceful steps. The single man in the cast was Charles Askegard.  His outlying status was emphasized near the end when he’s alone on stage during one of the score’s few lightly scored passages.

If the quartets of women were the furies, Maria Kowroski was all control in her solos and pas de deux with Askegard. Her rather perfect presence allowed the quirky little extras in Balanchine’s chorography to stand out, such as a backward rotation of the hips and flexed feet.

Ratmansky’s “Namouna,” seen on Saturday night, returned after intermission with a tighter performance and more riches to behold. There’s an irreverence to so much of it, not just in the pastiche of references to ballet classics but also in the many bits of rough physicality. These include the light shoving amidst the women in the corps at the beginning, the tight game of chase by the bronze-costumed pas de tois, and how Sarah Mearns is manhandled in all those lifts and falls.

Music director Faycal Karoui had the orchestra in fine form all evening.  Lalo’s score for the Ratmansky certainly gives the players plenty to work with, including lots of Latin dance rhythms.  A long crescendo at the end of the overture even elicited applause.  Yes, the curtain was going up, but the stage was empty.  Now that’s the sign of an eager and appreciative audience.

THURSDAY JULY 15, 2010

La Source (Balanchine/Delibes)
After the Rain (Wheeldon/Part)
Stravinsky Violin Concerto (Balanchine/Stravinsky)

The energy usually ramps up during the homestretch of the New York City Ballet’s season at the Saratoga Performing Arts Center. But it’s hard to remember a more electric connection between audience and stage as there was Thursday night.

It all began with a tribute to four recent retirees, principal dancers Albert Evans, Philip Neal, and Yvonne Borree and conductor Maurice Kaplow.  After remarks from SPAC boss Marcia White, Peter Martins asked the orchestra to make some noise in celebration. He was funny but also rather demanding and apparently it was all spontaneous.

Somewhere along the way, the honorees received a standing ovation — not something easily bestowed by ballet audiences.  Another one came, though, for the revival of “After the Rain,” Christopher Wheeldon’s ravishing piece from 2005.

As the curtain rose on a warmly lighted stage, there were three couples. Each of the women was horizontal with a leg straight up in the air.  The image brought to mind candle wicks.  Arvo Part’s surging but hushed and reverent score contributed to the ritual feel. And yet the choreography had geometric shapes, gymnastic lifts and athletic slides.  The conclusion was a long pas de deux, with Wendy Whelan surrendering, over and again, into the arms of Craig Hall.

Balanchine’s tutu ballet “La Source” opened the night with prim detail.  Megan Fairchild and Joaquin de Luz took easy pleasure in their pairing.  If dancing could have a joyful tune, this was it.  Lauren King, a member of the corps, was also excellent in her solos.

From the so-called black and white repertoire of Balanchine came the Stravinsky Violin Concerto, the evening’s finale.  The performance by two couples and a corps of 16 was more tight and ordered than a few seasons ago.

Robert Fairchild and Sterling Hyltin, who once played Romeo and Juliet, put youth and charm into Balanchine’s busy and angular creation.  Maria Kowroski, paired with Sebastien Marcovici, was her typical severe and serious self. But the final movement’s high steps and sachets finally got her to stop looking so business like.

The orchestra’s two concert masters played fine solos — Arturo Delmoni in the lullaby writing of Part and Kurt Nikkanen in the intense Stravinsky.

Even the intermissions felt festive.  The retirees mingled with the audience and at the stage door star dancers were greeted with screams from a gang of adoring young fans.

Originally appeared in the Times Union.

All photos: Paul Kolnik, New York City Ballet

NEW YORK CITY BALLET
SARATOGA PERFORMING ARTS CENTER

TUESDAY JULY 6, 2010
“All American”
Fancy Free (Robbins/Bernstein)
Red Angels (Dove/Einhorn)
Barber Violin Concerto (Martins/Barber)
Who Cares (Balanchine/Gershwin)

With a roll of the snare drum and a cartwheel by a dancer, the New York City Ballet’s summer season got off to a fast start.  Tuesday night’s program at the Saratoga Performing Arts Center opened with “Fancy Free” the loveable 1944 tale of three sailors in a hurry to have some fun.  Played with ample swagger by Tyler Angle, Joaquin De Luz and Amar Ramasar, they set the bravura tone for the entire night.

Ballet master in chief Peter Martins said in a curtain speech (which has become a hallmark of the Marcia White era) that because it was still, almost, the Fourth of July weekend he had decided to go all-American.

That theme allowed for plenty of diversity.

After the first intermission came “Red Angels,” the seldom seen 1994 creation by Ulysses Dove.  The late choreographer’s roots in modern dance showed through in every angular pose and rippling undulation by the four dancers in red leotards. Tight overhead spotlights kept them from getting lost in the same red lighting that filled the stage.  Richard Einhorn’s score resembled drums and rock guitar, but it all came from an electric violin, played by Cenovia Cummins.

Modern and ballet styles were put in more sharp relief in Peter Martin’s Barber Violin Concerto.  Sara Mearns and Charles Askegard represented proper tradition, while Megan Fairchild and Jared Angle danced barefoot.  Though neither pair began their partnering work very smoothly, the soaring music infused everything with some meaning and purpose.

Despite the title and light Gershwin score, Balanchine’s “Who Cares?” (the finale) allowed for plenty of serious dancing, especially from its three ballerinas. Sterling Hyltin had a deceptive grace and ease, especially in contrast to the more composed, if not pent up, Ana Sophia Scheller, though her fouette turns flowed with easy dispatch.

If there was a star of the night, it was Tiler Peck, who joined the company just five and a half years ago and was named a principal during the fall.  In “Fancy Free,” she acted as the easy-going all-American girl.  During “The Man I Love” in “Who Cares,” she moved with a larger than life confidence yet was still seductive and alluring.  Later she seemed to create her own rhythmic field, projecting the idea of speed or the halting of time without ever falling out of synch with Balanchine’s larger universe.

WEDNESDAY JULY 7, 2010
A Midsummer Night’s Dream (Balanchine/Mendelssohn)

The latest evidence that local ballet lovers are a hearty and dedicated lot came Wednesday night at the Saratoga Performing Arts Center. It was the second night of the New York City Ballet’s two-week run. Despite a sweltering heat wave, a stunning crowd showed up to view Balanchine’s “A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

The audience, numbering 3,150, was more than twice as large as on opening night.  One wonders how many more might have showed up on a more temperate evening.

Perhaps nostalgia was the draw since “Midsummer” was the piece that opened SPAC way back in 1966.  Certainly the company still does well by the piece. Its mix of magic and comedy was in splendid order.

Heading the cast was Maria Kowroski as a mercurial Titania.  Upon her first grand entrance, she and Oberon have a quarrel that’s mostly played out in mime.  Her first real dancing comes with a cavalier, played by Charles Askegard.  Though Kowroski’s extensions were as straight and long as the horizon, she was stiff and cold.  But just a short while later in a segment danced with her retinue of 12 ladies, this Titania was as flowing and curvaceous as her clamshell throne.

In the human/animal pas de deux with Bottom, portrayed by Henry Seth, Kowroski had a fine mix of tenderness and exactness. Nevertheless, the donkey’s mugs toward the audience always steal the attention.

Kowroski could be at least half a foot taller than Joaquin de Luz, but his regal Oberon had stature to spare. It came not just from his thrust chin and trademark profile.  He threw back his shoulders to stride across the stage and during one jump after another he executed beats with clarity and force.

Adam Hendrickson had plenty of jumps as well, but his usually contained a silly kind of mid-air jog.  When he was more earthbound, he still moved at quiet a pace, mostly making mischief or escaping Oberon’s wrath.

The second act’s divertissements are anchored by one long pas de deux and Wendy Whelan was a studied but sweeping line of smooth elegance.

The adorable fairies and fireflies that darted around through both acts were played by children enrolled at the School of American Ballet.

Maybe the heat did have one ill effect on the night. Facal Karoui’s orchestra seemed to be going through the motions during the overture. Throughout the second act, the strings and brass suffered intonation problems.

SATURDAY JULY 10, 2010
THE BALLET GALA
Namouna (Ratmansky/Lalo)
Estancia (Wheeldon/Ginastera)

The two large scale works on Saturday night’s New York City Ballet Gala at the Saratoga Performing Arts Center may have been unfamiliar, but they were plenty easy to like.  Alexei Ratmansky’s “Namouna” and Christopher Wheeldon’s “Estancia” were cherry picked from the spring season at Lincoln Center, which featured five other premieres.

A brief video about architect Santiago Calatrava’s involvement as designer came after intermission and made one long to see the grander sets and more abstract dances.  Considerations of economics and portability surely went into the selections of the pieces by Ratmansky and Wheeldon, both of whom are becoming familiar names to upstate audiences.

“Namouna” was an hour-long romp set to a lively score by Edouard Lalo.  The buoyant and fresh faced Robert Fairchild was its center piece, wearing a sailor’s top with white knee-length pants. Otherwise Marc Happel’s costumes were a mix of old fashioned bathing suits and caps, pleated flapper dresses and shiny space-age leotards.

It wouldn’t have come as a surprise if the men in the corps had strapped on jet packs.  Daniel Ulbricht and two female partners wore bronze and floated in and out of the proceedings like a dirigible.  Jenifer Ringer made smoking a cigarette almost sexy.

It was as much fun applying some narrative ideas to the random bits as it was trying to catch the many references to other dances and slices of cultural lore.  “Swan Lake” was evoked with the endless opening procession of ballerinas from stage left and the cigarette chorus brought to mind “Carmen.”  A stage full of women doing unison abdominal contractions felt like a class in the Martha Graham technique.

In her lofty arched solo Sara Mearns could have been Norma Desmond.  But in Wendy Whelan’s typically poised and controlled pas de deux with Fairchild, she was nothing other than the perfect Wendy Whelan.

With little set up Wheeldon’s “Estancia” deposits the city slicker Tyler Angle amidst country folk and live stock on an Argentinean ranch.  Tiler Peck was more of a pretty girl than a tomboy and gets won over soon enough.  Andrew Veyette leads a herd of four fillies. They stomp and strut about, wearing heavy brown costumes and manes that resemble overgrown Mohawks.

It was all a little earthbound and muted, thanks in part to a color palette set by Calatrava’s painted backdrop.  But the festive conclusion features the horses in stagecoach formation and bright bandanas tossed in the air.

Originally appeared in the Times Union.

All photos: Paul Kolnik, New York City Ballet

In his latest piece, “Estancia,” choreographer Christopher Wheeldon directs members of the New York City Ballet to buck and bray like wild colts. The piece opens Saturday’s annual gala at the Saratoga Performing Arts Center.

“It’s a cowboy ballet, set on a ranch in Argentina,” says Wheeldon, who will be on hand for the performance.  Acknowledging that a western theme isn’t exactly new to ballet, he says the piece is more reminiscent of Agnes de Mille’s “Rodeo” than Balanchine’s “Western Symphony.”

“It’s a simple boy-meets-girl story,” continues Wheeldon, who cast Tiler Peck and Tyler Angle in the leads.  “The estancia (ranch) is run by a strong country girl and she’s not interested in his city ways. He wins her over by wrangling a wild horse and they fall in love.”

“Estancia” premiered on May 29 in New York as part of the company’s spring season, which carried the title “Architecture of Dance.”  Another recently premiered ballet, Alexei Ratmansky’s “Namouna” completes the Saturday night program.

City Ballet’s architecture theme honors the 50th anniversary of Lincoln Center as well as the recent renovation of the David H. Koch Theatre (formerly the New York State Theatre).  Company director Peter Martins brought in the celebrity architect Santiago Calatrava to design sets for a batch of new ballets.

The Spanish-born Calatrava is known for soaring steel structures and Wheeldon probably had those in mind when he originally chose music by Stravinsky for his new piece.  But Calatrava’s final contribution is actually a naturalistic painted backdrop.

“I could tell he wasn’t comfortable with the Stravinsky when I played it for him,” recalls Wheeldon of their first meeting.  Soon after, Wheeldon headed in a new direction with music by the late Argentinean composer Alberto Ginastera.  In a happy coincidence, the 1941 ballet score, titled “Estancia,” was written for George Balanchine, who never got around to choreographing it.

“When I came back and played the Ginastera, there was more of a spark in Calatrava’s eye,” says Wheeldon.  “We talked about his paintings and thought it could be interesting to show another aspect of his art.”

“Estancia” marks Wheeldon’s return to City Ballet, just two years after he left a plum position as its resident choreographer.  During his tenure, he created the effervescent hits “Carnival of the Animals” and “An American in Paris,” as well as more moody choreographic explorations like “After the Rain” which will be revived next Thursday night at SPAC.

Wheeldon departed from City Ballet to found and run his own ballet, “Morphoses/The Wheeldon Company,” which drew on dancers from City Ballet and other troupes to perform short seasons in New York, London, and Vail. But in February of this year, Wheeldon resigned from his own company, citing difficulties with the management, which plans to continue operating without him or his name.

“It was sad that it came to an end but it was a rich experience,” he says. “I learned an incredible amount about managing dancers and the commitment involved in running an arts organization.”

As for returning to City Ballet, Wheeldon says, “I was kind of nervous to be back but it was actually one of the easiest choreographic experiences I’ve had.”

Wheeldon’s history with City Ballet began in 1993 when he joined the corps de ballet at age 19. He was promoted to the rank of soloist five years later and retired as a dancer in 2000 to focus exclusively on choreography.

Now, without any administrative burdens, he’s back to just being a choreographer and some prestigious commissions are ahead.  Coming up are new versions of “Sleeping Beauty” for the Royal Danish Ballet in Copenhagen and “Alice in Wonderland” for the Royal Ballet in London.  Future works for City Ballet are also being discussed, though Wheeldon won’t have any official capacity with the company.

“Sometimes City Ballet’s schedule felt hectic,” says Wheeldon. “But it’s very much about making the work. There’s the studio and you have 30 to 35 dancers just waiting for you. It will always be home for me.”

Originally appeared in the Times Union.

The contemporary performing arts in New York have no better friend than GWEN DEELY.

A former staff member of the music publisher C.F. Peters and also Composers Recordings, Inc., Gwen wrote her masters thesis at Hunter College on John Cage.  For 22 years she coordinated an annual New Year’s Eve marathon reading of Gertrude Stein’s massive novel “The Making of Americans” at the Paula Cooper Gallery.  She also founded the annual John Cage Birthday Tribute, which has been going for 17 years now.  Gwen is in her fifth year as a member of the Stonewall Chorale and also currently sings with the Dessoff Symphonic Choir and at St. Joseph’s Church.

So for the rest of this post, I turn it over to Gwen and Her Big Gay Ears (and eyes, as well, since most of the photos are her own)…

WHAT BETTER PLACE ON EARTH to go to concerts than New York City? None, I say! Since I don’t particularly like my job, I spend much of my days planning my nights — at concerts!

Here are some 2009 highlights, great and small:

THE YEAR STARTED with Robert Ashely’s trilogy of operas at La Mama, an exquisitely intimate environment for his “Dust,” “Celestial Excursions,” and “Made Out of Concrete.” Done with minimal sets and maximum musical talent — Sam Ashley (Robert’s son), Robert Ashley, Thomas Buckner, Jacqueline Humbert, and Joan La Barbara, with Blue Gene Tyranny on keyboards in Dust. The operas evoke Gertrude Stein in rhythmic repetitions with mesmerizing layering of voices and the ensemble often swirling around the ruminating voice of the narrator. The audience itself was filled with luminaries, and it was a terrific start to the New Year.   (Steve Smith’s review for the Times: “Layered Dialogues on Effects of Old Age”)

IN FEBRUARY, pianist Nurit Tilles performed at Tenri, an art gallery friendly to musicians, with flutist Don Hulbert and cellist Arthur Fiacco. Their program included two songs related to animals, the quirky “Secret Life of Fish” by Gerald Busby and the equally quirky “(Unlikely) Aspirations” for flute and imaginary creatures by Kirk Nurock (who has also written pieces like Sonata for Piano and Dog). But the tour de force performance of the evening came in Alexandre Tansman’s Sonata No. 2 for piano, a knockout piece requiring exceptional musical chops of which Nurit has plenty! The audience literally gasped throughout at her technical wizardry.

IN MARCH, Meredith Monk’s “Ascension Variations” was performed at the Guggenheim Museum. I had the enormous good fortune to be part of it all because the Stonewall Chorale (the nation’s first gay and lesbian chorus) was invited to be part of the chorus (we have performed with Monk several times). The piece was performed twice in one day and we had several rehearsals at the Guggenheim when it was closed. (Night at the Museum-esque! It was rather surreal.) Monk referred to it as her “Ben Hur experience” since there were 120 participants including chorus, instrumentalists, dancers, a string quartet, performance artists, and her own ensemble.  Here she is with the Stonewall:

The experience defies description.  Working with Monk is exhilarating and life altering. She is as vibrant and creative as ever. It was rough rehearsing in the museum as we were all spread out through the spiral levels, but it came together without a hitch and was a glorious event for both audience and participants. (Gia Kourlas’ review for the Times: “Guggenheim Spirals, in Sound and Motion” And for photos, go to Flickr.)

APRIL WAS A STELLAR MONTH for events with BAM a beehive of activity for “Merce Cunningham at 90.”  Forever young, Merce invited Sonic Youth and John Paul Jones to join him (he performed with music of Radiohead and Sigur Ros a few years ago). There was a gigantic pod-like structure on the stage for the musicians, which seemed to dwarf all else, but it was an amazing experience nonetheless. Merce took bows in his black velvet jacket from a wheelchair. (Review and great photos at Brooklyn Vegan.)

Also at BAM was Jonathan Miller’s unorthodox stage production of Bach’s St. Matthew Passion, sung in English (Robert Shaw’s eminently singable translation) with the finest freelance choral singers in the city who were dressed in casual clothes with the 2 choirs facing each other.  The listener is drawn into the drama of 2000 years ago as though it were taking place for the first time in front of their eyes.

AND AT CARNEGIE HALL in April, Terry Riley’s “In C” was performed for its 45th anniversary.  I had a bird’s eye view from a box seat. Let me tell you, there were a lot of leftover hippie men (bald with ponytails!) in the audience and on the stage. The highlight for me was watching the luminaries perform. Having been specially gathered by the Kronos Quartet in honor of the 45th Anniversary of the piece, they included Philip Glass, Jon Gibson, Terry Riley, Lenny Pickett, Stuart Dempster, and Wu Man, among many, many others. The main keyboardist, Katrina Krimsky, was decked out in her notorious long black gloves, and was the original pianist in 1964. She didn’t miss a beat, which is not easy to sustain for 94 minutes straight.  (Steve Smith’s review: “Complex Patterns Within a Simple Key”)

I HAD THE PRIVILEGE in June of singing in Mahler’s Eighth Symphony with the New York Philharmonic as a member of the Dessoff Symphonic Choir.  It was Lorin Maazel’s last concert as the orchestra’s conductor. There were many tedious rehearsals leading up to it; James Bagwell is a demanding and exacting rehearsal conductor, but also one I respect tremendously. The work is actually so demanding that during one rehearsal he strained his arm so much that he had to use ice and a bandages for a few weeks afterwards. Yet that is how strenuously we all worked. The dress rehearsals were quite amazing (the stage was extended, it is after all the “symphony of a thousand”) and witnessing Maazel’s last rehearsal and last concert was historic. A conductor of great technical expertise and calm demeanor, we had only to watch the tip of his baton and all was revealed. Though we sang the symphony four times, I never tired of it.  Here’s a photo from one of the rehearsals:

THE GREAT MERCE CUNNINGHAM passed away on July 26. The week after that, the MCDC performed two free concerts in the River to River festival. Hundreds of people (many of them alumni of the dance company) flocked to witness what was an extremely emotional event. There were two platforms for the dancers, but if you sat in the right spot you could see both platforms at once (like his recent events at DIA Beacon). The dancers themselves were obviously shaken but resolved to perform. In the middle of the site-specific event, they performed 4’33” in honor both John Cage and Merce Cunningham. It was a stunning and emotional tribute.

IN AUGUST, Rhys Chatham’s “Crimson Grail” was finally performed in a free concert in Lincoln Center’s Damrosch Park.  (Last year it was canceled due to torrential rains, when I alone sat in the downpour and waited and waited but to no avail.) The work is massive — scored for 200 guitars plus one high-hat, which kept everyone locked on the same rhythmic strums. There were also four conductors placed strategically throughout the vast space. The audience (it was) was maxed out and overflowed into the streets. It was visually as well as aurally spectacular because the stage was swathed in pink (ie crimson) lighting. It was a quintessential New York City event.  (Review and photos at the Brooklyn Vegan.)

ON JOHN CAGE’S BIRTHDAY (September 5) the 17th annual John Cage Birthday Tribute took place at St. Mark’s Church, in association with the Danspace Project. This year was elegantly simple: guitarist Kevin Hufnagel performed an improvisational piece for prepared guitar, Nurit Tilles performed the legendary 4’33,” and then David Vaughan (Merce Cunningham’s archivist) gave an eloquent introduction to the evening’s full length film “Cage/Cunningham” by Elliot Caplan.  The heat and humidity did not prevent the space from being filled to capacity, with people waiting outside for the opportunity to get in if anyone left. It was a fitting celebration in honor of two legends who spanned two centuries.  Here’s a video of Kevin’s performance.

GOD BLESS BETTY. They’ve been around over 20 years performing an idiosyncratic fusion of rock, jazz, and blues and are still going strong in spite of some members’ health setbacks. I saw them once again on September 24 at the Highline Ballroom. Gloria Steinem (braless!) was on hand to introduce them and Lesley Gore made a brief guest appearance singing the theme from the “L Word.” It was an absolute hoot. The highlight of the evening, however, was the encore where they invited an older woman from the audience onto the stage while they sang the Beatles tune “I Wanna Be Your Man.” I almost died laughing, enjoying it so much.

WE ROSE AGAIN IN OCTOBER as Meredith Monk’s “Songs of Ascension” had another performance, this time at BAM. The space was very different and it required a different mindset from the Guggenheim performance, but was equally as transformative. Video projections by Ann Hamilton enveloped the audience as well as the contemplative sounds of the percussion, Todd Renolds’s String Quartet, and the Monk Ensemble. (Allan Kozinn’s Times review: “Bending Melodies on the Way to an Otherworldly Quest”)

DURING NOVEMBER Bang on a Can’s co-founder Julia Woolf celebrated her CD new “Dark New Ride” in a unique way: working her way from downtown to uptown, playing selected pieces from the CD in different venues — for free and all on the same day. I was able to get to the last stop, Faust Harrison Pianos on West 57 Street, for her piece for six pianos, based on a tiny piano riff from the opening bars of Aretha Franklin’s classic hit, Think. It was an intensely physical performance with its relentless driving rhythms of rock. The piece was over 20 minutes long, the audience was ecstatic.

Also last month, Bora Yoon gave a phenomenal concert at the historic Church of the Ascension with New York Polyphony. Tracing the transcendental properties of sound from early music to today’s experimental new music, Bora uses a huge battery of instruments:  vox aeterna, shruti box, mutant horned, Stroh violin from the turn of the century, organ, carillon church bells, lyrical voices, sonic sundries, and all of music between. If you’ve never heard her, run do not walk  to anything she does.  (Here’s a review by Harry Rolnick from ConcertNet)

AND FINALLY there was Phil Kline’s reinvention of holiday ritual, “Unsilent Night.”  As is tradition, we met at the arch at Washington Square Park, boom boxes and iPods in hand. But this year we were delayed because Phil left his daughter’s stroller somewhere by mistake and had to find it.  Once things got going, the magic was everywhere. Phil’s been doing this event since 1992 and this year we even had a police escort.  Here’s a good video montage of the experience from YouTube:

The crowd was quite big, and we wended our way through Washington Square Park, eastward down 8th Street, and into Tompkins Square Park. The best way to describe the event, which anyone can join, is that the crowd becomes a walking sonic sculpture with cascading shimmering bell-like effects plus a hint of cantus firmus. And, I admit, I like my cantus firm!

Happy New Year everybody!!!

There’s nothing quiet as inspired as “The Messiah,” at least the Christmas section, but performances of the full oratorio can be a slog, even if the choir is up to snuff.  ”The Nutcracker” is something else all together.

My partner Richard and I have made a tradition of attending “The Nutcracker” every year, always with the same company, Northeast Ballet. It puts us in the holiday spirit, gets us around families and kids a bit, and also supports the local dance scene when they pull out all the stops.

This past Sunday’s matinee felt a little early, but we’re friends with director Darlene Myers and wouldn’t think of skipping a year.  The handsome restored Proctor’s Theatre in Schenectady is running “Wicked” for pretty much all of December so I guess that’s why the Sugar Plumbs were trotted out before the calendar even said December.

Even though the music is recorded, Tchaikovsky’s score always works beautifully and staying with the same company year after year means we see how the choreographer changes and adapts various sections, sometimes subtly, sometimes dramatically.  Last year Christian Donnelly started stealing lots of attention during the party scene as a drunken butler. This year there were two couples in “Chinese” (maybe Myers needed to spots to show off more talent, which is encouraging) and the scantly clad couple in “Arabian” were sultry and terrific, with amazing rather acrobatic extension from Samantha Barczak.

Just as a family decorates its home in certain ways every season but also occasionally adds new items, we’ve become accustomed to the sets and costumes of “The Nutcracker” but notice when certain aspects sometimes get gussied up.  A couple of years ago a new candy colored backdrop was added for act two.

Northeast Ballet also always has a pas de deux performed by principals of New York City Ballet. The dancers are familiar presences in our region due to City Ballet’s annual residencies at the Saratoga Performing Arts Center, but it’s still a treat to see them in a different setting.  This year it was Jenifer Ringer and Jared Angle who looked great, as expected.  (I’ve had my concerns about Angle’s partnering abilities, but he was in good form, tight and supportive with Ringer.)

Perhaps my favorite thing about attending Northeast’s “Nutcracker” annually for five or so year now is seeing the dancers grow — literally.  There’s one mop-headed brunette boy in the company who seems to have shot up a good six-inches since last year.  He’s obviously a born showman and committed to the study of dance so one of these Christmases he’ll probably be dancing with “the men” and not just among the tykes in the party scene. That will probably make me feel old, having witnessed him come up. But isn’t that part of what the makes the holiday season?

Gossip of the music world and the state of opera was the main topic over dinner. At one point, Mike hit a familiar refrain, saying something like, “What’s happened to opera, anyway? Such strange things going on in the staging and the requirement that men remove their shirts. When did it become a visual art and stop being an aural one?”

I was too respectful of my former professor to engage, but I chuckled inside since after dinner I would be headed to the Metropolitan Opera for a performance of Berlioz’s “Damnation of Faust.” And I hadn’t a clue who was going to be singing. I was going in order to see the incredible staging by Robert Lepage, which blew me away last season when I caught it at the movies.

“Faust” was even better in person.  I missed some of the close-ups — like the evil grin of Mephistopheles and, yes, the hunky male acrobats without shirts — but the grand scope and over-arching ideas of the staging became more clear and rewarding from a seat in the mid-orchestra, instead of at my local multiplex.

For the record, though, the musical performances were good to great. Tenor Ramon Vargas conveyed well Faust’s progression — first an old man, then a young man again, eager and seeking, in love and ardor, and finally caught in hopeless desperation.  I would have liked a bit more sinister bite and general physicality from baritone Ildar Abdrazakov as Mephistopheles. As for soprano Olga Borodina as Marguerite, well, she just didn’t compare with the sumptuous Susan Graham from last year.  Throughout the night, James Conlon had that terrific orchestra and amazing chorus well in hand and kept everything moving with gusto.

Now, on to Lepage’s work.

In “Faust,” he creates a visual language that brings out the libretto’s emphasis on above and below, heaven and hell, and the purgatory of the earthly plane.  (Do you see love’s star in the vault of heaven?)

The stage is a giant grid that can become separate compartments or one giant screen for projections of live and interactive video. Think of the set for the Hollywood Squares and add little window shades on the front and back of each square.

Near the beginning, flocks of dark birds circle and swarm.  Perhaps they’re an omen but they also function to, in effect, wipe the whole slate clean.  There won’t be many circles or spirals thereafter. Everything is rigid right angles.

Soon we’re in a church and stained glass windows are projected from bottom to top.  Then we get our first glimpse of those acrobats.  First one comes out, wearing a loincloth, and climbs onto the intersection of steel posts and takes the pose of Christ on the cross — the cross, the axis mundi of spiritual salvation. But soon, four more Christs come out and, eh gad, we have five crucifixes.

For all the Christian associations of “Faust,” there’s a nice pagan emphasis on the elements of life — earth, air, fire, water — in both the libretto and this cinematic staging. (Spirits of earth and air stir your dreams.)

A greenish water that fills the screens as Mephistopheles takes Faust away in a rowboat. Figures dive into the water and, through the magic of technology, we see them become amorphous blobs floating in the liquidy projections, like sprites, perhaps, or fetus, ready for reincarnation.

Near the beginning of Part III, the set is a huge blue and white country manor and the shadow of a tree can easily be seen against it. And the tree sways in the wind. When have we ever seen (not heard) wind (air) in the theatre? Of course, we’ve all felt it when a hall is drafty and chilly as it was at the Met that night (though presumably that wasn’t part of Lepage’s doing).

Twice the male acrobats seem to turn the axis on its side and move across the surface of the set as if it were a floor.  In Part II they are soldiers marching up and down the stage, and the live video makes the green grass of the earth move buoyantly under their feet.

Then, after intermission, when the female dancers are gallivanting around in the manor house, the men return as some kind of red serpents or gargoyles.  Suspended from above, they seduce and violate the women, like in a mid-air 69-position. It’s not particularly violent, but it is certainly a forced, physical coupling of above and below.

When Faust and Marguerite finally are alone for a love duet, Lepage places them some distance apart singing straight out to the audience. Yet at the same time, he brings out pairs of dancers within each cubicle of the set and they unite in a gentle love-making dance. Behind each of them, a golden flower blooms. (What pleasure calls you into this peacock’s room?) It seems to say that in the union of sex, all barriers and grids are blown away by a radiant unfolding circle of beauty.

During Marguerite’s aria in Part III, fires flicker at all levels of the stage, and her face is broadcast huge onto the screen, itself partially in flames. (Love’s searing flame now consumes each day.)  We know she’s in love but it’s hard to tell if it’s her assumption or her immolation.

In the penultimate scene, when Faust and Mephistopheles are racing to the gates of hell on horseback, the male acrobats are suspended in profile in front of images of galloping horses.  Finally on the right side of the stage, Faust drops off his horse and falls down, down, down. And the male chorus (shirts off) is seen in red light at the bottom of the stage. Devils welcome their newest prize.

Finally, there is there is Marguerite’s journey up to the blue clouds of heaven.  No great technological magic here, only another ladder, which has been a reoccurring image throughout the night.  And rather than resorting to a dancer taking her place, the star soprano herself (with a tether on her back) climbs some 40 or 50 feet into the fly space above the Met’s enormous stage. Angels sing to welcome her.

I caught a screening of “Wild Combination” on November 11 as part of the quirky little iEAR series at RPI, here in Troy. The filmmaker Matt Wolf was on hand and took a few questions.  During his final comments he revealed that he’s currently making a documentary about Jerome Robbins who he’s not liking (news flash: nobody did). But Wolf says that he probably would have liked Arthur Russell, even if they might not have been close friends.  Based on Wolf’s beautiful film, I feel much the same way and am also reminded of how tricky it is be very friendly with an artist when you don’t grove to his work.

Russell died of AIDS in 1992 at age 40.  As with so many other gay men of his generation who passed on way before their time, it’s hard to know what more he might have accomplished and whether he’d ultimately find a mature musical voice. Judging from this distant vantage point, Russell’s challenge was to bring together his disparate interests in folk music, the avant garde and disco.

Wolf’s film is a loving tribute that made me root for Arthur and be touched by the tragedy of his life and the still palpable grief of those loved ones left behind, namely his parents and his partner Tom Lee.  It’s based primarily on archival footage and Wolf said that every scrap of film that exists of Russell is in the movie. Admirable work, for sure.  We see Russell singing as he plays cello, also playing guitar and generally hanging out at venues like The Kitchen and Experimental Intermedia.  There’s footage of Ginsberg speaking at Russell’s memorial, and the dozen or so talking heads who were interviewed include Philip Glass. There’s also plenty of colorful original footage and enough keen editing to show the hand of a smart and promising filmmaker.

What’s not present is much of an understanding of the gay experience. The memories of Arthur’s slightly trouble childhood in Iowa — being too smart, picked on at school, etc. — are set up to suggest the youthful presence of a great artistic persona. But what it really sounded like was just another fag child suffering on the playground.  Painful but very familiar.  Wolf also includes two comments from interviewees that simply aren’t believable.  There’s Arthur’s mother saying she did a double take when she heard, second hand, that her son was gay. As if every mother doesn’t always have more than an inkling.  And then Arthur’s companion tells of how he spotted (cruised) Arthur three times in the East Village before finally approaching him. But then he adds something like, “whether or not we might both be gay never crossed my mind.” Hello?  You were chasing him around your neighborhood hoping for what? An evening of watching the Yankees.

Anyway.

After setting up his subject as a mighty innovator and iconoclast for the first two-thirds or so of the 71 minute film, Wolf does let his interviewees talk about Russell’s difficult personality (he could lead a band, but not be a member of one) and his jealousy and paranoia (at one point he was convinced the Rolling Stones were stealing his ideas).  Besides the friendship with Glass and Ginsberg (who admits to a crush), there’s documentation of two brief collaborations of interest:  he played with the Talking Heads a few times and he wrote music for a Robert Wilson creation, “Medea,” though Wilson pulled Russell’s music after only one performance.

“Wild Combination” (the title comes from a Russell song, by the way) also puts forth the facts of Russell’s death from AIDS with admirable clarity and matter of factness. I liked how one friend said that Arthur was always rather spacey and dissasociative and that AIDS ultimately made him more so.  And my eyes got moist when Russell’s dad recalls a brief final conversation with his son in the hospital (“You’re a good sport.” “Really?” “Yeah, really.”)

The recent revival  – or new but long overdue? –  in Russell’s music serves as a kind of coda to the film. This section runs a little long, but is still heartening.  Russell was a finicky dabbler and made numerous takes, edits and mixes of his music, so there’s thousands of tapes that might be fodder for still more releases to come.

Hearing his mumbly but soulful voice, jumping between registers and heavily laden with echo, I thought of Antony and the Johnsons.  Bridging avant garde and disco, or serious and pop (or whatever the latest terms are) is a never ending effort and apparently younger generations are seeing something prophetic in Arthur Russell.  If not for AIDS, he might have been right there with them.

ANNANDALE-ON-HUDSON — The Montagues and Capulets are at it again with their legendary feud played out through music and dance. But in the new production by the Mark Morris Dance Group, Friar Laurence arrives in time to tell stricken Romeo that fair Juliet is alive. She awakes and they flee. Hearing the news, the families kiss and make up.

The twists in “Romeo & Juliet, On Motifs of Shakespeare,” which opened Friday night at Bard College, actually come directly from composer Sergey Prokofiev and his dramaturge Sergey Radlove.

Scholar Simon Morrison uncovered their original version a few years ago and this was its world premiere. The fourth act, about 20 minutes in length, features music never previously performed. There were also subtle changes in the rest of the popular score, including a leaner orchestration
and resequencing of some sections.

The finale was the best part of the evening and not just for its novelty. After three hours of action before a monotonous wooden box set, the star-crossed lovers escape to an iridescent blue stage.

Their duet is the most lyrical and unaffected dancing of a long evening overstuffed with pantomime.

Joined in a final, endless revolving, the couple seems to float into the heavens as the lights darken and the curtain falls. A welcome apotheosis for a pair that has died too many times.

Though Morris is known for his daring and humor, he takes a traditional, even restrained, approach to the rest of the evening. Characters arrive on cue to their musical themes, though their movements often fail to match the score’s romantic grandeur.

In Act One, for example, Juliet leaps on stage in a white slip dress, but as her hyperkinetic music plows ahead she stands nearly stock still beside her nurse. When a buoyant theme announces the arrival of Romeo and his compatriots at the ball, they slink around the back of the stage.

As Shakespeare’s story progresses, the performances grow broader. David Levinthal was a skinny and confused, but ultimately daring, Romeo. Rita Donahue’s Juliet was more mature and restrained until she lingered, painfully, over that sleeping potion. Company veteran Lauren Grant was a special delight as a very empowered nurse.

High production standards continue at Bard in every realm but one: the American Symphony Orchestra and conductor Leon Botstein. The poor quality of their performance evoked cringes of disbelief.

From the Times Union.

Being a good boy hasn’t been a priority for sometime now, but Daniels, 54, still seems haunted by youth.  How else to explain his fascination with Apollo, the eternally young god of art and creativity?

For “Telling Tales,” his program of dances for the Dancespace Project at St. Mark’s Church in Manhattan’s East Village, which runs Sept. 29-Oct 2, Daniels boldly decided to create a new modern dance to Stravinsky’s “Apollo.” The orchestral piece was originally written for ballet giant George Balanchine.

“I’ve always had an odd response to Balanchine’s work,” says Daniels. “I’m trying to express what was missing for me (in his Apollo).”

Daniels’ “Apollo” will be accompanied by a little known piano version of Stravinsky score. At the keyboard will be lesbian composer/pianist Nurit Tilles, who also contributed an original rag-time piece for the evening’s other work “Telling Tales.” Other music on the evening is by gay composer Gerald Busby.

“Dance is how I express my experience of living through HIV,” says Daniels, who estimates he’s been positive since at least the early 1980s. “My Apollo is about creativity coming later in life… I think that’s my story.”

(A version of this story appeared in The Advocate.)

Jock Soto was a mere 16 years old in 1981 when Peter Martins, director of the New York City Ballet, plucked him out of the company’s school. Just four years later Soto was promoted to the troupe’s top tier of dancers.

“At that time I was the youngest principal. I was in shock. It was hard to live up to,” says the openly gay Soto, who is half Navajo Indian and half Puerto Rican. “But I never call myself a star, I’m just a dancer.”

After a career that’s included more than 100 new ballets made specifically on him, Soto retires this month at age 40. His final performance, June 19 at Lincoln Center’s New York State Theatre, sold out almost two months in advance.

On stage virtually the entire night, Soto will dance an unprecedented line-up of five ballets including classic pieces by George Balanchine and Jerome Robbins.  “I’ve never done five ballets in a row,” says Soto, his handsome face filling with a mix of fear and excitement. “I may have to have a wheelchair at the side of the stage.”

Soto’s resilient body has already born the brunt of his long career, and he speaks of his injuries like a jock.

“The cartilage in this knee is deteriorating. I’ve had many back problems, I have neck problems, I tore a ligament in my wrist… it’s nonstop,” says Soto, who’s regular support team includes a chiropractor, a physical therapist, a trainer and an acupuncturist. “I think I’ve been lucky – I’ve never broken anything,” he adds.

Soto will be missed by more than just his many fans. He’s known as a consummate partner to ballerinas.

“There’s a certain trust level with Jock,” says City Ballet star Wendy Whalen. “He’s incredibly sensitive but he’s got brute strength.”

Male dancers count on him as well. “Jock always knows his stuff,” says fellow principal dancer Nikolaj Hubbe, who is also gay. “In hard ballets with counts and millions of steps, there was always Jock… He’s a leader on stage.”

Soto is quick to dispel the myth that all ballet dancers are gay, estimating that at City Ballet there’s a 50/50 gay/straight mix among the men. Whatever the persuasion of his colleagues, Soto helps keep the atmosphere in the rehearsal studios and dressing rooms friendly, even playful.  “Straight guys always like to joke and flirt with me. I’ll say ‘Oh would you come out already?’ But it’s easier for us to tease them because we can always come back with a dishy remark.”

Throughout the 1980s Soto was a regularly performer at AIDS benefits, but remarkably he never came out in the gay press. He claims that he simply wansn’t asked, and adds, “I think everybody just knew.”

Since 1996, Soto has been on the faculty of the School of American Ballet and he plans to continue. “Teaching comes so naturally to me.” But he’s setting his sights on the food business, a passion that’s fed by his boyfriend, Luis Fuentes, 30, a wine importer. They met two years ago at Park, a Manhattan club.

“I was single and hanging out. I saw this man wearing a suit and tie… went up and said ‘What’s with the tie?’ ” A few nights later, after attending a ballet performance for the first time, Luis took Jock out for a late supper that included some fine red wine. Only later did Soto learn that is cost $300 a bottle.

“I can say that I drink very very good wines from then on,” says Soto, who likes to stay home on the nights he’s not dancing. “We have a tiny studio and our kitchen is tiny but I’ve had 10 or 20 people for dinner.” Festive food for large groups is the theme of “Our Meals,” Soto’s 1997 cookbook. It was co-written with Heather Watts, who was his regular ballet partner throughout the 1980s.

For about a decade Soto and Watts, along with Watt’s husband Damien Woetzel, also a principal dancer with City Ballet, have shared a country house in Connecticut. “We still share a dog,” says Soto, “but I haven’t been there in a while, because I’m so busy… getting my life together to move on.”

For Soto, retirement is just the curtain going up on the next phase of his life. “I’ve never felt more secure than I do now about where I am, about leaving my life and that box of a theater and moving on. There are so many other options out there, I’m ready,” he says. “Five years from now I will hopefully have a very successful show on the Food Network – an openly gay chef that people remember sometimes used to dance.”

A version of this story originally appeared in The Advocate.