After fifty two years, Pacific Northwest Ballet has, at long last, a Sleeping Beauty that is truly all their own. The new production which premiered last weekend is a vibrant feast for the eyes which not only reflects our lush, moss-hued region, but PNB’s mission as well. On the balance point between tradition and innovation, Pacific Northwest Ballet finds their particular gift for honoring the past while continuously working to push ballet to new heights. The result is a Sleeping Beauty unlike anything the world has seen before.
Pacific Northwest Ballet’s most ambitious project yet is the product of some of the brightest minds in the industry, and the collaboration of their efforts is evident in the splendor and cohesion of their work. Paul Tazewell’s costume designs, adorned with stark patterns inspired by Tlingit formline, move with a life of their own and bring this fairytale to life in rich hues and fantastical structures. The blending of European silhouettes with a nod towards Indigenous artwork allows the costumes to combine two worlds and show the universality and timelessness of this story. From sparkling fairies, to the magnificent monarch-inspired King and Queen Papillon costumes, to the hunting party’s deep teal and vermillion curling layers of skirts and cloaks, this production is a visual marvel. When the lavish Sleeping Beauty first premiered in 1890, it was called a “triumph in the art of sewing”, and 135 years later, Pacific Northwest Ballet’s production is no different. It’s the largest production PNB has ever built, with 268 costumes for the ballet’s 184 roles, created by over one hundred artists over the course of about a year. The ingenious, detailed beauty of these costumes might be enough of a reason to go see this ballet twice or thrice.
Preston Singletary, the Seattle-based glass artist whose set designs create the world of The Sleeping Beauty, has replaced the usual pillars and grandeur suggesting a 16th century court with the beauty of the natural world. There, before the arching wings of the set’s main piece, and later, deep in the woods crowned with lichen, madrona trees, and coastal greenery, the story finds its home within a mythical Pacific Northwest. He also designed and painted the salmon-adorned canoe which brings the Lilac Fairy, Prince Desiré, and one of the Lilac Fairy’s pages to the glass-like brambled forest where Aurora slumbers. One would never know that this was his first work for the stage, for his eye for color and form is clear even on such a large scale.
Basil Twist designed the puppets which surround Carabosse with a flurry of rats, as well as the Ogre, a gentle giant who might just be the most beloved, newest Seattleite. The projection design by Wendell K. Harrington, and lighting design by PNB’s resident designer, Reed Nakayama, let us sink into a dreamy world full of timeless beauty and bring depth to the mythical and mystical scenery.
In the wrong hands, The Sleeping Beauty runs the risk of becoming a dusty fairytale set in a specific place and time, full of technically impressive spectacle that doesn’t always convey the heart of the story. What Pacific Northwest Ballet has managed to do is veer away from the tendency for The Sleeping Beauty to be a formal show of grandeur and riches, bringing instead some much needed humanity, warmth, and soul back into the tale. Any company who reenvisions The Sleeping Beauty is making a statement about their current relationship to the past and to the present of ballet, and Pacific Northwest Ballet knows exactly what role they play in the evolving history of dance. Other historically-informed productions of The Sleeping Beauty, including the Kirov Ballet in 1999, and Alexei Ratmansky’s in 2015, have succeeded in reproducing what appeared on the stage in the late 19th century, but the link to the present day was neither strengthened, nor examined. Pacific Northwest Ballet’s new production, staged by Doug Fullington, who has built an international reputation for reviving treasures of the past with incomparable insight, uses Stepanov notation to return to the roots of this ballet. But, importantly, it never claims to want to be an exact replica of the 1890 production, and this is where the freedom to create a Sleeping Beauty for the 21st century is found.
Peter Boal’s vision for a Sleeping Beauty which breathes in relation to our current world can be seen in the choice to trade the four traditionally male heirs of the Rose Adagio for three male-presenting heirs, and one female. What PNB has done so beautifully is how delicately this is presented, not as a declaration or boasting of great cultural change of this historic ballet, but as simply a mirror of our reality which exists within the world of Sleeping Beauty. By going back to the original notation, many aspects of Aurora’s character and agency which were lost during the 20th century have been restored. In this version, as in the original, she is twenty years old, not sixteen, and the king’s pronouncement that she shall choose whom to marry is echoed again and again throughout the ballet as she shapes her destiny by drawing the prince towards her, choosing him instead of the other way around.
With this production, PNB declares that classical ballet is not only alive and well, but that it shines with newfound authenticity, beauty, and respect when brought to life with such care for detail and historical insight. This is a milestone ballet for a company who never seems to tire of striving for excellence in all they do.
The Sleeping Beauty enchants from the first notes of the overture. Much like the last story ballet which PNB redesigned (The Nutcracker in 2015), The Sleeping Beauty’s overture is accompanied by an animation which invites us into the natural beauty of the Pacific Northwest, and introduces us to the forces of good and evil, represented by Eagle and Raven, who, similar to the qualities of the Lilac Fairy and Carabosse, must balance out each other in order to create harmony.
These two characters, Carabosse and Lilac Fairy, the icons of evil and goodness, are the two preeminent musical themes which occupy the ballet, and it is their curse and blessing that shape and guide Aurora’s destiny. On opening night, Dylan Wald at once declared that his interpretation of Carabosse would be one to remember. There's an unofficial list of famous Carabosses from PNB's past, and I would argue that Wald has now joined the greats that reside in such high regard. He relished each flourish, and filled each moment of commanding wickedness with perfectly-crafted intensity. His feigned politeness, musical timing, and power roaring through each fingertip made me wish that Carabosse, as well as her delightfully-wicked music, would linger just a bit longer.
The Lilac Fairy is a role which over time has become increasingly more dance-intensive, but in returning to the original notation, PNB has revived this velvety, lighter-than-air variation, as well as the pantomime which had in part washed away over the years. And thank goodness! For it is a gift to be able to see such care taken with this fundamental aspect of classical ballet. Elle Macy’s radiant Lilac Fairy is one who exudes belief in the power of goodness through every breath of grace and heavenly levity. Her lyrical pantomime blurs the line between dance and gesture, and is exemplary of how beautiful pantomime can be when it is imbued with so much purpose and intention. However fearsome Carabosse may be, in the hands of this Lilac Fairy, one need not worry, for she glows with the wisdom that all will end well.
The five additional fairies who attend Aurora’s christening are each a delight in their own right. Candide, Fleur de Farine, Breadcrumb, Canari, and Violente are incredibly distinct variations, perhaps shockingly so considering that Petipa gave the composer very little prescription for what these fairies should convey. However, Tchaikovsky was ingeniously able to show signature characteristics through stylistic consistency and conscious decisions about what the rhythm, instrumentation, and tempo should declare about each fairy’s gift. They’re not particularly showy variations compared to most 20th century renditions, but they’re brimming with personality, and are beautifully delicate in a way that fouetté turns and sky-grazing extensions will never manage to be. Tazewell’s dazzling butterfly-adorned costumes are the cherry on top that captivate the imagination and bring these fairies to life.
Aurora is a character unlike other ballet heroines, for her nature is revealed almost exclusively through her pristine and precise technique. On opening night, Angelica Generosa let each little detail shine like a diamond in the light, and brought some much needed depth to the character. From the moment she flitted down the stairs of the eagle’s wing, she brimmed with youthful eagerness, and an abundance of joy for the spring beneath each step. Her boundless energy, technical prowess, and radiating gratitude for those around her only served to make Aurora’s character and the intricate choreography shine brighter.
On Saturday night, I was lucky enough to catch Sarah-Gabrielle Ryan’s vibrant debut as Aurora, although it was hard to believe that it was indeed a debut, for her effortless portrayal of the character already seemed to be so deeply rooted within herself. Ryan always manages to bring characters to life with such thorough commitment that you do not see a dancer moving through steps, but rather the character glowing with a real sense of life and vitality. She found the capacity to make Aurora in the vision scene wildly different from Act One’s gleeful sprite, imbuing her with an aching sense of urgency as she called Prince Desiré to her. Her exuberant-til-the-end Aurora found a lovely match in the regal and serene Christopher D’Ariano, whose debut as Prince Desiré was brimming with refined artistry in every small gesture and grand affair. It takes a certain poise to be able to step on stage and immediately be recognized as a prince, and D’Ariano certainly has that quality, a maturity and purpose which shines so beautifully in this role.
The plot of The Sleeping Beauty may seem rather light compared to the tragedies and heartache that fill so many other classics, but the vision scene that Petipa chose to include brings the ballet to new heights, mirroring the haunting beauty of scenes from Swan Lake or Giselle. The vision scene also provides an opportunity to show Aurora as a character in charge of her own destiny. While the fairy tale tells of her lying comatose for one hundred years, Petipa paints her in a very different light. She’s calling to Prince Desiré, tracing patterns similar to Giselle’s flitting glimmers, as she urges him to find his way to her. The nymphs also echo this Romantic-era inspiration. Their dresses of sea-glass blues create a visual phenomenon of shifting spirits–there and not there, made of water, made of mist–and the result is absolutely brilliant. Here, both Petipa and Tchaikovsky strongly evoke the Romantic era of ballet, in every note and gesture, every formation and choice of instrumentation. Petipa’s The Sleeping Beauty brought ballet faerie up to the standards of “high art”, and the visceral beauty of this scene, already an act of nostalgia in the 1890s, is perhaps one of the reasons why. If you listen very closely, you might be able to discern that Tchaikovsky saw Carlotta Grisi as Giselle when he was a child, for the mood of that ethereal longing is so deeply woven into the vision scene’s pas de deux.
When George Balanchine was dreaming of staging his own production of The Sleeping Beauty (a dream which was never fulfilled), he planned to use projection instead of the clunky scenery that had been used in the past to create such visual splendor. Pacific Northwest Ballet proves the seamless magic of projection during the “panorama” in which the Lilac Fairy brings Prince Desiré by way of canoe to the brambled castle. All around, I heard sighs fall from lips at the vivid beauty of the scenes placed before us, crafted like a love letter to the Pacific Northwest. In our present day, these impressions of the place we call home make this fairytale feel more relevant than it ever has before. The courts of France are far out of reach, but this flowing river, and the Autumn light upon the trees belongs to us all, and that in itself is one of the choices that makes this production a necessary and irreplaceable addition to PNB’s repertory.
The wedding scene, with its fairytale guests, four lovely precious stone fairies, and another exquisitely demanding pas de deux for the lead couple, shows Petipa as a choreographer already pushing ballet towards the likes of Balanchine’s sensibilities. Each divertissement is so brilliantly formed, so distinct in tone and style, overflowing with what Roland John Wiley calls “felicitous musical delights”. The four precious stone fairies, performed on opening night by Sarah-Gabrielle Ryan, Christopher D’Ariano, Luther DeMyer, and Juliet Prine, was one of the crowning beauties of the night. It was not just their glittering costumes that sparkled, but every choreographic marvel brought to fruition with effervescent glee and precision.
Growing up, I often found the divertissement of Puss in Boots and the White Cat to be a bit off-putting with its dragged out and stylized comedy. But revived by this lively tempo, and with perfectly wonderful characterization by Madison Rayn Abeo and Price Suddarth, it was immediately an indulgence of humor and warmth that swept through the audience.
Bluebird’s majestic wings, designed ingeniously by Paul Tazewell, made me not want to blink the first time I laid eyes on them. I find again and again that the role of Bluebird is one that shows a dancer’s abilities in a remarkable way, and it’s a treat to see often overlooked members of the corps de ballet shine so brightly in this relentlessly challenging role. On Saturday night, Juliet Prine as Princess Florine and Connor Horton as Bluebird blew me away with their dazzling spirit, soaring flight, and crisp footwork. There is something so pure in the music, a true fairytale-like melody which rises from the orchestra pit to make this pas de deux a favorite from the first note.
Red Riding Hood and The Wolf are brought to life in this production with fresh appeal and beauty. Most versions of The Sleeping Beauty cast a company dancer in the role of Red Riding Hood, but alternating PNB students Yui Kohno and Paige Clark were both so detailed and charming in the sweet choreography that any other choice wouldn’t have had the same effect.
The last fairytale guests to perform are seven PNB students as Hop o’ My Thumb and his brothers, and two Professional Division students (Aki Widerquist and Lulu Manzur in all three shows I saw) who seamlessly work to bring to life the larger-than-life Ogre, who, show after show, received thundering applause simply for making his appearance onstage.
At the end of such a long, technically demanding ballet, Petipa placed a final pas de deux, which expresses, refines, and celebrates the qualities of both Aurora and Desiré. These are not empty jumps or meaningless displays of virtuosity, the trials of the story have led both characters to this point, and what arises is some particularly spectacular feats of choreography, as well as folk-like steps that bring humanity and contagious joy to close out the night. Here, Angelica Generosa and Jonathan Batista’s rock-solid partnering was on full display. Together they’ve told many tales already, and that shared history is evident in how fully and completely they trust one another. This pas de deux is filled with so many breathtaking demands, yet they nailed every single one and made it all look effortless.
While the music is of course nothing new to this production, the historically accurate tempos and musicality bring this score to life with gusto which makes Petipa’s choreography shine in a new light. Tchaikovsky’s masterful weaving of story through melody and coherence is full of orchestral color and masterful creativity. Alexandre Benois (who would later become the designer for the Ballet Russes), recalled returning to the theater again and again just to hear it once more. “The more I listened to the music, the more I seemed to discover in it greater and greater beauty– a beauty that was not universally understood, but that was absolutely in harmony with me, that aroused the sweetest languor and an almost celestial joy.” That celestial joy is a quality that lingers after one leaves the theater, a kind of much-needed nourishment that comes when art is brought to life at such a high calibre, and with the highest of intentions.
After the first weekend of performances, this production already feels like home. Within its golden beauty, it holds PNB’s identity, their striving, and their purpose. And if a full house standing ovation every night is any indication of success, I think it’s safe to say that this ballet is already an audience favorite. I myself have never loved The Sleeping Beauty as much as I do now. Bravo Pacific Northwest Ballet on this remarkable premiere, and the hundreds of hardworking hands that made it all possible!
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