New York City Ballet’s Balanchine and Ratmansky program shows a company who deeply knows their own strengths and treasures their founding history. Consisting of three works by George Balanchine, and one Alexei Ratmansky classic, it highlights two choreographers who have had an unmeasurable effect on not only NYCB, but on the world of dance at large. This program sparkles with the unique genius of Balanchine, and additionally, what those who came after were, and continue to be able to gleam from his work.
From the first glimpse of blue-blushed light falling ethereally upon the stage, Mozartiana puts Balanchine’s virtuosity on full display. It opens as a breathless prayer, beauty at its most pure essence. Suzanne Farrell, for whom the work was created, wrote in her memoir: “It was a hymn shared by George and me, an offering that could happen only in movement and music, not in words.” That sacred quality is undeniably palpable. It reminds me of another one of Balanchine’s breathtaking works, the Act Two Divertissement Pas de Deux of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, which always seems to steal the air from the theater. On Tuesday evening, as the curtain rose on Mozartiana, it felt as though no one dared to breathe, lest we should cause a wisp of wind to disturb the heavenly sight before our eyes.
Mira Nadon debuted in the lead role on Tuesday night, but you never would have guessed that it was a debut, for it was flooded with a deep, intrinsic knowledge flowing through every perfectly placed finger tip. Like a willi at twilight, Nadon rose and moved as if lifted by invisible wings. She dances as though her arms were writing a poem of their own, with her elbows pulled by heavenly strings. There is a quality to the port de bra which mirrors Coppélia’s prayer variation, the way Nadon pushes her arms away from her center as if sending a whisper of good will out into the world. Like a spider, she wove her glistening web with care, and what an intoxicatingly exquisite web it was.
Mozartiana is witty, and elegant, divine in its execution and sense of wonder. The dancers don’t just let us see the music, they become its every note, illustrating its delicate voice and tender-hearted soul. This piece is full to the brim with surprises, little flashes of unexpected delights which were such a joy to witness. It’s almost as though you can still hear Balanchine finding the thrill in such lovely details which the audience never could have imagined.
Balanchine’s devotion to the continuous development of the next generation of dancers is evident to see in ballets like A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Coppélia, and The Nutcracker, but in Mozartiana, the role of the children feels much more serious. He always believed so fully in a child’s ability to dance as an equal beside company dancers, and it is beautiful to see these students move so precisely through the detailed choreography. What a gift it is for these children to be seen as so capable and to be so strong in their technique and artistry at such a young age.
There is an element of fairytale magic woven into Mozartiana, a vision of something that may only occur in daydreams. Although it seems uncharacteristic of Balanchine, in this work it feels as though he lets himself sink into the picturesque, almost Disney-like music that is sparked by the principal dancer taking her partner's hand. It sounds as if the little glass bells of heaven are ringing with delight at the sight. Mozartiana is poetry through and through, a masterpiece, an exquisite work which lets us see the mind of an incomprehensibly brilliant choreographer.
Momentum pro Gesualdo and Movements for Piano and Orchestra are a pair of ballets which certainly belong together. Although these pieces have traditionally been danced by the same cast, it was refreshing to see two casts dance these works as though they were indeed two separate pieces; siblings instead of twins. They strengthen each other, they complement and contradict, carve the image of the other sharper.
Balanchine’s 1960 Momemtum pro Gesualdo feels experimental, yet still stately in the dancer’s upright mannerism. There was one moment that made me think of a choreographic star of today, Crystal Pite. The dancers' legs lift and lower like piano keys, losing their human form to become line and shadow, a geometric picture in motion. Momentum holds the drama of a story ballet without anything extra, and the pauses in music act like a breath between different stylized scenes. Arms become sky-reaching branches as they paint the music upon the stage in a vision of simplicity which is never simple at all.
During the intermission after Movements for Piano and Orchestra, I heard somebody exclaim “picasso!” in response to what they had just seen, and that is a perfect way to encapsulate it. This piece highlights Balanchine’s ability to make strange things look right, as if there could be no other way to move to Stravinsky’s melodies. It is sharp and angular, unpredictable, yet precise. Dominika Afanasenkov and Davide Riccardo commanded the stage with such a striking manner. Afanasenkov’s ability to find balance between tension and floppiness while appearing as weightless as a doll was an unexpected delight. This section also holds a glimmer of Coppélia, the doll-like lifelessness which Riccardo perfectly upheld.
After three ballets leaning towards the serious, Alexei Ratmansky‘s 2008 Ballet, Concerto DSCH burst upon the stage full of lively, youthful spirit. Here we see a dancemaker who isn’t afraid to have a bit of fun, to let things be looser, less earnest, while showing us the brilliance of ballet regardless. Concerto DSCH is a visually stunning kaleidoscope, bathed in the color of nineteen dancers who find every opportunity to create moments of marvel.
One of Ratmansky’s greatest gifts, which I observed when Wartime Elegy premiered at Pacific Northwest Ballet in 2022, is his ability to bring us to a thoughtful, contemplative place and then break that spell with quick footwork and delicious humor. This contrast adds so much depth to a piece, and allows for different sides of a dancer to come into the light. There is a tremendous amount of power in this piece, and the blue trio danced by Indiana Woodward, Preston Chamblee, and KJ Takahashi were bursting with an unquenchable appetite for more air and fun. Takahashi’s virtuosity shone especially bright as he darted about like a delighted bluebird, soaring with such effortless joy.
And amidst all of this unyielding good spirit, came a hushed, blessed pas de deux. Sara Mearns and Tyler Angle melted into their moonlit moment, erasing all that came before as they filled the stage with their exquisite fluidity. I didn‘t want this moment to end, but there was more joy to be had. Concerto DSCH feels newly-born, and simultaneously classic, a duality which I often experience in Balanchine works. It shows the uplifting power of dance, and the contagious energy which can brew upon a stage when such choreographic brilliance is brought to life.
Although Coppélia was a joy to witness, this program let me bask in NYCB dancers doing what they do best: bringing Balanchine and his successors’ works to life with such integrity, precision, and devotion. It‘s remarkable to see this company at work, to know that you are witnessing greatness which holds legends of all that came before tucked carefully into the folds of this historic, sparkling theater.
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