Sometimes revisiting a ballet is like greeting an old friend and then finding yourself very reluctant to say goodbye again. These past two weekends at Pacific Northwest Ballet have truly made me wish that one could roll up a moment and keep it safe in a glass bottle. I feel that way about most ballet performances, for as Justin Peck recently said in a video for New York City Ballet:
“There’s something so magical about seeing a dance performed live. The fact that it disappears, it’s gone, slips through your fingers, and you’ll never experience it quite that way again…It is so fleeting, which is heartbreaking in its own right, but it’s also what we love about it.”
If you were to sit in McCaw Hall before the curtain rises, and listened to those around you, and later, after the curtain descended, heard their changed voices and inspired visions, you might feel the precious nature of these fleeting moments. I know I certainly do. That’s how I ended up at four performances of this rep, because I couldn’t help but think about the magic that only flits before you once and will never be the same again.
The Veil Between Worlds is a freshly woven masterpiece each time it lands before my eyes. There are still so many moments when I am watching dance and think: how is this making me feel something? How can the movement of another body make me feel all the particular joys and aches of life within my own? It’s really all a wonder, and in The Veil Between Worlds, I re-experience that wonder each and every time.
The first gentle notes of Oliver Davis’ compelling score hold such promise of the bright beauty that is coming, as a billowing veil of vermillion unfolds across the stage, rippling and curling upon itself like a silken wave. In an instant, the rest of the world is forgotten, brushed away by the vibrant optimism that bursts forth from the wings. The beauty about this piece, and of the dancers who bring it to life, is that it always holds a spark of newly-born light in it. The dancers, especially the first cast whom I was lucky enough to see three times, dance with such enchanted thrill as though it were the first time that these steps have come together like a strand of pearls. Edward Liang has a gift for making Davis’ rhythm not only visualized, but celebrated, with each small step being worthy of a dancer's full attention and fulfilled joy.
This second weekend of shows brought Jonathan Batista back to the stage, where he rightfully found center and reminded me of his power to command the music with every muscle. His partnership with Sarah-Gabrielle Ryan is glorious in this piece, and on Saturday night they practically glowed with unrestrained zest for the gift of getting to dance together.
The Veil Between Worlds is a perfectly dynamic mix of breathtaking sections which slow the hands of time, and joyous, life-filled sections that burst with personality and zealous energy. Angelica Generosa was such a delight to watch in the later. Like a little witty rabbit, she arrived ready to attack the stage with precision, and overflowed with sprite. She dances with the joy of someone who’s just discovered that she can dance like that, and catches the audience's eye again and again with a gleam which seems to say “look!”.
Perhaps there is no word more fitting for the second pas de deux than divine. I will never tire of trying to find words to properly capture it, although I’ve discovered that no words could possibly ever be sufficient. I believe I could write an entire essay on these five minutes of pure medicine-for-the-soul, and yet it still wouldn’t scrape the surface. Davis has composed a score so rich with wonder, so full of indelible beauty, and expressions of things that simply can’t be said with words, that I wish it were a dream which would never end. The dancers melt into it, but so does the audience, entranced by the spell that it casts from its very first breath.
On Saturday night, I got to hear somebody’s first reaction to it, which was such a gift of a moment to experience. About half a minute into the pas de deux, a man in the row behind me very loudly whispered, “how are they so good?” and seconds later, “I mean, sh*t!”. I smiled through tears at the innocence of not knowing what Elle Macy and Dylan Wald are capable of. Both Macy and Wald spin this duet with intention flooding through every fingertip, and with a wisdom which shines through beautifully in Liang’s brilliant choreography. There’s a kind of Swan Lake-esque ache in it, especially in those bourrées at the beginning which are often enough to blur the stage for me. Macy and Wald are as smooth as honey through and through; melting, molten, luminous, filled with purpose…each moment a story all their own.
While watching them on Saturday night, I once again realized what it is that makes a dancer stand out in my eyes. It is not only the fine definition of each small musical breath, or the most deliberate épaulement which seems to hold the world; it is a dancer who carries their arms like they are their most treasured possessions. Choreography can only give so much to a dancer, and watching Macy in this piece, as she brushed her arms across the sky–as if to paint it, or sweep away clouds or cobwebs–was to see a true artist at work.
Like I said, I could go on and on, but I’ll leave you with one more beautiful quote which I overheard during intermission from that same gentleman behind me: “Every time she looked upwards, she looked to the heavens.” I could not have said it better myself.
Black Wave is a piece which truly deepens with each viewing, revealing the acuity of vision and voice. Just like a poem which requires multiple reads to fully see and understand it, so does the profound nature of this piece continue to grow. Christopher D’Ariano continued to give his all to this piece throughout the run, with the level of devotion made all the more clear by the illuminated droplets of sweat which whirled from his head as though they had their own artful choreography to fulfill. D’Ariano mastered the art of communicating uneasiness in his steps, which seemed to loosen the reins of reality, like we were watching the world become warped. Similar to how Crystal Pite seems to shift the balance of the world near the beginning of The Seasons’ Canon, Lang’s depiction of physically-manifested malaise is eerie, and simultaneously perfect.
On Friday night, the audience became so entranced by the sight before them, that for a moment, we forgot that applause is what should follow when the lights fall. Only after a breathless moment, and a breaking of a particularly strong spell, did applause ring out through the theater. That’s the power of this piece, I believe, to make you forget that you are watching a ballet at all.
I was lucky enough to catch all three casts of The Times Are Racing, and full-heartedly relished seeing how each respective cast made these roles their own. Madison Rayn Abeo, Melisa Guilliams, Juliet Prine, and Price Suddarth wove such delicate grace into each step of their pas de quatre, reminding us of all of the tales they’ve spun in other shoes, and of the timeless beauty that ballet dancers bring into any style of dance.
In the pas de deux on Friday night, Luther DeMyer and Elle Macy were a soaring rapture to behold. Their little added details of delight managed to make the pas all the more beautiful, and so perfectly theirs. One of these sparkling little details: in the first sequence, Macy found the audience again and again (even at the fastest tempo) to let a diamond catch the light with each quick-as-a wink turn. We all could have stayed in that time loop for the rest of the night and never have tired of this thrilling little pattern. It was one long-limbed, expansive dream of a duet, and over far, far too soon. Such lush energy flitted between the two, and the way that they reached towards each other seemed to sing with one recurring thought: “how lucky are we to dance tonight?” That brilliant attitude bled into the rest of the cast, and far out into the audience too, creating a night which truly felt singularly precious and meaningful. Thank you will never be enough.
The Times Are Racing streams October 3-7, and is available as part of a full season digital subscription. I promise you, you won’t regret it.
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