I ran into a colleague at an intermission during American Ballet Theatre's first Balanchine Tribute evening, who told me he was trying his best to watch ABT's renditions of four of George Balanchine's most popular ballets (all to Tchaikovsky, no less -- one definition of heaven, in my book!) without comparing them to how they're performed at New York City Ballet. While this is a laudable goal, coming to ABT with fresh, unprejudiced eyes (it's otherwise very easy to spend a performance observing what dancers aren't doing, rather than what they are), I couldn't manage it. While dancing Balanchine's works is often called a joy by dancers, it's also very revealing, and unforgiving, of faults, and I came away with the evening appreciating two things: the comparative strength of NYCB's much-maligned corps, especially in what the same colleague likes to call the "Tchaikovsky gut-busters;" and the undeniable charismatic power of ABT's stars, at least when they're on their best behavior.

The evening didn't start out too promisingly with 'Theme and Variations.' I've never been fond of Thoeni Aldredge's ponderous costumes, with their big, big tutus, enormous, distracting sashes for the soloist girls, and really, really pink tutu and jacket for the principals. As the company usually performs 'Theme' at the much smaller City Center, they looked a bit uncomfortable still with the Met stage's cavernous depths, especially when the leads, Paloma Herrera and Marcelo Gomes took what turned into a very, very long and silent walk into their respective wings from downstage center after they finished the ballet's opening statement of the "theme." Although Gomes seemed quite excited and in-the-moment, Herrera presented her all-too-familiar bland and pre-occupied affect. Yes, she has the most beautiful, and precise, legs, feet and footwork in ballet, and her arms have improved, but these mean nothing on a dancer who too often seems to be sleepwalking her way through some of the most glamorous roles in the classical repertory. I couldn't help recalling the brief film clip of Alicia Alonso coaching Herrera in this role shown at the recent "Wall-to-Wall Balanchine" concert at Symphony Space, where Alonso tried, again and again, to get Herrera to put some oomph into the very first opening of her arms. Regardless, it was a remarkably oomph-less performance until the end of Herrera's first solo, where she stumbled through a pirouette after a careless preparation. Perhaps she should stumble more often, as she seemed to wake up, and was bright and attacking for the remainder of the ballet, showing the verve and articulation she seems usually to hold in reserve for times she's dancing with a Cuban partner (I do think ABT's pairing of Herrera with Julio Bocca later in the season could bear some good results, though). While I applauded Herrera's attempts to play with some rubato phrasing, the effort did little more than to expose even more than Balanchine's works usually do her innate lack of musicality. Also, a first-timer at this Theme might be excused for thinking the entire point of the adagio is to set the ballerina up for two magnificent balances in arabesque; at least that's how Herrera presented it. Tall, strong, and good-looking, Gomes was an attentive, if not particularly engaged, partner for Herrera, although a bit sloppier than I like to see, especially in his rather casual rendition of the double-tour/pirouette killer solo (or should I say one-and-three-quarters tours?). The corps looked a bit under-rehearsed and harried, and you'd think that after playing this final movement of Tchaikovsky's Suite No. 3 for almost six decades (Balanchine created this ballet for ABT, Alonso and Youskevitch in 1947) the orchestra under Charles Barker's baton could sound a bit more familiar with the score, or at least happier with it. Regardless, that closing, thunderous polonaise is always welcome.

Next came 'Tchaikovsky Pas de Deux,' danced here by Irina Dvorovenko and Maxim Belotserkovsky. I can't help but think Balanchine would've had a thing or two to say about Dvorovenko's penchant for dramatics and mugging, especially when the pair gave a few overhead lifts the full 'Spring Waters" treatment. One thing Dvorovenko isn't is reticent, and I certainly forgave her for the few short-cuts she took with the choreography thanks to the passion she brought to the rest. In fact, in the mugging and goo-goo-eyes department she's actually gotten considerably more restrained than in some of her unforgettable recent performances at City Center. As with 'Theme,' here too the dancers looked like they hadn't quite adjusted to the far bigger stage, although that didn't explain one small bobble where Belotserkovsky slightly tripped up his wife in the adagio. Belotserkovsky was very clean, as usual, if a bit under-achieving in his choice of choreography, although the duo's vigor in the concluding, surprise fish dives (Russians are never ones to pass up such Big Moments) made up for, well, just about everything.

Speaking of Big Moments, Nina Ananiashvili in 'Mozartiana' was like a raconteur telling a favorite story -- she knew when to pause for dramatic effect, which bits to absolutely nail, and which she could get away with glossing over. This is, of course, a very Bolshoi approach, and some find it off-putting. I suppose I might as well, except her instincts about what to hit, and what to let slide by, are very, very intelligent. Bits that other dancers might throw away, like the brief instant where she shoots into a releve in second with her back to the audience, arms flung high, at just the right impulse from the music, Ananiashvili sells, letting you see just enough of the preparation to be aware, however fleetingly, that something Big is coming. What sets Ananiashvili apart from a relentless (though entertaining) drum-thumper like Dvorovenko is Ananiashvili's unerring sense of proportion, and her discernment. This puts Ananiashvili very, very far from what we've come to understand as the Balanchinian "just-do-the-steps" esthetic, and yet, here, it works. It's one of the great strengths and mysteries of 'Mozartiana' that it seems to adapt itself to any number of interpretations by its ballerinas, yet, it seems inevitably to bring out the best qualities of each. Certainly Wendy Whelan's giddy playfulness couldn't be more different from Suzanne Farrell's inward-looking solemnity, or Darci Kistler's glamorous radiance. Yet they all work beautifully, and leave us knowing more about these artists than we did.

If I wasn't quite reduced to tears as I've been by Kyra Nichols' ability to pierce every movement through the heart (uh oh, an NYCB comparison!), I was nontheless entranced with Ananiashvili's maturity and wit. With all the child wonders and india-rubber girls pretending to be ballerinas these days, it's refreshing to see a ballerina who looks like a real, grown-up woman, and dances like an adult, too. Despite its overtones of loss and tragedy, much of Mozartiana is bright and happy, and it was a delight to see Ananiashvili's subtle transitions of mood, from wistfulness to grand tragedy to playful little girl. Again, I realized she's one of the great dance artists of our generation. Kudos to Maria Calegari, who staged the ballet, for allowing Ananiashvili to be herself.

I couldn't say the same about Angel Corella, who appeared to try, bravely, to keep his natural penchant for bravura under control during the many solos he exchanged with Ananiashvili during the "question and answer" section of a theme with variations. Tried, but ultimately failed, as he kept going for big leaps and flashy, multiple turns, when he should have been paying more attention to niceties like, well, pointing his feet, and perhaps actually doing the beats instead of sketching them. He can get away with this sloppiness in 'Bayadere,' but in 'Mozartiana,' there's no place to hide. Why was Corella's pick-and-choose approach so much less effective than Ananiashvili's? First of all, Ananiashvili went for meaning; Corella for flash. Second, Ananiashvili at her worst was never as sloppy and negligent as Corella, and third, the ballet isn't about the man, anyway.

Speaking of men, Herman Cornejo danced the gigue with as much pizazz as Corella, and a bit more attention to the niceties of the choreography (and he didn't have to wear those awful buckled shoes!). The children from SAB were, as expected, sweet and grave, but I was very disappointed in the corps women, as their ensemble section, with its repeated sisonnes forward into a lunge, like a birds dropping from the sky, is as integral to the ballet, and as emotionally evokative, as the principals' star turns. Here, it was filler, and I couldn't help but think that when you spend most of your career being filler, it becomes all you know how to do. Perhaps I'll see something different tonight; Monday did have a bit of the air of a dress rehearsal to it. (The orchestra sounded a bit more awake, though -- the violinist was lovely.)

Although there were rough moments to the concluding 'Ballet Imperial,' it certainly wasn't a dress rehearsal for Gillian Murphy. From her first entrance, with those wickedly difficult flat-footed turns ending, almost impossibly, in a plié in tendu back, to her stage-devouring leaps, fouettes and balances, Murphy wasn't just a ballerina. She was THE ballerina. I know, hyperbole, but it's hard to be too emphatic in praising her performance. Until now, I've looked forward to Murphy's performances more as a duty than a pleasure: she's technically very, very strong, but cold, distant, and dry. I remember how flat her part of the 'Tarantella' she danced with Ethan Stiefel was at the opening-night gala -- her technique was impeccable, but the stage went dead at her solos, and Stiefel had to act for two. Similarly, in 'Theme and Variations' she's been impeccable, technically, but she danced like a teacher proving geographical theorems, with her legs as a protractor. I'd anticipated she'd be strong, clean and secure in 'Ballet Imperial,' but a bit dull. I couldn't have been more wrong. Yes, her technique was awe-inspiring in its perfection, but so was her projection of an indomitable sense of command. She's always been a bit of an ice princess, but here she was an ice goddess. In one of the few bits of Colleen Neary's staging in which there is a clear difference in choreography to the eviscerated version (more on that in a bit) which City Ballet now performs as 'Tchaikovsky Piano Concerto No. 2,' the high-powered first movement ends with Murphy on one knee, with the corps arrayed behind her. After the applause die down (and there were lots of them), Murphy rises, and turns her back on us, to face the corps, to whom she gestures, commandingly, to let her pass, and they part like the Red Sea for Moses, paying homage with deep reverences as she walks past them upstage. If I could've manage a reverence while in my seat, I'd have given Murphy one, too.

I've seen many performances of 'PC No. 2' at New York City Ballet over the years, with some wonderful dancers, and I've always appreciated it as a supremely difficult ode to the all-conquering ballerina, but, I never felt it as such in my bones before. Perhaps some of the reason comes from Balanchine's decision to jettison the ballet's Imperial Russian accouterments: the backdrop with its view of the Admiralty in St. Petersberg, the courtly mime, and, cruelest blow of all, Barbara Karinska's magnifcent tutus, with their jewels and beaded ermine-tails so small only the dancers could see them (but, I suspect, everyone in the theater could sense their presence). Now the ballet's danced on a bare stage, with the women in various pastel-colored nighties. It is to weep. Certainly great dancers have given great performances of 'PC No. 2' over the years (none greater than some of Wendy Whelan's recent efforts, and I live for the day we'll see it danced by Sofiane Sylve), but none, I think, have wanted it with the Murphy's cold fervor. To paraphrase a quote from a rather different situation, "the ballerina and the ballet have met." Murphy was born to dance 'Ballet Imperial,' and, even if she never quite scales the heights she did Monday night (it had the feel of a once-in-a-lifetime performance), the ballet is now hers, at least as far as I'm concerned. (Ananiashvili, with her performance a few hours away as I write, may beg to differ). She was like Supergirl in a tutu, and I finally understood what Balanchine wanted you to feel in this ballet: rapture at the ballerina's presence, and bit of aching longing at her absence (much like her mournful cavalier -- here Carlos Molina -- at the beginning of the second movement).

No, the performance wasn't all perfection. The orchestra, while much improved from opening night, when they transubstantiated Tchaikovsky into Drigo, was still quite rough around the edges, particularly Barabara Bilach on the ever-present piano. While if there were ever a ballet which cried out for tutus and tiaras, certainly not the ones fashioned by Rouben Ter-Arutunian. Going for 19th Century Russian look, he's dressed the women in ornate, droopy tutus which are somewhere between pancakes and Romantic tutus, but with none of the liveliness of the somewhat similarly sized Karinska tutu. (Not that she used them for 'Ballet Imperial, anyway.') At the opening gala, poor Paloma Herrera looked completely swallowed by hers; but on the taller, blonder Murphy, it looked magnificent, all glowing white and silver and diamonds (did I mention she's an ice queen?). The same can't be said for the corps women -- the tutus made them look short, and, well, dumpy, gobbling up their legs instead of allowing them to be admired. (When I win the lottery, I'll give someone a million dollars just to recreate the Karinska designs; how I wish ABT had!)

Michele Wiles, resplendent in pink, breezed through the 'second-ballerina' part, perhaps a bit too breezily. As her "cavaliers," Ricardo Torres was cheerful if a bit casual, and David Hallberg was, again, awe-inspiring in his beautiful, airborne line (I'd love to see him partner Murphy here). As Murphy's partner, Carlos Molina looked elegant and partnered Murphy well (not that it looked like she really needed a partner, except to lead her around the stage to be admired), but was a bit of an under-achiever, technically. Not that the ballet's about the man in the slightest (far les so than 'Mozartiana,' but something's out of kilter when the ballerina's firing off double and triple fouettes, and the best the man can muster is a double pirouette to the knee.

The other notable cast member is, of course, the corps de ballet, and this is a notorious corps killer. In the slower first movement the corp did a great job of being ambulatory scenery (after all, that's what they get paid to do in all those ballets blanc in the classics, when they're not dressing up in clown makeup and blowing bubbles or the like in something ostensibly modern). When the going got tougher, faster and puffier they got quite a bit rougher (the women -- the men looked great, perhaps a reflection of ABT's oft-publicized predilection for men over women) and out of step with each other, but survived with no major mishaps. Just as this is Murphy's most challenging role, it's also the corps. There are no ballets in their repertory which give them as sustained an allegro workout as the last movement of 'Ballet Imperial.' Yes, City Ballet manages it better now; they're used to ballets which require them to dance, rather than pose (as in Tuesday night's corps-killer evening of 'Who Cares?,' 'Western Symphony,' and 'Stars and Stripes'). This isn't the first time Balanchine has challenged this company -- a few years ago, when they first tried 'Symphony in C,' the results were even more alarming. After a season or so, they grew strong, and confident in themselves, and the ballet. Let's hope 'Ballet Imperial' stays around for at least as long.

Herrera, Gomes, Dvorovenko, Belotserkovsky, Ananiashvili, Corella, Cornejo, Murphy, Wiles, Molina, Hallberg, Torrez

<<Regardless, it was a remarkably oomph-less performance until the end of Herrera's first solo, where she stumbled through a pirouette after a careless preparation.>>

If this is where I think it is (there are also very fast chainé turns with change of direction in this section), on a tape I have of Baryshnikov and Kirkland (ABT) doing Theme and Variations, Gelsey, marvelous wonderful, Gelsey almost fell out of the same pirouette. She didn't actually, but it was a near thing. It's the only "near thing" I have ever seen happen to Gelsey. I am tempted to run the tape in slow-mo to see how it happens. But that would be cruel wouldn't it?

Interesting that you mention that the tutu and jacket for the principals was very pink. I believe on the tape both are in white - or that's how it looks in any case - certainly not the pink you describe.

I agree with Eric about Ananiashvili in Mozartiana--I saw her first essay this a few years ago and was trepidatious, frankly. She was so interesting, however with how she made it her own, without sacrificing any of the difficulty, nuances or depth of the choreography that she is one of the few ballerinas currently dancing who seem to understand this ballet in their very soul.....she dances deep. Not glamourous, not bravura, deep.

I would have loved to see Gelsey Kirkland dance Mozartiana.....

Very distressing to hear that the corps was not notable in the Minuet--what beautiful choreography to receive an undistinguished performance....sigh.

But on the heartening side was the information that Gillian Murphy has restored the crown to Ballet Imperial. When I first learned that ABT was going to present this, I was, frankly, wondering who would manage to carry it off. Although I share Eric's perception of Murphy as a technically wonderful, but rather frozen dancer, in this case her rather glace' finish was appropriate. Brava to her and I'm happy to hear that it was a splendid performance!
I look forward to hearing about the performances tonight and this weekend.

Re: costumes, yes the costumes in the 70s when Kirkland and Baryshnikov danced are white, with the reddish costumes for the corps---the Aldredge ones are later: periwinkle blue for the corps/soloists (with the lamentable fakery of the bowed sashes for the poor demis) and deep rosy pink velvet for the principals. I like them....

Great review Eric but I part particularly loved this bit. We need to see more of Nina over here - in the old as well as the new!

ABT and Balanchine seems wrong really - best to concentrate on strengths and growing different reps.