After Jenifer Ringer's debut, City Ballet added three more new fledglings to its flock of in-house Odettes, with debuts by Ashley Bouder, Sofiane Sylve, and Sarah Mearns. Had Maria Kowroski and Janie Taylor not been indisposed, Jennie Somogyi fully recovered from her long injury (or Alexandra Ansanelli still at City Ballet), we might've seen substatially different casting, but, as always, one dancer's misfortune is another's opportunity, and these three debutantes did Peter Martins' Swan Lake proud, or as proud as possible, given its conceptual and artistic foibles.

Here, although Siegfried does indeed break his vow to Odette by swearing to marry Odile, he gets to say "Ooops, I didn't mean it" in Martins' fourth act, and then Von Rotbart dies and Siegfried lives, as does Odette, who has to remain a swan forever. It almost seems like a plot you could construct by checking off boxes on an All-Purpose Swan Lake Plot Generation Grid like this (check one in each row):

            |Lives|Dies |Other*|
Odette      |     |     |      |
Siegfried   |     |     |      |
Von Rotbart |     |     |      |
* Explain

In Martins' Swan Lake, there's no nobility, no sacrifice, and no redemption. The swan-maidens aren't rescued. Von Rotbart dies (why?), but the spell remains unbroken. Siegfried and Odette aren't united, in life or in death. The dramatic center of Martins' fourth act is a long "reconciliation" pas de deux where Siegfried does the equivalent of saying: "But honey, I didn't mean it. I thought she was you. Honest!" It's a pretty duet, but ultimately as vapid as Martins' showy but dramatically incoherent conclusion. The farewell duet from Ivanov's own fourth act (so rarely performed these days) is also beautiful, and advances a story that actually makes sense.

If Martins' Swan Lake substitutes a more vapid story and a dopier conclusion than the "traditional" version (not to mention the dreadful first act, which I just did), there is plenty of high-energy dancing, as I mentioned in my last review. Complicated and rapid evolutions of the Swan Maidens, as if in a feathery kaleidoscope; rousing divertissements (especially Martins' spectacular third-act pas de quatre); and high-flying jesters keep the pace from flagging, and audiences have loved it. It's just not Swan Lake, and I feel a bit sorry for people who look at this entertaining mishegas and think they're really seeing Swan Lake. It makes me want to paraphrase the ads which ran incessantly for that Beatles tribute show on Broadway years ago: "Swanlakemania! It's not Swan Lake, but an incredible simulation!"

It wouldn't be so bad if ABT were at least still doing its long-gone David Blair staging of Swan Lake,, but Kevin McKenzie's version is equally dreadful, in its own special way. So now revisionist Swan Lakes are the norm in New York, and we have to rely on videos and the occasional visiting troupe for a reminder of what we've lost.

Well, enough about that. This horse I'm beating left the stable and died years ago. Let's talk about the debuts, which were as thrilling as the production in which they occurred is ersatz.

January 13: Ashley Bouder

On a very auspicious Friday the 13th, Ashley Bouder made a much-anticipated debut, with Benjamin Millepied also debuting as Siegfried. Constant Readers will know I've been quite taken with La Bouder over the years, so I was holding my breath anticipating her entrance in act two. Blessed with calm and attentive conducting by Maurice Kaplow, Bouder didn't disappoint. Her Odette was tough and strong as nails, bringing to mind (in temperament, if not style) great City Ballet Odettes from years ago, like Maria Calegari or Melissa Hayden.

As both Odette and Odile, Bouder brought the electrifying directness and focus which has been at the heart of her astonishing allegro since she joined City Ballet. Hers was not an Odette of wistful sighs and wan regrets, but strong and capable in her own right. This made her gradual melting in Millepied's arms all the more affecting. Her Odile was also fierce, especially in her fouettés, which started as single/double combinations, before finishing in a barrage of singles. I hope in the future she might tone down her mugging at the audience, as she did in her heartbreaking fourth act with Millepied. I don't care much for Martins' conception of the act, but it is a juicy part for Odette, and Bouder was heart-wrenching in her pain at Siegfried's betrayal and her desperation not to leave him after she's forgiven him.

Millpied was an elegantly troubled Siegfried, although, surprisingly, he seemed to run out of steam in the Black Swan, with his pirouettes looking especially indifferent after Bouder's fireworks.

January 14: Sofiane Sylve

Sofiane Sylve's a bit of a ringer among City Ballet's first-time swans, as she's already danced Odette/Odile with the Dutch National Ballet, so her performance has the burnished glow of experience. In a company where the "house style" is to blast through technical challenges with a studied nonchalance ("Such a gorgeous arabesque you have!" "What, this old thing?"), Sylve's presentation, with even the smallest gesture or detail looks carefully planned and honed to perfection, carries an exotic glamor. Her Odette was grandly tragic, yielding slowly to the romantic and importuning Siegfried of Charles Askegard in the second act, and mortally wounded by his betrayal in the fourth. As Odile, she reveled in her sensual glory and control of Siegfried, her eyes lighting up with impish glee when Albert Evans' Von Rotbart whispered a particularly evil bit of advice in her ear.

Sylve danced Odette with her familiar largesse, investing even the sisonnes of her solo with a creamy fullness. In the Black Swan her technical prowess (she started her fouettés with about a dozen doubles, one after the other) was an extension of her sexual mastery of the hapless prince. "Hapless" also describes, unfortunately, the indifferent Askegard, who partnered Sylve with a care and attention totally lacking in his own portrayal.

January 16: Sarah Mearns

The most surprising debut was that of nineteen-year-old Sarah Mearns, a member of City Ballet's corps who's danced no leading roles, and precious few demis, since joining the company in 2004. (Mearns actually made her debut on the matinee of January 14; I caught her second performance.) Given Martins' predilection in recent years for casting profoundly thin women, this advancement of the lush and womanly Mearns seems perplexing, or it might until you actually see her dance. She has an appealing lyrical quality, beautiful carriage of her arms and upper body, and pretty, eloquent legs and feet. Appropriately full of sorrow and remorse in her white acts, Mearns was dutifully seductive in the Black Swan, although she did bail on her fouettés after about a dozen (Martins has made it clear he doesn't care if his Odiles do 32, or even 22, fouettés). Where Mearns' inexperience showed most was in her face, which occasionally slipped into a dutiful student's blankness. Nevertheless, hers was an impressive debut. Let's hope Martins handles her better than his last lyrical discovery, Carla Körbes, who left the company last year for Pacific Northwest Ballet. Nilas Martins' Siegfried partnered Mearns well, but there was no hint of any connection, romantic or otherwise, between their characters. Martins' solos were typically underachieving.

Conducting this performance was the French Fayçal Karoui, another in the long line of guests City Ballet seems to be trying out in anticipation of Andrea Quinn's departure. Karoui set some challengingly zippy tempi in the first and third acts; I remember Sterling Hyltin looking more like a hummingbird than ever as she darted through her impossibly fast solo in the first-act pas de trois. Although Karoui was calmer and more measured for Mearns' big moments, a momentary lapse led to one of the odder things I've seen on a ballet stage. In Martins' production, after the Black Swan is over, Siegfried goes to kiss Odile's hand, Von Rotbart steps in to break them apart, and the orchestra launches into the mazurka, danced by the courtiers. Or that's what should happen, but that night Karoui missed the cue, leaving the three dancers momentarily adrift, before he woke up the orchestra with a start. Perhaps to calm him down, Albert Evans, the evening's Von Rotbart, shot Karoui a quick smile.

Perhaps unnerved by his gaffe, Karoui set a ridiculously fast tempo for the mazurka, and the poor dancers playing the courtiers dancing behind the leads had to bobble about as if they were playing hopscotch. As Evans led Martins through their mimed conversation ("Do you love her?" "Yes." "No, do you really love her?" "Yes." "No, do you REALLY REALLY love her?"), he'd look at Karoui, and adjust his mime so instead of gesturing for Martins to stop, he was holding up his hand towards Karoui, telling him to slow it down. In all my years, I've never seen a dancer conducting the conductor quite like this. It just goes to show you, it's always something.

Askegard, Bouder, Evans, Martins, Mearns, Millepied, Sylve

<<<<In all my years, I've never seen a dancer conducting the conductor quite like this. It just goes to show you, it's always something. >>>>

I dimly recall that Nureyev did this - but I can't specify where or when. Perhaps someone else will recall it better than I do.

The note about the conductor is interesting. Last week Pat Neary was at a RB insight event, rehearsing Ballet Imperial. She spoke about Balanchine's relationship with music, and how he wanted to keep the music 'pure' (for lack of a better word - I'm paraphrasing now and have been teaching all morning so forgive me for being inarticulate). In these pages recently (I believe in the ENB Sleeping Beauty thread maybe?) there was a discussion about dancers and conductors - and how much control dancers had over the music.... However, from what Neary said, I'm guessing what you saw was very very unusual for NYCB?

Unfortunately, at City Ballet dancers have very little input into tempi, which can often be too fast, and, worse, inconsistent. I've often railed at Quinn for the ridiculously fast tempi she sets (or allows to happen); with these guest conductors, the situation's worse. I wonder how much rehearsal time they get with the orchestra. Sometimes it sounds like the first time they see each other is when he walks into the pit.

I won't say it isn't done for dancers to discuss tempi with a conductor, but if it happens, it's far more the exception than the rule. Management's attitude seems to be "put up and shut up."