Kennedy Center Opera House, Washington, D.C.

The City of San Francisco is famous for its hills and the Golden Gate Bridge, the San Francisco 49ers, the cable cars, Ghirardelli chocolate, and much more. It has the second largest opera house in North America; and the San Francisco Symphony, led by the excellent Michael Tilson Thomas, is unarguably a world-class musical ensemble.

The City by the Bay is also blessed with the finest ballet company in the country. Founded in 1933, The San Francisco Ballet is the oldest professional ballet troupe in America, celebrating this year its 75th anniversary.

Helgi Tomasson, formerly the principal dancer with the New York City Ballet, assumed leadership of the company in 1985. At that time, the San Francisco Ballet was an established and respected troupe, yet it was described as an organization with “a great past, but an uncertain future.” As artistic director, Tomasson launched a company makeover, transforming the San Francisco Ballet into a fine-tuned, harmonious ensemble of versatile and exciting dancers with polished technique and refined style.

For its 75th anniversary season, Tomasson mounted the one-of-a-kind New Works Festival, inviting 10 prominent choreographers of the today’s dance world to create 10 new ballets for the company dancers. Two of the most widely acclaimed pieces of this festival – Christopher Wheeldon’s Within the Golden Hour and Mark Morris’s Joyride – were included in a mixed program the San Francisco Ballet presented at the Kennedy Center Opera House during Thanksgiving week.

Christopher Wheeldon is much in vogue these days, and for all the right reasons. His ballet vocabulary is rich and sophisticated. Taking inspiration from the best classical traditions, the British-born choreographer brings his own aesthetic to the ballet idiom. With undeniable artistry and skill, he creates movements that are both ingenious and captivating.

Within the Golden Hour is an exotic dance for seven couples, unveiled in three distinctive movements. It vividly displays Wheeldon’s signature elements: elegant, slow-motion lifts, off-centered holds, sculptured poses and spacious jumps.

The musical accompaniment, characterized by a repetitive rhythmic structure, brings together the Baroque and modern style, linking string compositions by Antonio Vivaldi (Adagio from Violin Concerto in B-flat Major) and the contemporary minimalist composer Ezio Bosso.

The dancers were elaborately outfitted by Martin Pakledinaz; the jewelry-decorated costumes in subtle hues of blue, emerald and rusty red having a slightly Oriental look. In fact, the ballerinas in their short tunics, trousers and jeweled headdresses evoked ancient temple dancers. The stage decor was minimal: three panels suspended from above ascended or descended at the beginning of each section of the dance, providing unusual stage frames.

In the center of the dance is a triptych of enchanting pas de deux for the three principal couples. Each duet is well-defined and carries its own emotional subtext. There was a quirky waltz to a gentle string pizzicato, elegantly danced by Katita Waldo and Damian Smith against a bright red backdrop. This ballroom-inspired, charming pas de deux, full of whimsy and delight, channeled a special aura of lightness and affection. A contemplative atmosphere was unearthed in the sensuous pas de deux by Dana Genshaft and Mateo Klemmayer. In it, Wheeldon sets the dancers in a slow-motion reverie, accentuating the striking sculptural quality of their movements. In the third duet, the amazing Maria Kochetkova and Joan Boada, illuminated by a subtle blue light, mirrored each other’s steps with carefree spontaneity in what looked like a game or contest.

Cleverly-structured ensembles are Golden Hour’s chief strength. There is a moment when all 14 dancers form an intricate lattice of circular shape, which rotates with frenetic energy and speed while changing its fascinating patterns. Executed with perfect timing and precision, this spinning human formation was simply breathtaking.

In the final part of Golden Hour, Wheeldon builds a witty interplay between the three lead and four supporting couples. The ballet ends with another spectacular ensemble where the dancers, shifting from side to side in perfect rhythm, create an impression of a giant, well-tuned clock mechanism - perhaps an allusion to the dance’s title. The overall effect was that of kinetic energy. Judging from the thunderous applause, this final scene, and certainly the ballet as a whole, made a powerful impression on the audience.

Mark Morris’s turf is modern dance. Yet with his unbound imagination and inherent musicality, the choreographer creates illuminating ballets, often using only the basic ballet lexicon.

His Joyride takes us into another world; the dance has a “sci-fi” feel that reveals Morris at his most unpredictable. Dressed in bodysuits of metallic fabric in the shades of gold, silver and bronze with little LED monitors that continuously plunk random numbers – the eight-member cast looks like a squad from a spaceship.

The music - a commissioned score by John Adams titled Son of Chamber Symphony – overwhelms with its fast tempo, arrhythmic beat, and bristling percussion. The opening movement sounds like a busy morning in Manhattan. Morris obviously took a challenge by using this seemingly undanceable composition as the driving force to his work. In Joyride, he integrates elements of pedestrian walking, gymnastics, martial arts and classical ballet, mixing it with humor and infusing it with the high energy of the Adams’s score. The result is fantastic.

Morris ingeniously uses the stage space, assembling the cast in various groupings: quartets, trios, and duets, then playing them against each other. What we see is a dynamic spectacle – a combination of parade, competition, combat and fashion show, with steps ranging from casual strolls to karate kicks to spellbinding pirouettes and leaps.

In the heart of the dance is a collection of four different pas de deux. The music becomes tuneful and even lyrical, with a single, gradually unfolding melody. All the duets have a dreamy, fluid quality. In the first pas de deux, there is a beautiful moment when a ballerina falls back into her partner’s arms in a slow, unrestrained movement, as if letting herself go, forgetting the world around her. Morris creatively reiterates this image again in the subsequent duets.

The final movement of the score brings back the piercing sounds and pulsating rhythms; and its dynamic force is reflected in the ensembles and solos of the finale, but the culmination of Joyride is motionless. The light goes off, and seven dancers are prostrated on the floor; a single standing ballerina silhouetted against the background. The only light is coming from the flickering blue numbers on her LED screen. The visual impact of this moment and its contrast with the rest of the dance was so staggering that the audience audibly gasped in amazement.

On opening night, the dancing was uniformly excellent. The cast included Martin Garside, Elizabeth Miner, Genadi Nedvigin, Jennifer Stahl, Dana Genshaft, Pascal Molat, James Sofranko, and Vanessa Zahorian.

The company opened the program with a canonic rendition of George Balanchine’s The Four Temperaments. It was a marvel to see the San Francisco dancers in this timeless Balanchine’s classic. There is no wonder why they looked so assured, so endearing in it: this 1946 ballet, choreographed to a magnificent score by Paul Hindemith, has been in the San Francisco Ballet repertory since 1974. The fact that Tomasson is a former Balanchine dancer also played an important role in cultivating the fine Balanchine traditions of the company.

Lily Rogers and Daniel Deivison, Elana Altman and Brett Bauer, Nutnaree Pipit-Suksun and Anthony Spaulding danced with exemplary refinement in the three-part opening Theme. Taras Domitro accentuated his character’s desperation and angst in the downward movements of the Melancholic variation, bending his back into impossible arches or hopelessly plummeting to the floor. In the Sanguinic variation, Vanessa Zahorian and Joan Boada performed with particular exuberance and gusto. Pierre-Francois Vilanoba gave a tranquil and meditative interpretation of the Phlegmatic role, and Sofiane Sylve was a free-spirited Choleric. The ballet culminated with a powerful, triumphant finale, bringing onstage the entire cast.

Domitro, Zahorian, Boada, Vilanoba, Sylve, Waldo, Genshaft, Kochetkova, Smith, Molat, Nedvigin, Stahl.

Oksana, I would question this statement. The problem, as I remember it,was that Michael Smuin, as co-artistic director, was involved in motion picture and musical assignments, leaving the practical administration to Robert Gladstein,the company's ballet master. Lew Christensen, the principal artistic director, was unhappy with the Broadway-like direction Smuin's choreography was taking. If that condition was the uncertain future, then you are,of course, correct.

One needs to remember that Smuin was able to persuade Sir Frederick Ashton to mount his Fille Mal Gardee on the company; I'd have to check to determine whether his two beautiful trios to Erik Satie were included in the repertoire. I think they were introduced before
Smuin's departure. Smuin also mounted two of his full- length ballets, Romeo and Juliet and The Tempest, for Great Performances. I think that Song for Dead Warriors, never among my favorite Smuin works, also was televised. You have to admit that's not a bad record.
It was Smuin's energy and planning which definitely laid the ground
work for the Tomasson enhancement. Relieved of much of the administrative headaches, Lew Christensen then created Norwegian Moods, quite a beautiful pas de deux, Scarlotti Portfolio, perhaps even his Don Juan company, all works which, if revived are enjoyable.

Without question, the company lacked the precision and finesse that
Helgi Tomasson has brought to the company. But it had a vitality and
Smuin had a definite following among ballet goers, who transferred
their loyalty and their cash to his fledgling ensemble. It was the
classical base and its use that was called into question.

Kennedy Center Opera House, Washington, D.C.

San Francisco can be proud to be home of one of the world’s top dance companies. In their Thanksgiving week visit to the Kennedy Center Opera House, the San Francisco Ballet also proved to be among the most versatile and refined. Following the superbly danced mixed program of modern dance by George Balanchine, Christopher Wheeldon and Mark Morris, the company presented a 19th century ballet classic – a brilliant performance of Adolphe Adam’s Giselle.

Giselle is a true romantic ballet, and perhaps one of the most poignant love stories depicted in dance. This timeless tale of love, deception, heartbreak, death and redemption has it all: a great ballerina role with extraordinary dramatic intensity and dancing challenges; infectious, delightful music; and ample possibilities for the corps de ballet to mesmerize and thrill in the mysterious and captivating ballet blanc scenes of the second act. The title role offers the infinite opportunities of dramatic expression to reveal various stages and sensitivities of Giselle’s emotional vortex. With all these ingredients, this ballet has the power to deliver an enormous dramatic impact.

The San Francisco Ballet presented its 1999 production of this ballet classic, created by company artistic director Helgi Tomasson. Taking a time-honored approach, Tomasson tells the story of Giselle in a conventional manner, without particular interpretive twists. The choreography follows the footsteps of Marius Petipa, Jules Perrot and Jean Coralli. The stage decorations also retain the traditional appearance: a small cottage surrounded by trees, with a beautiful rose garden and a breathtaking view on a castle in the fist act; and in Act II a graveyard in a gloomy, nocturnal forest. The tuneful Adolphe Adam’s score was supplemented by additional music, orchestrations and arrangements by Friedrich Burgmuller, Ludwig Minkus, and Emil de Cou.

On opening night, Maria Kochetkova danced the title role. A graduate of the Bolshoi Ballet Academy, the 24-year-old Russian ballerina joined the San Francisco Ballet as a principal dancer in 2007. Despite being relatively new to the leading role in this production – her debut as Giselle with the San Francisco Ballet took place in February, 2007 – she was able to deliver an emotionally absorbing portrayal of her heroine, demonstrating a notable dramatic ability and superlative pointe technique. To me, what made her performance truly outstanding was the irresistible genuineness and astonishing lightness of her dancing. This Giselle was poignant in her youth and innocence, and this is what made her love story and her tragedy increasingly compelling.

Kochetkova is petite and delicate. With her angelic, child-like face, she looks younger than her age. In the first act, she made it seem so easy, so natural to play the role of the charming maiden who loved to dance. With her small frame, girlish appearance and naturalness, she was that sweet young girl. Moving with soft grace and elegance, as if flowing in the air, she was lightness personified. Then, shocked and crashed, her Giselle was utterly unnerving in the confrontation scene, when the true identity of Albrecht, her love, as a prince engaged to another woman was revealed. Her descent into madness was especially moving for its profound heartbreak and anguish. In Act II, as a Wili, a dancing ghost, Kochetkova transformed into an ethereal, solemn spirit. Poetic and tragic, her movements acquired particular eloquence and subtleness.

Joan Boada danced the role of Albrecht. The Cuban-born dancer possesses a remarkable stage presence and exceptional technique. He is very handsome, about medium height, with a beautifully sculptured, strong physique that makes an irresistible Albrecht.

Boada’s Albrecht is a self-absorbed aristocrat, playing a double game, truly enchanted by the innocent and beautiful Giselle to the point that he forgets his noble status as Duke of Silesia and becomes the happy Loyds, a commoner. He is charming and caring, trying to dissipate Giselle’s doubts in the scene, “He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not.” He joyfully dances with her and the villagers in the exuberant festivities of the first act, and when he raises his hand, declaring his everlasting love for her, not for a moment could anyone doubt that his feelings are genuine.

Pascal Molat was the most charismatic and kind Hilarion I have ever seen. In fact, his character was so likable, one could wish Giselle had changed her mind and accepted his offer of love. In the first act, his actions to reveal Albrecht’s identity were guided not so much by jealousy as by common sense and foresight.

In Act II, Molat’s dancing was exceptionally compelling. Surrounded by the remorseless Wilis, he was mesmerizing with his high agonizing jumps and entrechats, rapidly beating his legs as if a trapped bird, trying to break away free. This was a heart-stopping dance of terror and anguish as the Wilis forced him to dance to the point of exhaustion, then threw him in the lake to his death.

Sofiane Sylve as Myrtha, the Queen of Wilis, exuded poised glamour and chilling determination. Even in her vindictiveness, she remained increasingly beautiful and enthralling. I couldn’t help but marvel her accurate lines and exquisite steady-state arabesques. She was beautifully framed by the superb female corps de ballet, which dazzled with perfection and exactitude.

Tomasson’s staging of Giselle offers many pleasures: fascinating choreography, eye-pleasing costumes and handsome decorations, but what really make this production work are the dancers themselves. For me, the main attraction of the San Francisco Ballet’s Giselle was the exceptional quality of dancing, and on opening night, the performance of all ranks was truly awe inspiring.

Boada, Kochetkova, Molat, Sylve