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Raymonda
Music: Alexander Glasounov
Choreography: Marius Petipa/Rudoph Nureyev
Costumes and Sets: Nichohlas Georgiadis
Raymonda: Lorena Feijoo; Lucia La Carra; Joanna Berman
Jean de Brienne: Parrish Maynard; Pierre Francois Vilanoba
King of Hungary: Cyril Pierre
Countess Sherri Le Blanc/Alice LuAnn Lewitzke
Variation: Katita Waldo; Kristin Long
Pas de Quatre: Peter Brandenhoff; Ikolo Griffin; Gonzalo Garcia; Michael Plain
Pas de Trois Julie Diana; Vanessa Zahorian; Rachel Rufer

Nanna's Lied
Music: Kurt Weill
Choreography: Helgi Tomasson
Sets &Costumes: John McFarlane
Lighting: Scott Zielinski
Nanna: Tina Le Blanc; Yuan Yuan Tan
Johnny: Stephen Legate; Cyril Pierre
Jacob Schmidtt: Val Caniparolli; Benjamin Pierce
Two Women: Julia Adams; Sherri Le Blanc
Two Men: Christopher Anderson; Peter Brandenhoff

Sandpaper Ballet
Music: Leroy Anderson
Choreography Marc Morris
Costumes: Isaac Mizrahi
Lighting: James F. Ingalls

There is something so wonderfully Byzantine about Nureyevs Raymonda. Heaven knows the plot lends itself to the gigantic in scale. There is that mystery of the glimmering tapers against the silhouetted figures as the curtain rises; then the lights come up and one sees Raymonda and Jean de Brienne toasting each other. Surrounded by retainers whose heads are covered in silver approximations of chain mail, the choice is a little anomalous considering the man are bearing wine and viandes rather than boiling pitch! You would assume they had a chance to change garb and that the exchequer would permit a touch more domesticity, but then it really doesnt matter, and it is terrifically theatrical! The scarlets and rusts with gold on most of the costumes looked terrific, a counterpart to probably cold floors and chilly winters. Which makes one wonder whether Raymonda and Jean de Briande might catch cold, particularly our heroine. The headpieces on most of the czardas performers and the King of Hungary reminded me more of the Luftwaffte caps than medieval Hungary, but here goes poetic license again! This is a work to sit back and enjoy for its extravagence and the degree of elegant dancing of which there was plenty.

There was so much Nureyev for the men in this production. The program notes pointed out in 1895 Petipa didnt have the caliber of men dancing which Nureyev had at his disposal in this final production of his remarkable career. What he devised provides six soloist roles of dazzling ecole classique and for the male corps some elegant strutting with partners grasping firmly on to their shoulders. If the Magyar fire evaded them, the corps still looked marvelous.

I managed to see three performances, partly to see Pierre Francois Vilanoba who was sidelined with a muscle injury twice this season, partly to see the pas de trois and pas de quatre and then to see what the three principals dancing Raymonda would accomplish. Roman Rykine was ill with flu at the program opening and Parrish Maynard substituted for him, so I did not enjoy his classicism and how well he danced with Feijoo. They share a similar sized physique and must have looked good together. Maynard later danced with Berman whose size better matched his own. Lucia La Carra and Vilanoba also balanced each other visually.

Parrish Maynard is one tidy technician who knows how to accent phrases with elegance. His beats are clear, his feet are pointed and his ballon entirely adequate to almost any sheer classical assignment. Put him in intricate Balanchine or Robbins and he tears up the floor boards. Alas, Maynards soul does not seem to be engaged. For all the hokey plot, this is Jean de Briennes marriage, for heavens sake, after clobbering the Turks, and winning the courageous, spirited Raymonda! So, yes, its the court and there are definite demeanors expected of regal and knightly position. But I ask you, where is the exultation and the pride!

For sheer size, Vilanoba was more impressive; there was a certain quiet command, or hauteur, which flicked in and out of his performance. After seeing him paired with Muriel Maffre in the Forsythe pas de deux from In the middle somewhat elevated, the man knows partnering and style. It seemed he was nursing the wounded muscle slightly so that he was unable to give totally to his variation. But his size lent itself to the image of aristocracy and he had a smile and quiet response to the humanity of the occasion, if not to iconic exaltation.

Feijoo took the stage with full authority. In her familiar variation, she was the only one who managed clear, consistent claps. There was something very clear, contained and personal in her execution; in that variation I saw some of the charisma which Danilova brought to her roles. Belonging both to the spirit and to the earth, the role fit her like a glove. Bravo. Parenthetically, Olga Guardia de Smoak, one of the truly informed devotees of Russian classicism said to me, This is medieval Hungary! The princess is wearing gloves and there should be no claps, only the gesture!

La Carra was beautiful and appealing, and, yes, spirited, but none the less came across as the beautiful, phenomenal technician she is, not as a force of nature. Joanna Berman conveyed the warmth and excitement of the event, but she too lost strength in her claps. I am aware this is a trivial item in the overall scheme, and that both Berman and La Carra could not be faulted technically in their shifts en arabesque or in the releves passes. But Feijoo seems to understand better the flat out technical bravura role for its own sake where her fellow principals fare better with a role of some dimension. Now that Ive told you the stylistic secret, it sounds like I am just another run of the mill fan! So be it!

Cyril Pierre apparently danced most all the performances as the King of Hungary, and by my third viewing was tossing off the technicalities with verve, excitement and more than a touch of personal pleasure. He and Sherri Le Blanc paced each other well.

Ikolo Griffin, Peter Brandenhoff, Gonzalo Garcia and Mikhail Plain provided us with a stalwart pas de quatre. Occasionally, their feet never came back instantly to fifth position after double tours, but they provided an elegant looking, manly display, quite the assured young aristocrats.

Julia Diana led Vanessa Zahorian and Rachel Rufer in a smiling pas de trois, marked by grand jetes, passes and pirouettes. It was a nicely matched trio, Diana displaying a swooply body line to the music and touches of a grand thereness as the center and tallest of the trio. Zahorian was completely in key with her own physical proportions, and Rufer continues to exhibit a warmth which is contrasted with a quite correct placement.

Nanna's Lied was originally Helgi Tomassons vehicle to introduce Elizabeth Loscavio to some dramatic dimension with Anthony Randazzo portraying Johnny. Both gone now, Tina La Blanc scored a personal triumph opposite Stephen Legate and Yuan Yuan Tan conveyed her best dramatic role to date opposite Cyril Pierre.

Val Caniparoli continued his original role as Jacob Schmidt and Benjamin Pierce made his debut with Tan and Pierre. Julia Adam continued to dance the two street walker in blue, joined by Sherri Le Blanc, lushly provocative in red. Christopher Anderson and Peter Brandenhoff gave excellent renditions of two young men on the prowl.

Tomasson has given us some wonderful moments with the young men circling around Nana, hunching like carrion birds, waiting for a carcass, only to have her reach out to Jacob Schmitt. When the lights go up after their sexual encounter, Schmitt is seen back to the audience, adjusting his suspenders as Nana lies wilted and disconsolate, self-degraded at having used Schmitt as her escape from something possibly more punishing.

Undergirding the drama was the richly textured songs of Kurt Weill, and the moving panels of John MacFarlane conveyed the level of street encounter, animal urge and the grimly knowing knowledge of the worlds ways pushing at and punishing the dreams of a dreamy young woman.

Mark Morris Sandpaper Ballet is something London audiences are familiar with. It works skillfully with several devices - the formation and the odd ball out, who melts into the routine. The company enjoys dancing it, with the absence of classical demeanor, if still demanding in technique. It makes a good closer, and, heavens, is that music ever familiar to us from Muzak!