'Pianola' reviews 'At Midnight' reviews recent Ballet Tech reviews

Pianola is set to Conlon Nancarrow’s Studies for Player Piano. Nancarrow created his own piano rolls for the perfection he desired. The result is a prepared piano sound that is impersonal, yet filled with creative potential. The only throwback to an old-fashioned parlor melody is the score’s Spanish influence. (FBI harassment FBI forced Nancarrow to move to Mexico in 1940, where he lived until his death in 1997.) Because the original rolls are deteriorating (and notated in pencil), Trimpin, a sculptor/composer, invented the Vorsetzer, an electromechanical piano that is used during these performances.

The ballet begins with a line-up of four dancers (Jeannine Lowery, Patricia Tuthill, Ha-Chi Yu, Andrea Emmons). They are identically costumed in sleeveless black leotards with cut out backs, black tights, and black nylon sock-styled leg warmers worn over black toe shoes. A box of rosin sits by the wings visible to the audience. The “5th performer,” the Vorsetzer, is brightly lit and in position where the “real” piano would be in the Joyce’s compact pit. The opening dance was accented with thrusting shoulders and off-center pointes. Feld’s signature non-traditional ballet arm posturing is in full use. They slash space and punctuate the prickly music.

Then each ballerina performed a solo. Jennifer Lowery went first. Her dance suggested tightrope walking and her pony tailed blond hair called to mind Elvira Madigan. Occasionally she struck cutesy poses, but as a private joke rather than self-degradation. It ended with Ms. Lowery chin up, holding her nose.

Hands folded behind her, Patricia Tuthill enters backwards on Ms. Lowery’s exiting angle. Her Spanish solo was the longest and Pianola’s center. Within a few seasons Ms. Tuthill has become a very accomplished dancer with a commanding stage presence. A tall, muscular ballerina with short curly black hair, she personifies the Ballet Tech “look.” Feld’s choreography doesn’t compartmentalize the upper and lower body: if an arabesque is tilted, the head, torso, and arms follow the line. It is also movement in opposition, for if one foot is flexed, the other is on pointe. Her flamenco poses, stomps on pointe, and imaginary flowing skirts climax with a fall.

As she gracefully stood up and exited the same way she entered, Ha-Chi Yu appeared from the opposite end of the stage. The choreography plays along with the almost melodious music. Ms. Yu was a prancing showgirl. With her arms raised overhead, she performed an impressive series of slow hip rolls on pointe. This was the only solo performed with the audience in mind.

Ms. Yu took her time leaving the stage, blithely ignoring the ugly music pulling Andrea Emmons on. Hair loose, heavy footed, and balancing uncertainly, Ms. Emmons resisted the marionette manipulations Feld put her through. The “push/pull” dilemma was fully realized. Even better - she never played the victim.

Pianola’s finale reunited the ballerinas (Ms. Emmons joined them after re-tying her hair). The choreography followed the music’s descent from a steady staccato into chaos as the women perform a funky kovorod. Feld’s group formations occasionally resemble multi-limb creatures and this one was no different.

A ballet set to an electronic piano roll may seem a clever solution for a company that cannot afford an in-house orchestra. This was no gimmick: Pianola is an innovative way of showcasing dancers. How did they face this particular “music?” Fearlessly.

On the same program was the revival of At Midnight (1967), which Feld created for American Ballet Theatre. This work established Feld as a major choreographer. Several very famous dance makers with very inflated reputations freely copied it. The small (475 seat), one-level Joyce Theatre is an ideal place to become re-acquainted with a classic.

At Midnight is danced to Gustav Mahler’s Ruckert Lieder. 35 years ago Mahler’s music was just starting to be programmed as standard concert repertory. It must have surprised those first ABT audiences hearing this song cycle incorporated into a ballet. Recorded music at a live performance isn’t a terrible thing when the voice belongs to Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau. His beautiful singing illuminates the beautiful choreography. If performed separately, At Midnight’s three main sections would make brilliant separate pieces.

Mood is established in the program notes with a Thomas Hardy quotation that calls the “hide-and-seek” of love an “irksome, outworn game.” The isolation caused by love frames At Midnight’s loose narrative.

The stage is shadowed in darkness as the sorrowful-first notes of the song At Midnight are heard. A nearly naked, barefoot man (Jason Jordan) is among a group of hooded male dancers (Nickemil Concepcion, Remington McLeod, Edgar Peterson III, Sean Scantlebury, Jassen Virolas). They protect and partner him, lifting him in crucifixion poses. He tries to break away, but cannot – or doesn’t want to. The beam of light dims and the men enclose him, their hands nervously waving in triumph.

A backdrop (by Leonard Baskin) of a crouched male surrounded by two ravens is revealed on the fully lit stage. Oblivious to the foreboding surroundings, a brightly colored costumed couple (Andrea Emmons and Wu-Kang Chen) begins a passionate duet. They seldom dance apart. He carries her gently, her legs extending (feet pointed) parallel to his waist, and he closely holds her on an angle. The ensuing high lifts are metaphors for their love.

They are oblivious to the three couples (Kyla Ernst-Alper/Nickemil Concepcion, Jeannine Lowery/Sean Scantlebury, Jacquelyn Scafidi/Jassen Virolas) that dance around them. The opening’s tortured soul returns in rags. He dances but no one joins with, let alone notices, him. He leaves.

A woman (Patricia Tuthill) in Grecian shift enters. Her dress and turban are purple, the Christian color of mourning. Purple could also be interpreted as a sign of the sky or spring. Her presence is ignored. Everyone departs except for the main couple. A “Mahlerian” harp chord is heard. The ensuing duet and solo are stunning. The lovers are not re-enacting an incident from this woman’s past or reinforcing whatever her reality might be. She has her own identity and agenda. The stage is not divided in half; they are simply sharing the same space.

The words, “I hardly care if the world thinks me dead. Neither can I deny it, for I am truly dead to the world,” suggest grief, but the choreography is life affirming. Bourrées mark her place in this onstage world. Her “splendid isolation” is a source of strength. Ultimately this solo celebrates a love of self.

All the others, including the solitary man, return. The music sounds like the wind and the dancers swirl within it. The man and woman are on opposite ends of the stage and never find each other. At Midnight ends with wonderful uncertainty.

Eliot Feld kept At Midnight out of the Ballet Tech repertory for a long time. Perhaps he was waiting for his dancers to mature. Both the ballet and the company are aging well.