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La Paloma

In the many programs which were heavy with pas de deux, we'd often see Paloma Herrera and Gillian Murphy following on each others' heels, as on the opening-night gala. After Murphy's ascent to near-divinity with her mastery of 'Ballet Imperial' at the Met last spring, I thought this would be no contest, that Murphy and her awe-inspiring triple fouéttés would steamroller the often-somnolent Herrera. Instead, at least in the old chestnut pas it was Murphy who looked as if she'd just as soon be somewhere else, and Herrera who decided she owned the stage.

Not having seen Herrera's early years, I usually found something lacking. Yes, she had beautiful feet and legs, and a sharply honed technique, but she often danced as if she were merely going through the motions, with only an occasional brief flash of brilliance, and I wondered what all the fuss had been about. After this fall season, I knew. In the off-season, something seems to have ignited Herrera. Her Corsaire with Angel Corella was brilliant (like Murphy, she danced the "hard" solo, not the Dryad Queen one); clean and playful, with only the want of some chemistry with her partner keeping this from being a Corsaire for the ages (Corella was, of course, brilliant, but, as is his wont, danced for the audience; not Herrera).

It was in her 'Black Swan' pas de deux with Marcelo Gomes that Herrera truly came to life. Gomes' was, for me, the other big story of the season. After a year or two in which a safe stolidity had enveloped his earlier promise, Gomes, like Herrera, seems to have found a second life. In his Saturday matinee 'Theme and Variations' with a truly magisterial Murphy, Gomes finished his treacherous second solo, with its deadly, endless double-tour/pirouette finale, beaming as if he'd suddenly realized "This is fun!" He seemed on a high the rest of the season, but never more so than in his 'Black Swans' with Herrera.

It's a commonplace that the 'Black Swan' should be a vignette of a seduction, as Odile tantalizes and teases the hapless Siegfried, before utterly conquering him in an orgy of bravura. But too often, especially when the duet's done as an excerpt, there's little sense of character, other than a generic sultriness from Odile and eager dim-wittedness from Siegfried. In the adagio, Herrera and Gomes made the most of every clinch and separation, stalking each other like a pair of matadors. Yes, their emoting verged on the shameless (more than once each seemed on the verge of dissolving in laughter), yet I couldn't help but be entranced by these 21st century stars "ballet-russing" it up, and doing such a great job of it. Early on, her développés à la seconde were flirtatious displays of her perfect feet, slowing ever so slightly before reaching their zenith, as if saying to Gomes, "You like that? You want some?" Later, Gomes sulked sweetly at being briefly spurned by Herrera, then blocking her exit with an elegant arm and slightly panicked mien ("You can't leave; we've just been introduced!"). It's clear Herrera greatly trusts Gomes, as in the unabashedly aggressive way she hurled herself at Gomes after a diagonal of chainés, slamming against his chest as she plunged into one of her signature, winged attitudes, with her curved leg ever-so-slightly above horizontal, looking like nothing so much as the fletching on the arrow which has just pierced Siegfried's heart. (On ABT's final matinee, she hurled herself with such enthusiasm she almost toppled Gomes; ah, the joys of live theater!) The passion with which she smacked her hand into his outstretched palm before diving into a suicidal penchée.

It might perhaps go without saying that her solos were both fiery and utterly controlled, with pirouettes in second so generous they might've been doubles, and crystalline single and double fouettés. Gomes himself got carried away, finishing his own pirouettes à la seconde with a showy drop to the knee. By this time the house was screaming, as Herrera relevéd triumphantly in arabesque, sweeping her arm and chin in what came closed to a mime cackle of victory.

La Gillian

While Herrera seemed quite happy to show up at the theater, knock 'em dead in a show-off pas de deux, accept her flowers and call it a night, Murphy looked as if she'd outgrown these warhorses. In 'Corsaire' she danced without much passion or clarity, seeming to come alive only when it was time for some heavy-hitting bravura, as with her de riguer triple fouettés or lightning-fast chainés. But in more substantial roles, her reticence transforms into ballerina majesty, as in her previously reviewed performances in 'Theme and Variations,' or her breathtaking 'Les Sylphides,' (both times partnered by Gomes, who has become as essential as he is ubiquitous). While many elements of ABT's revival of 'Les Sylphides' were problematic (indifferent soloists; a game but uncomfortable corps), Murphy herself was spectacular, bordering on supernatural, thanks to her prodigious technique soaring through the grand jetés of the waltz variation, bourreing across the stage as if eiderdown in the wind or traveling weightlessly in arabesques voyagées.

La Veronika

In a season where the modern ("experimental," as Kevin McKenzie called them at his opening-night speech) works ABT presented varied from the sublime (Forsythe's 'workwithinwork') to the ridiculous (Kylian's 'Sech Tanze') to the amateurish (Peterson's 'Amazed in Burning Dreams'), Balanchine's 'Mozartiana' was a welcome sight, or would have been, had the performances been better. Veronika Part's two 'Mozartianas' were heartbreaking. She clearly feels Tchaikovsky, and understood what Balanchine had intended: in the Preghiera her oh-so-Russian carriage and port de bras hinted at the passionate, sad and joyful performance she wanted so badly to give, but couldn't. Her bandaged, though beautiful, feet betrayed her; her bourrees were almost as painful to watch as they must have been to perform. Her first 'Mozartiana' quickly turned into an exercise in survival; her second started out far better, but she seemed to completely run out of strength in the middle of the adagio. Maxim Beloserkovsky seemed overmatched by both his solos (overly fast tempi didn't help) and partnering duties (Part's a bit tall for him), and neither Herman Cornejo's sprightly performance in the Gigue, or the four corps girls inappropriate sweetness helped salvage these performances. Only the ever-reliable quartets of children from the School of American Ballet seemed to understand this ballet's combination of elation and melancholy.
 

Julie Kent, Maxim Beloserkovsky and Maria Riccetto in Les Sylphides
© Marty Sohl

La Julie

I ended up admiring Part for her courage and generosity. Although she couldn't realize the great performance she had in her heart, she tried. She held back nothing, and gave until she had nothing more to give. Julie Kent could have done so much better, but seemed either not to care, or not to have a clue what 'Mozartiana' is all about; it's not about looking pretty. Where Part tried, however unsuccessfully, to bring the music to life, Kent, despite being in better shape (her rippling bourrees were quite lovely, actually), simply blew past the choreography's great musical moments as if they didn't even exist. Balanchine's choreography can often forgive much in its dancers, except indifference, and Kent showed here that it takes more than pretty eyebrows to dance Balanchine, as she also proved earlier in the season with Tudor. Perhaps realizing he was dancing for two, Angel Corella (who can also do better) was muscular and sloppy when he needed most to be elegant and precise. Perhaps he figured that, in the places where he and Kent share near-simultaneous pirouettes, her two turns and his six might somehow average out to three each, but it just doesn't work that way.

La Monique

If Part's tenure with ABT has been frustrating because of what she can't do; Monique Meunier's has been more frustrating because of what she can. This former principal dancer with New York City Ballet is, like Part, a large woman, but where Part isn't strong enough to hold her hyperextended extremities together without a willing partner, Meunier is a powerhouse, both technically and in her onstage persona. It has become the stuff of legends how she took a horrific fall while dancing the second ballerina in 'Ballet Imperial' at the Met last spring, then bounced up to finish her section with a beautiful triple pirouette (to resounding cheers). Also legendary have been her battles with her weight, and I was happy to see that for this season she'd slimmed down considerably. Her brief appearances in 'workwithinwork' and Kylian's 'Sinfonietta' showed she's still as strong as ever (matching Beloserkovsky jeté for jeté in 'Sinfonietta, or even outjumping him a bit) and as intriguing she commands the eye, and entirely without technical trickery. Her Balanchinean training gives her a clarity and directness few at ABT can match, and it was hard, in watching Part and Kent fail at 'Mozartiana,' not to imagine what glory Meunier might've made of the role, had she but been given a chance (at least Part is given a few shots at big roles, and even Marie Riccetto was given a 'Mozartiana!'). True, she's not the easiest woman to find a partner for, but doesn't McKenzie realize that a great gem deserves a great setting, or just what a gem he has in Meunier?