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Dance Critic Rita Felciano summarized the response when she said, “It is the perfect ballet,” to my comment “If there was only one great ballet Balanchine ever did, Apollo has be it.”

Happily Gonzalo Garcia has grown more expressive in the role, moving on from his phenomenal technical capacities into the emotion and the force of Apollo being born, flexing his muscles, encountering and leading the Muses. Parenthetically, having seen a glimpse of Serge Lifar, the original Apollo, in the Ballets Russes documentary (with Tamara Toumanova and both in mufti), some of the body postures and angles show their stylistic derivation.

I doubt whether the original Mother wore trunks: I don’t see why she couldn’t be dressed like the Muses giving birth or in a short-skirted Directoire over blouse so pregnancy looks more relevant than the bare terrific leg and torso movements the blue leotarded Paula Magierek provided.

Yuan Yuan Tan (Terpsichore), Sarah Van Patten (Calliope), Vanessa Zahorian (Polyhymnia ): displayed a trio of differing heights and physiques - willow, amazonian, solid and perky. Their silhouettes augured choices Balanchine seemed to select for differing purposes, with concomitant degrees of articulation in port de bras and torso. The physical variation underscored the separation of Terpsichore from her sister Muses soon after their appearance on stage, leading to wonder what situation in the rehearsal hall caused Balanchine to form this part of the ballet, as he did in the creation of Serenade, another of his great works. These current three Muses evoke such speculation.

Two days later some musical phrases linger in my imaginary ear.

Blue Rose (2006)

Composer: Elena Kats-Chernin;
Choreographer: Helgi Tomasson
Costume design: Judanna Lynn
Lighting design:Lisa J. Pinkham
Piano: Natasha Feygina
Violin: Roy Malan

This one, sparking by a five-week country retreat listening to music, is contemporary; five of ten names had Rag in their title; individual numbers earned dancers’ first names. You know, therefore, it’s intended as casual and intimate. Tomasson seems prone to a piano on stage or solo musician on stage for some of his most engaging works; in this instance piano and violin. The men were in dark shirts; trousers held up by suspenders, the women in effective street length strappy floral dresses which swirled, accented by ruffles or floating ribbons.

It seemed ‘20's, ‘30's tea/cocktail dance and period movie style passion without the Pola Negri excessive melodrama; there certainly was no allotted posturing or emoting outside of music-induced movement. The lighting, largely over the piano, lent itself to believing this could be an anywhere urban setting of the times. Enhancing this was the male trio with the same French schooling, evoking within differing physiques Gallic je ne sai quoi. What was particularly nice, however, is that the ballet conveyed romance and emotion in warm adult notes; nothing smacked of callow youth and inexperience, cast or choreography.

The lion’s share of dancing went to Tina and Pascal, soaring with Pascal swinging Tina’s legs airborne frequently, swooping around in that feathery emotion both separately and together, blown by romance; later she sauntered, flirting towards him as he awaited smiling; Vanessa and Nicolas danced the signature piece, a coventional portrait of couple love. Feijoo provided her full-fledged range; with Pierre in Mute Princess, this mature matching, in physical and emotional dimensions and schooling, was vibrant, mellow. Pierre-Francois seems to be coming into a special articulate period, rewarding to behold.

Typical since his arrival , Pascal was assigned a brilliant solo with lots of corkscrew turns worthy of a flamenco artist, though airborne; he dispatched them with the usual Pascal relish and energy.

Of the numbers, I responded most to the Brothers, Nicholas and Pierre; they had danced at the Gala to Forsythe’s Vertiginous Thrill with such interesting effect. On first impression, they defined in dance a genuinely believable enduring relationship, complete with micro body inflections. Let’s see if the second cast can rise to the example.

Quaternary (2005)

composers: Bach/Cage/Art/MacKey
choreographer: Christopher Wheeldon
scenography/costume design: Jean-Marc Puissant
lighting: Jennifer Tipton

European audiences know more about this complex work since it was premiered in the Paris Summer Festival last July, remembered by Bay Area critic Allan Ulrich as occurring in a drizzle.

With Quaternary referring to the Four Seasons, Wheeldon’s inaugurating artists were apt representatives of the seasons: Yuan Yuan Tan and Damian Smith as Winter; Lorena Feijoo; Joan Boada; Tina Le Blanc and Nicolas Blanc as Spring; Muriel Maffre and Yuri Possokhov as Summer; and Katita Waldo and Pierre-Francois Vilanoba as Autumn.
 

Musically Wheeldon seems to have tossed the ages in along with the seasons; intent on conveying his vision, he has provided the audience with a huge swallow. Except perhaps for Spring and Summer, one is hard put to see the seasons as human stages: in these two one can intuit the spring of both Western musicals forms with the delight and formalism of civilized behavior, and in the summer the full, often turbulent emotion of maturity. Winter and Autumn as contrast seem to convey both the climatic uncertainties of the season, but the push-pull of impersonal yet discernible humanity.

The most impressive section belonged to Maffre and Possokhov, who were required to demonstrate core strengths to an incredible degree. Anyone studying Pilates instantly recognized the torso articulation and refinement required in the closing portion of their pas de deux. Not far behind is an equal demand with the arms. They are two extremely refined artists, if Possokhov seems to have gained weight from a recent sojourn in Russia while mounting his take on Cinderella’s varied history.

It was naturally extremely well executed, and perhaps on a second viewing, there will be more to observe. A special applause goes to Jean-Marc Puissant whose costumes are particularly supportive of the choreographer’s intent, distinctive yet not intrusive.