© Erik Tomasson, SFB Ballet.co Festival Reviews: Prog A, Prog B, Prog C Programs A&B SFB New Works Festival Photographs Gallery of 30 images of all the pieces in the festival SFB 'Thread' reviews SFB 'Ibsen's House' reviews SFB 'Double Evil' reviews Magierek in reviews Smith in SFB reviews recent SFB reviews more Renee Renouf reviews Discuss this review (Open for at least 6 months)

Thread refers to Ariadne, the legendary Cretan Princess rescuing Theseus from the Minotaur and fleeing with him only to be abandoned at Naxos, there to be rescued by Dionysus. Poet Michael Palmer, long- time Jenkins’ collaborator, augmented Thread; like Jenkins he used the legend differently, departing from the traditional narrative. Paul Dresher’s score further veered from balletic practice, composed to underscore movement viewed from rehearsal tape, if underscoring the patterns with a raw, savage aural power.

Alexander Nichols’ handsome scenic and projection design accented the thread theme with a back scrim of an angled, oblong continuous line, behind another scrim suggesting a path before the stylized labyrinth symbol, but behind the athletic center where Minoan youth stretched, jumped and partnered.

Beaver Bauer’s costume designs evoked Minoan culture with strips of brown pointed deep in the pelvis, circling over the sides of the hips, with head bands suggesting snake goddess statues. Jenkins’ use of such artefacts accented movement with arms held close to the sides to the waist, lower arms held outward like ancient Minoan stances. Thread was arguably the most handsome visual addition to the company’s productions.

What Jenkins provided the thirteen dancers with was the challenge to employ classical training at an obvious, sustained level. While there were few technical surprises, the pace and placement of technique were satisfying, classical myth devoid of pretty little pointe work, supported attitudes, arabesques or pirouettes. Lifts and balances occurred, but lacked the usual balletic geometry.

Pauli Magierek danced Ariadne to Damian Smith’s Theseus, much of Magierek’s assignment occurring in profile in the passage behind the scrim, her torso in exaggerated thrust, evoking those Minoan images. Smith’s early passages were executed down stage right before engaging in passing partners or Ariadne emerging for the attraction/repulsion gave the work its climax.

While Thread may be out of the current repertoire, some of the company’s most interesting dancers participated: Garrett Anderson, Brett Bauer, Nicolas Blanc, Frances Chung, Molly Smollen, James Sofranko; Smolen, in a crouch, bore the weight of a male dancer’s body.

Ibsen’s House vied for visually stunning decor and costumes, furnished by Sandra Woodall for Val Caniparoli’s review of late 19th century Scandinavian heroines set to an Antonin Dvorak quintet executed by pianist Roy Bogas, violinists Roy Malan and Craig Reiss, with Paul Ehrlich and David Kadarauch as Violist and Cellist. If there was any complaint regarding the production, it was the near-unrelieved gloom of James F. Ingalls' lighting. A long-time dance connoisseur sitting in the Grand Tier just above the boxes complained that Ibsen’s House was like looking into a black box; nothing could be discerned about costumes with little in side lighting to distinguish dancers or their stage trajectories. Even sitting on orchestra aisle seats mid-way to the rear was a task in identifying players, let alone garment details.

The ebb and flow of Dvorak and the periodic peaks of the strings certainly supplied a febrile quality, with a heroine frequently emerging or disappearing behind a backstage scrim and a handsome window upper stage right, another transparent curtain and huge black curtain masking nearly two-thirds of back stage center to back stage left. The male characters usually entered the patterns from the wings whether to engage a heroine or in ensemble as did the heroines in their solos. Caniparoli’s concept lent both formality and deliberation to the portraits, which, though evocative, didn’t seem to develop fully, perhaps due to visual obscurity.

As Hedda Gabler, Lorena Feijoo opened and closed the ballet en pointe, arms almost like a wili, body slightly ecarte. Partnered at the premiere by David Arce, Aaron Orza with his craggy profile at the second viewing proved more convincing than rangy height plus a better temperamental match. Molly Smolen and Tiit Helimets as Nora and Torvald Helmer seemed to supply the most understandable plot, Smolen with furtive glances and gestures of her hands on her forest green garment bordered with black braid, Helimets a perfectly chill northern European. Dana Genshaft and Garen Scribner essayed the principal roles from Ghosts, distinguishing themselves, she with her frantic gestures when standing behind him, he with furious rebellion. Courtney Elizabeth as Ellida Wangel and Pierre-Francois Vilanoba as the Stranger in Lady of the Sea seemed principally to swirl in arabesques evoking the water-dominated tale. Nicole Grand and Anthony Spaulding danced Rebecca West and John Rosmer, the latter in his usual wonderful correctness and understanding of mood. It should also be noted that Vilanoba excelled throughout the season for his necessarily moody characters, frequently in period costume.

Ibsen’s House with its wonderful production and fine dancers still needs to differentiate not only its characters but the light with which the audience witnesses the sketches of their conflicts.

Jorma Elo, Boston Ballet’s choreographer in residence, chose an opposite pairing by employing composers Phillip Glass and Vladimir Martinov for Double Evil’s music. Holly Hynes’ costumes were handsome and stylish, though a question lurks as to why tutus were chosen. Perhaps it was because Elo made such a sly, almost unnoticeable comment on two extremes of human behavior: near puppet-like and so flexible as to court distortion, my take on the title Double Evil.

However, the likes of Elana Altman, Pauli Magierek, Sarah Van Patten, Vanessa Zahorian, Jaime Garcia Castilla, Rory Hohenstein, Pascal Molat and Pierre-Francois Vilanoba served Elo’s demands with accustomed skill. That they succeeded so brilliantly in the choreographer’s estimation was endearingly demonstrated during the ballet’s first curtain call. Taking the customary bow, Elo turned impulsively to the dancers and went down on one knee.