Technical Fireworks

Dig the Say. Photo: Erin Baiano">

The superb skill of NYCB’s current roster sparkled in premieres by Amy Hall Garner and Justin Peck. The rapid-fire phrasing and bold grand allegro moves felt nearly like an overabundance, although just two dancers—Tiler Peck and Roman Mejia—performed Peck’s Dig the Say, tempering this kinetic bounty. The new works offer lively entries into the repertory, now accreting steadily around the core of Balanchine and Robbins.

Music by Vijay Iyer accompanied Dig the Say, laying down a jazzy, loose foundation for this piece meant to read as sheer fun. A red ball introduced at the outset insured this, as well as stenciled numbers on the institutionally bland-hued legs, and Tiler Peck’s snazzy track suit style top (by Humberto Leon). Competition has a prominent place in the world of ballet, whether standardized in actual grand prix meetups, or on stage in “can you top this” pirouette-offs. Tiler Peck and Mejia seem born to such tête-à-têtes, both possessing such advanced technical skill so as to frequently transcend niggling laws of physics, like gravity or lateral grip.

Justin Peck deploys his classical vocabulary here, which—given his growing portfolio of projects, including a current Broadway run of Illinoise—might just be his most comfortable and broadly expressive. Low-leg arabesques or off-kilter turns, sassy leans out of properly placed positions on pointe, spearing double grands assemblés en tournant, quick kitty-punch phrases, and of course, fouettés and turns in second, all finishing with a press lift of Tiler by Mejia using just one hand under her armpit. Might as well have spelled “Tada!” in glitter, but the wildly cheering audience sufficed.

Amy Hall Garner didn’t fall out of the sky and into the commissioning arms of several top New York companies over the last few years, but it sure feels that way. Actually, she previously worked as a dancer on Broadway and for the Rockettes, and her solid, effervescent choreography has been earning her one job after another. Underneath, There Is Light marks her debut with NYCB, after unveilings for Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater and Paul Taylor Dance Company in recent seasons. As is often the case with outside choreographers for NYCB (okay, affiliated ones as well), the dancers’ top-notch technical facility, versatility, and musicality combine for an irresistible temptation to go for broke ambition-wise, as evidenced in the first movement of this premiere.

The twenty dancers soar across and through the space in sauté arabesques or grand jetés, and pair up for assisted flying leaps. Garner embellishes standard steps with details such as furling hands, widely-flung arms to release the sternum, and funny, flat spearing hands in backward chugs by Miriam Miller. The all-black costumes (Marc Happel) feel formal in context with a sunny musical track by Jonathan Dove and the riot of gamboling dancers. Chun Wai Chan and Gilbert Bolden III (both charismatic, with muscular power) team up with the lithe Miller, who mimes walking on a tightrope.

The suspended kite-shaped flats rise and lower in a variety of compositions, with just one remaining in the final section. Here, the lighting (by Mark Stanley, who also created the sets) suffuses and diminishes to a panoply of marine blues. Miller now wears a diaphanous gold gown that seems to glow from within. The soundtrack, which had progressed through Latin influenced songs, softens, quiets, and serenity envelops the stage. The men have changed into pale, opalescent short leotards, so oddly informal compared to both their prior clothes and the women’s gala-ready gowns—perhaps moons to their suns? A pastoral feeling takes hold: the movements more tender and generous, all fight and bluster set aside. Men hoist women who seem to float, arms swaying. A bird sings, and the work ends a beat sooner than expected.

Underneath,There Is Light. Photo: Erin Baiano">

These premieres, on a program with Balanchine’s Rubies (sprightly but feeling its 57 years, or perhaps I’ve had too many viewings of the forced frivolity) fall into the classical column of NYCB’s repertory, while recent commissions seen on other programs this season push the company’s familiar zone in positive ways. I had planned to see Pam Tanowitz’s Law of Mosaics (2022) when it premiered, but it was replaced at the last minute due to illness; I finally caught it this season. Tanowitz consistently invents new vocabulary by tweaking ballet’s canon—not grotesquely, in the way some choreographers simply ask for more, but enough to create something fresh. Sara Mearns’ breathtaking solo in the final act, done barefoot (she previously wore pointe shoes), culminates in accumulating emotive mimed gestures from Giselle on top of lengthy side-to-side bourrées, no easy task in bare feet.

Kyle Abraham’s Love Letter (on shuffle) (2022), on the same bill, provided more proof that Taylor Stanley is one of the choreographer’s ultimate muses. Stanley magically shapeshifts through styles, from crisp balletic poses to grinding hip-hop phrases, all while perfectly calculating the exquisite relationship between torso, limbs, and head. On the more classical side, Alexei Ratmansky’s Pictures at an Exhibition (2014), to the Mussorgsky score, comprises 16 brief scenes that capture the breadth and textural charisma among the company’s dancers. Largely felicitous in feel, the dance ends solemnly, with a recently added projected Ukrainian flag, bringing us back to reality.

The health of New York City Ballet seems strong, given these recent premieres. Some literal grumblings of more seasoned audience members after the less traditional offerings signify that the sea change must include viewers as well. And yet there are ample classical ballets to appease the traditionalists while pushing the art form forward, alongside more experimental voices—plenty of room in the big tent of the Koch.