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Amadeus in Action: “Divertimento No. 15”, “Firebird”, “Symphony in C” by Tom Phillips George Balanchine has often been compared to W.A. Mozart, and these two prolific geniuses do have a quality in common: both were able to build works of great density and complexity, yet retain an illusion of almost effortless lightness. Last Friday, on Mozart’s 250th birthday, New York City Ballet opened its program with Balanchine’s only surviving work to Mozart’s music, with a debut in it by a young dancer who matches them both in that incredible lightness. The secret ingredient is air—in the harmony, in the steps, and in the dancing of Sterling Hytlin, whose every move seems to begin and end with an extra stretch of the limbs and lift of the upper torso. In “Divertimento No. 15,” she astonished the audience with a slow, supported exit in which she seemed to be flying off at an ascending angle, like the children at the end of “The Nutcracker.” Still, Hyltin does not come across as a showoff; that extra lift seems to be a natural product of youth and joy in dancing. It’s also the benefit of an ideal “Balanchine body”—long legs, short waist and broad, gently sloping shoulders—and a natural musicality that senses the fillip at the end of a phrase. “Divertimento” has been compared to cut glass, with a soft sparkle rather than a diamond glitter. It’s an essay in angles and directions, with quick shifts and turns revealing different aspects of the body in motion, especially the diagonal shapes. It’s also an essay in mathematics, with three men somehow managing to partner five women, and Balanchine sometimes working in fives to Mozart’s fours. The cast was terrific. Miranda Weese and Megan Fairchild were the master glass-cutters, establishing the angles and the instant changes between them, e.g. Fairchild leaping from a front diagonal to a croise rear in no time at all. But it was Hyltin and Abi Stafford, the junior ballerinas, who added the air and flair, turning cut glass into spun glass. Stafford has precision to go with her bounce. Hyltin is not as rock-solid, but she more than made up for it with her elevation and angelic upward tilt. The men did their parts, especially Jason Fowler’s well-defined jumps and powerful lifts, and Philip Neal’s soft feet on the floor. By the end of the Andante, when the men and women honor each other in diagonal lines as they slowly retire to the wings, each of the eight had earned their deep bows. Most of what you can say about Divertimento you could also say about “Symphony in C,” the finale of the program which served as a brilliant reflection of the opener. Bizet’s symphony could be a homage to Mozart and his lightness— maybe less density and complexity, but with French wit and gypsy madness to keep it skimming along. The set—a luminous blue background—is the same, as are the costumes, classic tutus here topped with tiaras, turning the stage into a minimalist’s crystal palace. And once again the action is in the angles, and the changes. Jennie Somogyi defined the terms with a fast but unhurried Allegro Vivo, set off by a dynamic pair of demi-soloists, Teresa Reichlen and Savannah Lowery. Fairchild bounced through an even faster third movement, and Abi Stafford tore out of the gates to kick off the finale. But the high point was the slow part—a rapturous adagio by Charles Askegard and Wendy Whelan. After many years of struggle, Whelan is enjoying her moment on top of the world. Last Sunday, in an adoring profile in the New York Times Magazine, she described dancing this movement as like “talking with God,” and tonight she showed us what that meant. Rising and falling, she danced with perfect faith in herself and her partner, arching to the floor across his arm, lifting to plunge into a vertical penchee. That was breathtaking, but even more telling was the simple moment, facing front, when she lifts her arms through the circle of her partner’s descending port de bras. They seemed to be creating a cylinder of pure energy, going up and down from heaven like Jacob’s ladder. Whelan’s expression throughout the ballet was one of serene ecstasy—mouth slightly open, eyes wide and bright, as if she were drinking in a mystery of delight. This movement was created by Balanchine to enable dancers to transcend the world; Whelan is not the first to do it, but no one has done it quite like this. Sandwiched between these two symphonic abstractions was something completely different—Stravinsky’s “Firebird,” ably ignited by Ashley Bouder as the bird, Rachel Rutherford as the bride, and Askegard as the Prince. Here, of course, the main attraction is the spectacular set and costumes by Chagall. I’ve always found “Firebird” a letdown as the final piece on the program—the finale looks like an operatic tableau, rather than a ballet—but as a centerpiece to two of Balanchine’s symphonic abstractions, it was just a big red jewel in a crown of glory.
Volume 4, No. 4
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