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New York Report

Les Ballets de Monte Carlo’s Romeo et Juliette; David Parsons; Eliot Feld’s Ballet Tech; SAB Workshop; Dances...Patrelle

by Mary Cargill
copyright © 1999 by Mary Cargill
Summer 1999

After reviewing the titles of numerous best-sellers, a reporter once wrote that the best way to guarantee a huge sale would be to call a book "Lincoln’s Doctor’s Dog." Looking at the titles of popular ballets throughout the country leads one to the conclusion that a blockbuster plot would be “Dracula pushes Romeo and Juliet into Swan Lake.” New York, unlike the rest of the country, has not seen dancing Draculas, but it has had its share of Romeos and Swans.

Les Ballets de Monte Carlo brought its version of Romeo et Juliette to City Center this spring, choreographed by the company directory Jean Christophe Maillot. Unlike the familiar version of Sir Kenneth MacMillan (playing at the Met), Maillot’s strayed quite far from Shakespeare, which to my mind, is a smart road to travel; most attempts to reproduce Shakespeare without words look cartoonish, since his verse is so memorable.

Maillot’s drama was set in a striking abstract bare white stage, with a few oblique references in the costumes to the Renaissance. The story seemed to be controlled by Friar Lawrence, who was bald and wore black tights—not the traditional beneficent presence. His appearance was striking but his motives were somewhat obscure; he seemed to suffer a lot, but it was not clear if he had a guilty conscience or evil intentions. The dancing tended toward the current Euro-expressionistic style, with its combination of point work, thrilling jumps and impassioned rolling. There was lots of simulated sex, especially by the lascivious Lady Capulet, who lusts after every man in sight. The Juliette, the tall and striking Bernice Coppieters, was not a shy young innocent. She pulled her dress down (with her back to the audience) to prove to her nurse that she was all woman. And she roared after her Romeo, the equally striking Chris Roelandt.

As a stark picture of headlong lust gone awry, this was an interesting antidote to the more conventional heavy Renaissance-painting balletic versions. It might have been more effective had it been shorter (some of the town-square scenes and court dances seemed to go on forever) and tighter (what was Friar Lawrence up to), but the performances were impassioned and truly memorable.

Passion is not really the forte of the Parsons Dance Company, established by the former Paul Taylor dancer David Parsons. This company is fun, clean (even when half-naked), and enjoyable, but a bit facile. Parson’s familiar strobe-light solo Caught, where

the dancer seems to walk on air, danced this season by Jaime Martinez and by Elizabeth Koeppen, is the archetype for the dances the company does. It is engaging, with a neat gimmick, but Parsons does not yet invest his fun with real substance. Even Anthem, with its vaguely antimilitary feel, ended up a colorful extravaganza of waving flags.

But the fun is genuine, and the live music before the performances (by the John Mackey Ensemble and the Phil Woods Little Big Band) and the cheeky improvised dances gave the week an informal, relaxed joy that the audience responded to with enthusiasm.

Eliot Feld also appeared at the Joyce for a month with his newest company, Ballet Tech. It is a very young company in both senses. It was formed two years ago and is made up of recent graduates from Feld’s New York City Public School for Dance. Though some of the dances have the girls on point, this is not a ballet company, and some of the older Feld dances shown this season missed the more experienced dancers of his former companies. Patricia Tuthill, his current female star, has a sweet presence, but she is no Buffy Miller.

Feld has some very impressive men, though, in the powerful Jassen Virelas and Nickemil Concepcion, and a natural and unique comedian in Armand Pretlow. Pretlow was the doomed soldier in Feld’s revival of the 1971 version of Stravinsky’s A Soldier’s Tale. This soldier does not sell his soul to the Devil. He doesn’t have to because the Devil is all around him in the form of a Pimp (a menacing Jassen Virolas) and two whores. Having teenagers go through the bump and grind movements created an affecting touch—they seemed almost oblivious to the meaning, but was also a bit off-putting. Pretlow, though, was quite moving, with his expressive face registering confusion and pain.

Feld, like many choreographers nowadays, often uses a review-style production, with dances to suites of songs. Since the songs are usually fun to listen to, these dances are enjoyable, but without a central theme or dancer, they tend to blur. This season Feld showed Juke Box, to 1950’s pop music, A Footstep of Air, to Beethoven’s Irish folk song arrangements, Skara Brae, to real Irish folk music, Doo Dah Day, to Stephen Foster songs, and Paper Tiger, to songs by Leon Redbone. They were all danced in Feld’s funky style, loose arms and loose hips, and were all enthusiastically received.

There were two major premieres, the oddly titled Mending, for Patricia Tuthill and Jasson Virolas, and Felix:The Ballet for the whole company. Mending was a strikingly theatrical piece, with Virolas suspended in a box in the air, moving slowly and ingeniously through it to some piercingly loud sirens. (I was not the only one who watched with my hands over my ears.) The atmosphere softened when Tuthill arrived; eventually Virolas pulled her up into his box. The dancers were both costumed in flesh-colored tights and this looked like a post-modern Adam and Eve story.

Felix:The Ballet was a confusing and often tasteless mess. Felix was Felix Mendelssohn, whose music was used, but it might have been Felix the Cat for all it really had to do with Mendelssohn. It was deliberately jokey (the credits read “Glad Rags & Paraphernalia Instigated by Eliot Feld, Aided & Abetted by Frank Frenz). The paraphernalia included an octopus tentacle, huge rubber balls, skateboards, and funny Nazis. It was bad enough to have what are essentially children pretend to be fish copulating, but to link the Jewish Mendelssohn to Wagner by way of a cartoon Brunhilde with a prominent brassiere is simply inexplicable. Towards the end, Feld had the corps imitate portions of Swan Lake, watched over by a man wearing a crown and a huge red cape. Two swans attacked and vanquished him, and the corps began to dance Feld-style. If Feld was trying to say that classical ballets are oppressive and his are liberating, he did not made his case with this production.

Another school, the School of American Ballet, gave its 35th annual workshop at the Juilliard Theater in June. The program opened with Balanchine’s Le Tombeau de Couperin, a formal dance for 16 corps members. The ballet, with its echoes of social dances, suits young people—the more passionate classical pas de deux of some former workshops have tended to look over-careful and inappropriate. The ballet was beautifully danced, with an appropriate charming earnestness between the couples. Valse Fantasie, to the swirling music of Glinka, was also well-danced, especially by Amar Ramasar, who, besides jumping like a beautifully controlled demon, had weight and poetry in his upper body.

Ramasar also showed a wonderfully dead-pan comedic side in Jerome Robbins’ Fanfare in which he, Jonathan Porretta, and Philip Spencer were extremely funny as the percussion. It seems to be a banner year for boys, with Igor Burlak as the dictatorial tuba, but Carla Körbes was a gentle and lovely harp. The entire performance, possibly helped by the intimate stage, just sparkled.

The novelty of the program was Christopher Wheeldon’s version of Stravinsky’s Scènes de Ballet. He took the title literally, and used many of the younger SAB students in an exploration, not just of ballet’s vocabulary, but of its continuity. This wasn’t a traditional frilly ballet-class ballet; the off-center, slightly astringent music was reflected in the witty and imaginative set, a slightly surreal studio, bisected by a barre. The designer, Ian Falconer, in a nod to the composer’s, and perhaps SAB’s Russian roots, included a view of St. Basil’s Cathedral, and the two exaggerated sylph portraits on the wall may also have been a humorous homage to the music, which was inspired by Giselle.

The architecture of the stage set a number of logistical problems and Wheeldon’s choreography was always interesting. The complicated rhythms of the music helped the ballet avoid much of the syrup that hoards of pink-tutued young dancers can pour over an audience.

Several SAB students also appeared in Dances...Patrelle’s spring season at the Sylvia and Danny Kaye Playhouse. It director, Francis Patrelle, is a well-known teacher, and his company uses his students, other young dancers, and a few guest stars. Despite the pick-up nature, the performance was polished, interesting, and very enjoyable. Mr. Patrelle has a real command of the ballet vocabulary and its small as well as large effects, and he can move dancers around the stage effectively.

The evening opened with the New York premiere of U.S.O., Radio Show/1942, a review set to popular songs of the 1940’s. Though it does not have the richness of Paul Taylor’s Company B (it uses some of the same songs), it was bright, colorful, and had a consistent period charm, without being coy or condescending. I particularly enjoyed Carly Sebouhiam as the sweet little ingenue.

The centerpiece, Madame X, was a sultry change of mood. The ballet was inspired by the John Singer Sargent painting and features guests from Ballet Met, the gorgeous Elizabeth Jane Zengara and David Paul Kierce as her lover Dr. Pozzi. (Fortunately Mr. Patrelle had the sense not to cast teenagers far beyond their years.) Madame X is an examination of Parisian hypocrisy, as Madame X is condemned for her public affair by society in the form of four well-dressed ladies who then privately primp for their own lovers. The music, to a lush commissioned score by Patrick Soluri, from the Manhattan School of Music, and the stunning costumes (Madame X appears in a knockoff of the famous gown) made major contributions to the ballet’s effect.

The final ballet of the program was Patrelle’s 1984 version of Rhapsody in Blue, with Gen Horiuchi, formerly of the New York City Ballet, as a guest. Again, Patrelle showed his ability to transform American popular music and dance into theater, and the choreography had a real 1930’s lilt and sophistication. Mr. Patrelle is an interesting choreographer, not afraid to enjoy himself and to entertain. And yes, he has done a version of Romeo and Juliet.