Saturday Matinee

San Francisco Ballet in Fokine's Petrouchka. © Erik Tomasson

We don’t see a lot of Fokine around the War Memorial Opera House in San Francisco. And with Program 4, Michael Fokine’s Petrouchka was a brave yet intelligent choice that took risks in exposing SF audiences to something more unfamiliar. It’s a stark story of tyranny and cruelty in the form of three life size puppets, working as slave entertainers for a demanding master at a public festival. The company’s famous extensions were nowhere to be seen onstage, yet the meticulous details was gripping in the way that every gesture served the dramatic elements of the story. It truly was, as the program notes said, a play without words and maybe not what people had expected to see. Hunched concave shoulders and robotic angles in the arms and legs belied a sense of coerced duty in constant fear and hopelessness. The classic tragic hero Petrouchka’s doomed demise is a depressing message to those whose fatal flaw is to dare to hope, in the form of love for a fellow doll, the Ballerina. His demise is difficult to watch, and the truth of oppression is only made easier when the victim is dehumanized and made to believe that Petrouchka is only a doll, not a human being. Even the colorful scenery is garish and mocking, as is the score by Stravinsky in its mocking cheer and cacophony that grates on the ears. Petrouchka is a production that premiered in 1911, but its cynical truth rings true with modern times.

Taras Domitro was unrecognizable as Petrouchka, and a promising sign of growth as an artist where he was still able to hold the stage without his famous jumps or extensions. Elizabeth Miner was a doll without a hair out of place, and nobody batted an eye when the devil himself (danced by Martyn Garside) appeared in the bizarre festivities. The audience was more reticent than usual, but it was a thought-provoking dramatic piece, gripping in its details.

Although the stage was crowded with scenery and dancers and supers, the dancers seemed to fill the stage more in the empty set of Forsythe’s abstract in the middle, somewhat elevated, a piece that is the most polar opposite of Petrouchka that you could possibly get. In this crowded stage where there’s no choreographed movement to fill the stage, the atmosphere was curiously static in what should have been a bustling festival. It’s a testament to the strengths and weaknesses of the company, and this can only improved by tackling more pieces like Petrouchka.

Yuan Yuan Tan and Anthony Spaulding in Possokhov's Diving into the Lilacs. © Erik Tomasson

The rest of the program was filled with two pieces that played last year, and there were revelations to be made in a second look. In Possohkov’s Diving Into the Lilacs which premiered last year, I was reminded at how pretty this ballet is. Steeped in nostalgia and aching beauty, its imagery is vivid yet nonspecific, and its impact as effervescent as a fast fading memory.

Its strength lies in the fact that the choreographer-in-residence knows his company very very well – the dancers are highlighted to the best of their abilities. Frances Chung and Hansuke Yamamoto filled every moment in time and space to the fullest, Chung in her contrasts between quick and precise footwork and sweeping, liquid lines. Maria Kochetkova and Gennadi Nedvigin didn’t have the sculptural elegance of Tan and Spaulding in last year’s cast, but infused a lighter perfume to their delicately furious duet.

Frances Chung in Forsythe's in the middle, somewhat elevated. © Erik Tomasson

The evening ended with a bang with Forsythe’s in the middle, somewhat elevated in a heartpounding show of competitive artistry. Set to the turbulent music by Thom Willems on a bare stage, the focus is on the dancers and their movements as awe-inspiring as Olympic athletes, as they push to the limits of physicality. The dancers brought out different aspects in the geometric movements. Sarah Van Patten was a preening cat that attacked suddenly with steely precision. Garen Scribner had the best instincts on stage, from his weightless jumps to popping angles in his neck and limbs. Frances Chung made the audience gasp as she burst from the wings in a series of knife-like splits. Kristin Long and Pierre-Francois Vilanoba danced the final pas de deux, dancing with intentional ferocity. Long was a dynamo powerhouse, so different in style with Sofiane Sylve in the other cast who dances with more spontaneity and careless glamor and authority. With Long and Vilanoba, the volume was amped to the max, and it was a wonder to watch.

San Francisco Ballet