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

Last weekend, Smuin Ballet welcomed a few bloggers into their rehearsal room for us to get a preview of their upcoming spring program. Choreographer and Tulsa Ballet principal dancer Ma Cong was there to stage his ballet, French Twist, on the company. With this rehearsal, we got a glimpse of the piece that will be performed in May.

Since it’s still a few months away and Smuin Ballet is still knee-deep in their Winter program, it was such a different experience watching a piece in its early stages. From what I could see so far, French Twist is a piece that’s packed with movement, wit, and quirky humor. Set in ballet flats, there’s a momentum that’s outwardly horizontal with a radiating energy, rather than elevated and vertical as in classical ballet. There’s always something to see, and the movement emphasizes the syncopation in the music by French composer Hugues Le Bar. The music can be best described as post-Romantic neo-Baroque with an overlay of French cafe music + voice. The music is difficult to classify with multiple influences, but these genres comes together nicely with a quirky ease.

Cong ran rehearsal by dancing the steps himself along with the dancers, with a careful eye for detail. Even spacing of the fingers was addressed more than once, and his background in Chinese dance was visible especially in the way in dealing with the wrist and the hands. In the post-rehearsal Q&A with artistic director Celia Fushille, Cong talked about his background as well as his inspiration for this piece, first set at the National Choreographer’s Initiative last summer. His inspiration was Tom and Jerry cartoons, specifically in the way that the movement was not only perfectly musical, but there was inherent humor in the way the movement was so direct and sudden and perfectly placed and timed. He also talked about the challenges of resetting a work that was originally built on another set of dancers. He said one of the difficulties was remembering the original steps, but also adapting it to the strengths and personalities of the Smuin Ballet dancers. He’s tweaking a few details to the original piece, as well as almost revamping the entire finale.

It’s going to be quite a show, especially with Jiri Kylian’s Petite Mort and Smuin’s Songs of Mahler. Many thanks to Smuin Ballet and their warm hospitality for opening up their rehearsal.

Smuin Ballet’s 2010 Spring Program will be playing at the following places/dates:
Yerba Buena Center for the Arts, San Francisco (415)978-2787
May 7 – May 16
Lesher Center for the Arts, Walnut Creek (925)943-7469
May 21 – May 22
Flint Center, Cupertino (650)903-6000
May 29 – May 30
Sunset Center, Carmel (831)620-2048
June 4 – June 5

Smuin Ballet website

My favorite Tom and Jerry cartoon. I had forgotten how violent they are, and it’s still funny after all these years.

San Francisco Ballet in Wheeldon's Ghosts. © Erik Tomasson

Experimentation is necessary for the evolution of art. Never-before-seen dance positions and partnering can be fascinating to watch in and of itself, yet if this is all that a work of art offers, I start to wonder what the point is. The novelty of string of new inventions wears off quickly, a blatant “check this out” without engagement of the heart. This past week, in San Francisco Ballet’s Program 2, Christopher Wheeldon’s world premiere of Ghosts was a shining example of innovation wrapped within Wheeldon’s ability to build an arresting narrative through abstract ballet.

There were steps, lots of them, and lots of new ones to boot. But the thing that I remember the most isn’t that one cool step or that one awesome partnering move, but the long-lasting impression of poignant beauty. Awash in dark colors, the feel of the ballet is reminiscent of Anne Rice vampires doing ballet with the dusty white long dresses and loose unkempt hair for the women. But deeper than that, it was a veritable feast for the senses. Jam-packed with movement deeply rooted in classical ballet but testing the boundaries with an off-center body, often radiating regret. These steps meld into the music by C.F. Kip Winger and the surging abstract storyline in a satisfying whole package. The music by C.F. Kip Winger is never translated literally, but served as a launching point for experimentation of movement. A meandering piano that drifts in and out backs the undulating quality in the choreography, contrasted with a sharp pointedness and seamless shifting directions. Maria Kochetkova and newly hired principal Vitor Luiz attacked the fiendishly fast central pas de deux in a breathless whirlwind of passions in a complex interplay of grasps and trust. Wheeldon brought out a unique womanly side to Kochetkova’s dancing, as she reminded me of a romantic heroine from classical literature – Anna Karenina perhaps, or one of Ibsen’s heroines. There was a lovely unhurried and sensual unraveling of her limbs, partnered by an intensely urgent Vitor Luiz who injected fervent drama into their interactions. Sofiane Sylve, Tiit Helimets, and Brett Bauer danced as a tour de force in their striking power and presence.  This ballet is one of those pieces that stays with you hours after it’s over, an ache that you continue to mull over in your memory.

San Francisco Ballet in Robbins' Opus 19/The Dreamer. © Erik Tomasson

Jerome Robbins’ Opus 19/The Dreamer was in stark contrast to the visual affluence of the Wheeldon piece. Its theme was introspective in its simplicity of movement, mirroring the sparseness of the orchestration of Prokofiev’s Violin Concerto. Robbins takes a simple step like walking on pointe, and shapes it gently over time. The effect is arresting, hypnotic. There’s a central figure, danced by Pascal Molat, dressed in a nude unitard. He seems to be dwelling in his dreams, although it’s unclear if he’s the director or the hapless victim of his imagination. He leads a group to follow his movements, and then the next moment is lost in his surroundings with a vibrant corps around him. Dancing and interacting with Sarah Van Patten, she is a fleeting and unpredictable vision. There is a juxtaposition of the mundane and the sublime, from heavenly arabesques to torsos and arms flung forward towards the ground. This bold mix is ultimately an uneasy one, a non sequitur that leaves the audience relating to the haziness of the central figure. The curtain closes on Molat and Van Patten with their arms in a questioning shrug, as if posing the same question to the audience.

The evening closed with the high energy of Paul Taylor’s Company B. The music by the Andrews sisters is so evocative of the time period of World War II. It immediately conjures up memories of happier times, yet Taylor puts a twist in every song. In “Pennsylvania Polka”, Elizabeth Miner and Benjamin Stewart polka gaily around boys lying still on the ground, dancing in complete oblivion to the destruction around them. In “There Will Never Be Another You”, Katita Waldo and Quinn Wharton dance wistfully with sweeping finesse with shadowy soldiers marching in the background until at the end, Wharton joins the march of the darkened soldiers leaving Waldo to herself. The contrast between the cheerful music and its darker themes of war and destruction mirrors a denial and an effort to suppress the unpleasantness in this world. However, it’s exactly for this unpleasantness that drives audiences into a ballet theater, to forget and to be entertained and distracted by happier things. It was my feeling that the audience chose to take away the nostalgia in the cheerful music rather than its disturbing themes, but it’s a message that resonates long after the concert was over.

San Francisco Ballet in Taylor's Company B. © Erik Tomasson

San Francisco Ballet . Program 2 is playing until February 20.

Sarah Van Patten in Tomasson's Swan Lake. © Erik Tomasson

There are so many other factors that can affect your experience in the theater. Expectations are a big one – high expectations are hard to meet. However for some reason last Saturday afternoon, the stars were aligned – my expectations in check from last year’s experience, a pleasantly honest and savvy date, and a gorgeous sunny day after days of rain – and I had a wonderful time at San Francisco Ballet’s Swan Lake.

This isn’t your grandmother’s staid Swan Lake of fluttering self-pitying swans. The sparkling costumes and sets by Jonathan Fensom still have that new car smell, with the sets creating an expansive open space for the story to unfold. As beautiful as the sets and costumes are, the best thing is that they allow for the story told through movement to shine.

Despite its deep roots in traditional classical ballet, San Francisco Ballet’s production isn’t a dusty one with uptight perfect fifth position arms. Arms are spread back like wings, twisted in angst and fear. Swans lean forward in lines of regret and surrender. The evil Von Rothbart’s extensions whip out in raging anger as he leaps through the air. Rather than a showcase of textbook technique which can be an end in itself, classical technique is used to further the purposes of the story. The corps of swans were a powerful entity, dancing not only with a remarkable unity but a single minded purpose, dancing with power and an overlay of sadness all communicated through body movements, from assured sweeping arms to eyes cast down. The effect is dramatic and deliciously intimidating in their sheer numbers and solidarity, more like a pack of wild birds than precious animals found in fairytales. The choreography of the pas de trois in the first act is restrained, but dancers Frances Chung, Hansuke Yamamoto (a last minute replacement for Vitor Luiz), and Nutnaree Pipit-Suksun danced with such style that it was hard to notice. Aided greatly by a clipping pace by the orchestra led by Martin West, Chung was delightfully spry with remarkably clear footwork, Pipit-Suksun infused her dancing with a warmth and grandeur in her long extensions, and Yamamoto soared in a winning combination of bravura and gentility in partnering the two ladies. Anthony Spaulding was a mix of fierce aggression and dauntless nobility as Von Rothbart, which made him an intimidating foe. In addition, Anita Paciotti was a strikingly fabulous Queen mother, with a magnetic stage presence dripping with royal airs merely parading around the stage. The dancers brought this classical ballet to life, carving out a cinematic journey that carries the audience through this timeless tragic fairytale.

The near-perfect cast was headed by Sarah Van Patten in the role of Odette/Odile. Her portrayal of the tragic heroine was one that unfolds slowly, sensuously, organically over time. There’s a sumptuous luxury in the way that her movements are unforced yet always growing, and we clearly see the development of her love story from start to finish. From a skittish fear with wide eyes, to growing still when Prince Siegfried catches her hand and looks into her eyes, to a growing trust of backward trust falls trusting him to catch her, to a tremulous foot beating betraying her beating heart. As she turns, she slows and hesitates as she sees her prince – it’s the very picture of a heart faltering. As Odile, Van Patten was all sleek lines glinting cruelly in the light, her confidence in the role visibly improved from last year. She soared in the role of seductress and looked like she was having fun doing it. There was something thrillingly dangerous about the way that she looked up at the audience slowly, fiendishly, deliberately, while dancing with her arms presented and spread wide. Her final pose was triumphant as the Prince is holding her hand, as she throws back her head in silent cruel laughter.

It’s interesting that in this version, I saw not just a love story between two people, but more of a picture of a woman falling in love despite its consequences. Weight is unfairly given to the role of Odette over Prince Siegfried in this romance. It’s a thankless role to be sure, and Prince Siegfried was danced by guest artist Vadim Solomakha. His natural acting ability helps with the angsty moments he had onstage, but in general, he lacked a princely posture when he stood or walked, as he played his part more like a jovial accessible leader who interacts with his people in the first act. In dancing with Odette, he almost disappeared next to Van Patten, and was otherwise unremarkable and technically tenuous in his jump landings and footwork.

In general, I was reminded of how timeless this ballet is, where deception is damning, and the choice to love is heartfelt. San Francisco Ballet’s Swan Lake is a stunning production that will continue to tell the classic tale to modern day audiences. This production rests on the abilities of the dancers to bring it to life, and with the cast that I saw, this can be a very good thing.

Other reviews:

• SF Chronicle
  
• SF Classical Voice
  
• NY Times
  

San Francisco Ballet’s Program 2 starts on February 9, including a world premiere with Christopher Wheeldon set to the music of recording artist Kip Winger.

Morphoses/The Wheeldon Company

When Christopher Wheeldon’s company Morphoses rolled into town for their first highly anticipated West Coast tour, I got to thinking about the music behind ballet. In its best scenarios, the music is everything – it is the basis for the movement choreographed to it. In other examples, the music disappears into the background – in Tudor’s Lilac Garden, I can’t remember the music or the composer of that piece for the life of me. I’ve also found that music can be the stumbling block for me to be able to enjoy certain pieces. The pieces set to undanceable pieces come to mind – such as Mark Morris’ Joyride set to the cacophanous music of John Adams. Wheeldon’s Continuum is another piece, and this piece opened the evening with Morphoses.

The momentum in Wheeldon’s Continuum is derived mostly from the sharply-cornered music by Gyorgy Ligeti. The most challenging piece of a very forward-thinking program, the angular choreography pieced together stark images of geometric angles, alternating flexed and pointed feet, insect-like images, and tension that always seem to result from movements in silence. (The audience seems to start breathing again once the music starts up again.) It’s colored by a bewildering sense of randomness to this piece. Momentum is built up between images from moment to moment, but its logic remains murky and elusive. However through movement, Wheeldon is able to point out the humanity and the dark humor in the music I never would have heard otherwise. Even in tension, an urgency and a driving energy challenges the audience to consider it, most of all. Gorgeous lighting by Natasha Katz (recredited by Mary Louise Geiger) offsets the clean angles and creates different worlds, from an austere world with black and bright white, or a warm glow of red.

The program also features choreography other than Wheeldon’s, which is an advantage in variety not only for its dancers but for the audience as well. Lightfoot Leon’s Softly As I Leave You featured a dramatic duet about loss between dancers Drew Jacoby and Rubinald Pronk. Even entrapped in a box, the dancers struggle with angry intensity, yet an atmosphere of surrender and sadness pervades. Lush earthiness is backed by Bach’s sensuous, drawn out phases, and Jacoby and Pronk dance with a mercurial power that’s breathtaking.

Ratmansky was also featured on the program, with Bolero. Six dancers wearing numbers on their leotards dance to the familiar strains of Ravel’s Bolero in movements that mirror the repetitive motif with imperceptible yet building climax. It starts slowly, with a solo and a background chorus of softly shifting shapes. More people join as the music builds. There is a sense of competition (perhaps because of the numbers on their leotards?) yet a nonchalance and a haughty disregard for each other. Yet it’s always changing, as partners switch and different groups dance with each other. Ratmansky’s choreography emphasizes the complex detail in the music, with offbeats that are given as much attention as the onbeats. The irrepressible shifting and pointed movement slowly casts its spell as does the music, which only broke when an accidental skirt came loose and had to be tossed to the back. It was only at this point when I realized how much I had been emotionally caught up in the piece. The piece soldiers on, skirt or not, with the piece coming to an impressive crashing close.

The evening ended with Wheeldon’s Rhapsody Fantaisie, which was my favorite for the night. Highlighted with searing red costumes by Francisco Costa, from beginning to end, the piece was all seamless fluidity, seething with power and life. The dancers were like watching animals in the wild – a harnessed invincibility, an expansive confidence to fly.

With Morphoses’ West Coast tour, California audiences were privileged to be exposed to a company with such a cutting-edge sensibility and an amazing repertoire. Yet it was hard not to notice the empty seats that appeared after each of the two intermissions. Perhaps Wheeldon is ahead of his time with audiences not used to change – at the post performance Q&A, a woman admitted she had never seen such sensuality onstage before. I have to remember that this sort of dance is still new to a lot of people. Or perhaps he’s still trying to find a convincing voice with his lofty vision to challenge audiences as well as seek their favor and support. This favor is made more difficult by music like Ligeti’s. Yet Wheeldon is not afraid to take that risk, and everyone benefits as he searches for beauty, even in difficult places.

An adorable Christopher Wheeldon at the post-performance Q&A.

San Francisco Ballet in Tomasson's Le Quattro Stagioni. © Erik Tomasson. It must be a fun photography game to try to catch Taras Domitro in the perfect 180 degree splits.

Every opening night gala is a celebration in itself, but especially recently, San Francisco Ballet has had much to celebrate. With the festivities of the landmark 75th anniversary still echoing in my ears, this year’s celebration was one with a more personal touch – artistic director Helgi Tomasson’s 25th year anniversary with the company. In an opening night program that highlighted choreographers whose work have been staples in shaping the company’s repertoire, the gala was not only a showcase for the company’s astounding versatility but also the vision of Tomasson and his extraordinary accomplishments as its artistic director. With pieces from Balanchine, Morris, Wheeldon, Robbins, and Tomasson himself, you see that Tomasson had an eye for innovative choreographers that think a little bit outside the box and push the envelope. (A choreographer missing from the opening night lineup was choreographer-in-residence Yuri Possohkov whose presence was missed.) San Francisco audiences have been privileged to benefit from his vision for innovation and style.

This opening night gala was not only a showcase for Tomasson’s leadership in bringing the company to the forefront of the international ballet scene, but his choreography as well. A majority of the evening were choreographed by Tomasson himself, and it was interesting to see a broad range of his choreography in one sitting. His eye for innovation that makes him a good artistic director is present everywhere – Tomasson favors class and elegance in his lines, no better exemplified in his pas de deux from 7 For Eight. Backed by Johann Sebastian Bach’s music, Nutnaree Pipt-Suksun and Pierre-Francois Vilanoba, elegantly clothed in black, personify the restrained yearnings of Bach’s music by being boxed in by a square spotlight, and dancing within its realm with outstretched arabesques and coolly controlled promenades. There are also occasional indulgences in unabashed romance in Tomasson’s choreography, like dips into a well of guilty pleasure. Passion simmers underneath a layer of decorum, such as in the pas de deux from The Fifth Season, multiplied by the wholehearted trust only seen in the assured partnership between the thrillingly seamless Yuan Yuan Tan and Damian Smith. More than once in different works, a woman is cradled into a man’s arms and carried off stage. A woman’s cheek rests gently on a brawny arm. Tomasson’s world is a world where the men are chivalrous like knights on white horses, jumping with power and always debonair. In Tomasson’s “Winter” from Le Quattro Stagioni, an overflowing of stage full of strapping men embodying strength and virtue, led by the dynamic Taras Domitro. The stage seemed too small to contain this tour de force.

Yuan Yuan Tan in Tomasson's Chi-Lin. © Erik Tomasson

Still, even in the opening night program, Tomasson’s abilities fall short as a champion choreographer. It’s unclear if Tomasson is the master constructionist with a view for the bigger picture while making the journey interesting. Watching his works, I get the feeling that he choreographs in blocks. He seems to be getting somewhere within the span of a few minutes, but it ends soon; transitions are abrupt and not always logical nor easy to follow. This blocked style is especially evident in contrast to Balanchine’s “The Man I Love” from Who Cares?. In a falling-in-love-in-a-Carousel-sort-of-way duet between Sarah Van Patten and Pierre-Francois Vilanoba, there is even a poetic story in the placement of the two lovers, both in space and in relation to each other. In their spacing alone, both close and far, in different hand holds and lifts, there is both uncertainty and certainty in falling in love, an ebb and flow that resolves with a satisfying close. There are revelations around every corner, small and big. In contrast, Tomasson’s Balcony pas de deux from Romeo and Juliet, also a story of falling in love, the overall construction lacks an overarching line in the plot – no slow yet growing buildup to a climax or natural die down punctuated by a first kiss. It’s phrasing built into the construction of the piece, the same as in music as in dance. The result are sudden changes in fast and slow in a ride that feels more random and uneven. Perhaps there’s a metaphor for first love in there somewhere?

As in music, there is room for performers to inject their own artistry. The dancers who excel at Tomasson choreography are the performers who carry and follow through the movements, adding momentum. Yuan Yuan Tan and Damian Smith seamlessly converge in a whirlwind of trust as she falls freely in Smith’s sure arms in The Fifth Season. Tan is a free bird in the “Flute Moon” from Tomasson’s Chi-Lin, angular and showy. Davit Karapetyan powers through space with power and grace, noble yet stirring in Tomasson’s Chaconne for Piano and Two Dancers with incredible stage presence. Maria Kochetkova is a thrilled young girl in love as Juliet as she flits across the stage with Joan Boada as her ardent lover.

Maria Kochetkova and Joan Boada in Tomasson's Romeo & Juliet. © Erik Tomasson

In some of the pieces, this blocked style is used to its advantage. In Tomasson’s Concerto Grosso, which may as well be his finest piece yet, utilizes this style by presenting the work set in a classroom feel. Five men in solid colored unitards repeat high flying steps, steps tinted with lyricism and authority, on both left and right sides as is normal in a ballet class. There is a repetitiveness reminiscent of basic training exercises. The men push themselves higher and faster, as well as competitively yet congenially with others. This display of virtuosity is a thrilling showcase for dancers as beautiful as the lyrical Diego Cruz, James Sofranko, Garen Scribner who holds gentility in his finishes, Hansuke Yamamoto, led by Pascal Molat. Molat bursts off the stage with his energy yet his footwork is precise, and he seems to fly. In other pieces however, choreography falls flat. The pas de six from Tomasson’s Sleeping Beauty felt harried, with each variation feeling truncated and too brief; the shaky footwork and lack of unity amongst the dancers didn’t help either. It was disappointing that the pas de deux from Tomasson’s Tuning Game went nowhere in spite of its sharp inflections, especially since it was an introduction for newly hired principal Vitor Luiz (dancing with Lorena Feijoo) to San Francisco audiences. It wasn’t the proper showcase for both dancers, and we’ll have to wait until the season to see what he can do.

The company truly soars in choreography such as Morris and Balanchine that the company seemed created to dance. The “Typewriter” from Mark Morris’ Sandpaper Ballet is quirky, lightning fast, and entertaining, and Robbins’ “The Mistake Waltz” from The Concert is earnest and heartwarming that reminds me, a bit painfully, of my ballet classes where someone (like me) goes in the wrong direction or gets offbeat from the music without quite knowing why. It’s easy to write these pieces off as mere froth, yet these pieces require a transparent sincerity without overdoing it. San Francisco Ballet excels at striking the perfect balance. Balanchine’s Agon with Sofiane Sylve and Anthony Spaulding is both severe and stunning. Gennadi Nedvigin in “Bugle Boy” from Paul Taylor’s Company B is a finger snappin’ carefree spirit with loose, swinging shoulders. Katita Waldo and Damian Smith work through the angular complexity of Christopher Wheeldon’s pas de deux from Rush, unraveling movements through time and space. Stylistically, this company has become an expert in these choreographers. Yet this company isn’t one that evolved this way, but it’s a company that represents a vision of its artistic director, Helgi Tomasson. And for that, San Francisco audiences are thankful. It’s going to be a great season this year.

San Francisco Ballet website. Program 1, Tomasson’s Swan Lake, starts tonight.

Nutnaree Pipit-Suksun and Pierre-François Vilanoba in Tomasson's 7 For Eight. © Erik Tomasson

Tonight’s 2010 opening night gala at the San Francisco Ballet was a worthy tribute to Helgi Tomasson, celebrating his 25th year as artistic director. Watching it, I began to understand the scope of his vision as well as his sense of accomplishment in shaping this company into a world class one. There’s no doubt that one of his biggest talents is showcasing his stellar dancers in the best light possible. Nutnaree Pipit-Suksun’s arabesque is a breathtaking wonder. Davit Karapetyan is a rare combination of power and ease, while his partner Vanessa Zahorian sparkled with pristine glamor. Pascal Molat’s energy and precision burst off the stage. Maria Kochetkova embodied young love in a moving portrayal of Juliet with her heart on her sleeve, and Yuan Yuan Tan is the free spirit that no one could capture.

A full review will be coming up soon – I  had a thrilling moment when I realized that I was sitting a few rows behind Christopher Wheeldon. I’ll be seeing his company, Morphoses, perform next week.

SF Ballet Artistic Director & Principal Choreographer Helgi Tomasson at the 2008 Gala Performance © Erik Tomasson

This year for their opening night gala, San Francisco Ballet will be honoring Helgi Tomasson in his 25th year as artistic director. He is a man who knows how to show off his beautiful dancers, and who else is responsible for nurturing my favorite ballet company? It will be an event worth celebrating. And if this gala is anything like last year, it will be an amazing can’t-miss performance, a showcase of the company’s brightest stars as well as a chance for up-and-comers to shine.

The gala will be on Wednesday January 20, at 8 pm. There will be a limited number of discount tickets available for the 30 and under (the young and poor) crowd. Click on the website for more information.

San Francisco Ballet’s Opening Night Gala

San Francisco Ballet in Tomasson's Nutcracker. © Erik Tomasson

Last Thursday, I properly kicked off the Christmas season at the War Memorial Opera House with San Francisco Ballet’s Nutcracker. It’s been a family tradition ever since I was a little girl, and this is a production is one worthy of a tradition that’s passed down from generation to generation. Choreographed by Helgi Tomasson, this production showcases the best of childhood dreams – the warmth of a doting uncle, the thrill of adventure, the dreams of love, the wonder of a child, and the charm of the wonders of the world. No matter how many times I’ve seen Tomasson’s glittering production, I’m impressed by how much this production still amazes. The growing tree is just as impressive year after year, and the details in this production are just as charming, especially in the delightful costumes by Martin Pakledinaz that look like fancy confections. Everything about this ballet is like a glittering Christmas present that you’ve always wanted, tied with a Tiffany bow.

Set in early twentieth-century San Francisco, the local touches of San Francisco houses and the arboretum in Golden Gate Park in the grandiose sets by Michael Yeargan are magnificent. The first act is a rich fairytale as sumptuous as a holiday feast, inviting in its plotline, dramatic elements and dancing children. The second act is filled with a variety of sparkling vignettes with moments for the dancing to shine. The dances feature a variety of cultural delights, from the Chinese dragon in the Chinese Tea (danced with high-flying liveliness by James Sofranko) to the gasp-inducing entrance of the Russian Trepak bursting forth from Faberge eggs led by Hansuke Yamamoto with genial bravado. Lily Roger was a particular highlight in the Arabian, unfolding her long limbs with hypnotic sensuality. Moments of humor made unexpected but welcome appearances – the campy death of the Mouse King is particularly satisfying, and the quirky yet surprisingly agile circus bear that dances with Madame Du Cirque’s children never fails to make me laugh.

Sofiane Sylve in Tomasson's Nutcracker. © Erik Tomasson

Sofiane Sylve and guest artist Casey Herd was the reigning king and queen at last Thursday night’s performance, dancing the leads in the final Grand pas de deux. They lit up the stage with a regal presence, both embodying stunning glamor. Professionalism artfully concealed balance checks in the difficult adagio of the pas de deux, making it hardly noticeable to most of the audience. Other signs of under-rehearsal showed occasionally, especially in the coordination of the orchestra (under the baton of Donato Cabrera) with the Grand pas de deux and the Waltz of the Flowers with Maria Kochetkova as the Sugar Plum Fairy. Indecisive of its ever-changing tempo, the orchestra was a precarious element in an otherwise airy and expansive performance by Kochetkova, her arms generous and light. It was the lethal combination of a slow, stilting tempo and a choreography that didn’t offer much for the soloists to do, which led to moments of awkward stillness rather than flowing momentum and the freedom to fly. I couldn’t help but to wish that there was more for these gorgeous dancers to do. Sylve’s musicality had no place to shine without the support of the orchestra and static choreography. Despite this, the dancers still left a crystal clear impression of majesty and class. Herd was the hunky prince of everyone’s dreams, who matched Sylve’s glamour with his tall lines and dramatic stage presence. His dancing was almost operatic, his arms moving in dramatic strokes and his leaps were breathtaking. Vanessa Zahorian and Taras Domitro danced with cool ease and splendor amidst the snowstorm as the Snow Queen and King, and Elise Gillum completed the cast as a plucky and spirited young Clara.

San Francisco Ballet’s production is one that encapsulates the sweet warmth of tightly-held childhood dreams, as well as the spectacle and wonder of a world that is much bigger than our hopes and fantasies. And what a spectacle it is.

San Francisco Ballet’s Nutcracker continues until December 27th. Click here for more information. Also, be sure to catch the PBS recording of a live performance of this production.

Frances Chung in Balanchine's Jewels. © Erik Tomasson

Congratulations to Frances Chung for her promotion to principal dancer at San Francisco Ballet! What a nice surprise – it’s rare for a dancer promotion to be announced in the middle of the year, but she certainly deserves it. She made a splash with opening up last year’s opening night gala with a sassy rendition of Balanchine’s Tarantella, and has shown her versatility and fluidity in exploring modern ballet as well, with her performance in Possohkov’s Fusion being a particular highlight for me. It’s also a rare accomplishment for a dancer to break into the principal ranks from starting out in the corps – the most common route seems to be hiring superstars from the outside to join the company as principals – but it’s been an exciting journey that she has shared with audiences over the years as she has grown in her artistic abilities, visibly and consistently. I look forward to seeing her perform this year, hopefully with a solo in this year’s opening night gala, which will be on January 20 with the San Francisco Ballet.

Official press release:

“San Francisco Ballet announced today the promotion of Frances Chung from the rank of soloist to principal dancer, effective immediately.

Born in Vancouver, Chung trained at the Goh Ballet Academy before joining the Company in 2001. She was promoted to soloist in 2005 and has danced a diverse range of roles including the Sugar Plum Fairy, Grand Pas de Deux Ballerina, and Snow Queen in Tomasson’s Nutcracker; the Enchanted Princess in Tomasson’s The Sleeping Beauty; Neapolitan, Russian Princess, and pas de trois in Tomasson’s Swan Lake; and the Queen of the Dryads in Tomasson/Possokhov’s Don Quixote. Her repertory also includes lead roles in Balanchine’s Symphony in C, Divertimento No. 15, and “Emeralds”; Bintley’s The Dance House; Elo’s Double Evil; Forsythe’s in the middle, somewhat elevated; Lubovitch’s “…smile with my heart” and Elemental Brubeck; Makarova’s Paquita; Possokhov’s Fusion; and Welch’s Naked. Among other honors, Chung was a finalist and prize winner at the Prix de Lausanne in 2000 and received the top honor of a silver medal at the Adeline Genée Awards in London that same year.”

Edited to add: From a previous review of mine about her performance in Possohkov’s Fusion: “Soloist Frances Chung burst forth with an expansiveness and a sostenuto in her phrasing in Possohkov’s Fusion that was dazzling. There was life pulsing through her very limbs. I’ve always seen her as a wholesome dancer who fully embodies sunny exuberance, and it’s been fun to watch her grow into something freer and deeper, with increasing confidence. She’s also had a very good year starting with the lead in Balanchine’s Tarantella at the opening night gala. But for the first time, I saw flashes of a superstar who could hold her own in SF Ballet’s star-studded roster of female principals.” And yes, I’m totally going to take credit for calling it in the first place. You’re welcome, Frances.