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"An Afternoon with Balanchine" posted February 21, 2006 at 05:47 PM

I had the pleasure of attending an outstanding, all-Balanchine program at the ballet on Sunday. Matinees are wonderful because they seem to expand the amount of time of one's afternoon, whereas evening performances always come with a sense of rushing--rush to the theater after work, rush to dinner afterward, rush to bed, rush, rush, rush.

Brahms-Schoenberg Quartet opened the program. Choreographed in 1966 to Schoenberg's orchestration of a Brahms Piano Quartet, the ballet features three rosy movements of pure-dance beatuy and balance, followed by a folksy-cum-bravura finale. The first movement was danced by one of the elder statespersons of NYCB, Kyra Nichols (joined the company in 1974!), who performed with beauty and exceptional grace, if with a rather diminished sense of authority. Her partner, however, the work-horse Philip Neal, danced sloppily and lazily. The casting for the other three movements was solid. Benjamin Millepied danced the Andante with Yvonne Borree. She has regained her rock-solid balance that she seemed to lose somewhat last year. Benjamin looked amazingly strong--I mean physically strong--a man where the boy dancer used to be. The finale movement, danced in Karinska's costumes of ribbons and flower wreaths, featured Wendy Whelan and Damian Woetzel both proving that despite being in their jobs for many years they still both rule the roost.

The second-half of the program was Union Jack, a perennial favorite, and a great masterpiece of dance. Bill always says it shows Balanchine's ability to create a very high work of art out of a great entertainment. It's an impossibly perfect mixture of military formations, classical dance steps, Pearly Kings and Queens, and gorgeous dancers in kilts and sailor pants. The ballet is structured in three parts: a plaid-laden opening act of lock-step marching by various military regiments, followed by a "Costermonger Pas de Deux" wherein the tradition of pearl-decorated street busker/entertainers comes to (silent) life, followed by the whistling sexiness of a series of sailor dances. For my money, Wendy Whelan steals the first half as she leads the MacDonald of Sleat regiment and flings herself into the air with fury and gusto. And while I'm prejudiced in his favor because of friendship, nothing in the second half beats the sight of Benjamin Millepied doing fancy footwork in a sailor suit and a smile (though the long legs and high-kicks of Teresa Reichlen come close). The ballet ends with the entire company on stage, signaling "God Save The Queen" with hand-flags as the Union Jack appears in the scrim behind them.


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