Ballet West: Choreographic Festival

The future of ballet may very well look like the third annual Choreographic Festival presented by Ballet West, only more so. The performance itself was breathtaking. The sheer range and breadth of artistic perspectives, institutional development and support, and scaffolding of public engagement made it an unforgettable experience.

A night of mixed repertoire is expected to be stylistically diverse. The Festival’s choreographic works were diverse not only in style but also across vital metrics that may be consistently problematic in the culture and institutions of ballet.

Three of the five choreographers presented on the program were women, a noteworthy majority in a field in which women are radically underrepresented, or tokenized, in the commission and presentation of new works. A United States premiere performed by the Scottish Ballet and a premiere by the artistic director of another major American ballet company, BalletMet, were presented alongside three creations from Ballet West company artists. The Ballet West choreographers represented different ranks from within the company’s internal structure, as did the dancers each choreographer featured - ranging from the corps de ballet to principal artists.

In addition to the Festival’s performances, a screening of the documentary film Danseur on a previous night, with a post-film discussion led by professor and journalist Kate Mattingly; a visual art installation showcasing local artists; and a pre-performance lecture/Q & A with the program’s choreographers deftly mediated by Ballet West artistic director Adam Sklute all worked together to enliven the intimate Rose Wagner Performing Arts Center with a sense of community and critical viewership.

Sophie Laplane’s Sibilo opened the program with a joyful provocation superbly executed by the Scottish Ballet, for whom Laplane is choreographer-in-residence and a former dancer. As mentioned in the program notes and elaborated in the pre-performance lecture, Sibilo began as a silent duet articulating the two dancers’ personalities. The conceptual framework was drawn from pairing the duet with a whistled song, which then led to the commision of the original score and expansion of the ensemble piece.

The whistling theme threaded through an electronic pulse and drone, pacing the shifting vignettes. It began with four pairs of men in suits and women in dresses dancing in stunning unison. Fluid transitions through angular and iconic postures set the tone. A woman shed her outer layer to actively reveal a (fantastically costumed) nude-colored top and bottoms and began a quirky and intricate duet. Many iterations of duet, trio, and ensemble followed, with different facings, pacing, and affective quality, including a gorgeous dance that twined two men together and apart through the arms of one suit jacket. Other clothing articles were whisked into the wings by wire; the donning and shedding felt like an integrated allegory for personal revelation but never a gimmick. The end was familiar but fitting, the dancers in a line downstage facing out. They fully committed to individual signature movements, which the audience was by now conditioned to recognize, and then together executed the signature motif of a full-body shimmy that really must be seen to be believed.

The three works by Ballet West choreographers followed an intermission. First, principal artist Emily Adams interpreted archetypes with the high-flying, and thoughtfully cast and costumed, But A Dream. Though occasionally overwhelmed by the music and widely spaced freneticisms, the piece was an effective exploration of interacting and contrasting qualities, and reminded me of early Ballets Russes collaborations with the Surrealists. Assembling a trio of Tyler Gum, Arolyn Williams, and Jordan Veit as The Seekers, all clad in modish gender-neutral garb, was a pitch-perfect decision. Corps artist Olivia Gusti completely inhabited Adams’ mode of graceful strength as The Racer.

Ballet West first soloist Katlyn Addison’s Hidden Voices established a beautiful dynamic with its selection of an Antonín Dvořák string quartet, inspired by African American spiritual music, and the recurrent theme of hummed hymns. This musical choice, and in fact every choice in Addison’s work, indicated a commitment to the marrying of aesthetic beauty and meaningful context - a hallmark of consummate artistry and craft. The primarily classical/neoclassical vernacular was refreshing and evocative. Particularly moving for me was the stunning Gabrielle Salvatto in the Humming Section as well as the return to the stage of new mother Allison DeBona.

Demi-soloist Trevor Naumann’s disquiet was unsettling, as its title forewarns, but quite crowd-pleasing. My initial reaction was to note the strikingly vampiric quality of the undulating, scantily-clad Victorian-Gothic cluster. The cluster jerked and contorted, then emerged into controlled chaos, a surprisingly mature expression of themes that could have been less tasteful in hands other than Naumann’s. Hair whipping, lightning quick piqué turns, and group undulations in canon, the combination of which could have easily bordered on too much, were integrated here into something darker and sharper.

Edwaard Liang is both a sought-after choreographer and the artistic director of the Columbus, Ohio-based company BalletMet, following a career dancing with many internationally renowned companies. He is therefore in a prime position to encapsulate what he, Adam Sklute, and Scottish Ballet artistic director and CEO Christopher Hampson espoused in the pre-performance lecture: the creation and production of new work in collaboration with company dancers, in support of their company dancers’ artistic growth.

It was clear that Liang has a strong stylistic vision, and as readily apparent that he recognized and valued the strengths and qualities of the Ballet West dancers on whom he set his new work, Constant Light. The piece began with dancers moving in full silhouette. Warm lighting came up on a large ensemble in ombré unitards, with white on the top that transitioned to red down through the flat shoes and pointe shoes, accentuating full lines.

Constant Light was aptly named, evoking an unremitting beauty that the piece achieved both technically and expressively. Innovative partnering and interesting formations and spatial densities enlivened the abstract interpretation of string and piano concertos. An ensemble of men performed some truly lovely fouettés, a step usually reserved for women. Principal artist Adrian Fry looked at home in the style of the piece, especially during a brisk petite allegro. Soloist Chelsea Keefer caught the eye with the best onstage breakaway run I’ve seen - a surprisingly difficult task - and held that attention throughout the remainder of her section. The sparing use of silhouette was reprised only once, with a single dancer, who was discernible as the inimitably poised Emily Adams, well before the lights came up. Constant Light was a great opportunity to appreciate the individual artists familiar to Ballet West’s audience through different eyes.

Ballet companies face the challenge of continuing to broaden their horizons, while fostering the creative growth of their own artists, if they wish to remain vital. There can, and will be, documentation that addresses gender inequities in ballet through a lens even more inclusive than that of the film Danseur. The same goes for more accessible or immersive venues than the Rose Wagner Center, and for more, and wider-reaching, educational outreach than the pre-performance lectures. There will be more interdisciplinary intersections, beyond those of figurative and portrait paintings and photography that depict dance. There will also be greater institutional support for the continuing artistic development of company dancers and choreographers, especially women, especially women of color (and the list goes on). Having seen the third annual Choreographic Festival, hosted by Ballet West, I am more hopeful than I have been for quite some time that these things will happen - because they have more than begun to happen, here and now.

The Scottish Ballet in Sibilo by Sophie Laplane. Photo by Jane Hobson.

Nora Price is a Milwaukee native living and working in Salt Lake City. She can be seen performing with Durian Durian, an art band that combines post-punk music and contemporary dance.

Ballet West: National Choreographic Festival, Program B

The second weekend of Ballet West’s National Choreographic Festival features three pieces created by women: Jennifer Archibald’s Myoho performed by Cincinnati Ballet, Robyn Mineko Williams’s To Clear performed by Charlotte Ballet, and África Guzmán’s Sweet and Bitter performed by Ballet West. Like the first weekend of the festival, each choreographer presents a different approach to contemporary ballet, revealing a diversity of aesthetics as well as the significance of including women’s voices in ballet programming.

The director of Cincinnati Ballet, Victoria Morgan, has brought financial stability and artistic excellence to the organization during her 20-year tenure as artistic director, 8 years of which she spent in the dual role of CEO. At a panel discussion of women in leadership roles, hosted by Ballet West on May 23, Morgan said, “It’s ironic, in part, because you don’t see women in these roles, you don’t realize that you have that capability.”

Her statement speaks to the politics of representation and who has, historically, decided how women are presented and represented. Scholar and theorist bell hooks writes about how “the field of representation (how we see ourselves, how others see us) is a site of ongoing struggle.” In an essay called “In our Glory: Photography and Black Life,” hooks writes that photography was a “political instrument, a way to resist misrepresentation as well as a means by which alternative images could be produced.” In many ways the festival presented by Ballet West is another reworking of these “misrepresentations” and a place where “alternative images” of capable women are made visible and tangible.

Jennifer Archibald’s choreography exemplifies the importance of the politics of representation. Archibald was named resident choreographer of Cincinnati Ballet in 2017 and Myoho marks her fourth creation for the company (following 2014’s Sit, 2016’s Redeem, and 2017’s Never.Nest). Cincinnati’s dancers shine in her creations, which is a testament to both their talents as performers as well as Archibald’s extraordinary creativity and craft. Her choreography updates ballet’s vocabulary by intertwining elements of jazz, modern, and hip-hop with the classical vocabulary. The results are neither gimmicky nor acrobatic but rather intensely fascinating and evocative. Archibald brings ballet into the 21st century with the kind of imagination and intelligence that George Balanchine brought to ballet in the last century: sections of Myoho looked like Agon, but newly resonant. Exquisite feats of partnering and careful attention to dancers’ formations made Myoho, like Agon, a physical and emotional contest. Myoho tests the dancers’ limits and capacities, and it was incredible that, coming from Ohio the night before, they adjusted to Salt Lake City’s elevation just in time for this demanding performance.

In the panel discussion on May 23, Archibald said, “For me, when I walk into a studio I see more than dancers’ physical abilities. I am checking in with them emotionally… I look at them as humans, instead of what they execute from point A to point B. When you invest in that aspect of their humanity, I think the ensemble work is stronger and the experience is better for myself and for them.” These words sum up perfectly what happened on stage last night: the dancers combined steely strength with lightning-fast accents. Partnering sections allowed both men and women to occupy roles of resisting, relishing, and evading one another. The entire cast of ten inhabited Archibald’s movement as both a challenge and an affirmation, as if to say, “Not only can I dance this phrase, I can also add my own nuances to it.”  

Two men, Cervilio Miguel Amador and James Cunningham, were fascinating in a duet that was as much a demonstration of leaning into support and interdependencies as it was a showcase for their exceptional dancing. Again, Archibald’s vocabulary enables this kind of emotional insight: she has a keen eye for both formal elements, as when couples enter the stage in similar lifts, creating a sense of dynamism and equilibrium, and for highlighting dancers’ relationships with one another. In a brilliant touch, one of the women placed her finger on a man’s lips after a virtuosic duet, as if to say, “That’s enough for the moment.”

Indeed the title of her piece can be translated as “Myo” which means mystic or wonderful, and “ho,” which means law. According to the Soka Gakkai International website, “Myoho” is “the wonder of ordinary people, beset by delusion and suffering, awakening to the fundamental law in their own lives, bringing forth wisdom and compassion and realizing that they are inherently Buddhas able to solve their own problems and those of others. The Mystic Law transforms the life of anyone—even the unhappiest person, at any time and in any circumstances—into a life of supreme happiness.”

In many ways, Archibald’s work with Cincinnati Ballet brought me supreme happiness: I spent three days in San Francisco recently for the Unbound festival of new choreography and none of the works had the nuance and vibrancy of Archibald’s. This is also a compliment to Cincinnati’s dancers: they tap into a place where they are fearless and they excel. Their costume design, by Archibald, placed the women in yellow leotards with futuristic collars that extended over the napes of their necks, suggesting the top of a cape and heightening their sense of invincibility. The score included music by Nico Muhly, Robert Honstein, and David Lang and the intertwining of instruments and machines contributed to the idea that Archibald makes ballet relevant to our digitally-enhanced 21st century.

During the panel, Archibald also said, “I love teaching and I continue to teach high school through university students. How I attack all of my classes is to not only see the star in the room. It’s important for me to see the dancer that may not be at the forefront, but has the skill level and the talent, but not the confidence to step forward. It’s important to see everyone and motivate everyone.” Based on last night’s performance, it’s clear that her choreography motivates her audiences as much as it motivates her students, and Myoho received a standing ovation.

Charlotte Ballet is now directed by Hope Muir, who trained and performed in Great Britain before joining Hubbard Street Dance Chicago (HSDC). Muir selected a work by Robyn Mineko Williams, who danced with HSDC for 12 seasons, to bring to the National Choreographic Festival. Called To Clear, the piece was a brilliant choice for the contrast that Williams’ choreography provided. Working in a more exploratory and grounded style, Williams developed scenes that evoked poetic and enigmatic interactions: the piece began with one woman standing on a folding chair, as a man, Anson Zwingelberg, walked slowly from downstage to upstage, towards her. Two technicians, working hand-held lights in the downstage corners of the stage, created shadows that duplicated their actions on the backdrop. The imagery suggested that this relationship was similar to other human interactions, and as the piece continued the cast of seven created duets, trios, and quartets that felt poignant and dream-like: in one section each cast member slid a hand around one dancer’s waist, as if about to hug or embrace them from behind, but then abandoned the gesture.

Costumes by Aimee J. Coleman contributed to the pedestrian environment, with the men and women in socks and distinct outfits, wearing long-sleeved and sleeveless tops, with pedestrian shorts, capris, and even a pant-suit. The muted tones added to the casual environment and the commissioned score by Robert F. Haynes and Tony Lazzara enriched the atmosphere with blankets of sounds that felt like they were enveloping the scenes. Actions segued seamlessly: for example, a deep lunge morphed into a turn, and then into an arabesque, allowing the momentum of each part to determine the course of events rather than lingering in any position. Zwingelberg, who graduated from Juilliard with his BFA last year, stood out among the cast of beautiful performers.

Ballet West chose África Guzmán’s Sweet and Bitter to close the program and its merger of dramatic interactions and spectacular partnering created a powerful ending. Allison DeBona and Chase O’Connell were stellar as the lead couple, and their closing pas de deux was poignant and haunting, ending with O’Connell lifting and cradling DeBona in his arms.

Katherine Lawrence, Katlyn Addison, Chelsea Keefer, Hadriel Diniz, Alexander MacFarlan, and Jordan Veit added vibrancy and playfulness to the piece, embodying the “sweet” part of Guzman’s title. The women especially lingered in balances as if savoring the movement and this added allure to their performances. Guzmán’s choreography, a fusion of theatricality and physical feats, evokes a lineage of European ballet-makers like Nacho Duato (who Guzmán worked with for 20 years) and Jiří Kylián, and was complemented by a score by Ezio Bosso, which combined both driving and demure sections.

During the panel, Guzmán acknowledged the importance of powerful women in her career, such as Maya Plisetskaya, her first director, and Hope Muir added similar observations. Great Britain, said Muir, is “quite a small island. Ninette de Valois founded the Royal Ballet and Marie Rambert started Ballet Rambert, which is the oldest company in Britain, and one that I was fortunate to dance with... Now you’ve got National Dance Company Wales with a female director [Caroline Finn] and Scottish Dance Theatre has a female director [Fleur Darkin] and there’s Tamara Rojo at English National Ballet.” For Muir, such examples of women in leadership roles led her to believe “it was possible,” a statement that contrasts with Morgan’s observation about seeing so few female directors during her performing career.

The French philosopher Jacques Rancière presents a theory that explains these observations: it’s called “the distribution of the sensible,” which means we can only see or “sense” those ideas that have been presented or framed for us. As a result, aesthetic approaches are deeply entwined with politics, and those works deemed “good” or “valuable” are supported by particular regimes of seeing and thinking. Another way of stating this idea is that aesthetic choices are also political choices: when we support the voices and ideas of people who are not equitably represented, we are enriching our knowledge of the world we live in.

What the National Choreographic Festival makes abundantly clear is that female choreographers are a vital part of our ballet landscapes. While the festival presents a vibrant spectrum, I believe there are still more artists to include. Salt Lake City is home to several distinguished dance-makers, including Penny Saunders, who just premiered an acclaimed full-length for Grand Rapids Ballet, and Melissa Bobick, who was selected for this summer’s prestigious Choreographic Institute at the University of North Carolina, School of the Arts, which is led by another vital female leader, Susan Jaffe.

As Morgan said during the panel discussion, “I might say confidence is important, but then I realize I didn’t feel confident when I stepped into these roles. I think it’s interesting that there’s this theme of recognizing the potential of dancers who are around you. It’s not always necessarily about confidence, but a lot about being vulnerable and creating relationships where dancers feel safe. The ability to generate that kind of atmosphere in a studio is essential.” As this festival proves, it’s also essential to generate support and opportunities for these women who are keeping ballet real.

Principal Artist Chase O'Connell and First Soloist Allison DeBona in Africa Guzmán's Sweet and Bitter. Photo by Beau Pearson.

Kate Mattingly is an assistant professor at the University of Utah’s School of Dance, and holds a PhD in performance studies from UC Berkeley.

She moderated the panel discussion at Ballet West, which featured the female choreographers and artistic directors invited to Salt Lake City for the second weekend of the National Choreographic Festival.

Read Kate's review of the first weekend of the National Choreographic Festival here.

Ballet West: The Shakespeare Suite

David Bintley’s The Shakespeare Suite, the title piece of Ballet West’s spring season, opens with Kyle Davis as Hamlet and a chorus of four couples slinking across a maroon carpet, the women dressed like Audrey Hepburn in Funny Face and the men (save Davis) in kilts and mesh shirts. Davis and the chorus’s repetitive sharp gestures usher the audience into the comical world created by the marriage of Duke Ellington’s music, Shakespeare’s characters, and Bintley’s tongue-in-cheek choreography. The Shakespeare Suite humorously portrays the most famous Shakespearean characters from both tragedy and comedy in a series of vignettes set to Ellington’s big band sounds.

Christopher Sellars and Katherine Lawrence charmed in the first duet as a Converse-clad, pop punk Kate and Petruchio from The Taming of the Shrew. Lawrence’s eye rolls and huffing marches, all done in a fluffy wedding dress, argued with Sellars’ spiky-haired, jaunty prankster. Typically cast in sparkling but demure roles, it was exciting to see Lawrence’s amusing over-exaggeration.

The only solo of the work was Davis’s portrayal Hamlet, which both opened and closed The Shakespeare Suite. Beginning with a pinpoint focus off stage, Davis, whom I have not had the pleasure of seeing in soloist roles before, showed a confident coolness, even while going mad. His technique skillfully folded into the character, making him an apt guide for Bintley’s surreal world populated by beatnik Shakespeareans.

It was a treat to see Ballet West’s dancers portray characters so far beyond the scope of their typical repertoire. I hardly recognized Adrian Fry stalking across the stage as Othello, and Allison DeBona’s devious smiles made her a delightfully manipulative Lady Macbeth. The ballet showcased a rarely revealed, comedic side of Ballet West. With all its character and wit, The Shakespeare Suite doesn’t try to be more complex than it is; it’s a romp, a gleeful amusement both for the dancers and the audience.

Soloist Jenna Rae Herrera and Demi-Soloist Joshua Whitehead, as Titania and Bottom, in David Bintley’s The Shakespeare Suite. Photo by Beau Pearson.

The first work of the evening, Jiří Kylián’s Return to a Strange Land, was the most benign. Dedicated to John Cranko, Return to a Strange Land presents two pas de trois and two pas de deux, each featuring Kylián’s often imitated style of smoothly intertwined partnering. Costumed in academically simple blue or gold leotards and soft-hued tights, the dancers begin on an autumn-colored stage, piles of leaves in the background, as they wind and unwind their arms, tangling their bodies until interwoven connections emerge. A dancer is lifted in an arch and spun into a deep plié while her partners draw connected circles around her. When the dancers do separate, they rush away from each other, flying around the stage like the leaves piled upstage.  Eventually they come together again, knotting themselves into moments of delicate, embracing balance as their kaleidoscopic shapes, perfectly symmetrical yet complex, emerge and disappear. The partnering is intricate but was deftly handled, especially by Chase O’Connell. Paired with Emily Adams, whose musicality is entrancing, the blue pas de deux was clear and heartfelt without being overly earnest.

Principal Emily Adams and Chase O’Connell in Jiří Kylián’s Return to a Strange Land. Photo by Beau Pearson.

Artists of Ballet West in Jiří Kylián's Return to a Strange Land. Photo by Beau Pearson.j

Principal Emily Adams and Chase O’Connell in Jiří Kylián’s Return to a Strange Land. Photo by Beau Pearson.

I will confess, I was most excited about Ballet West’s spring season because of Summerspace, Merce Cunningham’s masterwork that premiered at the American Dance Festival in 1958. The work was created with Cunningham’s unique collaborative process in which composer, choreographer, and designer each created independently, only coming together at the premiere of the work, a process still imitated as the work is reset on new dancers. Summerspace features colorfully dotted unitards and a backdrop designed by Robert Rauschenberg, as well as a spacious score composed by Morton Feldman. This type of collaborative process is obviously risky, but in this case yields a work where each element is fully realized, able to simultaneously stand on its own and interact with the other elements. Granted, it’s a great help for Summerspace to have had such accomplished collaborators. To quote Feldman, “Say you’re getting married and I tell you the dress won’t be made until the morning of the wedding. But I also tell you it’s by Dior.”  

Though it was the oldest work of the concert, Summerspace was the most unconventional, challenging both physically and conceptually for a typical ballet audience. Its clarity and simplicity made it an easy work to watch, however. Dancers charge through the space with impossible sequences of spins and springs. Spacious lines that lean toward balletic, speedy turning sequences, and simple patterns of skips, triplets, and leaps are juxtaposed against abrupt stillness. The music drifts in and out, filled with silence, almost fluttering past your ears. Ballet West’s cast was spritely in their charming interpretation, and their youthful verve was dazzling. Katlyn Addison’s open presence anchored the work. She kept the lift and speed of Summerspace from flying away, grounding the performance with her voluminous dancing.

Summerspace was clearly a challenge for Ballet West’s dancers: the movement passages are physical non-sequiturs, technically brutal in their composition. But seeing such accomplished dancers struggle is its own reward. In one moment, Katie Critchlow balanced on the subtlest of relevés, shaking as she shifted her weight to one leg. There was a sense of concentration that I have never seen at a Ballet West performance, an almost palpable air of risk. That the dancers were able to maintain humor and playfulness made their attempts and successes even more intriguing to watch. More than once the audience giggled and burst into spontaneous applause, reactions that are as rare as they were delightful and well-deserved.

Mary Lyn Graves, a native of Tulsa, OK, studied dance at the University of Oklahoma. She currently dances with Ririe-Woodbury Dance Company.

Ballet West: Journeys and Reflections

For the close of their season, Ballet West presents a program that spans over 80 years of dance making with three astoundingly diverse works. Beginning with George Balanchine’s Chaconne, dancers in softly draped dresses cover the stage as Gluck’s pastoral score drifts through the theater. They gently weave symmetrical patterns and float into statuesque poses as Emily Adams and Adrian Fry impeccably set the tone for the ballet. Chaconne is blissful, regal, pure in its clarity. The ballet’s movements are deceptively simple, creating a peaceful ease for the viewer. Your eyes can relax and take pleasure in the tranquil balance of Balanchine’s masterful organization of dancers. Katherine Lawrence and Christopher Sellars offer a bright break from the calm with a sweetly uninhibited duet flourished with jester-like wrist twirls and Mercurial attitudes. Jenna Rae Herrera also stands out with her warm and girlish energy. Another dancer might feel overdone, but Herrera’s bubbling-quality comes across as genuine.  

The high point of Chaconne is Adams and Fry’s second pas de deux. Both dancers possess an intriguingly royal quality, luxurious and crystalline without being cold. Fry, with his delicately flicking wrists and sudden drops into deep second, is endlessly gracious in his performance. The brighter yet still regal tone of the pas de deux showcases Adams’ gift for performing Balanchine. She joyfully plays with the music, flirting with timing until you can no longer find the boundaries between her dance and the orchestra. Her movement has an invigorating dignity and feels spectacularly spontaneous.

As heavenly as Chaconne is, Façades offers a more fraught mood. Opening with two baby-blue suited men in white wigs and heavily powdered faces hidden by lace fans, Garrett Smith’s revised ballet uses abstracted Baroque references as a way to address ideas of reflection.  Utilizing the ballet trope of two dancers creating the illusion of a mirror, Smith matches Adams in a red tutu with Allison DeBona in black. At first an impressive feat, the trick devolves into predictability as the relationship between the reflections never develops. Though their costumes are inversions of each other, the pair’s movement remains identical. I wish Smith had heightened DeBona’s mirthful quality against Adams’ timidity.  

Façades is satisfyingly fluid and Smith has a gift for crafting transitional moments. One of the more interesting sections found Adams staring into a string of dancers, giving the illusion of an endless hall of mirrors. As Adams moves, they echo and the slight delay of passing motion adds richness to this simple idea. I particularly enjoyed a moment where the two baby-blue Baroque men from the opening conduct the ensemble in a sweep of the stage, each woman lifted with stabbing legs to give the impression that the room had shattered.

However, the clear highlight of the evening is Kurt Jooss’ The Green Table. Created in 1932 on the eve of Hitler’s rise to power, The Green Table is indisputably a masterpiece. Dissonant, foreboding chords resound as the curtain rises to reveal The Gentlemen in Black spread across a green table. To a sarcastic tango, these ten masked diplomats with cavernous black eyes and white gloves cartoonishly converse. A veneer of politeness diffuses the ever-present violence in their gestures. As one man offers his hand, he raises his other in a fist. One bows to hide another shooting someone in the head. Two fingers point like a pistol across the table. The audience around me began to laugh. The Gentlemen in Black were funny and innocuous until the unexpected shot of a gun. Suddenly, we arrive in Death’s stark world. A glowing skeleton with wide luminous eyes, black boots, and a Trojan helmet, Beau Pearson as Death moves with precision and relentlessness. His eyes glow and widen, imbuing his percussive movements with powerful terror.

As Death presides, the patriotic Standard Bearer enthusiastically waves his blank flag and welcomes soldiers past Death’s clockwork arms. The Young Girl says goodbye to her sweetheart and The Woman comforts the Old Mother. The Profiteer slithers through, scanning the ranks for his next goldmine, and each soldier passes under the arm of Death who cooly turns his head to the audience as if asking if we understand yet. The next five scenes enact different atrocities of war. The soldiers grapple over the stained flag as Death circles the stage with unforgiving whips of his arms. The Profiteer slides through the carnage with greedy hands to steal a coin from a corpse. The Young Maiden sways listlessly from soldier to soldier until Death protectively hovers over her limp body. In a heartbreaking solo, Beckanne Sisk as the Old Woman offers herself to Death with small resigned steps and clasped hands. Sisk was transcendent in this role, her pained gaze reaching beyond the audience with a weighted resonance that brought me to tears. Death welcomes her gently and softly carries her passive body off stage. Katlyn Addison as the Woman (a role also called the Partisan) rushes the stage with uncompromising pride. She powerfully challenges the audience as she stands in front of a firing squad of soldiers, refusing to bow to anyone save Death.

Pearson as Death approaches each scene with astounding nuance. He greets the Partisan as an equal, meets the Old Woman with tenderness and is menacing towards the Profiteer. He is efficiently cold with the soldiers. After each new kill, he looks directly at the audience, silently asking us again if we understand. In the last scene, Death bears the flag as each broken sacrifice parades past. Death returns to his earlier solo, even more powerful as if fed by the destruction. A shocking fire of a pistol brings us back to the green table. As the pianos begin the now familiar sarcastic tango, the Gentlemen in Black repeat their polite charade. Witnessing the futility of the diplomats’ twirls and bows, the audience did not laugh this time.

Ballet West’s choice of The Green Table for the last performances of their regular season is unbelievably, even disturbingly, prescient. Jooss’ seminal work, relevant as long as men profit from war, feels even more necessary given that our country, barely a day before opening night, bombed a nation to whose refugees we refuse to offer asylum from a devastating six-year-long conflict. The Green Table, a masterpiece already, becomes more vital. The ballet rises above the rest of the evening. It transcends the concert, unequivocally and eloquently speaking of the futility of war in all circumstances. I cannot imagine a more timely and needed message.

Mary Lyn Graves dances with Ririe-Woodbury, appearing in a new work by Ann Carlson this week. She will also be seen performing in the upcoming ‘very vary’ by Molly Heller in May.