Ballet West: Onegin

Even though John Cranko chose the title Onegin for his ballet based on Alexander Pushkin’s verse-novel, I find its power resides in the dancer playing the role of Tatiana. It is her transformation, from withdrawn and innocent to forthright and assertive, that makes the story so compelling. For this reason, among many others, Onegin is a riveting and important addition to Ballet West’s repertory: the women in the company shine in Cranko’s challenging and dramatic choreography.

Onegin is built upon a series of contrasts: between sisters, between couples, and between different phases of our lives. The credibility of the story depends upon dancers’ ability to portray these contrasts without slipping into caricature. On Saturday night, April 6, Beckanne Sisk as Tatiana and Chelsea Keefer as Olga captured the perfect balance between Tatiana’s diffident personality and Olga’s bubbly disposition. Their sisterly affections and squabbles made them endearing and relatable.

The fondness they shared for one another in Act I contrasted with Onegin’s treatment of Tatiana, Olga, and Lensky in Act II. In many ways, Onegin’s character became apparent through the differences he presented: aloof and self-involved instead of attentive and engaging. Every detail of the production’s design emphasized these differences: his dark clothing contrasted with the women’s light, pastel dresses (costume and set design were by Santo Loquasto), and his gaze was often skyward and his gait measured and deliberate. In the role of Onegin, Chase O’Connell presented these differences with a masterful touch, intertwining his choreography with the emotions they conveyed. As tensions escalated between the couples in Act II, with Onegin pulling Olga away from Lensky, and Lensky growing increasingly jealous, their dancing intensified the conflict: the choreography and partnering accelerated and its speed and complexity made visible Lensky’s churning confusion and rage. Jordan Veit beautifully performed the role of Lensky, making his conflict between romance and pride both believable and devastating at the same time.

Soloists Jordan Veit (left) and Chelsea Keefer as Lensky and Olga, with artists of Ballet West. Photo by Beau Pearson.

As a choreographer, Cranko portrayed these plot tensions with a layered approach: there are often two relationships developing simultaneously on the stage. For example, in Act II, Olga and Lensky are visible in the background as she reassures him that her dancing with Onegin is meaningless, while Tatiana performs a solo in the center of the stage that evokes her infatuation with Onegin and discouragement with his dismissal. This kind of simultaneity gives Onegin a cinematic feel: the layering creates a sense of momentum and inevitability, one relationship becomes irrevocably entwined with another. Cranko’s movement design is not only emotionally driven, but also technically complicated. As Olga, Keefer performed her choreography with clarity and ebullience that matched her role: the ballotté steps that began her solo in Act I were buoyant and sparkling, and her turns perfectly captured the swirling attraction she felt towards Lensky.

The entire cast enriched Saturday night’s performance: towards the end of Act I, when the neighbors and relatives of Madame Larina dart across the stage in a diagonal, with the women performing grand jetés, and the men assisting them as they run alongside, the audience burst into applause. It is a testament to the caliber and artistry of the company that they make this ballet, choreographed in 1965, feel fresh, exciting, and relevant today. Although Cranko’s works are brilliant and proving to be timeless, they require large casts of dancers who blend precise attention to details in group formations, with the ability to portray characters and plot developments believably. In his obituary in the New York Times, from 1973, there’s a quote from Cranko that states, “There is the challenge of making a ballet work on two levels—as dance and as story. You fail only if the story becomes more important than the dance.” [1] The dancers of Ballet West excel as both technicians and story-tellers.

Artists of Ballet West in John Cranko’s Onegin. Photo by Beau Pearson.

The word “immersive” is often used to describe events where audience members are in close proximity to dancers or actors, but watching Ballet West perform Onegin, I felt another kind of envelopment. The characters were performed with such credibility, I became absorbed in the conflicts that each of them encountered: Sisk as Tatiana began the performance as a young, introverted, and bookish woman, who transformed into a commanding presence. O’Connell as Onegin conveyed his character’s path from reckless to regretful with such conviction that I felt a newfound appreciation for this role. I also began to wonder about the mirrors that appear throughout the first act, from the scene when Olga “discovers” Lensky in her reflection, to the mirror pas de deux between Tatiana and Onegin. Are these Cranko’s way of commenting on reflections, and the contrasts between what we desire for ourselves and how others see us?

Undoubtedly the music and production design contributed to my sense of absorption: Jared Oaks conducted the Ballet West Orchestra and the music by Tchaikovsky (arranged and orchestrated by Kurt-Heinz Stolze) supported and intensified my emotional engagement with the dancing. The sets and costumes, courtesy of the National Ballet of Canada, added sumptuous visual layers to the performance.

Although I love how the program contains translations of Pushkin’s writing, specifically the letter that Tatiana writes to Onegin, and Onegin’s letter to Tatiana, I found this offered yet another contrast: Cranko’s Onegin performed by Ballet West is a rich and lived experience that conveys Pushkin’s multifaceted characters in ways that words cannot convey. The gestures, actions, and partnering of the dancers communicate viscerally and kinesthetically the turmoil, heartbreak, and resolve of Pushkin’s characters. In Ballet West’s dancers, Cranko’s choreography finds a perfect company to transport us into and through this enthralling and revealing story.

Principal Artists Beckanne Sisk and Chase O'Connell as Tatiana and Onegin. Photo by Beau Pearson.

[1] https://www.nytimes.com/1973/06/27/archives/john-cranko-dies-at-45-stuttgart-ballet-director-hurok-pays-tribute.html

Kate Mattingly is an assistant professor of dance at the University of Utah. She has a doctoral degree in performance studies from UC Berkeley, and has had writing published in The New York Times, The Village Voice, Dance Research Journal, Dance magazine, and Pointe magazine, among others.

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.