1. There's only one blonde-bunned dancer in the group - Emily Tyra, ballet's Erica Christensen. The other dancers are specific and rangey and darkheaded. She, too, is specific and rangey, but her all-American-ness stands out, as if she was chosen to be part emblem of the American ballerina, and part statement on behalf of the troupe - we are all different, they seem to say, and each of us was chosen for a reason . I contrast her to Sterling Hyltin, a principal at NYCB who replaced Ashley Bouder in Wheeldon's Saturday afternoon show - a beauty, easy on the eyes, but not commanding herself - not commanding her partner - and not, so far, commanding you. (I do have hope for her - she looks deeply felt in the NYCB winter bulletin). But it was satisfying to watch the Sewell dancers - by the end, each of them had revealed something dramatic, something dark, something odd, about themselves.
2. In a primordial, monster-inspired ballet called Schoenberg Serenade, I was amused by the elements of play: seven company members - an odd, uneven corps - a bug with six legs and a head. Arms and legs angling and creeping like spiders. The company stacking one on top of the other to form various entymological puppets, then deconstructing back into dancers before your eyes. A Sewell choice: dancers Caroline Fermin and Justin leaf wear their wild hair down. It speaks the same language as the rest of the choreographical wildness. Same goes for the mesh tank that reveals Nicholas Lincoln's tattoos!
3. In an 11-part ballet called Opera Moves, Sewell presents ballet's answer to the variety show - Tyra reveals that she's at least a double threat with an operatic croon of Lonely House. The other AM is irked that these operas aren't properly cited, but as an opera virgin, I was just happy to be hearing some. The costumes radiate with warmth and graphic wizardry: pink and peach lycra, red velvet. Embellishments call to mind gladiators and the chandelier and buck point graphic artist (name! name! can't remember his name. He's in the lobby, the coat closet line, at the Moma). Sally Rouse is the most versatile dramatic ballerina I've seen - she can do romance, she can do friendship, she can even do funny - a tough one for ballerinas, who often seem too perfectly graceful and aligned to perform feats of physical humor. But Rouse isn't misaligned, she's just small and dense and concentrated and emblazoned - a pistol, as my dad would say. Or a firecracker.
At the end of a weekend full of Wheeldon and Sewell, Sewell shows me more sculpture, more play, more movement, and cooler men (Chris Hannon is ballet's Christopher Moltisanti). I'm excited to give Wheeldon another chance. Alastair MacAuley threw little darts at each of these companies, and he amuses me, but I suspect that he's grumpy - he's also sage enough to have earned the right to use his weapons. I'm not, and I'm excited to hunt and gather my own opinions, and bring them back here to the system.
jsballet.org - James Sewell Ballet's website
http://www.barefootpenny.blogspot.com/ - into the mind of a Sewell dancer! (the regal, stoic, Icelandic looking one: ballet's Bjork!)
Hi Anna,
Thanks so much for your insightful and thoughtful comments. Yes indeed, the human element is increasingly what we're about. I've always felt that by the end of a show the audience knows each one of us.
Cheers,
Penny
Posted by: Penelope Freeh | October 23, 2007 at 12:35 PM