Baker's Dozen -- ABT at City Center, Sunday matinée, October 26, 2008

Baker's Dozen

Same cast as Sunday evening. Barbara Bilach at the piano. I had a good seat for watching Bilach as she played the overture. We were facing each other, she in the orchestra pit, me in the front row. Her face was calm throughout as she tackled yet again the contrapunctal jazzy rhythms of Willie "The Lion" Smith.

She is used to playing this. The ritardandos and diminuendos, accelerandos and and crescendos linking the different pieces are usually also in counterpoint, making it a bit of a difficult piece to get under your belt. Perhaps that is why I felt she was a little insecure at Bard. I take it back. She is skilled enough to be able to play this wildly speedy, galloping music with nonchalance. For viewing purposes (knowing that the pianist is to be heard, not seen, when she accompanies ballet), Bilach was boring. Were she in concert I'd love to see some animation as she tickled the ivories.

Curtain opens. Female dancers in white tops with criss-crossed straps in the back. An embroidered-looking beige sash-width belt cinches the waist of beige skirts, split to the top both front and back to allow for acrobatic movement. Legs are covered in lacy, legging-like tights which end inside white jazz shoes. The males are in beige trousers and shirts.One thing about ABT's rendition, as has been mentioned in previous reports, is the lightness of the company's dancers. I agree that this must be, if not the finest, then one of the finest ballet casts to dance this modern work.

Misty Copeland in Baker's Dozen

Gene Schiavone photo

So much of this piece is performed in the air as dancers grand jeté on and off the stage, throw themselves into each other's arms or onto their backs, jump off each other's bodies, and propel themselves straight up like rockets, with legs tucked in beneath them. There's groundwork, too, with lots of sliding movements, being pulled into the wings while in splits, rolling around from one side to the other via a fellow dancer's back, plenty of rond de jambes in plié, falling to the floor, turning upside down with butts sticking up, and signature Tharp traveling modes.

Sassy shoulder rotating, arms loosely hanging, leading with pumping arms to traverse the floor, funny bits like not being let onto the stage by an unseen dancer in the wings, first pulled back by an arm, then a leg, and being left alone on stage to display antic moves as if in front of one's bedroom mirror, make for a lively, infectious gambol that leaves the onlookers in such good spirits.

Isaac Stappas and Kristi Boone in Baker's Dozen

I could see "Baker's Dozen" again and again. There's too much going on for me to follow everyone in only two showings. I'd like to follow each dancer throughout the piece -- that's how I enjoy ballet. The whole cast had great facial expressions as they acted their way through the dance. Sitting where I was I got to really see everything.

Standouts in Sunday's matinée were Arron Scott, who got the plum role of the dancer alone on stage sitting on his knees who starts to sway his hips as he realizes the others have taken a powder, and continues into an endearing solo dance charming himself as well as the audience, the very blond Blaine Hoven who was high-spirited throughout, Eric Tamm, looking so Tommy Tune and Broadway, and Isabella Boylston, to whom I will devote the next few paragraphs.

Isabella Boylston, left

Järvi Raudsepp, right 

I have to preface my remarks by stating that I knew Isabella when she was Hildur Boylston and a 12 year old summer ballet student at the Kirov Academy of Ballet in Washington, D.C., 1999. My daughter and she became soulmates that July.

They're the two dancers at the barre in the forefront of this picture. 

The following summer, Isabella went to SAB and the year after, also, after winning the Gold medal at the Youth America Grand Prix finals at Pace University, which I attended because my daughter was in the competition too. A few months later, after the SAB SI, my daughter and I saw her taking class at STEPS where a crowd of students had gathered around the doorway to watch her in Willie Burman's class, informing those who didn't know, that she was this "amazing" dancer from the SAB SI. She was 14 years old. And, yes, she was indeed amazing.

Isabella went on to complete 2 1/2 years at the prestigious Harid Conservatory, graduating from high school there to move right into ABT's Studio Company (having already been approached at ABT's SI the previous summer). She participated in several ballet competitions, including the NYIBC, and won some top prizes and gained notice, becoming one to watch.

(Sidebar: A veteran competitor, she was a Grand Award winner at the Colorado State Science Fair in 2000, winning first place, Junior Division All Fair, for her project on Beetle Juice.)

My daughter has not seen her since the last two classes they took together that day at STEPS 7 years ago, but I made a point of going to ABT's Met season this past summer in order to see Hildur dance. She was featured as a D'Jampe soloist in La Bayadère and otherwise performed corps roles, and as I was sitting on the hard right side the day she was lined up with the corps on the same side (thereby not visible), I felt really gypped out of getting my full dose of Isabella Boylston.

Well, it seems I was to be deprived of her again, since the cast I got for City Center was the second cast for Citizen, in which Isabella is first-cast, and just as I was resigning myself to my fate, I noticed her name in the program for Baker's Dozen! Happy days (as Jamie Oliver would say)!

With nearly in-studio proximity, I sat upright in my seat ready for bliss. And I got it! Isabella Boylston is a blissful dancer, no question. And anyone who saw her nine-page photo spread and sublimely tutu'ed cover shot in Dance Spirit in September 2006 knows she has the ballet body of perfection: long, shapely legs, high insteps and arches, long arms, fingers, and toes, a beautiful countenance, narrow hips, taut yet free torso, linear sculpted muscles, gorgeous flexibility.

Her solo in "Baker's Dozen" (thank goodness she had a solo!) showed off her ease of technique, speed, musicality, lyricism, and charm. Isabella even threw in a "glinch" reminiscent of the great Suzanne. I enjoyed her performance so thoroughly and wondered why other reviewers hardly refer to her (lumping her in with others, or not even mentioning her dancing at all when she was indeed one fifth of a small ensemble).

Her duet with Patrick Ogle in Baker's Dozen was full of split positions, both on the ground and en l'air, high-swinging grand battements, energy, energy, energy, and fun. She'd be a major standout even if I didn't know her. But I'm so glad I do.

Company B -- ABT at Bard College, Friday October 17, 2008

Company B

Two words: Misty Copeland!

10 more words: Misty Copeland! Misty Copeland! Misty Copeland! Misty Copeland! Misty Copeland!

Did anyone else dance? Oh yes, did they ever! There was an actual baker's dozen of dancers, hot pastries fresh from the oven: German apple strudel (Maria Ricetto and Tobin Eason), puffy popovers (Arron Scott), curvy croissants (Nicola Curry), steaming muffins (Craig Salstein with his gaggle of swooning women), bittersweet chocolate mousse (Simone Messmer and Grant DeLong), spicy hot cross buns (the Joseph! Joseph! cast), all-American brownies (Joseph Phillips) and a tangy tropical tart (Misty Copeland). Paul Taylor's rousing, lively portrayal of the devil-may-care side of World World II masking the underlayer of devastation saw its premiere in 1991, first by Houston Ballet, then by the Paul Taylor company. Like "Overgrown Path", the ballet deals with mortality, but its take on death and its inevitability is totally different. Its characters begin as innocents, knowing what war does, but in their blissful youth, refusing to believe any of it will touch them -- until it does. In their innocence, they laugh, love and flirt, play-act and have wild fun. Then bodies start dropping, creating a new reality for the revelers.

The ballet is American, the America of the Europeans who peopled its cities 75 years ago and whose sons were sent to fight for it. The jubilation begins in low light to the Yiddish "Bei Mir Bist du Schon". The entire cast of 13 make the stage sizzle with their energy. With choreography based on the swing dances of the 40s -- the lindy hop, jive, boogie-woogie -- we experience pure joy and the beauty and exuberance of the young. A spirited polka follows, a good ol' German polka. If there's anything I know something about, it's the polka, so I must say that, while very well executed by Ricetto and Eason, I can tell that neither has had extensive experience with it. Still, it was very nicely done.

"Tico-Tico", a solo for a male dancer, was performed this night by Arron Scott. An ingenious piece of choreography, the dancer isolates his upper body parts into small bits that jiggle and undulate, pop and quiver as if he were in the throes of St. Vitus Dance -- or, to be current, maybe post-traumatic stress syndrome. Scott was so good that I've got to name him as my second most memorable dancer of the evening. The second part of the solo had him doing more traditional ballet steps like jetes, but I hardly remember any of that. Daniil Simkin and, from the cast list it looks like Mikhail Ilyin, alternate the part with him at City Center.

Bespectacled Craig Salstein was such a hoot in "Oh Johnny....", so much so that I watched him instead of the girls, so cannot comment on any individual female dancer. The story line: a bunch of girls hopes the nerdy boy (who didn't have to go to war) chooses one of them, but he outruns, outjumps, and outsmarts them. Nicola Curry, a lovely adagio dancer, gives the heartache of "I Can Dream, Can't I" an aesthetic, wistfully sensuous interpretation. Just beautiful!

Joseph Phillips, replacing Herman Cornejo, tackled "Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy", a grueling athletic endeavor. Phillips is certainly up to the choreography and physical requirements, but he needs more time with the role to work on nuance and surprise. I wanted to see something special, at least once, but, aside from the whole dance making special demands on the dancer, Joseph was not able (yet) to give it a little more oomph here and there.

And then came Misty. If ever a role was made for a dancer, "Rum and Coca-Cola" was made for Misty Copeland. Exuding sass, magnetism, and intrigue with a calypso beat, she led her admiring soldier boys into a lustful frenzy. It helps that she, of all the women, looks best in the "Company B" costume, so sexy and fresh. Misty has a springy, high jump, an expansive way of moving, and sharp, precise technique. She performed this so utterly perfectly, that I wonder whether there is anyone at ABT who can touch her or even come close.

Simone Messmer and Grant DeLong were given the tail-end duet "There Will Never Be Another You". The story behind the dance is that of a couple who must part because of the call of war, ending with the soldier joining his unit and leaving his girlfriend in an emotional heap to suffer the torment of (perhaps permanent) separation. It was extremely well danced. The maturity that Messner gives us everytime she takes the stage graced this duet in smooth synchrony with DeLong's expressive partnering. Bravo! Poignantly danced and well-acted.

The return of "Bei Mir Bist du Schon" provides a summarizing coda for the piece and returns us to the festive atmosphere which took us into the ballet. The dancers all return with their vigorous energy and we are again allowed to forget.

The whole cast wore white jazz shoes for the ballet and the women wore either long skirts or trousers. The unifying accessory was a thin red belt for everyone, males and females. It is completely possible that this is a symbol of more than the blood of war. The ballet came out during the years when the AIDS crisis was on the front burner of the news constantly. Paul Taylor was deeply affected by the loss of friends and dancers and used that raw emotion as inspiration for some of his choreography. "Company B" could well be one of those works that reflected the senseless destruction wrought by the disease. There are more layers to this prickly rose of a dance than meet the eye.