Ballet and dance

HK Ballet: Swan Lake

Date: October 25, 2019
Company: Hong Kong Ballet
Choreography: John Meehan, after Marius Petipa and Lev Ivanov
Location: Hong Kong Cultural Centre, Hong Kong.

Siegfried: Chan Chun Wai
Queen: Wang Qingxin
Act 1 pas de quatre: Gao Ge, Kim Eunsil, Li Lin, Shen Jie
Von Rothbart: Garry Corpuz
Odette/Odile: Ye Feifei
Big Swans: Jessica Burrows, Gao Ge, Wang Qingxin, Zhang Xuening
Little Swans: Kim Eunsil, Peggy Lai, Amber Lewis, Yang Ruiqi
Russian Princess: Vanessa Lai
Neapolitan Princess: Kim Eunsil
Escort of Neapolitan Princess: Shen Jie
Hungarian Princess: Jessica Burrows
Spanish Princess: Zhang Xuening

Hong Kong Sinfonietta
Faycal Karoui, conductor

 

Hong Kong Ballet’s 19/20 season continues with ballet’s ultimate romantic classic, Swan Lake, in a choreography by John Meehan. Chan Chun Wai, a Guangdong-born principal at The Houston Ballet, guest starred as the Prince, while Ye Feifei, Hong Kong Ballet’s principal, starred as Odette/Odile. Chan’s incredible lower body strength, primed for gorgeous fouettés, enabled the gyroscopic madness that he unleashed towards the end of Act 3. Technically, Chan is a master of his trade: his jetés were springy and swift, with airborne time maximized at the split and landing as soft as feather touching the ground. His acting, which by no means is faulty or inadequate, could benefit a great deal more by shaping his arms (and fingers!) with more artistic acumen. Ye Feifei was more expressively convincing as Odile than as Odette – her black swan was fiery, almost cunning, while her white swan seemed more ready to feign than to ooze pain and suffering. Technically, Ye Feifei was masterful, with full control of the repertory steps, and was mindful of her lines in front of the audience. Disaster loomed when her Act 3 pirouettes started slowly – and certainly not helped by the doubles that she planned to do and did anyway – but she willed her way to the rest of them, accelerating with great core strength and, perhaps more critically, even greater mental determination. Her feat was wildly applauded, and deservedly so.

Shen Jie began the evening horrendously in the Act 1 pas de quatre – a set piece not particularly difficult for either of the men, but one that, if Meehan’s concoction was to be visibly pleasing, required synchronization of the both of them, especially when both were doing tours. Shen Jie landed nearly all of his tours late, with *horrors* slanting shoulders, and he seemed visibly dazed at the end of the pas de quatre sequence. His performance as the escort of Kim Eunsil’s Neapolitan Princess in Act 3 was much more artistically pleasing, flanked and assisted by Kim’s flowing body lines and picture-perfect turns – so much so that the stage chemistry between the escort and princess overshadowed, and perhaps even violated, the story line of a princess attempting to woo a disinterested prince, not a princess smitten all over her escort. Amidst all that obfuscation of the story line, and a choreography that felt rather deflated and uninspired when juxtaposed against the combustible trumpets in the pit, Kim stood out as a dancer equipped with both technical prowess and artistic sensibility, and ready for greater roles to come.

The little swans quartet of Kim Eunsil, Peggy Lai, Amber Lewis, Yang Ruiqi was probably the luxury casting – and highlight – of the evening, with each of them absolutely focused, and all of them moving as one body. Synchronized neck bends, balancés in simple harmony – no minute details were left unattended. Vanessa Lai, as Russian princess, gave a fine performance that was, alas, obscured by her escorts who were busy turning and jumping themselves all around her. The number as a whole felt under-rehearsed, with the male escorts lacking both full awareness of their spatial relationships with each other and commitment in their steps. Jessica Burrows, returning to the Company in a prominent role after a short sabbatical, was a fine, passionate Hungarian princess. Zhang Xuening, as Spanish princess, hinted ever so slightly, with her crowd-pleasing performance, that she was mature enough as a dancer to carry the Company as Kitri.

The Hong Kong Sinfonietta gave a mixed performance. The violin solos were fantastic, as was the trumpet’s crisp double-tonguing lunacy in the Neapolitan dance. But overall, the pit felt sleepy for much of Act 1, and when rhythms and energy finally picked up thereafter, the orchestra sounded under-motivated.

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Ballet and dance

HK Ballet: Wheeldon, Ratmansky, McIntyre

Date: June 2, 2018
Location: Hong Kong Cultural Centre, Hong Kong.

Ratmansky – Le Carnaval des Animaux
Wheeldon – Rush
McIntyre – A Day in the Life

The penultimate performance of the Hong Kong Ballet’s 17/18 season, in the evening of June 2, was notable more for a teary-eyed video tribute to Liang Jing, the Company’s retiring senior ballet master, than for the dancing. That was not to say the dancing was sub-par – on the contrary, much joy could be culled from tidbits of individual performances throughout the evening. On the whole, however, the evening’s triple bill of modern choreography labored steadfastly forward like a transcontinental train without generating the sort of blood-boiling excitement one would find in a roller coaster. Both the Ratmansky and the Wheeldon were previously staged by the Company; only McIntyre was newly premiered. In the Ratmansky, Liu Miaomiao sported with precision and rampage as Elephant, while Li Lin and Jonathan Spigner, as Horses, approached their steps with rhythmic clarity. But Gao Ge’s Swan, while technically faultless, did not sway the audience with emotional impact. In Wheeldon’s Rush, last-minute substitutes Chen Zhiyao and Wei Wei danced gloriously in perfect partnership. Chen’s still lines brimmed with elegance, while Wei Wei’s supporting work was rock solid. Their pas de deux would have been perfect had Wei Wei been more conscientious of his stance, which tended to turn-in like an ugly duckling. A Day in the Life offered perhaps what would be the emotional high water mark of the evening. Set against 13 Beatles songs, McIntyre’s choreography adhered to the rhythmic and melodic tendencies, rather than the lyrical meaning of the music. Eight dancers shared duties more or less equally, but highlights belonged to Li Jiabo and Xia Jun. To the music of Mother Nature’s Son, Li Jiabo swamped the stage with energy, generated chiefly from the strength of his core and leg work. Xia Jun danced to Wild Honey Pie, an experimental piece by McCartney that lasted barely over a minute. But what a minute that was. Xia Jun unleashed a voracious tornado of power through powerful limb work, especially his arms. Swift movements that brought his arms from a stretched position to over his chest and back punched with rhythmic sensation. The volume of the soundtrack was either amplified slightly to match Xia’s solo fervor, or his tremendous effort was perceived to have amplified the ambient track. Xia’s performance in this evening alone should guarantee his place as a premier dancer of the Company. The rest of the cast was also good: Chen Zhiyao and Liu Miaomiao showed their more chirpy side dancing to the snappy Beatles tunes, while Yang Ruiqi danced with the sort of White Cat-like spirit that enlivened the auditorium. But the evening as a whole lacked intricate choreography worthy of lasting imprint in the memory; nor was there a long build-up that would mirror the grand pas in the classical repertory (Balanchine’s Stars and Stripes, as an example, would have offered that sort of climactic bookend). In the end, that grand pas finale belonged to Liang Jing, who would depart after more than two decades of service – as dancer and as ballet master – to the Company. Four former and current artistic directors, as well as many dancers, lavished their praises in the video tribute, but the most personal tribute came from Madeleine Onne. Her voice, nearly cracking with poignant melancholy, expressed her gratitude to Liang with sincerity and sensitivity. As she sang the praises of Liang’s devotion, plenty in the audience nodded in agreement. That was perhaps that singular oomph moment missing in the programming.

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Ballet and dance

Paris Ballet: Legends Mixed Bill

Date: May 11, 2017
Location: Hong Kong Cultural Centre, Hong Kong.

Coralli and Perrot – Giselle Act 2 pas de deux, with Lucie Barthelemy and Alessandro Riga
Meehan after Ivanov and Petipa – Black Swan pas de deux, with Ge Gao and Ryo Kato
Robbins – In The Night, with Muriel Zusperreguy and Josua Hoffalt, Aida Baida and Esteban Berlanga, Agnes Letestu and Stephane Bullion
Cue – La Mort du Cygne (The Dying Swan), with Esteban Berlanga
Fontan and Sarrat – Carmen Toujours! pas de deux, with Lucie Barthelemy and Olivier Sarrat
Martinez – Les Enfants du Paradis pas de deux, with Aida Baida and Esteban Berlanga
Caniparoli – Lady of the Camellias pas de deux, with Yao Jin and Lucas Jerkander
Van Cauwenbergh – Les Bourgeois, with Alessandro Riga
Favier – Non, je ne regrette rien, with Agnes Letestu and Stephane Bullion
Prejlocaj – Le Parc final pas de deux, with Muriel Zusperreguy and Josua Hoffalt

Balletomanes in Hong Kong will certainly remember two of the pieces this evening: Les Bourgeois, danced by Carlos Acosta in 2016, and Le Parc, danced by Alice Renavand / Florian Magnenet in 2015. Van Cauwenbergh’s choreography is not so much dancing as it is acting, and here Riga romped the stage as a cigarette-smoking bombshell, with the sort of clownish smile and gestures that aroused delirious laughter in the auditorium. Aided by a younger and more flexible body, Riga’s rendition in contrast with Acosta’s felt less muscular and more natural. In Le Parc, Zusperreguy and Hoffalt’s flawless techniques would stand out more if only they did not beam with great chemistry, which they certainly did. Zusperreguy flowed just as graciously as Renavand (and Guérin – their inspiration), and seemed to enhance the role by adding a hint of nervousness and uncertainty, as if she is well aware of life’s reality even as the couple, in ecstasy, momentarily escapes from it. This display of insight was well in contrast with Jin/Jerkander in Lady of the Camellias. The Hong Kong Ballet pair displayed all of Caniparoli’s visual language while managing to find, seemingly, no chemistry between themselves. Jin’s Marguerite, often looking towards the audience, was more eager to please them than Jerkander’s Armand – something that was unfortunate, especially since the pair found good chemistry dancing together in Hong Kong Ballet’s full version back in October 2016. Alas, such was the fact of life with galas where getting into character could be a monumental task. In the Favier, Letestu and Bullion displayed great efficacy of movement and precision while dancing within the confines of a carpet barely larger than the average bathroom stall. Fontan and Sarrat’s Carmen Toujours! was perhaps one of the most exciting new choreographies I have seen lately. Physical moments switched back and forth between cruel violence and sappy tenderness, in deference to the wretched history between Carmen and Don Jose. In the frenetic scene where Jose was about to stab Carmen a la Sweeney Todd, the psychological intensity seemed most and appropriately intertwined with the visual physicality. It would have been perfect, if only the corresponding music was not the flower song, which opera lovers would find out of place. I look forward to comparing it against Yuh Egami/Ricky Hu’s new choreography for the Hong Kong Ballet later this month. Robbin’s In The Night looks and feels Parisian without actually programming as such. All three pairs’ dancing was precise, especially the dancing between Letestu and Bullion. The seasoned pair moved their legs cleanly without unnecessary jitters. Their dancing revealed not a word of flamboyance but a waterfall’s worth of human sensibility. Motions flowed with generous profundity of thought and conviction. Henri Barda, who for decades has been Robbins’ most trusted collaborator, colored the moment with delicious live rendering of Chopin’s nocturnes, among other music. His piano, situated in the pit area (stage right), was spotlighted loosely but prominently from above and was clearly programmed to be an equal partner to the dance proceedings onstage. His performance, full of voice and sentimentality, was worthy of the standing ovations the auditorium lavished him.

Robbins’ In The Night: Paris Opera Ballet legends in Hong Kong. Photo credit: Le French May website.

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Ballet and dance

HK Ballet: Paquita, Bolero, Le Carnaval

Date: May 30, 2015
Location: Hong Kong Cultural Centre, Hong Kong.

Petipa – Paquita Grand Pas Classique
Preljocaj – Le Parc final pas de deux
Edwaard Liang – Letting Go (world première)
Yuh Egami & Ricky Hu – Bolero (world première)
Ratmansky – Le Carnaval des Animaux

Hong Kong Ballet

The Hong Kong Ballet’s 2014/15 season closes with a mixed bill, with works by Petipa, Preljocaj and Ratmansky, as well as two world premières by Asian choreographers. The programming is as vast as the cast bill luxurious: Jurgita Dronina, Principal at the Dutch National Ballet who is recently appointed Guest Principal Dancer of the HK Ballet, handles Paquita; Alice Renavand and Florian Magnenet, both big stars of the Paris Opera Ballet, team up in Le Parc; and Tan Yuan Yuan, Principal Dancer of the San Francisco Ballet and long-time Guest Principal Dancer of the HK Ballet, dances the female role in Edwaard Liang’s new work.

On paper, Dronina, 29, is one of the most gifted dancers in the world today. Joining the Royal Swedish Ballet at nineteen, she was promoted to Principal at 23. A year later, she became Principal at the Dutch National Ballet, where she remains since. Had her performance as Paquita in Hong Kong this evening been more compelling, she would have lived up to her resumé. Alas, she did not. Her initial entrance was marred with hesitation: in attitude, her working leg slouched; her legs looked heavy, and her arms lethargic. There was not enough stamina (certainly not enough for the all-consuming effort that is Paquita’s GPC), and her movements were not sharp. In Paquita’s signature fouettes, because Dronina could not manage to start with the right angular velocity, the final turns ground to a slow, uncomfortable finish. In the interim, she tried too hard to re-accelerate but ended up mis-aligning her hips and almost tipping over. When her focus seemed lacking, Dronina’s short limbs (at least by Russian standards, though no fault of her own) make any onstage adjustments that much more herculean. Wei Wei, dancing the role of Lucien, performed with neither grave mistake nor the sort of satisfaction-inducing excitement. In his main variation, he missed a few steps and finished his fouettés with shaky sauté landings. The four main soloists of Gao Ge, Dong Ruixue, Yui Sugawara and Naomi Yuzawa infused much-needed stability and generous excitement, especially the last two, while the rest of the cast caused no harm but was predictably average.

Le Parc was impressive not only because it looked fresh despite being over two decades old (created for the Paris Opera Ballet in 1994), but because it stood out as a fine piece of theatrical choreography in contrast with Petipa’s GPC before and Egami/Hu’s work after (see more below). When Renavand and Magnenet danced, they moved with a weightless beauty, like feathers floating in a sleepy summer drift. Their bodies responded well to each other: when one body roared with physicality, the other retracted in submission. Comparing Renavand/Magnenet with the role-creating pair Guérin/Hilaire in 1994, the original pair effuses more sensual pleasure, while the current pair beams more melancholic sadness. It would be hard to deduce from the dancers’ chiffon tops that the piece explores facets of 17th century French nobility and social etiquette, yet there was no mistake that the two Paris Opera Ballet dancers were dancing a narrative of love. In one thrilling scene, they started kissing, followed first by Renavand embracing Magnenet’s upper body and then by Magnenet turning in position, swirling Renavand’s body around like a hammer throw. This rotating motion could have been vulgar or cartoonish, but in the hands of two experts of the art, in front of a dark-hued background, the pair danced as though two pieces of soft, white chiffons waltzed in mid-air with no earthly triviality or measly hindrance. Here, love flourishes, and fairytale ensues.

Edwaard Liang’s choreography found equally worthy interpreters in Tan Yuan Yuan and Liang himself. Tan’s lines, always perfect and sensual, moved around Liang’s body with a coy but sweet coziness. Her feet landed with precision and security, while her arms, visage and fingers embellished with pristine refinement. Tan’s execution dazzled with immaculate technique, but, in her trademark display, she did not flaunt them.

In Bolero, the choreography team of Yuh Egami & Ricky Hu seems to set the dance against a story in a psychiatric hospital, with the patient eventually succumbing to some sort of physical/mental condemnation. Imagine, as the music of Bolero gets louder and more complex, the patient becomes more agitated, with less and less self-control, and eventually incapacitated. Forcing a program onto Ravel’s formal work seemed awkward at best and sacrilegious at worst. (That being said, any sort of purely formal display will inevitably attract comparison with Maurice Béjart’s masterpiece, immortalized by Maya Plisetskaya.) In terms of choreography, there were a few snippets of juicy corp moves (dressed in black, with head gear) that placed emphasis on masculine prowess. The company’s male dancers executed well, with synchronized precision and a single-minded ability to project some sort of demonic powers. This type of choreography seemed inherited partially from Eifman’s brutal physicality and Ratmansky’s neoclassical motions with synchronized arms and feet, but the rest of the product (especially the choreography of the two leads) seemed lacking communicative power and expansiveness. The leads, Liu Yu-yao and Lucas Jerkander, executed the practiced moves with agile familiarity and thoughtful care, but looked as if they were unsure where to place or project their emotions. Movements were occasionally frantic but came with no inspiration; busy stage work was mechanically interesting but seemed distracting. Overall, the dancing was not particularly memorable (other than the corp parts with the demons), while the Bolero team seems to have over-designed the set and props.

Ratmansky’s Le Carnaval had some charming and corny moments, including deliberate onstage mistakes, as well as spoofs of well-known ballet choreography. As a whole, however, it failed simply because it begged for too much cheap (and juvenile!) laughs while offering very little thoughtful commentary by way of dance. Perhaps irony is exactly what the iconoclastic Ratmansky has in mind.

HK Ballet's season closing mixed bill.

HK Ballet’s season closing mixed bill.

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