Ballet and dance

Don Quixote

Date: August 26 and 27, 2017
Location: Hong Kong Cultural Centre, Hong Kong.

Choreography by Marius Petipa and Alexander Gorsky, with additional choreography by Nina Ananiashvili

Kitri/Dulcinea: Iana Salenko
Basilio: Shen Jie (26), Wei Wei (27)
Mercedes: Yang Ruiqi
Espada: Li Lin
Don Quixote: Lucas Jerkander
Sancho Panza: Luis Cabrera
Lorenzo: Ricky Hu
Gamache: Jonathan Spigner
Kitri’s friends: Dong Ruixue, Naomi Yuzawa
Queen of the Dryads: Chen Zhiyao
Gypsy Baron/Tavern Keeper: Yuh Egami
Cupid: Law Lok Huen Tirion
Act III Bolero dancers: Shunsuke Arimizu, Lai Nok Sze Vanessa
Act III variations: Nana Sakai, Chaelee Kim

Hong Kong Ballet

Hong Kong Sinfonietta (orchestra)
Benjamin Pope (conductor)

Hong Kong Ballet opens its 2017/18 season with Petipa’s Don Quixote. With its unambiguous optimism and feel-good pleasantries, the ballet helps to ring in the company’s new era under its new Artistic Director Septime Webre. Much of the choreography is unmistakably Petipa’s and Gorsky’s, but Ananiashvili, who at Bolshoi was once an iconic Kitri herself, streamlines the storytelling by shaving away a great deal of original choreography, including much of Espada’s and a good deal of corps dances in the dream scene. Remaining faithful to Cervantes, Ananiashvili has left in place some non-dancing theatrical elements, such as Don Quixote’s unfortunate entanglement with the windmill or Sancho’s food stealing episode. The end result is a Don Quixote that offers a flowing storyline with the essential colorings of Petipa/Gorsky. The truncations, however, offer less opportunities for the corps to show off their goods, especially pointe work during the dream scene.

Leading both evenings as Kitri was Iana Salenko, a guest artist from Berlin. Salenko’s Kitri is fiery, fun and playful. Barely over five feet tall, Salenko’s small body frame allows her to move with seemingly no effort. Her great sense of musicality allowed her développés to unveil naturally, eventually reaching perfect alignments on beat. Her turns set ablaze the stage with intensity and focus, and her finishing steps were not only clean but well attuned to the corresponding melody. The only blemish on the August 26 performance was that she fell off pointe after her first few fouettés in the evening’s climax, but to her credit, even when the conductor did not seem willing to bend to her reduced velocity, she picked up speed out of sheer will and executed the rest of them admirably, if not, given the circumstances, flawlessly. In the August 27 performance, her ending pièce de résistance, packed with many doubles a few triples, was visually more stunning to watch, though as a whole she was more in form and gave more in the first performance than in the second.

Shen Jie on August 26 offered a mischievous Basilio, whose fake death prompted a delirium in the auditorium. His chaîné turns were swift and weightless, while his sautés found great reach and clean finish. He was a dependable lifter, and his single-armed lifts of Salenko prompted perhaps the loudest mid-ballet applauses in both evenings. Wei Wei on August 27 was not as outwardly dramatic. As a late replacement for Shen, who was originally scheduled to dance both evenings, Wei was seen moving slightly off the pace of Salenko when dancing with mirroring steps. Nevertheless, he has shown to be a reliable partner with good lifts and solid support, and, as the evening progressed, Salenko seemed more and more willing to entrust him to get the job done.

Li Lin’s Espada and Yang Ruiqi’s Mercedes had the right attitudes for their roles, but did not have nearly enough steps to allow the company soloist and coryphée, respectively, to fully shine. Lucas Jerkander’s Don was appropriately stolid throughout, while Luis Cabrera’s Sancho was comical without being whimsical. Jonathan Spigner showed superb comedic talents as Gamache, and could be seen applauding profusely after each of the variations in the wedding scene. He was enjoying the moment as much as the rest of us in the auditorium did. Chen Zhiyao’s Queen had shaky moments, especially at the beginning of her variation on August 26, but performed much better, and with more of the Queen’s lyrical classicism, a day later. Shunsuke Arimizu and Vanessa Lai showed a well-rehearsed pair of Bolero dancers, and provided the perfect evidence that even dance numbers that are frivolous to storytelling could be essential enhancements to the buffet galore that is Don Quixote. Nana Sakai and Chaelee Kim provided variety and additional flavorings during the grand pas, albeit with imperfections. Sakai was a bit rigid in her first evening, but seemed more relaxed in her second. Kim looked nervous and lacked jump height in both evenings, but arguably executed more cleanly in her second outing. As Kitri’s friends, the dedicated pair of Don Ruixue and Naomi Yuzawa, by having fine evenings deserving commendation, showed depth in the company corps. They had a full work load as they also danced the second act gypsy dances. Tirion Law offered a sunny and chirpy characterization of Cupid. Her arm alignments were elegant and natural, and her smile intoxicating. While she had some problems synchronizing her still alignments with her music’s rest beats, her solo performance as a whole was easily the most memorable, if not the best, among the corps.

The staging was minimal but had some interesting moments, including the opening scene where cartoon silhouettes depicting Don Quixote and Sancho were projected, as if they were readying a journey. Some stage direction should also be thought over: in the wedding scene, an extra showed up awkwardly at upstage right, right in the middle of the wedding group dance. For a while I was expecting something from her. Also, some props were placed so close to the center that they could easily chop off Basilio’s flights. The costumes were, for the most part, unattractive and forgettable. Hong Kong Sinfonietta was in the pit, led by guest conductor Benjamin Pope. The orchestra sounded well-balanced and lyrical: its surprisingly refined phrasings and buttery intonations were, alas, more Straussian (Johann) than Minkus. At times, the orchestra sounded like they were dabbling in some sappy music of Richard Heuberger, rather than the energetic vigor that is Minkus. Sparks did not fly. The rudder does not navigate itself; any such curious coloration (or lack thereof) must point to the navigator, i.e. Pope. To Pope’s credit, he moved the drama flowingly, perhaps in deference to the modified choreography, but on few occasions, the music would pick up abruptly, with the dancers barely finishing their bows and being rushed awkwardly offstage.

Don Quixote. Photo credit: Conrad Dy-Liacco/HK Ballet.

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Orchestral music

Ethereal is the Moon

Date: March 12, 2017
Location: Hong Kong City Hall, Hong Kong.

Chan Hing-yan – Ethereal is the Moon
Ravel – Piano Concerto in G
Shostakovich – Symphony No. 9

Hong Kong Sinfonietta
Wang Ying-chieh (huqin)
Colleen Lee (piano)
Yip Wing-sie (conductor)

Premiered during Sinfonietta’s tour in Taiwan back in November 2016, “Ethereal is the Moon” is the sixth of composer Chan Hing-yan’s commissions for the orchestra. The composition was originally conceived to celebrate the 20th anniversary of collaboration between the composer and the orchestra (their first collaboration, “Enigmas of the Moon”, was premiered in 1998). After Chan completed “Ethereal” in September 2016, two years earlier than planned, the piece was swiftly picked for the orchestra’s tour.

The piece is cast in five movements, each elaborating on one line of Chan’s five-lined, eponymous poem:

Scrawny Horse’s Hooves on Waning Crescent
Moon-embalmed, a Dead Flower Lies in State —
Full Moon Leans to Outline Raven Shadows
Frost-bruised Blossoms Hide the Moonbeam’s Chill —
Lunar Halo Mourns the Mountain Demons

In the music, the first, third and fifth assert with dominant themes. The second and fourth, offering light orchestration and mellow musical structures, not only act as connecting interludes but mirror the motionless sensibility of the poem’s second and fourth lines. This alternating structure further reminds us of the Shostakovich, also structured in five movements, with two mellow movements on either side of the scintillating third. The third movement of “Ethereal” includes a rapid-firing huqin motif that repeats throughout the movement. Played here by Wang Ying-chieh, the motif reminds us of the foundation motif in the second movement of Shostakovich’s Symphony No. 11. In terms of construct, “Ethereal” is comparable to Shostakovich’s Symphony No. 9. In terms of tonal color, solemn themes and overall melancholic mood, however, the Russian composer’s Symphony No. 11 seems more related.

The opening first movement of “Ethereal” is funereal, almost to the point of apocalypse. Here, Wang’s huqin was juxtaposed frequently in semi-tonal digression by the first violins. The effect was hauntingly surreal. A suffocating air of bleakness seemed to creep in slowly, turning the evening into one of near lifelessness. The second and fourth movements offer no particularly discerning theme, but the harmonic structure is completed with intricate layers of long holding notes by lower strings and lower brasses — a treatment that may well be a tribute to Shostakovich’s Symphony No. 11. Whether Shostakovich’s music has actually influenced “Ethereal” is a question yet to be explored, but “Ethereal” very well holds its own in terms of contrasts, details, and its expressiveness. The huqin line offered by Wang is both poetic and vivaciously detailed, and reveals Chan’s committed effort to showcase the instrument’s versatility as a purveyor, respectively, of melody and of texture.

The showcase of versatility was unfortunately not continued in Colleen Lee’s performance in Ravel. Lee’s piano playing was precise and clinical, but was powerless as a voice or as a dramatic device. The piece’s famously jazzy lines were rendered with a Bach-like rigidity. Even a hint of Mozartean playfulness could have offered a more forceful impact. In moments where horns and woodwinds soared with blood-boiling, high-wired dramatics, the piano line failed to answer with a properly balanced counterpoint. That was not to suggest that Lee, who is a past Chopin prize winner, limped to a finish; it was simply that, even as Lee breezed through the Ravel without any difficulty, there was very little emotional or dramatic dialogue between the orchestra and the concerto instrument.

After intermission, we were brought back to “Ethereal”’s structural twin but emotional nemesis. The sole purpose of Shostakovich’s comedic piece could be, jokingly, referred to as a dramatically futile mad dash from the start to the finish. If “Ethereal” is sincere and serious, this Shostakovich is probably anything but. Curiously, Yip offered a cerebral account of the first two movements, as if appearing to stall, or at least slow down, the inevitable dash to the end. The upper violins offered lush phrasings that veered towards Brahmsian sentimentality. Slowly but surely, Yip began to build momentum in the third, but may have overshot her pace so much so that the first bassoon, which holds perhaps the key to the entire work, was barely catching up with the rapid fingering. In the end, the orchestral coloring could be said to be more heroic than comedic, more romantic than satirical. The output would have pleased Stalin, but probably not, at least not necessarily, the composer himself.

Ethereal is the Moon: a program presented under Hong Kong Arts Festival. Photo credit: Hong Kong Sinfonietta.

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Orchestral music

HK Sinfonietta/Penderecki

Date: October 24, 2015
Location: City Hall Concert Hall, Hong Kong.

Penderecki – Violin Concerto No. 2
Shostakovich – Symphony No. 15

Hong Kong Sinfonietta
Krzysztof Penderecki (conductor)
James Cuddeford (violin)

The Hong Kong Sinfonietta, heretofore playing second fiddle to the Hong Kong Philharmonic, the city’s better funded and higher profile cousin, should be congratulating its management and musicians for programming the ambitious and hard-to-please program featuring Penderecki’s Violin Concerto No. 2 and Shostakovich’s Symphony No. 15. Both pieces are twentieth century gems, basking in glorious critical reviews but lingering in the dark corners of the general public’s memory and imagination. One reason is that both pieces bordered, though did not entirely infringe upon, the atonal. Another reason is that both pieces do not offer so much of a reputable melody as a seemingly deliberate encryption thereof – purists may even find snippets of Shostakovich’s melodic tributes as sophomoric violations of plagiarism, and conclude the music to be an unconvincing original piece of art.

But controversy, coupled with newness in musical composition, is precisely the catalytic ingredients to an adventurous evening. Contrast that with the HK Phil’s conservatism (see here, here and here), there is much to be savored in tonight’s program. It helps that the concerto was led by the composer himself, and anchored by James Cuddeford, Hong Kong Sinfonietta’s concertmaster. Visually, Penderecki seemed to be a patient, unassertive type of maestro, who was ready to let the musicians present themselves in their most authentic way. Hong Kong Sinfonietta has not over the years developed a clear and trademarked style, but in front of Penderecki they seemed extremely alert and sensitive, especially to accents and notations. Winds sounded attentive, while strings charged with cohesive intelligence. James Cuddeford’s effort was nothing less than a musical and visual spectacle. His bowing was fluid and faultless, and his stopping and plucking supreme. Penderecki’s piece yearns for the interpreter’s interpretation, of which Cuddeford offered plenty here. Notations became Cuddeford’s train of thoughts, unleashed into the auditorium with a soulful being that loomed with gravity and presence. Cuddeford’s body swerved with Penderecki’s hauntingly beautiful melody, while melodic mood changes seemed readily reflected on the violinist’s well-chiseled, front cover-worthy face. Bowing and fingering could appear fragile and incomplete, but sounded crisp and solvent. As Cuddeford weaved through some of the quietest solo passages in Penderecki’s mystic work, his violin worked in ways that were serenely ephemeral but cryptic – as if he was spraying intergalactic dust onto the most silent, uninhabited space in universe’s most infinite expanse of nothingness. The capacity crowd at City Hall held their breath in suspense throughout much of the piece, fully realizing that the moment could quite possibly be the orchestra’s finest on record.

Less can be said of the Shostakovich which came after intermission, though the musicians were not to blame. If anything, the incredible performance of the Penderecki seemed to boost the musicians’ confidence. The beginning Allegretto was meticulously presented by the woodwinds and gallantly supported by the strings section, which was buffed up from the concerto’s leaner configuration. Trouble began in Adagio – Largo, when children’s noises started to creep into the auditorium. The noises seemed to arrive from behind the doors of the balcony section (which was closed for this particular concert), and did not subside for the rest of the movement. The treacherous brass phrases in pianissimo were completely breached by this profanity, and flushed into the toilet together with the musicians’ collective focus. Brass started to sound incoherent; strings sounded frigidly cautious, and percussion was barely able to hold onto Shostakovich’s intense rhythmic integrity. The third movement – a tribute to Wagner’s various operas – could not be more disastrous as the most intimate passages, including those somber passages featuring Siegfried’s death, were completely trespassed by the undiminished noises from outside the auditorium. This noise finally subsided in the final movement, but left a foul taste in the listeners’ collective memory. Penderecki would not have been pleased with this situation. If anything could be scavenged from this upheaval, as well as the collective destruction of musicians’ focus and the music, it would be a fitting memorial to a composition that paralleled, if not also reflected, the composer’s failing health and imminent death.

As the concert drew to a close, the orchestra was greeted with rounds of thunderous applause and waves of ovations – perhaps as a compliment to its ability to hold together despite the intrusion, for which the management of City Hall should be held entirely responsible. While the mishap dented the stupendous effort of the first half of the evening, there is no question that, by pulling off a risky programming, the management and programmers of the orchestra could now hold its head high, even with the city’s other orchestra in mind.

HK Sinfonietta and Penderecki.

HK Sinfonietta and Penderecki.

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Ballet and dance

Romeo and Juliet with ABT

Date: February 27 to March 3, 2013
Location: The Hong Kong Cultural Centre, Hong Kong.

February 27: Roberto Bolle and Hee Seo
February 28: Marcelo Gomes and Polina Semionova
March 1: Cory Stearns and Paloma Herrera
March 2 (matinee): Roberto Bolle and Polina Semionova
March 2: Herman Cornejo and Xiomara Reyes
March 3 (matinee): Alexandre Hammoudi and Hee Seo
March 3: Cory Stearns and Paloma Herrera

American Ballet Theatre

Hong Kong Sinfonietta (orchestra)
Charles Barker (all dates except February 28), David LaMarche (February 28) (conductors)

ABT has presented Sir Kenneth MacMillan’s Romeo and Juliet for what seems like an eternity. Despite its age, Nicholas Georgiadis’s scenery and costumes remain pictorially perfect, like a fresh Canaletto townscape. While this realism leaves little for the imagination, this Romeo and Juliet aims to shock and awe through scenes after scenes of impressionable visual beauty.

On close up, the props and scenery show signs of age. Visually, the traveling set seems slightly smaller than the one used at the Met, especially in the upstage balcony areas. The stage width also seems slightly narrower than the one at the Met, making the ballroom scene feel a little squeezed, though ABT’s dancers moved, kicked and spun about with no signs of spatial congestion. The costumes, some of which dated back to ABT’s original premiere at the Kennedy Center some three decades ago, do not look its age, thanks in part to ABT’s current program to replace some of these dated wear, but mostly due to the expertise and meticulous upbringing of the Bruce Horowitz-led wardrobe department.

This MacMillan/Georgiadis endeavor focuses as much on dance as it does on acting. Choreography here becomes not just an art of coordinating dance movements but also a craft of managing a monstrous flow of non-ballet dancing actors. In the Act I and II market scenes, characters weave in and out of the stage in a complex array of motion, with traffic always nearby but never in the way of others. In the fight scenes, real épées whisk about in quick fury, with a hovering danger of actually hurting someone. In one evening, Sascha Radetsky, as Tybalt, was bloodied in his Act II fight scene, and, on more than one occasion, the épée simply snapped on stage. In big dance routines, coordination with Prokofiev’s orchestral moments remains paramount. When Prokofiev suggests death and the person is still lingering alive on stage, something becomes disconnected. The intricate tapestry of motion and action is the hallmark of this production. There may be occasional aberrations, but for much of the past thirty years this has been the same, day in and day out, thanks much to the in-house ballet masters and mistresses. ABT’s seven performances in Hong Kong were mostly identical in style and tone, differing only in sentimentality as the two principals offered their own renditions within MacMillan’s interpretative framework.

Five Romeos and four Juliets shared duties over seven performances. In the opening performance, Hee Seo was not even supposed to be there: she replaced Julie Kent, who was injured. Seo’s pinch-hit was remarkable because she just a few nights ago danced the demanding lead role, twice, in The Leaves Are Fading. Seo’s Juliet (Feb. 27; Mar. 3 mat) brimmed with a fountain of youth, whether making music for her friends during the mandolin dance or clowning around with her nurse. Her carefully placed emotions – from an Act I Juliet still reeling from the fresh taste of love to an Act III Juliet resolute in planning her faked death – demonstrated her maturity not just as a dancer but as a serious dramatic actor. A smooth dancer, Seo moved on stage like a marble rolling in melted butter.

What made Polina Semionova a special Juliet (Feb. 28; Mar. 2 mat) was that when she danced, she also presented a master class in the artistry of lines at rest and in motion. The arching of her body was a thing of wonder; her pointe work, always rapid but modest, looked like rain droplets kissing spring meadows. As a dramatic actor, Semionova had a clear sense of where her audience was. Without directly addressing downstage, her young Juliet would frequently start opening up towards her audience, only to recoil in shy humility, as if confessing bits, rather than the entirety, of her coyness.

Paloma Herrera and Xiomara Reyes were two reliable Juliets. Herrera’s Juliet (Mar. 1 and 3) was dramatically eloquent, whether radiating a childish happiness in front of her nurse or emoting horror in front of Paris. Her eyes, full of expressiveness, suggested a Juliet with boundless imagination. Reyes was brisk in movement and measured at rest. Her Juliet (Mar. 2) was characterized with such frailty that made one want to shelter her right away.

Roberto Bolle danced two performances as Romeo (Feb. 27; Mar. 2 mat). Bolle was a strong dancer with sturdy landings; in Bolle’s muscular arms, Seo and Semionova were airy and weightless. Bolle’s Romeo retained an air of gentle innocence even as the weight of Montague nobility consumed him. When Rosaline declined his advances, he responded with a dovish smile, as though nothing so trivial could possibly unnerve him. The Bolle-Semionova pair stood out because they proved to be proficient and naturally at ease with their routines, and when their bodies contacted, they found mutual reliance. Their final pas de deux was properly desperate and committed. The high level of artistry catalyzed the rest of the cast, which responded with a heightened focus and geared-up energy levels.

Gomes started his performance (Feb. 28) with heavy landings and awkward breaths, but recovered soon enough to deliver a serviceable balcony pas de deux. He seemed more at ease from then on, though neither dazzling nor suffocating. Cory Stearns’s boyish good looks undid him: he appeared too readily flummoxed by Rosaline’s rejection, and looked more confused than vengeful in his fight with Tybalt at the end of Act II. At times, Stearns (Mar. 1 and 3) looked like he was more infatuated than in love with Juliet. Dramatics aside, Stearns was a reliable performer, with brisk turns and mind-boggling elevation. His long arms also allowed him to lift Herrera with grace and clarity. Hammoudi (Mar. 3 mat) did not look at ease from the beginning, but calmed down enough to deliver a sultry performance with Seo in their balcony scene. In their respective pas de deux, Gomes’ performance was athletic and buoyant; Stearns’ was clinical and fluid; and Hammoudi’s was beautifully asphyxiating.

Finally, there was Herman Cornejo (Mar. 2). His aerials were superb and effortless, and his steps were steady and clean. Most spectacularly, his pirouettes were always executed with stunning velocity and a crisp finish. The pairing of Cornejo and Reyes, like that of Bolle and Semionova, was a revelation. Delicate and expressive, they didn’t merely dance the steps of Romeo and Juliet, but breathed the two Veronians as if their own. The pair seemed intoxicated by each other in both pas de deux, and when they looked at each other, their eye contact seemed tender and intuitive. Any spontaneous eruption of emotion was readily received and absorbed by the other partner, like two soul-mates in an intimate conversation. These two were also most attuned to Prokofiev’s music, always in fine synchronization.

The rest of the cast was solid. Daniil Simkin nailed his Benvolio steps without breaking a sweat, but always looked like he didn’t care too much for the role. Craig Salstein played a fiendishly fun-loving Mercutio who seemed destined to be betrayed by his wit and provocations. Susan Jones was vastly impressionable as Juliet’s nurse: when Capulet rejected her plea to alleviate Juliet’s circumstances in Act III, her display of dejection and helplessness was poignant and entirely believable. With Prokofiev’s brass raging furiously, it was only appropriate that Stella Abrera, as Lady Capulet bemoaning Tybalt’s death, went dramatically overboard in that short but consequential bit at the end of Act II.

The Hong Kong Sinfonietta had little feel for Prokofiev’s score. As the ancient grudge on that fair day in Verona broke into mayhem and Prokofiev’s music was supposed to soar with an apocalyptic urgency, the Sinfonietta barely nudged an impact. Mistakes littered throughout the seven performances, sometimes repeatedly and often deadly, in crucial moments such as the soaring trumpets at Tybalt’s death, the fast trumpet articulations at the beginning of Act II, and the horns at Capulet’s tomb. The mandolin dance, lacking bite, was anemic and unpersuasive. It was understandable that some dancers, already having danced in this production for the umpteenth time, put themselves in cruise-control mode, but it was simply unconscionable that the pit could not raise their game, never mind inspire those on and off stage.

Hee Seo, in Romeo and Juliet.

Hee Seo, in Romeo and Juliet. Photo copyright: the American Ballet Theatre.

Romeo and Juliet. Photo copyright: the American Ballet Theatre.

Romeo and Juliet. Photo copyright: the American Ballet Theatre.

Romeo and Juliet. Photo copyright: the American Ballet Theatre.

Romeo and Juliet. Photo copyright: the American Ballet Theatre.

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Ballet and dance

Two Dance Galas with ABT

Date: February 21 and 23, 2013
Location: The Hong Kong Cultural Centre, Hong Kong.

February 21: Drink to Me Only With Thine Eyes, Swan Lake Act III Pas de Deux, Pas de Deux from Stars and Stripes, Symphony #9
February 23: The Leaves Are Fading, The Moor’s Pavane, Symphony in C

American Ballet Theatre

Barbara Bilach (piano) (Drink to Me Only With Thine Eyes)
Hong Kong Sinfonietta (orchestra)
David LaMarche (conductor)

ABT opened the Hong Kong Arts Festival with a pair of dance galas. The first evening began with Drink to Me With Thine Eyes, which features twelve dancers in thirteen snippets. Without music, Mark Morris’ choreography could look like a tacky gym video with funny leg movements and group pilates lunges. However, when coupled with Virgil Thomson’s piano music, played by Barbara Bilach, things started to get interesting: the musical textures seemed vividly re-imagined and radiated through rapid body movements. In Ragtime Bass, one of the snippets, lyrical passages in the tonic were represented by subtler, more ribbon-like motions, while a more rhythmically intense passage in the subdominant was realized via more overt, mechanical leg movements. Next were Paloma Herrera and Cory Stearns in Swan Lake’s black swan paired dance, where the two principals performed with a clinical precision but, albeit perhaps intentionally, lacked chemistry. In Stars and Stripes, Sarah Lane and Daniil Simkin, a dynamic duo of gushing energy and endlessly beaming smiles, had plenty of fun and received the most thunderous applauses. Lane was rather tight and wobbly at the beginning, but as soon as she warmed up and her feet started carrying her, dancing with the joy of a child but the seriousness of a consummate professional. Ratmansky’s delectable choreography in his new Symphony #9 has no obvious narrative, but dazzles with pure athleticism, especially in the fourth movement, as Herman Cornejo turned and jumped with boundless energy, and in the second movement, where Polina Semionova and Marcelo Gomes nursed poetic sexual tensions via contemplative body lines and contact.

In the second evening, Hee Seo and Roberto Bolle led an admirable cast in The Leaves Are Fading, Antony Tudor’s poetic tribute to unrelenting youth. Bolle’s lines were statuesque and pensive, while Seo, notably graceful in feel and form, imprinted particularly with her exquisite lowerings from full pointe. Symphony in C, the evening’s anchor, was pure luxury, even in Barbara Karinska’s uninspiring black and white costumes. Stella Abrera and Eric Tamm were properly athletic and bouncy in the first movement, especially in the juicy petit allegro. Simone Messmer and Jared Matthews in the fourth movement were like two dancing architects, building up the stage into a gala of 48 dancers in robust and well-synchronized motions.

The Hong Kong Sinfonietta provided live accompaniment from the pit, with ABT’s Charles Barker and David LaMarche conducting the respective evenings. The Hong Kong group was mostly dutiful, but did show some weakness in the upper brass, particularly during Stars and Stripes. Redemption did follow, with a Symphony in C that raced to a spirited, feisty finish.

ABT's Symphony in C.

ABT’s Symphony in C. Graphic taken from: Hong Kong Arts Festival’s website.

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