Ballet and dance

Le Corsaire

Date: November 4 (evening), 5 (mat), 2017
Company: Hong Kong Ballet
Choreography: Anna-Marie Holmes, after Konstantin Sergeyev and Marius Petipa
Location: Hong Kong Cultural Centre.

Conrad: Wei Wei (4e), Matthew Golding (5m)
Medora: Maria Kochetkova (4e), Jin Yao (5m)
Ali: Li Jiabo (4e), Li Lin (5m)
Lankendem: Xia Jun (4e), Wei Wei (5m)
Gulnare: Ye Feifei (4e), Chen Zhiyao (5m)
Birbanto: Shen Jie (4e), Jonathan Spigner (5m)
Pasha: Ricky Hu (4e), Shunsuke Arimizu (5m)

City Chamber Orchestra of Hong Kong
Judith Yan, conductor

The first time I watched the ABT was back in 1998, in that Company’s premiere of Le Corsaire. Back then, I had limited knowledge of ballet and its world, but was nevertheless mesmerized by the airy steps of Medora. I was also dumbfounded by a rapturous buzz, during intermission, of a fine young dancer, in the relatively minor role of Birbanto. Of course, Medora was the great Nina Ananiashvili, and Birbanto was Angel Corella. The production presented in Hong Kong this week inherited from that ABT production, by then Boston Ballet’s Anna-Marie Holmes, the first North American to have danced with the Kirov.

The Hong Kong production, with modified choreography by Holmes in the grotto and garden scenes, offers stunning costumes and a lavish set, by Hugo Millán in conjunction with BNS Ballet National SODRE Uruguay. The side draperies offer a festive palette, especially in the garden scene. Rear video projection enriches each scene with blue skies, rugged seas, or an animation of a slowly extending palace, leading up to the garden scene. Wei Wei, as Conrad in the evening performance, gave solid jumps and fine turns. His turn-in stance could sometimes be a little off putting, but when in movement his focus was intense and rightly placed. Matthew Golding showed enormous power with his fiery jumps and handy lifts. Much of that power originates from his sizable thighs, which look especially voluminous when juxtaposed next to the legs of Jonathan Spigner, who is already one of the more muscular dancers in the local Company. Holmes’ large set inside Cultural Centre’s relatively small stage did not do Golding any favors, as he seemed confined and unable to do any en manages bravura runs of significance.

Maria Kochetkova was flawless as Medora. Her piqué turns were swift and gorgeous to look at, and her jumps yielded great height especially when measured against her diminutive figure. Jin Yao, in the matinee, showed signs of an aging ballerina, with muddled steps during Medora’s Act I variation: most of the regular pirouettes were done off balance and not in sync with music, while the couple of beautiful pirouettes attitude en dehors simply disappeared. Her Act II fouettés did not even nearly make the full count. That being said, she brought the role to life with timely eye contact with her counterparts and with the audience. Her pantomime, especially towards Golding’s Conrad, looked entirely believable, and would have delighted Ananiashvili, herself an animated and committed actor on stage. Li Jiabo and Li Lin were both fine as Ali, with Li Jiabo being more impactful dramatically as a loyal servant of Conrad and with Li Lin more dazzling with his swift (especially those cloches!) and musically precise movements. Ye Feifei, having taken a leave of absence from the Company, from 2014-2016, was in her best form since her return. Her core has strengthened, and she seemed more willing to commit her steps with greater emphasis on artistic fluidity and emotional abandon than merely with technical perfection. She also seemed more flexible than she has ever appeared, especially with multiple gorgeous, and seemingly effortless, side oversplits. Chen Zhiyao appeared slightly more mechanical as the other Gulnare. Her turns were clean and sharp, but being the much younger dancer her steps looked counted. She also found her body brushing against the side curtains not once but twice. Xia Jun made most out of his limited time in the role of Lankendem with sharp moves and fiery acting. Ricky Hu and Shunsuke Arimizu offered plenty of comic relief as Pasha, with Ricky Hu not only offering small details in his steps but also showing a particular apt sense of timing, for example, while playfully toying his ceremonial staff with Medora.

Judith Yan had great ideas in the pit, especially in the Act I overture. Her arms moved furiously, and her cues were crisp and firm. Alas, she seemed unable to fully realize her desires from the City Chamber Orchestra’s playing. The orchestra had a strong strings section (with concertmaster Amelia Chan delighting with fine solos), but was otherwise quite weak, especially in the lower brass. The percussion section, especially at the cymbals, often found itself behind the beat, though no harm was visibly done on the dance stage. Madeleine Onne, the Company’s previous director, may have already planned this production well before her departure earlier this summer, but Septime Webre, her replacement, could be lauded for executing this project beautifully. The entire Company seems to enjoy their output, as did the audience based on their wild reception at the end both performances.

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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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Ballet and dance

Hong Kong Ballet Mixed Bill

Date: May 27 and 28m, 2017
Location: Hong Kong Cultural Centre, Hong Kong.

Elo – Shape of Glow
Egami/Hu – Carmen
Kylián – Petite Mort, Sechs Tänze

Hong Kong Ballet

The title of this past weekend’s mixed bill, “Carmen and More”, is neither eye-catching nor revealing. But fans who made their way to the Hong Kong Cultural Centre anyway would be well rewarded: the Hong Kong Ballet, as a company, made a bold statement of authority, whereas its dancers dispensed some of the finest dancing in years. To be sure, the weekend, being this season’s last, was overshadowed by the imminent departure of the company’s much-beloved artistic director, Madeleine Onne, who was properly lavished with an emotional tribute after Saturday’s performance. But the most excellent level of dancing, which demonstrated the fruits of Onne’s reign, befitted a most appropriate send-off for her.

Shape of Glow was created by Jorma Elo especially for the Hong Kong Ballet. The piece celebrates, more than anything else, ballet as a showcase of the human body’s form and movement. The piece is divided into three tableaux, in the form of a three-movement classical sonata, with a slow movement sandwiched between two faster ones. Yumiko Takeshima’s costumes have streaks of bright turquoise along the arms and patches at the torso. Set against a predominantly dark backdrop, the costumes render, as the dancers move their four limbs, a gyrating lightshow. Whether propelling one’s body around the stage in an energetic series of coupé grand jeté, or throwing two bodies into perfectly mirroring glissades, Elo’s choreography seems intent on flattering the formal beauty of body movement. In both performances, Elo’s punishing schedule was well executed by the Hong Kong Ballet corps. Clinical precision aside, energy abided throughout. Shape of Glow’s incident formalism has no story line, which perhaps explains why it feels like such an appropriate piece leading towards the emotion-drenched Carmen.

Set in a capitalist’s factory, this Carmen has been condensed to focus on the love story between two factory workers, José and Carmen, on the one hand; and Carmen’s seduction of the world, as encapsulated in the sexual tension between the heroine and the factory boss, on the other. As the overture begins, one could hear a modernized derivative of the development section of Bizet’s Habanera. The corps, dressing in black and moving in organized chaos around José, seems ready to assert the force of destiny and hint at the treacherous ending ahead. Music changes, and Carmen comes out to join José. Here they wrap themselves in each other’s arms, showing deep affection and mutual love. The scene then moves to the factory floor, where two dozen dancers line either side of moveable tables. Dressed in blue collar garb, they are clearly there to toil for their boss. A worker finally succumbs to exhaustion, and her fellow workers, surrounding her, bemoan her fate (and theirs!). As they move about en tutti, swirling red pieces of silk into the air, one cannot help but see class friction, where laborer’s blood is clearly sacrificed for the spoils of the capitalist class. The vivacity of the motion also reminds me of the spinning chorus in Jan Philip Gloger’s Holländer at Bayreuth. Carmen at first seems ready to stand up for her creed, and then seems equally willing to seduce the boss who (uh-um) exploits them. The pas de deux between Carmen and the boss summarizes a transformation from active flirtation to gentle passion. The music similarly mirrors the action, where the Habanera begins with acute rhythms and ends in the style of a mellow ballade. Sex comes later, during the flower song, which is danced by Carmen and the boss. Their movements, in front of reflecting mirrors, verge on tasteful voyeurism. The most poignant moment comes towards its end, when the pair wraps around each other, looking utterly swept up by time and place. Music cues with a frenzied roll of the triangle and of the bass drum, which sets an ominous tone. When Carmen’s betrayal becomes known amongst her creed, the ladies confront her, in an epic choreographic battle set against the Votre toast! part of the Escamillo’s Toreador song. Here, corps movements are energetic, and verge towards brutality. Carmen’s reaction, set against the en garde motif, is definitely more mellow and contemplative, as though she is trying to explain herself. When José learns of the betrayal, his inner devastation and desire for revenge are well captured by a frenetic piece of delicious choreography with multiple jumps and wrecking ball-like arm motions. The ending shall remain unsaid here, not just because it is well known and equally anticipated, but because it deserves to be experienced in a live setting.

Carmen lasted about three quarters of an hour – much shorter than Bizet’s original version – but the proceedings did not feel rushed or off-pace. The Carmen-boss pairs: Ye Fei Fei and Lucas Jerkander on May 27, and then Liu Miao Miao and Jonathan Spigner on May 28, were fine specimens of excellent PDD dancing. Lucas Jerkander, who lifts effortlessly and acts with committed passion, may (should!) well become a principal within the next few years. His jumps were airy and his turns swift and upright. Ye Fei Fei moved fluidly and naturally, and found a good rapport with Jerkander. Her Carmen, chin up high and heels often off the ground, effused with outsized attitude and charisma. Her characterization, after her salacious act with the boss was caught by José, was a tad too remorseful…was Carmen, the freewheeler that she is and always will be, ever remorseful? But Ye was able to humanize Carmen, pulling her to the center and making her more relatable to the ordinary folk. The character of José is actually divided in two: José in Memory (danced by Li Jiabo and Li Lin), which has more dancing time and dramatic relevance; and José (portrayed by Liang Jing and Wei Wei), which has minimal dancing and is largely gratuitous. Li Jiabo’s portrayal was absolutely riveting. Li Lin’s dramatic language was more subdued than Li Jiabo’s but he was reliable in partnership.

Carmen’s soundtrack offers a rich and well-woven accompaniment to the proceedings. Here, the melodic DNA is Bizet’s, while the body of orchestration is based on Rodion Shchedrin’s Carmen Suite. Mike Orange, a local musician, offers an ambitious amount of accentuation and editing. The overture is a prime example of Orange’s effort weaving Bizet’s Habanera melody with electronic music, whereas the triangle and drum rolls layered on top of Shchedrin’s lush orchestration enhance the dramatic impulses onstage. One of Orange’s most daring editing is his addition of fade-in/out of the melodic line. As the fade-out commences, one may feel the loss in rhythmic/melodic momentum, but Orange seems intent on drawing attention away from the music and towards the dancing. Orange takes risks here, and while not everything clicks, the payoff is unexpectedly huge overall.

What makes this work by Yuh Egami and Ricky Hu so thorough and appealing is the harmony amongst stage, music, and dance. The effort speaks forcefully, with a singular language. The dancing is memorable, not because it punches with iconic fingerprints but because it glows with emotional authenticity. Through dancing movements, the roles of Carmen, José, and the boss have each been entrusted with a well-defined character. I surely would hope this fine work becomes an integral part of not just the company’s repertoire but also its creative identity going forward.

After the intensity of Carmen, Jirí Kylián’s works serve as a counterbalancing relief. Two pieces are not as technically driven as Shape of Glow or as emotionally driven as Carmen. In performance, the corp executed with more focus in the May 27 evening performance than at the May 28 matinee. In one scene in Petite Mort where the male dancers would run downstage with a large piece of textile, intent to cover the stage so that as they ran back, the ladies and the stage props would be swept off. On May 28, the execution showed how tricky it could be as one male dancer tripped over, leaving a gaping hole. As the dancers scrambled to correct, a female dancer was left downstage exposed, who also had to pick up a lingering piece of props before awkwardly finding her way to the back curtain. Sechs Tänze provided lots of comedic relief. Here, the entire dancing corps, particularly Natalie Ogonek and Shen Jie, showed a strong flair for comedy. In my years watching the company, the corps never exhibited such joy whilst dancing for the audience.  It would be a grave travesty if the next artistic director of the company does not afford the dancers many more of these opportunities in the future.

Egami/Hu’s Carmen. Hong Kong Ballet. Photo credit: Hong Kong Ballet.

Elo's Shape of Glow. Hong Kong Ballet. Photo credit: Hong Kong Ballet.

Elo’s Shape of Glow. Hong Kong Ballet. Photo credit: Hong Kong Ballet.

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Ballet and dance

Paris Ballet Legends

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

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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