PENNSYLVANIA BALLET.

PENNSYLVANIA BALLET 

MERRIAM THEATER PHILADELPHIA FEBRUARY 10-14, 1999

Continuing its thirty-fifth anniversary season with an all-Balanchine program, Pennsylvania Ballet gave Philadelphia a Valentine's Day gift of a show. The company now has a strong audience base: nearly full houses (though fairly short seasons), enthusiastic spectators, good subscription sales, and regular patrons. By virtue of years of admirable performances and its tradition of a Balanchine program per season, it has educated a generation of Philadelphia balletomanes in the Balanchine repertory.

This was a program of contrasts, showing Balanchine the neoclassicist, the traditionalist, and the Americanist. In the 1928 Apollo--which marks the birth of neoclassicism in ballet--he introduced movement themes and performer attitudes that heralded a new order. As one of Balanchine's nearly perfect unions with Stravinsky, it is still fresh and moving.

From corps to principals, PB's ballerinas get the job done. No wonder Terpsichore was Apollo's favorite: this luscious choreography, as danced by Leslie Carothers, is exceptional. But then, this dancer spins everything she touches into gold. However, her duet with Apollo (William DeGregory) favored a vaguely romanticist aesthetic rather than the tangible sensuality and cool chemistry that are essential. Arantxa Ochoa's Calliope and Amy Aldridge's Polyhymnia, as portrayed by these relative newcomers, were evocative of the muses.

Tchaikovsky Pas de Deux (1960) is Balanchine at his most traditional. But Balanchine's "traditional" is like no other. The fish dive at the end of the first duet (performed by Jodie Gates, partnered alternately by Alexei Borovik and David Krensing) is punctuated by an exaggerated lift of the head and flick of the wrist--Balanchine's way of telling us that he is aware of quoting a nineteenth-century style. Gates is impeccable; Borovik has become more attentive to partnering; Krensing--much improved technically--could be stronger in turns and general legwork (the same is true for DeGregory's Apollo).

Monumentum Pro Gesualdo (1960) and Movements for Piano and Orchestra (1963), performed together, are bedfellows offering interesting contrasts. The first is Stravinsky's rendering of Italian Renaissance madrigals with Balanchine's choreography as an ode to courtly dance. Movements is a cool exercise in serial composition. As companion pieces, they are like etiquette lessons, but from different eras.

In Monumentum, Balanchine's "court" is unique. One beautiful touch: standing behind her partner, the ballerina positions her kneecaps at the bend in his knees so that, as he lunges and kneels, her legs bend accordingly, and she descends to the floor. And another: the cast of seven couples is lined up on a long diagonal from up- to downstage; the ballerinas pose in arabesque simultaneously and then, in unison, pierce this line by flexing the raised foot. It takes choreographic genius to make this small gesture carry such significance.

In Movements, angularity--flexed feet and wrists, deep plies on pointe in Second Position, and turned-in legs-abounds and punctuates the score. There is glorious electricity when Carothers and Meredith Rainey perform the duet (danced alternately by DeGregory and Aldridge), giving it attitude, flash, and chilling immediacy.

Western Symphony, Balanchine's broad send-up of Americana set to Hershy Kay's score, was a piece of cake for this company. PB gave its all, to the delight of this appreciative audience.