The cat is out of the bag. When Susan Jaffe, the artistic director of American Ballet Theater, steps onstage during a curtain call, a dancer is about to get her (or his) wings.
Principal promotions used to be a behind-the-scenes affair, but Jaffe has peeled back that curtain by announcing them onstage. Smart! Audiences eat it up. On Wednesday night, after delivering her second Odette-Odile of the season, SunMi Park, who dances with clean lines and emotion, was named principal. The next night, it was Jarod Curley, an increasingly reliable dancer, after his performance of Prince Siegfried in “Swan Lake.” Earlier in the season, Jake Roxander, the dashing virtuoso, left his soloist days behind after his dancing Basilio in “Don Quixote.”
These candid moments are heartfelt. When Park, taking her bow, spotted Jaffe, microphone in hand, a switch flipped. Her chin dropped to her throat. She became more human than dancer.
On Friday, six corps de ballet member were made soloists during a company meeting: Zimmi Coker, Michael de la Nuez, Tyler Maloney, Joseph Markey, Andrew Robare and Yoon Jung Seo. For Coker and Maloney, it was a long time coming. But they’re all worthy. Seo, from South Korea, is exceptional — strength lies beneath her gossamer delicacy. Robare, towering and gleeful as Basilio, spills over with exuberance. He doesn’t get caught in the trap of trying to become a stately classical dancer from another era. His performances are grounded in the here and now.
All the same, Ballet Theater’s summer season feels ancient. The company, perhaps relying on tourists to help fill seats for these June and July dates, programmed crowd-pleasing story ballets to draw in crowds. The repertory, while diverting in spots, had a trickier time making the case for ballet as art.
Book-ended by two weeks of the company’s well-worn “Swan Lake” (2000), the season included a new staging of “Don Quixote” by Jaffe and Susan Jones, as well as John Cranko’s sentimental, swooning “Onegin” (1965, revised in 1967). Mercifully, there was also the oddball outlier “Sylvia” (1952) by Frederick Ashton, but just barely. Its four days of performances were gone before you knew it.
That old war horse “Don Quixote” still has a gallop or two left in its legs. Spins were rampant, fans were fluttered and jumps seemed to split the stage in two. There was the return of the charming, bravura cup solo in Act 2 — a virtuosic variation choreographed and first danced by Mikhail Baryshnikov for the company’s 1978 production. And the ballet’s comedy was a welcome respite from terrible times.
Throughout the season, when the repertory really started to creak, Jaffe energized the stage by playing the bench, giving a younger generation challenging roles. “Don Quixote” was a gold mine of opportunity. There was the lightness of Elisabeth Beyer — technical yet plush with a willowy, elegant port de bras — as both the Queen of the Dryads and as one of the Flower Girls, for which she shared the stage with another rising talent, Madison Brown. Along with Yoon Jung Seo, a Flower Girl in another cast, they dance beyond the steps. You see who they are.
Coker, as Amour, was her sparkling self — for her, dancing is acting — and Olivia Tweedy brightened up Mercedes with her fresh, lush abandon. Sierra Armstrong, with a whiff of mystery, made her Dryad queen wholly regal.
In one memorable show, an injury caused a lead to pull out, which led to a mix-and-match “Quixote”: Each act featured a different Kitri and Basilio. All were debuts, including Park and de la Nuez in Act 2, and Léa Fleytoux opposite Roxander in Act 3. (Neither woman had been cast in the full-length.)
While Fleytoux more than handled the role’s technical difficulties, her dancing was more compact than joyful. The pairing of Park and de la Nuez, however, felt so correct. Together, they lived in the same playful air. When, someday, he returns to “Swan Lake,” please let him dance it with her.
Robare, performing in Act 1 with Devon Teuscher — they danced the complete ballet the next night — was a vivacious Basilio, leaning into his supple flexibility and sleek turns and jumps with cheeky confidence. He’s so sunny, so quirky, so wildly vivid. As Kitri, Teuscher was technically sound, yet in her attempt to class up this fun-loving character, she wasn’t so much a free-spirit as a self-possessed college student determined to have a good time during her gap year. A fling with the local barber? Sure.
But the lifeblood of every ballet this season came down to casting. Chloe Misseldine, rightly so, was front and center. She is a dazzling dancer with a gorgeous instrument. Yet an unnatural quality has started to creep into some of her performances; in moments, she feels over-rehearsed.
“Onegin,” set to musical arrangements by Tchaikovsky, features three long acts of choreography that deliver more tawdry emotion than artistry. But Catherine Hurlin — a bold Sylvia, the best of all of the Kitris and the company’s most accomplished fusion of dancer and actress — swirled with feeling as an enthralling Olga. And Aran Bell made dramatic strides as the moody Onegin. Takumi Miyake’s silken, defiant Lensky had layers of quiet, spellbinding force. When he jumps — his ballon is like a tiny miracle — he floats. Every time.
As the lead Romani male in “Don Quixote,” Miyake surged across the stage like an electrical current. Equally forceful in the part was Roxander, and together they lead a rising contingent of male dancers at Ballet Theater. Watching them perform the Neapolitan dance in “Swan Lake” side by side was like seeing a new Olympic sport.
Other young dancers were given chances to shine as well. Daniel Guzmán’s lead Romani male glowed with earthy power, and Max Barker, in Neapolitan, was lithe and light, exhibiting polish with the longest of legs. (I missed his lead Romani debut, sadly, but he’ll be back.) Both started the season as apprentices; now they’re in the company.
And then there were the disappointments. The Russian star Natalia Osipova pulled out of “Don Quixote” because of an injury. More heartbreaking was the departure of Cory Stearns, a principal with noble bearing and exquisite partnering, who was prevented from dancing his farewell show because of an injury. Stearns’s performances were rooted in a place of imagination. It wasn’t only his storybook looks that could bring the blandest of story ballets to life.
This was why Roxander’s Basilio debut was so rich: He showed that his imagination is just as important as his technique. From the fastidious way he peered over his shoulder before lying on his cape while pretending to be dead — it’s how he gets the girl — to making a tambourine catch seem spontaneous, Roxander was entirely committed. On top of that came his crazy bravura. And on top of that came the screams of his adoring fans. I call them Roxies.
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