‘Legends and Prodigy’ proves enticingly timeless
The abstract dances Houston Ballet is presenting during its “Legends and Prodigy” program were created in 1971, 1991 and 2012. You might expect to see generational differences, but they seem timeless, in the neoclassical vein.
Each unfolds amid otherworldly atmospherics that made me feel as if I were drifting through space, or maybe dreams. The show begins with the luminous white realm of Hans van Manen’s “Grosse Fuge,” then seems to delve underground with the nearly black, low-ceilinged room of Jirí Kylián’s “Stepping Stones” before you emerge in the colorful heaven of Justin Peck’s “Year of the Rabbit.”
Thursday’s opening found the entire company in top form. But it was hard not to watch newly anointed principal Jessica Collado, who brought a bright, confident energy to all three pieces in featured roles.
Houston Ballet’s dancers know well Kylián’s earthy, sinuous side. “Stepping Stones,” from 1991, is different.
As angular and precise as its recorded music, John Cage’s “Sonatas and Interludes for Prepared Piano” and Anton Webern’s “Six Bagatelles for String Quartet,” the ballet gets added tension from its architectural set — a triangular ceiling, which tilts at various angles to amplify a beam of light pouring through its central hole, seems to compress the action. A trio of gray, ancient-looking cat monuments occupy the rear left corner of the stage. The eight dancers, in striped black swimsuits, often are burdened with boxy props that represent small sculptures and look to me like something Constantin Brâncusi might have formed, although they could also represent ancient fragments.
“Stepping Stones” explores how a civilization’s cultural heritage can be both baggage and a bridge to what’s next. The set initially feels like overkill. Is the Starship Enterprise trying to land inside an Egyptian pyramid?
But Kylián’s choreography dazzles, and Houston’s technically brilliant dancers quickly become the true center of attention. They shape-shift dynamically through fiendish-looking pas de deux and strong, linear moments when they look like figures animated from a frieze.
And the calm, focused ending comes as a surprise, as the dancers sweep through a quiet reverence, a ritualistic sequence of poses that traditionally finishes a ballet class.
Peck’s ballet builds vibrantly on the Balanchine tradition, achieving an architecture of continuous change with swiftly moving lines of bodies and the occasional use of silhouetted lighting.
“Year of the Rabbit,” from 2012, helped Peck secure the plum position of resident choreographer for New York City Ballet, where he also still performs as a soloist. Moving deftly through seven sections of music adapted from an astrology-inspired album by American indie composer Sufjan Stevens, the ballet does not look like the work of a neophyte.
It does, however, flow with a fresh spirit. Peck’s genius shines in the intricate, kaleidoscopic movements of the sharp-looking and almost always present corps. I have never seen women lifted so beautifully, sometimes seemingly in slow motion, evoking ocean waves breaking across the stage.
The ballet’s featured roles suggest youthful states of mind: optimism (Collado and Connor Walsh as an engagingly carefree couple), wariness (the athletic Oliver Halkowich, as jumpy as a baby bird ejected from the nest), soulfulness (Karina Gonzalez and Ian Casady, embracing darkness) and exuberance (a sunny, effervescent Tyler Donatelli).
The eight couples of van Manen’s elegantly minimal “Grosse Fuge” danced with a beautiful blend of intensity and cool remove. This ballet, which the company
first performed in 2006, may be best known for the provocative business that happens after the men throw away their long, Japanese-style skirts: The women grip their partners’ leather belts aggressively, but also hang on as they get dragged around the stage. Later, they hold the men’s heads at their crotches. Enough already. But I love so many other things about this ballet, including the set, with its horizonlike bar of white light that drifts upward on the backdrop. And the taut mood of this battle, with its black and white costumes and combative fisticuffs. Yin always gets answered with yang, and it looks like nobody wins.
Except the audience. Thursday’s fine performances included magnificent work by Ermanno Florio and the Houston Ballet Orchestra — especially the strings, which swept me into the romantic impulses of Ludwig van Beethoven’s rich and difficult “Grosse Fuge,” then delighted me with the staccato notes of Stevens’ orchestrated score.