Houston Ballet delights with magical yet heartbreaking ‘Bayadère’
Boy meets girl, they fall in love, and tragedy strikes. Sound familiar?
The tale of two starcrossed lovers calls to mind a particular Shakespearean tragedy, but this story happens a few thousand miles from Italy, in ancient India.
That romanticized vision comes to life in Houston Ballet’s final production of the season — Stanton Welch’s reimagined Bollywood-esque version of “La Bayadère,” the quintessential ballet to demonstrate the strength of the company as a whole. The 19th-century classic demands an overwhelming amount of control from the entire cast, and the dancers of Houston Ballet definitely deliver.
The performance does not have any one particular aspect that sets it apart. Rather, its success stems from the sum of many impressive features. The dancers play a major role, of course, but so do the elaborate scenery and costumes by the late Peter Farmer, who created nine full-length productions for Houston Ballet over four decades. Welch’s “Bayadère” in 2010 was his last, for which he designed more than 120 stunning costumes, inspired by the harem pants and saris worn in modern-day Bollywood films.
The rich, intricately embroidered costumes have a beautiful, flowing quality that complements the melodious score by Ludwig Minkus, brilliantly performed by music director Ermanno Florio and the Houston Ballet orchestra. From the music’s rhythmic versatility to the show’s exotic sensuality to the shocking appearance of live snakes on stage, there are plenty of surprises to make the audience gasp.
The dancers in the leading roles give impeccable performances, but to say they steal the show would be misleading. Without a doubt, the corps de ballet forms the backbone of this production, particularly the 24 ballerinas in the “Kingdom of the Shades,” one of the most celebrated and recognizable scenes in all of classical ballet.
The shades descend a ramp, single file, in a marathon of synchronized arabesques in plié — 38 to be exact — and ultimately find themselves spread across the stage in six pristine lines of four. The sea of short white tutus is mesmerizing, and if any of the dancers’ backs were pinching from the repeated stress of extending one leg backward while balancing on the other, it certainly didn’t show. They continue into a luscious adage, and despite a few wobbles here and there, the ensemble displayed impressive balance. Allison Miller, Soo Youn Cho and Katharine Precourt shined in the three solo roles.
Karina Gonzalez is a truly captivating Nikiya, commanding the stage as usual and demonstrating the utmost control throughout the ballet. She makes it appear as if she’s moving about as effortlessly as a feather in the wind in her first pas de deux with Connor Walsh, a noble and sincere Solor to whom much credit is also due. Walsh consistently proves to be a dependable partner, providing just enough stability to allow Gonzalez to move without restraint, even during a series of astonishing lifts.
Not until the third act, however, do we see Walsh reach his full potential. Under a narcoleptic haze, he is accompanied to the underworld by the bird god Garuda, where Walsh blazes through a solo with powerful jumps and lines that reach far beyond his extremities before being reunited with Gonzalez’s Nikiya. Their chemistry remains strong even when, at one point, holding opposite ends of a long piece of tulle is their only means of connection.
As Gamzatti, Yuriko Kajiya delivers a nice set of fouettés, and she dances beautifully, but her character seems to be more of a pawn to her handmaiden, Ajah. In this role, Jessica Collado is the devilish mastermind and a charming one at that, smirking to the audience as she concocts vengeful schemes and shares them with the princess.
The four groomsmen — Chun Wai Chan, Oliver Halkowich, Rhys Kosakowski and Harper Watters — are an exciting presence on more than one occasion. Their choreography and synchronicity, especially in the first act, perfectly embody the spritely music. Rhodes Elliott portrays a believably animalistic Kalum, crawling around on all fours as naturally as we walk on two, and Linnar Looris easily shifts from the Brahmin’s powerful demeanor to that of a pitifully heartbroken man.
This production is superb, yet I still found myself wishing for the bravura solo by the Golden Idol, what has become one of the ballet’s signature roles despite not being a part of the original “Bayadère,” choreographed by Marius Petipa in 1877. Although a golden statue appears in the final moments of Welch’s vision, the timing feels too late to be relevant.
By then, everything implodes, and the controlled ballet instantly turns into a scene of chaos anyway. The quickening pace, however, does not make the lovers’ final and inevitable reunion in paradise any less satisfying.