The National Ballet of Canada
New York City Center
New York, New York
March 31, 2023
Anima Animus, Concerto, Angels’ Atlas
Jerry Hochman
It’s been a long time since The National Ballet of Canada appeared in New York, and an even longer time since it presented a program at the New York City Center, but the company, now under the leadership of newly-appointed Artistic Director Hope Muir, returned to this city and that venue last week for a four-program engagement of a repertory program that consisted of three dances: the New York premiere of Anima Animus, choreographed by David Dawson, Sir Kenneth MacMillan’s Concerto, and the U.S. premiere of Crystal Pite’s Angels’ Atlas. I saw the second performance of the run.
The program proved successful for displaying the high caliber of NBC’s dancers, but, as is often the case with a repertory program, the three dances were a mixed bag.
First the very good news. Based on my totally unreliable memory, the last time NBC appeared in New York was nearly 7 years ago, during the summer of 2016 at that year’s Lincoln Center Festival (remember that?) in a production of Christopher Wheeldon’s The Winter’s Tale. Two years earlier, the company brought to Lincoln Center its production of Wheeldon’s Alice in Wonderland. NBC has appeared in other U.S. venues since The Winter’s Tale (including the Kennedy Center), but not in New York. In the long absence period (a significant portion of which can be blamed on the Covid pandemic), NBC’s roster has had a significant turnover from its last appearance, and the few company members who are still listed as active dancers who were on the roster at prior NYC performances did not appear for this engagement. Nothing about that is necessarily unusual – dancer populations always evolve and change over time – it’s simply that this was New York’s first exposure to them.
The results show that NBC’s talent roster, though changed, is still performing at a high level. With one possible exception in one of the pieces, which I’ll explain below, there did not appear to be a weak link in the bunch.
(l-r) Spencer Hack, Genevieve Penn Nabity, and Ben Rudisin
in David Dawson’s “Anima Animus”
Photo by Karolina Kuras
Judged by the listing of his choreographic output, Dawson is an unusually prolific choreographer, but I’ve seen only a few of his pieces. What has been clear is that his choreographic proficiency has improved since the first dance of his that I saw (A Million Kisses to My Skin, presented by Pacific Northwest Ballet in 2016, during one of its then frequent New York appearances). Not that A Million Kisses was bad (on the contrary, I found it promising), but other pieces Dawson created since that one (which premiered in 2000, as his performing career with Dutch National Ballet was ending) show greater facility. Anima Animus, which premiered in 2018 with the San Francisco Ballet, is one of them.
The words “Anima” and “Animus” have specific meanings in a Jungian psychological context: “anima” is the Jung term for the feminine side of men, and “animus” is the Jung term for the masculine side of women. Nothing in Dawson’s dance is consistent with those meanings, notwithstanding that he alludes to Jung’s terminology in his website’s description of it. The Latin words themselves, without clinical overtones, mean, respectively, soul and spirit. I suppose one could view Dawson’s choreography here as illustrating soul and spirit, but those are qualities one might find in any work of dance art (with the possible exception of those requiring minimal movement), and in any event I don’t consider them opposites. So not that. Then, of course, there’s the common meaning of “animus,” which is intense dislike – but there’s no similar common meaning for “anima,” aside from being a root for animation. So not that either.
Dawson himself has described Anima Animus as, in some non-specific way, representing opposing forces. Like ballet and modern dance. Or being weighted and unbound. Or black and white. Ok. But I think Anima Animus works best as simply a catchy title.
Anima Animus is a catchy ballet too, as long as one doesn’t attempt to impose some hidden meaning onto it. It’s a very fine piece of abstract choreography that the NBC dancers execute very well.
Genevieve Penn Nabity and Harrison James
in David Dawson’s “Anima Animus”
Photo by Bruce Zinger
The movement in Anima Animus is virtually non-stop, and quite exciting to watch (though it must be grueling for the dancers). There’s nothing unusual here choreographically, and it’s overly repetitious. But what saves it is that it’s predominantly rapid-fire movement with a patina of lyricism that includes many examples of beautifully choreographed and executed lifts, mostly sequential but a sizeable number in visual opposition to one immediately preceding it (perhaps an example of the “opposition” that Dawson means, but also not uncommon in the sense of theme and variations). But I know that there were periods of something resembling considerably less speed, perhaps intended as a sort of introspection, choreographed to corresponding reductions in tempo and sense of introspection in the marvelous score – Ezio Bosso’s 2017 composition, “Violin Concerto No. 1, EsoConcerto” (an Adagio movement sandwiched between the opening Allegro Molto and the closing Presto con Fuoco). Aaron Schwebel was the adept and impressive violinist. [Bosso, an Italian composer, pianist, double bass player, and conductor, died three years later, at age 48, reportedly of the combined impact of a long-standing neurodegenerative illness further complicated by Covid.]
Performed within a white structural set that lines the stage perimeter lit to make the area appear even more bright, and with striking costumes for both men and women that are combined black and white (set design by John Otto; lighting design by James F. Ingalls, recreated by Jeff Logue, and costume design by Yumiki Takashima), Anima Animus would look exciting even if the choreography weren’t. But it is, enhanced by the performances of the 10 NBC dancers. The individuals who left the strongest impressions were the two leads, first soloist Calley Skalnik and principal Genevieve Penn Nabity. [To the extent their roles might be considered “opposites,” the former appeared more expressive than the latter, though the difference may simply reflect different stage personalities.] But the four men (Principals Harrison James, Ben Rudisin, and Naoya Ebe and second soloist Kota Sato) and four women (Principal Koto Ishihara, first soloist Jeannine Haller, and corps members Monika Haczkiewicz and Clare Peterson) all delivered significant performances as well. And the company should be congratulated for bringing with it its quality orchestra, under the leadership of Music Director and Principal Conductor David Briskin, too rare for visiting companies these days.
National Ballet of Canada
in Sir Kenneth MacMillan’s “Concerto”
Photo by Karolina Kuras
Sir Kenneth MacMillan’s Concerto is a beautiful little piece of classical choreography, but as fine a ballet as it is, it looked weighted by comparison to the preceding ballet. But the dance is a gem, and the NBC dancers, particularly in the central pas de deux, executed admirably.
The performances of Concerto during this engagement were dedicated to Lynn Seymour, who was born in Canada, and who died earlier in the month at age 83. Seymour originated the role in the central pas de deux when the piece premiered in 1966 in Berlin, on MacMillan’s first program after being named Director of the Deutsche Opera Ballet. Although she looked a little tired (possibly from the excitement of the previous night’s opening), Tina Pereira, who joined NBC in 2001 and was named a Principal last year, executed Seymour’s ballerina role quite well, with an unflinching solid line and extensions to die for. Her partner, Peng-Fei Jiang, a member of the corps, did superb work as her partner.
The piece is choreographed to Dmitri Shostakovich’s “Piano Concerto No. 2 in F major, Op. 102.” This composition has been used as the score for other ballets (e.g., in Alexei Ratmansky’s magnificent Concerto DSCH for New York City Ballet. [An aside. Speaking of Ratmansky and Shostakovich, where oh where has ABT been with Ratmansky’s Shostakovich Trilogy in the past few years? Unless there are unknown contractual issues, few dances could be more timely. The Trilogy, which premiered with ABT at the Met in 2013, isn’t an anti-war piece, but it is an anti-dictatorship and pro-freedom piece of the highest order.]
National Ballet of Canada
in Sir Kenneth MacMillan’s “Concerto”
Photo by Karolina Kuras
In the first movement, Ishihara looked stunning and delivered a performance of equal quality. Her partner, however, Siphesihle November (who joined the company in 2017 and was elevated to Principal in 2021) appeared overly stoic and too visibly calculating what he was supposed to do next. I overheard someone apparently familiar with the company saying that he was a late pre-tour replacement, and he may have been nervous as well. I don’t know whether any of that is true, but he looked uncomfortable to me, and at certain points each time a particular combination was repeated, the choreography at that point looked awkward, which I suspect was not at all MacMillan’s intent. [November fully redeemed himself in the next piece.] Jeannine Haller, a first soloist, did admirable work in the ballet’s third movement. A supporting corps of 12 dancers enhanced the first and third movements as well.
And then there’s Angels’ Atlas. I’ve seen several pieces choreographed by Crystal Pite, most of which I evaluated favorably. But this one, which was choreographed on NBC and premiered in 2020 (NBC’s last premiere before Covid – and its first piece when performances resumed in 2020), has me flummoxed. It’s a stunning-looking and staged dance, and parts of it – maybe all of it – trigger an emotional response. And the idiosyncratic choreography on group and individual levels can be mesmerizing. But – although I realize I must be in a minority here – for all its surface monumentality, Angels’ Atlas is all sound and fury and a lot of hard work.
National Ballet of Canada in Crystal Pite’s “Angels’ Atlas”
Photo by Karolina Kuras
In an effort to avoid that conclusion, a logical (aka concrete) mind tries to find direction somewhere. First there’s the dance’s title. [As one must have gleaned by now, I consider titles, and program notes prepared by the choreographer, to be a component – albeit of secondary significance compared to the piece itself – of a dance’s performance presentation.] Angels’ Atlas logically must mean something. Angels we know. Atlas could be the suffering god who’s forced to carry the weight of the world. But that’s from a different belief system and inapposite anyway. The same with the North Africa’s Atlas Mountains. So in the absence of explanatory program notes, it must be the common meaning: a compendium of maps or charts. That works. Sort of.
Consequently, one goes into Angels’ Atlas thinking: great – this will be some examination of angel territory: the heavens. Maybe Pite sees it as comprised of different relatively distinct territories. Cool. Maybe constellations. A mixed metaphor, but also cool.
Between the wonderful set (a continuing sequence of changing light imagery projected against a dark background – “reflective light backdrop design” by Jay Gower Taylor and Tom Visser, who also is credited with the lighting itself) and the score [an amalgam of music by Tchaikovsky (“Liturgy of St. John Chrysosyom, Op. 41” and “Cerubic Hymn”) and Morten Lauridsen (“O Magnum Mysterium”) supplemented (or overwhelmed, depending on your point of view) with original music by Owen Belton)], Angels’ Atlas is certainly beautiful and awesome to watch and listen to. The choreography – essentially the movement of battalions of bodies back and forth across the stage – can be exciting, and here is a step or two or ten above marching bands at college football games. And I can’t dispute that some of the highlighted individual moments and interactions within the piece are intriguing and emotionally-charged.
Hannah Galway and Siphesihle November
in Crystal Pite’s “Angels’ Atlas”
Photo by Karolina Kuras
So what’s not to like?
The problem for me, and I understand for some few others as well, is that there’s no there there. That would be ok too, but in a dance that’s this portentous (as opposed to, for example, the Dawson piece) there should be. Who are these people who motor back and forth across the stage? I’d initially assumed they were “angels,” since that’s the apparent subject matter, but the costumes, consisting of bare-chested men in black shorts and women with the same black shorts but with “nude”-colored shirts (costume design by Nancy Bryant), seemed to relate more to a thundering herd of lost and anguished humanoids.
Well, ok. Maybe they’re not angels; they’re human or some in-between form of human, or maybe some primitive tribe of superb dancers) seeking an entry point into angel territory from some sort of upper room in-between earth and sky. But that doesn’t work either (nor does my allusion to Twyla Tharp’s masterpiece) because, unlike the intentional absence of narrative purpose in In the Upper Room, there’s some apparent goal or purpose here; they’re not just wherever they are doing whatever it is that they’re doing. [And to my eye there’s more movement variety and originality in a few seconds of In the Upper Room than there is in the entirety of Angels’ Atlas.]
National Ballet of Canada in Crystal Pite’s “Angels’ Atlas”
Photo by Karolina Kuras
So the only possible conclusions that make any sense are either that Angels’ Atlas is some sort of two-pronged metaphor that has nothing directly to do with angels or any geographic (or interstellar) manifestation; or that there is no “meaning” to the piece at all. There’d be nothing wrong with the latter option, but much more than that appears to be intended here — particularly in the focused interaction between Hannah Galway (a second soloist) and November, both of whom did fabulous emotional work here even if the purpose behind what they’re doing is at best muddy: he appears to die; she mourns, then she appears to die, and he, back alive, mourns; are they looking to be taken away or kept alive? Or maybe they were denied admission and suffered a fate worse than death – a Groundhog Day of death and life and death and life. Sigh…
Hannah Galway and Siphesihle November
in Crystal Pite’s “Angels’ Atlas”
Photo by Karolina Kuras
In the end, I suspect Pite’s not talking here about angels, or any geographic area (unless, perhaps, some compendium of movement), or how to/ the desire to get to heaven. It’s “about” nothing, or at most about nothing more than what on the surface it appears to be: bodies reacting and moving, mostly collectively, to various manifestations of light projected against a wall. But if that’s so, why the intentional spirituality of the Tchaikovsky and Lauritsen music? That’s not a simple repetitive score that the dancers, and the audience, are responding to; it’s an angelic choir / church chorus. Ugh. The puzzlements just keep on coming.
So, I guess, when one sees Angels’ Atlas, sit back, relax, and enjoy the exquisitely created atmosphere, which is basically what I decided was the best thing to do, and then leave having admired the choreographic angst and astonishing uniformity of movement, the twitches and staccato expressions, the little bit of humanity provided by Galway and November, and, collectively, the dancers’ undeniable skill, but otherwise none the better or worse for it aside from the waste of a perfectly good catchy title. Good enough, but something more profound should resonate from a dance of this depth and complexity than pretty pictures against a wall of projected light.
Regardless, National Ballet of Canada shouldn’t be the stranger that it’s been for so long. And maybe, when it returns, consider bringing with it its production of Ratmansky’s Romeo and Juliet, which to my knowledge hasn’t been seen here in live performance.
