Muddy Waters

"Swan Lake"
American Ballet Theatre
Metropolitan Opera House
Lincoln Center
New York, New York
June 14, 2017, matinee

ABT's ever-popular but problematic "Swan Lake" had a glorious new swan queen in Devon Teuscher, who made her New York debut in front on an enthusiastic matinee audience. Fortunately, most of her choreography remains traditional, though the truncated and breathless Act 4 (or Act 2, Scene 2 in this version) continues to flutter anticlimactically and Odette still has to make a brief appearance in her nighty during the overture, so the original dramatically glorious official entry during the lake scene fell flat as the audience had already seen her.

But once McKenzie's untheatrical additions are over and the actual white act choreography starts, Teuscher shone. She was a regal and dignified Odette, emphasizing the choreography and letting the beautiful, plangent shapes express her feelings; it was a slightly abstract, elegiac approach, rather than a tragic one, which suited her majestic purity. Though her mime was clear (a bit too clear, since the story she told had nothing to do with the prologue) I did miss the desperate plea to Siegfried not to shoot von Rothbart, lest she remain a swan forever; McKenzie's staging makes it look as though she is protecting the magician, which does go along with her semi-eager abduction of the prologue, but it muddies her relationships. But Teuscher's clear and luminous dancing had an underlying truth and a luminous afterglow.

Teuscher didn't overplay her hand as Odile and danced her with a small, tight, cold smile; she was trying to trick him, not vamp him. She danced with a quiet, dangerous confidence, pausing now and then to freeze a pose, as if she wanted to make sure he saw her.  She started her fouettés with doubles, which did travel a bit and finished with a triumphant fast flourish of singles; technically secure but also dramatically compelling.

Alexandre Hammoudi was a dramatically compelling, though occasionally technically weak, Siegfried. He has an expansive line, which made his droopy Act I solo lyrically expressive, and he had an effortlessly noble demeanor; I especially enjoyed his instinctive little bow when Odette mimed that she was a queen. But even he could not make anything of McKenzie's emotionally inert Act I exit, as he covertly slinks off behind the dancers; Siegfried (and the audience) should hear the swan theme as he is dramatically pulled away to his destiny. His dancing, though, was a bit under-powered (he tended to resort to flat-footed turns), but it was a stylish, if not an explosive, interpretation.

Calvin Royall III, in his New York debut as the purple von Rothbart, was also stylish and he made him more exotic then seductive which made his costume seem even more vulgar than usual; he did look good in those thigh-high leather boots, though. He did finesse some of the technical tricks --there was no showy balance on demi pointe arabesque, but his jumps were clear and sharp. He seemed to be too noble a dancer to sink to camp, which is the only way to approach that misguided travesty of a role, so far from the mysterious and dangerous force of nature that Petipa, Ivanov, and Tchaikovsky created.

Fortunately there is a bit of tradition in the Act I pas de trois, danced with generous enthusiasm by Zhong-Jing Fang, April Giangeruso, and Zhiyao Zhang; they really did look happy to be at Siegfried's party. Zhang is a stylish dancer with an astounding hang-time and his jumps seemed to float effortlessly. Fang seemed to enjoy playing with the rhythm, using her arms with surprising little pauses which never became mannered. Giangeruso, a late substitute, seemed a bit less comfortable and her turns were careful rather than carefree, but the pas de trois was a real highlight. So too were the impeccably quiet swan maidens, though it is a shame that they have to spend the opening of the last scene wandering aimlessly or burying their faces in the mud. All of these dancers deserve a real "Swan Lake", not one where the highest compliment that can be paid is "At least there isn't a jester".

Copyright © 2017 by Mary Cargill