The Sleeping Beauty. - Wang Center for the Performing Arts, Boston, Massachusetts - dance reviews

Dance Magazine, Feb, 1994 by Iris M. Fanger

Under artistic director Bruce Marks, Boston Ballet has styled itself New World keeper of the flame for the Russian classical tradition. Fueled by associate director Anna-Marie Holmes's close association with the former Kirov Ballet and her mentor Natalia Dudinskaya, the company now has its third Petipa ballet in active repertoire. With its October 1993 premiere, The Sleeping Beauty joins the 1990 production of Swan Lake, to be revived in February, and Boston's ever-popular annual showing of The Nutcracker.

Holmes made no secret of her intentions to reconstruct Petipa's choreography for The Sleeping Beauty, even to the point of arguing with Dudinskaya, who wanted to retain some of the more recent Kirov interpolations. The result is a long, languidly paced production, a spectacle that tells the story in multiple chapters of mime and regal processions. While it's hard to determine whether every step is performed as Petipa created it, his aura is pervasive. Two obvious examples are the multiple reprises of a pas de dix with "little swan" precision stepping and the conscientiously classical stage picture of the corps placement in the Act II vision scene.

In contrast, Boston Ballet's earlier production of The Sleeping Beauty incorporated a more free-flowing, artnouveau vision sequence. Dudinskaya's three-week fall residency in Boston no doubt accounted for a burnishing of details: not a wrist was left unflourished; every head was tilted just so. Unlike that in Swan Lake, the corps in The Sleeping Beauty does not take prominence on its own. Rather it becomes one more aspect of the decor in all its costume changes and patterned positioning around the major characters. The emphasis is on the principals and soloists, a reminder of Petipa's ties to the imperial court, which liked seeing a reflection of its major players. Thus, the king and queen take center stage, along with Princess Aurora, their hope for the continuation of the dynasty.

Opening night of Beauty was of interest for more than the ballet. When the curtain rose we were afforded a first look at the company's twenty newcomers. Among them were Larissa Ponomarenko and her husband, Viktor Plotnikov, from the Donetsk Ballet, and Vladimir Kolesnikov, a former Kirov character dancer.

With its increasing dependence on an influx of principals and soloists, Boston Ballet was able to field six Auroras: principal dancers Jennifer Gelfand, Ponomarenko, Karen Scalzitti, and Trinidad Sevillano, plus soloists Natasha Akhmarova and Adriana Suarez, partnered by only three Prince Desires: Patrick Armand, Plotnikov, and Paul Thrussell (in Boston with his wife, Nadia Thompson, from London City Ballet). Principal Roland Price was sidelined due to an injury.

Each of the three Auroras I saw made a unique impression. Gelfand has an absolute mastery of the technical vocabulary so secure in the Rose Adagio balances that she could confidently raise her hands above her head en couronne between each suitor and insert triple pirouettes between the linked turns. She has taken on a sparkle that's new and quite fetching, as if she's having the most fun in the challenging measures. Sevillano is more of a dramatic actress, sinking into the romance of the young woman on the brink of maturity, especially in the swooning feel of the vision scene. Armand, with his rock-star good looks and dynamic stage attack, as her steady partner makes the most of taking care of her. Ponomarenko is a dainty blond, a traditional princess who uses her lightness to project the image of skimming along the floor. Plotnikov fared better as Desire when he was partnering his wife rather than Gelfand.

The other roles were triple cast (or more) as well, with Alexandra Koltun as the Lilac Fairy and the Fairy of the Golden Vine, newcomers Yvonne Cuturan and Claudia Alfieri in other fairy variations, and Susanna Vennerbeck, in a variety of solos, remaining the most memorable. No one could compete with the authority of Kolesnikov ordering the activities of the court. Devon Carney, in the tradition of the male dancer as evil fairy, was incisive as Carabosse.

Spread out on the large stage of the Wang Center, David Walker's settings and costumes (purchased from Britain's Royal Ballet) were the epitome of the more-is-more theory of stage decoration. The scenery suggested vast vistas opening off into leafy, bowered woods beyond the arched entries into the palace. The costumes were gilded, hand-painted, sequined, braided, and bejeweled, as if the czar's treasure chests had been plundered for the wardrobe, but at least one viewer wondered at times how the dancers could move under the combined weight of the costumes, wigs, and variety of footwear. The Boston Ballet orchestra, directed by Jonathan McPhee and Mark Churchill, never gave less than a richly informed rendering of Tchaikovsky's landmark score.

In all, the addition of such a sumptuous, evening-length ballet to the Boston repertoire harks back to an even older tradition. Centuries before Petipa's tenure at the imperial Theater, Renaissance courts used ballets in the same way that Marks has presented this one, to show off riches to the world at large.