To Tchaikovsky, a Rousing Tribute

By Martha Duffy

New York City Ballet toasts a composer who set feet flying

Tchaikovsky, who loved to dance, was irresistibly attracted to writing ballets. If his structural sense of music was weak, he was a wizardly orchestrator who turned out waltzes and mazurkas that set feet flying. Along with Leo Delibes, he rescued ballet music from critical contempt.

One hopes that his seat in heaven has an unobstructed view of Manhattan's Lincoln Center because the New York City Ballet has been putting on a rousing festival there in his honor, with 13 new ballets by six choreographers and several older works by the company's resident genius, George Balanchine.

The celebration inevitably produced the sorts of glitches on which N.Y.C.B. fans seem to thrive. There was one real disappointment: in the midst of the first performance of Mozartiana, Balanchine's major effort, Suzanne Farrell sprained her foot; subsequent performances of a beautiful and complex ballet had to be canceled. When Jacques d'Amboise saw his new Concert Fantasy performed for the first time before a full theater, he promptly canceled the last half of it; that led to a certain bemusement among those trying to follow the printed program, which remained unchanged on later evenings. Jerome Robbins had some second thoughts too: he decided that his segment of the five-part Tempo di Valse did not fit in with the rest. Out it went, just before the premiere. Since Robbins' work for the festival is his best in years, the decision may merit reconsideration.

A festival like this is a very rare occurrence: right now no other troupe could assemble the artistic talent to stage such a creative marathon. Among the real pleasures of attending one of the 14 soldout performances was the opportunity to guess which ballets will make it into the permanent repertory.

By the weekend, with three more premieres to come, Robbins had very strong entries. For opening night he created a gossamer duet for Darci Kistler and Ib Andersen to the second movement of the Piano Concerto No. 1. The dancers seem to be skating--two very young lovers etching their joy on a pond by moonlight. This is a charming little lyric that never takes itself, or figure skating, seriously. Still, in the subtle use of half-and three-quarter-point work for the radiant Kistler, Robbins manages to give toe shoes the rocking balance of a skate blade.

Robbins' longer work, Piano Pieces, was an immediate hit. In it he gives some deservedly obscure Tchaikovsky piano works the elegance of Chopin and catches the bursting talents of more young stars. The ballet's best pas de deux shows the fleet wit of Heather Watts and Bart Cook, who always seem to see the double side of life. The choreographer also notes the rippling serenity of Kyra Nichols, who sometimes seems unaware of the audience. Most of all, Robbins shows off Ib Andersen. Since he has four new roles, this might even be called an Ib Andersen Festival. He is an elegant, ardent dramatic dancer who has the clear allegro technique that the "Balanchine style" needs. If Robbins does not test him (as Balanchine does in Mozartiana), he makes Piano Pieces a study of the protean Andersen in motion.

As the premieres unfolded, it became clear that the festival was not so much about Tchaikovsky (or Ib Andersen) but about City Ballet. If there were surprises, there were traditional elements: Balanchine working with Farrell, his principal muse of the past two decades, and Karin von Aroldingen, the ballerina who is perhaps closest to him personally; Robbins pushing the younger dancers but not forgetting Patricia McBride, his Girl in Pink in Dances at a Gathering (1969). But the story of N.Y.C.B. was best told in the frequent use of apprentices and students from the company-related School of American Ballet. Both John Taras, one of the ballet masters, and Peter Martins, the company's top male dancer, who is doing more and more choreography, did their best work for students. Taras' setting of the sophisticated waltz from Eugene Onegin is a civilized pleasure to watch. He creates unfussy, satisfying patterns and matches them to the still developing skills of his cast. They should be grateful for their roles, and it is likely that the Onegin waltz, knowing and unassuming, will be around a long time.

Martins' Capriccio Italien is a pastiche of typical Italian images, from the bejeweled aristocrats to the bouncy peasants.

He takes familiar material and gives it a characteristic touch of astringency that keeps it from being sentimental. Playing against Martins' coolness is the fervor with which the youngsters perform. Lisa Jackson is a formidable technician at 19, and Gen Horiuchi, 16, has a thrilling attack and dumbfounding poise. He seems to have minutely observed his mentor (one hand on hip, glance askance) and also Baryshnikov (a tendency to open his mouth to show emotion). The audience loved Gen.

Balanchine uses very little children sublimely. His Garland Dance from The Sleeping Beauty contains the festival's most radiant image. The stage is filled with dancers carrying arcs of brilliant flowers, swaying ethereally to the music.

Into their midst come 16 tiny ballerinas in bright pink tutus, burrowing through the lines, frowning with determination.

No doubt about it: the man who created this pretty, poignant, funny scene is a wizard. The moment passes, of course; soon the little girls are grinning, trying to point their feet and watch their pals at the same time.

Four slightly older girls perform in Mozartiana. They are dressed in black, and at the opening of the ballet they frame Farrell in a mysterious image. The music is Tchaikovsky's setting of a Mozart motet known as the Ave Verum Corpus. The backdrop is the one used throughout the festival, a vaulting of 3,600 translucent tubes, designed by Philip Johnson. (It took 50 men 75 hours to install the 200,000-lb. set.) In Mozartiana, as elsewhere, the play of light on the clear columns gives a spacious harmony to the scene. The tableau is more enigmatic than the one in the Garland Dance, but it shows the continuity of the company: Balanchine, Farrell, the generation that will replace them.

Minutes later, during a pas de deux with Andersen, Farrell was injured, though she got through the performance.

She has been dancing with awesome virtuosity and lyricism this season, and wanted to try at least one more Mozartiana during the festival. To TIME'S Rosemarie Tauris, she talked about what she was missing. "I'm caught up in the spirit of the festival. I have been talking to Mr. Tchaikovsky, saying, 'Please let me be well enough to dance.' In Mozartiana Mr. B. wanted us to move in a different way. I have never seen these steps before, and the way they are put together is new. The Ave Verum is a piece I used to sing in church when I was a little girl. As I'm dancing, I silently sing the Latin text. I love the set. The design makes it feel huge. Light changes it--like prisms. The set, along with the music, makes you move bigger, at least you feel bigger. It's like an organ. It's like being in church for me."

With the last strains of the Pathetique, the festival is over. But the shade of Pyotr Ilych Tchaikovsky will not be satisfied until a healthy Suzanne Farrell dances Mozartiana again. --By Martha Duffy

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