Visual
Jewelry Box Ballet
Overture
Only moments before the conductor raises his baton to signal the start of a performance, a curious silence descends upon the masses of faceless figures sitting in the auditorium. Once a rowdy, animated crowd, upon entering the gilded theatre of red velvet and marble, they suddenly become quiet, submissive, and even reverent to the power of the baton. The stillness permeating the theatre pauses time ever so slightly and you feel a tickle of some nameless emotion drawing you further in. It’s a fluttering of the heart and a rush of adrenaline—there’s magic at work here. Programs are quickly put away, cell phones turned off, and attention focuses intently on the curtain that will rise to reveal any number of wonders.
In my own seat of red velvet, I peer into the space beyond the balcony with a feeling of wonder and anticipation that strikes me as deviously childlike. Childlike, only because it’s the same feeling of excitement that I felt when I was a little girl, sitting in the theatre alongside my parents for the first time. It’s the feeling that anything—anything in the world—can happen when the curtain is raised and the performers come onstage.
Even for seasoned ballet patrons, such as the two women seated to my immediate left, who heatedly discuss what baseball fans might call the “stats” of ballet (who danced what role best for the last few years, which dancer has grown beyond her role, and so on), it is evident that the excitement preceding a show fails to dissipate, even with time and experience. “She’s one of the strongest dancers in the company,” the woman to my left says with a definite attitude. She is referring to one of the principal dancers in the company, Sara Mearns, who will take the stage in one of the leading roles tonight. “She’s grown so much in the time she’s been with the company.” As if speaking about her own daughter or that of a close friend, this woman has followed Mearns’ artistic development closely, and with a sincere dedication. Just as baseball fans refer to their favorite players as old friends, many ballet patrons similarly track the careers of their favorite dancers, casually discussing them by name and company.
Tonight, my fellow theatre-goers and I eagerly await a Friday night performance of one of George Balanchine’s most recognized ballets, Jewels. The ballet made its debut in 1967 at the New York State Theatre and has since been cataloged into the seasonal repertoire of the world renowned New York City Ballet company. Lauded as one of Balanchine’s most successful creations, it was later recognized as a ground-breaking step for the evolution of dance.
Broken into three acts, each neatly separated by the type of gem and composer, the performance highlights the world-class technique of its featured dancers. The acts, “Emeralds,” “Rubies,” and ”Diamonds,” respectively, may be viewed as disconnected chapters in an overarching anthology of Ballanchine’s modern ballets. Characteristic of the New York City Ballet, one should expect nothing violently precise movements, a strict adherence to musicality, and intensely complex choreography throughout the entirety of the performance.
Act I
The curtain rises to reveal a world painted in shades of green—the yellow and emerald hues stretching across the backdrop create a romantic setting for the chorus of dancers who have taken their places and patiently await their cue. The first act of Balanchine’s 20th century ballet, “Emeralds,” may be the softest of the three acts. The mixture of solo, partner work, and chorus dancing gives the audience a range of this softness, from the romantic nature of the pas de deux, to the loveliness of the solo dancers. Unlike the acts to come, the music is consistently calming and, with the glittering bodices and romantic tulle tutus that float to reveal only the calves, ankles, and pointe shoes of the ballerinas, it is as if Balanchine has set out to choreograph a lovely dream.
Act II
After a brief intermission, we are brought into the ruthless and haughty world of “Rubies.” Set to the music of Igor Stravinsky, “Rubies” is the spicy entrée between the softer appetizer that “Emeralds” was and the sweet dessert that “Diamonds” will be. With passionate, cutting movements, the two female leads in “Rubies” truly dominate the stage with the personalities they fuse into the edgy Ballanchinesque choreography.
Just as his ballets deviate in structure from classical ballets, so too does much of Balanchine’s choreography. It is characterized by sharp angles, unexpected shapes and movements, often not “soft,” but rather thought-provoking. “Rubies” is both aloof and alluring. We are drawn into the world populated by dancers in velvet-ruby bodies, cut just below the hips, so as to allow for more freedom for the feet to perform the daring choreography. The movements are edgy–manipulating the angles of the body to form geometric patterns across the stage. Their limbs, supple and strong, nearly burst with energy and vibrancy, seducing the audience with each step taken. The most jarring element of this act, though present throughout Jewels as a whole, is its ability to conjure up very real emotions that rest just beneath the surface in its audience—anger, jealousy, excitement, lust, fear. The music and the movement of the dancers, working together in a seamless harmony is striking. This combination draws forth intense emotional reactions from the audience—we feel the anger, jealousy, excitement, lust, and even fear that the dancers project from the elevated stage. With or without our consent, Balanchine has made puppets out of all of us—dancers and audience alike.
Act III
Another brief intermission provides the audience with both a mental and emotional respite. Then, with an audible gasp from the audience, the curtain rises to reveal an almost Winter-esque land of “Diamonds,” glittering in whites and silvers that have covered the stage in the few minutes between acts. With a background of ivory, accented by a few silver whisps of silver set pieces, the audience eagerly awaits the entrance of the dancers.
Perhaps the most famous of the three acts, “Diamonds” predominantly features a pas de deux between two principal dancers of the New York City Ballet company. Their movements, once again interwoven expertly with the accompanying music of Pytor Ilyich Tchaikovsy, are stunningly fluid and desperately romantic. There is something unearthly about the way the dancers glide across the stage in this act—both with a contradicting delicacy and strength that is hypnotizing. As diamonds may be considered one of the more awe-inspiring gems in our every day lives, the dance performed seeks to mirror this feeling of grandeur and glamour. transformation of the theatre into an oversized jewelry box. The glittering gems, as their real life counterparts, are a promise of glamour, elegance, luxury, envy, and romance.
***
Like an anthology of short stories written by one author, one might not find a connection between each tale. Rather, an overarching style that permeates throughout the entire body of work. George Ballanchine, author of these short, abstract ballets, would have us appreciate them as representations of human emotion, or at the very least, beautiful representations of the body, set to music and adorned with glittering costumes. With each act, we are brought further into the illusion of an oversized jewel-box, invited to accept a beautiful delusion.
In general, the idea of ballet brings to mind vivid recreations of our most beloved fairy tales—Sleeping Beauty, Swan Lake, and Cinderella (to name but a few). Within these lavish productions, dancers twirl and leap across stage in artfully decorated costumes as they embody characters from these stories—princesses, fairies, goddesses, animals, and so on. Princesses fall in love with handsome princes, turn into beautiful swans, and, more often than not, prove that good will win out over evil. In the early to mid-20th century, however, the historically traditional art form of classical ballet found itself at a cross roads. The choice was to remain entrenched in the history of its foundation or move forward into a phase where emotion would win out over reason—Representation versus abstraction. Plot lines were abandoned, characters dismissed, and setting dissolved.
As a pillar in the ballet community, Balanchine’s acceptance of this transition may have allowed it to become as successful as it has been. He set out to transform his ballets into transcendental, emotional experiences. Jewels represents this forward thinking, modern interpretation of ballet that would shape future productions of both his company’s repertoire, as well as what was deemed universally acceptable in the world of dance. With its emphasis on color, shape, music, and movement, Jewels, like an abstract painting, forces the audience to look more closely at the raw elements of the dancers and the performance itself. The movement of limbs, the choreography executed, the interplay between costume and lighting, and how the music affects our own sense of emotion—all of these elements combine in a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes.
