I’ve been lecturing on aestheticism recently and toying with ideas about art for art’s sake, which had its moment in the heady fin de siècle years in England with Oscar Wilde, Aubrey Beardsley and that set boldly and brilliantly pushing art away from the moralism of Victorian narratives. Tonight, as I watched Kansas City Ballet’s interpretation of Balanchine’s Jewels, the connection suddenly came to me.
What Balanchine did in creating Jewels in 1967 is to give us ballet for ballet’s sake. It’s autotelic – complete in itself. If you strip away the narratives, the rustic peasants and the lovelorn aristocrats, the swans and the preternatural forces of evil, and just present the forms, the geometry, the thing itself, Jewels is what you get. Add in Van Cleef and Arpels for marketing, (the local jewelers Vanbrock fulfilled the same role here), and Karinska’s irresistible costumes and you have an American classic. If there’s purity, there’s also exposure: you don’t get to hide behind a story: this is a concept ballet in primary colors.
Of the three parts, I tend to feel Emeralds is less successfully conceived than the other two. In probing why I felt that way, I could only come up with a kind of cognitive dissonance: an all-out French romanticism would veer into the melancholy rather more, would luxuriate in the perpetually out of reach and yearning. Balanchine prefers to stay with quiet grace, and pretty patterns; he doesn’t want to weigh things down too much. This is Jewels, after all, named for pretty sparkly things, that are supposed to be a girl’s best friend. Nonetheless, as a result, I find Emeralds the least convincing of the whole.
There was grace in tonight’s performance of Emeralds, however, where the leads were taken by Amaya Rodriguez and Paul Zusi, as well as Emily Mistretta and Angelin Carrant. Occasionally, I felt arms could have been a fraction longer, in making the most of the split seconds of time in which they are given to extend, giving us the illusion that they carry on, melting, into space.
Rubies erupted onto stage with a great deal of pizzazz, heralded by a black background, lit up by tiny points that looked like red stars. It felt cool, hip: 1967 all over. And the dancers seemed at home with the pointed choreography, with the sharp rhythms, the flexible throws, the extra pronation of the feet, the sassy sways. Synchronicity was, on the whole, very good.
Cameron Thomas, the male lead in Rubies, brought fantastic energy. We enjoy watching that touch of exciting danger, that electrifying sense of stage presence and swift movement; and there was one moment of such impeccable comic timing at the end of a pose, that the audience laughed. He gives the impression of being a mature dancer, in command not just of his space but of his audience, able to play them too. Taryn Pachciarz brought her own precision and chutzpah to her part. In all, Rubies was a highlight for me.
Diamonds opened a stage set of appropriate minimalist luxury: the glittering white tutus, with four rows of billowing cream-colored curtains over the wings, set against a sky-blue background. Andrew Vecseri showed off some lithesome leaps and turns with impressive fleetness; Kaleena Burks was polished and assured, and there was due majesty as befitted the Russian tradition.
Ramona Pansegrau led the Kansas City Symphony through the various colors and shadings of Fauré, Stravinsky and Tchaikovksy; a bejewelled evening and a pleasing way to end the season.
