An evening dedicated to the work of 19th century Danish choreographer August Bournonville is like stepping into a ballet musem. I mean this in the best possible way. It informs the mind while it uplifts the spirit, inspires with its gentility and affects with its poetry. Ulrik Birkkjær, the artistic director of this group selected the dancers from the ranks of the Royal Danish Ballet for their dedication to the dance technique so associated with Bournonville’s name. And they came to the stage ready to please.
This quote from the program notes perhaps best exemplifies what the night was all about: “The beautiful always retains the freshness of novelty, while the astonishing soon grows tiresome.” In an all Bournonville evening, there is no room for modern tricks and multiple pirouettes that dazzle the audience. There are no perilous overhead lifts or gasps of astonishment at impossible feats. This was a night for hardcore ballet fans to wallow in the sublime pleasure of seeing one dancer after another execute en dedans pirouettes (turning towards the supporting leg), the audience entranced with graceful refinement and the art of investing each movement with meaning. It’s as close as we can probably get to the roots of classical ballet today.
Not everything was as we would like it but it came close enough. This ad hoc ensemble, referred to as Principals and Soloists of the Royal Danish Ballet, travels without sets and uses pre-recorded music... so its presentation is rather sparse. It’s not ideal but affordable.
The opening pas de sept from A Folk Tale seemed under-rehearsed and was not very well spaced but it was still a nice warm up and gave us a chance to see what Danes do best. The crisp clarity of the men’s batterie and the relaxed grace of the women’s port de bras served as a good introduction. There was also the welcome addition of Caroline Baldwin who stepped in with radiant self-assurance at the last minute to fill in for the injured Amy Watson.
The pas de deux from Flower Festival at Genzano featured the adorably engaging Ida Praetorius and her winsome partner, Andreas Kaas. Praetorius is a flirt, but never at the expense of technique. She took the stage seemingly dizzy from being too much in love but never overplayed it. A fouetté from arabesque to à la seconde and back to arabesque became an opportunity to sneak a glance at her lover rather than an academic dance step. Kaas reminded us with his dancing that even the simplest steps can portray a character. Pointing one’s foot apparently can say one is in love. In the hands (and feet) of dancers not trained in this technique, these steps can come across as old fashioned and pedantically academic. But between them, Praetorius and Kaas focused on the context and story of this pas de deux rather than simply performing the steps and it was beautiful.