BWW Dance Review: ABT's 'Shostakovich Trilogy' by Ratmansky

A funny thing happened on the evening of May 22, 2016, at the Metropolitan Opera House, where ABT was presenting Alexei Ratmansky's "Shostakovich Trilogy." There were lots of empty seats. Since Ratmansky's reputation has pretty much enveloped the entire ballet world, I was very surprised to see this. On the other hand, an evening of three Shostakovich works can be enervating, putting high demands on the eyes and ears of an audience. Many might prefer to just stay away.

A program note tells us that "the three ballets reflect the composer's experience living during a period of artistic censure and, at times persecution." I don't want to go into a historical/sociological study of the Shostakovich/Stalin story; I think that most people working in the arts, literature, and history know it. As much as I have read about it and heard the three pieces of music, it is my belief (and I emphasize "my") that three Shostakoviches are, perhaps, one too many. Yes, the music is stirring, heartbreaking, comical. But the point of Russian entanglement and enforcement hits too heavily. The fleetness that is exhibited by many of the dancers is thrilling , but I felt anesthesized by the sheer volume of music to which I was listening. Was it too much of a good thing? I would have to answer yes.

I spoke to a few people during the second intermission who were mystified by the experience. Were the two ballets they had already seen about life in the Soviet Union before Stalin's death? Based on my critical knowledge and eye, I explained that you could experience it this way or just as pure movement with Soviet style scenic designs. It really didn't matter. The most important thing was to absorb the music and dance in your mind and then make a decision. Since they were not regular ballet goers, I suspect I stupefied more than enlightened. But to think back on the program, I myself was baffled. Something was missing, and I have yet to put a finger directly on my problem with the ballets.

"Symphony No. 9", composed in 1945 and despised by Stalin due to its rather whimsical, airy tone (he would have preferred something along the heroic lines of Beethoven's ninth) presents us with a lone, mature man connecting with a woman, while three other supporting dancers turn and jump, as if they were rejuvenating the indomitable Russian spirit during World War II--or am I reading too much into this? The music becomes louder as the mature couple sinks to the floor, while one of the supporting dancers spins as if to defy the laws of gravity.

"Chamber Symphony," set to the composer's "Chamber Symphony in C Minor (Opus 110a)", begins with four notes representing Shostakovich's initials in German. The music was written right after Shostakovich joined the Communist party and had visited the bombed out city of Dresden. The effect of joining a much hated organization and visiting what once was one of the world's most beautiful cities must have made an impact on Shostakovich, since its angst and pessimism are so replicated in the music and the ballet.

The curtain rises on a shirtless man wearing a suit, alone on stage. He seems to be in his own dream, or is it a reality, since the specter of stone faces hover over him. A crowd appears to be stalking him, so he tries escape, but can't. Three women approach him either together or at different times, vying for his attention. Unlike Apollo's muses, they are dismissed. The man can't partake of their love or devotion. He walks off the stage as the curtain falls.

Reading into this might pose a problem. The music is dark and moody; so is the dance. Do they complement each other? The stage and music could not speak to each other ; perhaps it's the chasm in my mind. What do story and score actually say? Many audience members were totally perplexed, wondering if there were more dots that needed to be connected. The connection was from the dancers, James Whiteside, Sarah Lane, Isabella Boylston and Hee Seo, all outstanding. The musical pulse of the ballet was given its due by the insight and technical mastery these dancers brought to their parts, but the dramatic effect was muddled.

The finale, set to the "Piano Concerto #1", composed in 1933, is an entertaining closing to the evening, although I believe it would have been better served had different ballets preceded it. It's fast and packed with steps. (Watching this ballet, I began to wonder if New York City Ballet's Justin Peck had seen this on numerous occasions.) The dancers flip, they flop, they go at each other as if the stage space were infinite.

While this was entertaining, I began to wonder if this piece of music, like the others, actually lends itself to dance treatment. (A good example would be Dvorak's "Slavonic Dances", which does nothing for dance; it's almost unsettling.) When heard in the concert hall, this concerto always brings the audience to its feet, which it did the evening I was present, but my opinion was muted. Interesting to watch, yes. But the concerto stands alone. It does not need interference from any other sources. They just hinder, not help.

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