Review: PROGRAM 4 at San Francisco Ballet Makes Everything Old Feel New Again

The latest program in San Francisco Ballet's 2022 season covers a lot of territory, like almost two century's worth of ballet. Opening with the Bournonville's La Sylphide dating back to 1836 and generally considered to be the oldest extant narrative ballet, and closing with Alexei Ratmansky's 2019 post-postmodern romp, The Seasons. The latter, just now receiving its west coast premiere, was co-commissioned by SFB and American Ballet Theatre. This program has a bit of something for everyone - romance, drama, hijinks and bravura dancing for days. By the time the raucous finale arrives, you'll feel like skipping out of the Opera House on your way home.

The two-act La Sylphide can be a bit of a challenge for contemporary audiences as it predates Marius Petipa's innovations which essentially created what we know today as "classical" ballet. The Bournonville style can feel a little alien with its emphasis on a quiet upper body juxtaposed by buoyant leaps and fast footwork, extensive use of mime and minimal partnering. Still, it laid the foundations for much of what came after, and clearly presages the better-known Giselle in its portrayal of common folk and a mystical other world of ethereal women in long white tutus.

SFB is extremely fortunate to have principal dancer Ulrik Birkkjaer among its ranks, as he trained in the Bournonville style while in his native Denmark and provided additional coaching for this production. And it no doubt helps that SFB Artistic Director Helgi Tomasson trained in Denmark as well. The end result is that the company pretty much nails Bournonville's often-elusive Romantic style. You would never recognize them as the same dancers who just a few weeks ago tossed off Balanchine's supremely neoclassical Symphony in C and William Forsythe's contemporary pop Blake Works I so effectively.

Set in rural Scotland, La Sylphide tells the tale of a farmer, James, who on the morning of his wedding day is visited by a Sylph whom he finds irresistibly enchanting. The two of them escape into the forest where James becomes increasingly frustrated that he cannot hold the Sylph in his arms. A witch comes to his supposed rescue with a magic scarf that instead leads to a tragic ending. Sure, the plot is pure Romantic malarkey, but the notion of having a loved one you cannot embrace surely resonates anew with contemporary audiences. After almost two years of COVID quasi-quarantining, I don't know anyone who can't identify with that feeling of intense longing for physical touch.

The opening night cast was terrific all around. The corps de ballet danced with lightness and precision as various villagers and sylphs. Esteban Hernandez as James' friend Gurn showed off his astonishing technique in his first-act solo, dazzling in the extreme verticality of his leaps and lightning-quick leg beats. As anticipated, Birkkjaer made a perfect James, thrilling in his jumps, but more critically, extremely engaged and artful in the mimed sequences. Mime can sometimes seem archaically off-putting in narrative ballets, but Birkkjaer made a strong case for its continued currency with his ability to execute stylized gesture while still seeming like a believable, fully-rounded human being. For instance, the very specific way he tossed the scarf over his head with a mixture of bravado and wonder is a moment I'll never forget.

Sarah Van Patten as his almost-paramour felt like she was destined to dance the role, and we are so fortunate to get to see her in it before she retires next month. She has always possessed a beguiling opacity and emotional complexity that draws the audience in. Because the ideal Sylph is a mixture of alluring and elusive, Van Patten's natural temperament is a perfect match for the role. She danced it ravishingly, with quicksilver leaps and light-as-air arms, progressing from flirtatious siren to tragic heartbreaker.

When the curtain rises for The Seasons, we are in completely different territory, although one still very much rooted in ballet history. A ballet set to this Glazunov score was a huge success for choreographer Marius Petipa in 1900, but his choreography has been completely lost to history. Ratmansky has taken the same rambunctious score, four-season theme, fanciful characters and Petipa's signature style of movement, and made them into an entirely new ballet of his own imagining. Add Robert Perdziola's almost absurdly multicolored costumes and Mark Stanley's intensely chromatic lighting, and you've got a bonkers, 44-minute gambol of a ballet. I'm not certain that it all adds up to a coherent piece, but when dance is this much fun, who really cares? The Seasons is the kind of ballet that will take multiple exposures to discern just how much "there" is there and I, for one, cannot wait to start the repeat viewings.

Because Ratmansky takes Petipa as his point of departure, the ballet is stuffed (or rather, over-stuffed) with every move you've ever seen in any classical ballet, often passing by in the blink of an eye. I particularly enjoyed a moment for Wona Park as the Swallow that had her shifting between four cavaliers while maintaining her balance on one toe the entire time, thereby neatly recapping the famous Rose Adagio from The Sleeping Beauty in all of about sixty seconds. However, by the time Autumn arrives with a burst of bravado from the brass, things have loosened up quite a bit and the movement enters more contemporary Tharp-ian and Morris-ian territory.

The cast on opening night seemed to be having a blast throughout. It's clear that they love dancing Ratmansky's choreography and rising to the challenges he presents them. This is a huge ballet for 56 dancers(!), and the individual sections often whiz by so quickly that it may take the company a little longer to get fully up to speed with it. That said, there were already too many standout performances on opening night to single them all out, so I will just mention a few. Kudos to Tiit Helimets for beautifully partnering four very different ballerinas in the opening Winter section, and to Doris André for fearlessly rushing across the stage into his upraised arms, landing high in the air. Misa Kuranaga astonished with the speed and detail of her movement in the Summer section. Perhaps most impressive of all were Isabella Devivo and Benjamin Freemantle as Autumn's Bacchante and Bacchus. The orchestra announced their entrance with great fanfare, so they had a lot to live up to as they burst onto the stage like they'd been shot out of a cannon. They more than met that challenge of that opening salvo, totally letting loose in the still lightning-fast but less purely classical choreography of the final section. The ballet ended with a stage full of ebullient dancers dancing their hearts out in a kaleidoscope of color. You certainly can't ask for more than that.

Brief postscript: During the bows for The Seasons, Russian-born choreographer Alexei Ratmansky took the stage to rapturous applause and unfurled a Ukrainian flag which he held proudly aloft. Between the joys of the just-concluded performance, the reminder of the horrors being perpetrated against the people of Ukraine, and Ratmansky's overt defiance of his native country's despicable leader, it was a moment that brought tears for many reasons.

[All photos by Erik Tomasson]

Live performances of San Francisco Ballet's Program 4 continue through Sunday, March 20th at the War Memorial Opera House, 301 Van Ness Avenue, San Francisco, CA. Running time is approximately 2:35, including two intermissions. Proof of full COVID vaccination and the wearing of masks while in the building are required. For tickets and additional information, visit www.sfballet.org or call (415) 865-2000, M-F 10am-4pm.

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