Feature: MANON at San Francisco Ballet Showed How Great Dancers Can Put Their Own Unique Imprint on the Same Story

Classical ballet is such a curious art form. It’s something like 500 years old (give or take a century), it’s almost absurdly formal and stylized (I mean, the women dance on the tips of their toes for chrissakes), and everyone onstage is so infernally fey and graceful that even great ballet is almost a parody of itself (the sendup troupe Les Ballets Trockadero de Monte Carlo is funny precisely because it adheres so closely to the real deal). I totally get why many people think ballet just ain’t for them.

And yet - for my money ballet is the most entrancing of art forms because it is the one most capable of reflecting the human condition right back to us. And how could it not be, when on its most elemental level it is nothing more than bodies moving in space? Depending on a dancer’s specific gifts, how their body is proportioned, how they are feeling that day, whether they’re recovering from some kind of injury and maybe even what they happened to have for lunch, the specific way they tilt their head or curve their arms or linger for a nanosecond after a pirouette can convey very different meanings from dancer to dancer or performance to performance. The unique combination of all those factors can tell a completely different story, even though the dancers are executing the exact same movement. It can also make a centuries-old story suddenly seem as current as the morning news.

I’ve been thinking a lot about this after having been transfixed by three different casts in San Francisco Ballet’s production of Kenneth McMillan’s Manon within a span of as many days. Even with its cockamamie plot about a sweet convent girl seduced into a life of luxury and prostitution before coming to a tragic end, I had quite enjoyed the opening night cast and went home assuming I’d totally “gotten” the ballet based on a single viewing. I returned the very next afternoon to see a different cast because, well, when it comes to ballet I’m just a tad obsessive, and kept noticing details and nuances that either hit me in a different way or had just plain gone over my head the night before.

Jasmine Jimison danced the wonderfully challenging title role on opening night, giving the kind of dewy-fresh performance that tends to occur only with a younger ballerina who is still coming into her full powers. Her Manon felt like a vibrant but slightly shy young woman who experiences first love only to get caught in a web of deceit spun by the various men around her. When she descended into a life of wealth and duplicitousness, there was a sense from her of “Hey, what’s going on here?” And then when she was transported to the swamps of Louisiana, it felt like she had no idea what had happened to her. Jamison was paired with Max Cauthorn as her lover Des Grieux, and he matched her energy beautifully, dancing with an open and trusting affect that suggested he was every bit as bamboozled as she was. Theirs was a story of innocence cruelly yanked away.

The second pair I caught were Dores André and Harrison James. André was more overtly girlish at the beginning, but once she got a taste of the high life seemed very into it and soon appeared to delight in manipulating the men around her. By the time she’d reached her bad end, she seemed utterly chastened and drained of any life. James was an especially anguished Des Grieux, trying desperately to bring her back to life. This now seemed to be a morality tale on the pitfalls of sacrificing love for money.

The third pair, Sasha De Sola and guest artist Alban Lendorf, told an even different story. She was giggly and effervescent from the start, and once she got her first look at Des Grieux it was like - wham! - the attraction was so strong their fates were sealed then and there. In Act II, De Sola was positively giddy with pleasure decked out in her jewels and I swear I could see her Manon making calculations moment to moment as to just how far she could take her newfound prosperity. She was definitely a woman in control. Her connection with Lendorf read as very sexual from the start - maybe because of the three men I saw in the role, Lendorf was the least boyish. In Act III, De Sola seemed resigned to her fate as Lendorf strove with all his might to revive her. This story was ultimately a cautionary tale about the hubris of thinking you can outmaneuver those who have power and wealth and seek to do you harm. Frankly, it seemed to be ripped from today’s headlines.

As I said, three different couples dancing the exact same choreography produced three very different results, each one very compelling. Depending on your own tastes and obsessions, what tends to resonate with you specifically, any one of them might have been your favorite. I’m not certain what it says about me that mine was De Sola and Lendorf. Maybe it was just that as a couple I felt they had the strongest connection and thus had the most to lose. When they looked at each other it was like they were on fire.

Another thing that became clearer to me with successive viewings is that Manon, at least in McMillan’s telling, is not just another story of men treating women badly (although there is plenty of that going on, too). Des Grieux’s solo upon their first meeting is sweet and welcoming and completely devoid of ta-da moments and macho posturing. With his arms spread to the sky and or held shyly behind his back, he is opening himself up, showing his true self to Manon rather than attempting to conquer her. And I love how she is the initiator in their first bedroom scene. It’s clear from the rumpled bedding that they’ve already engaged in a night of passion, but when he gets out of bed to write a letter, it is she who drags him back into her arms for another go.

Act II also has a startling moment when Manon rises up on double pointe and remains stock still seemingly forever. She is literally a gal who can stand on her own two feet, one who does not require the support of any man. Moments like these made me surprised to learn that some people feel the ballet carries more than a whiff of misogyny. Having seen it three times now, it doesn’t strike me that way at all, but then again maybe if I were a woman I would view the choreography through a different lens. And that’s one of the great things about ballet, too. Without dialog or lyrics to literally tell us what to feel, we’re freer to reach our own conclusions.

In my opening night review of Manon, I posited that with a company the caliber of SFB, whomever you see dance you’re assured to get a special performance. Based on this recent experience, I definitely stand by that statement. And, oh, how I wish I’d been able to catch the fourth Manon lead couple, Nikisha Fogo and Aaron Robison, who happen to be two of my favorite dancers. I may never know what they brought to these complicated characters and McMillan’s trenchant choreography, what specific story they told, but I’m guessing it, too, was pretty glorious.

(header photo of Jasmine Jimison and Max Cauthorn by Lindsay Thomas)

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