new ballet in fresh City Center
November 15, 2011
With all its stark contrasts, Demis Volpi's Private Light is not portentous or romantic. Instead, November 12 at the American Ballet Theatre City Center matinee, it surprised with its sense of release. We could not predict the next step, mood, or even the music, as it changes seamlessly from Villa-Lobos to "Classical Gas" to hillbilly. Christian Kiss plays mesmerizing guitar near the foot of the stage and takes the spotlight. Several times, a couple dances behind the musician and out of sight (on the far left). The lighting tells a story of opposites. But the dancers render Private Light spectacularly weightless. The movement does not look labored. If only we could see it better in the chilly, foggy, dark and whiteout. 
Of the five women, four wear black pigtails while Simone Messmer has short blond hair. Her strong, bold, stretched extensions suit. Her top is nude colored, rendering her androgynous. The men wear only gym shorts. The women cling to them but maintain their cool, even with their legs wrapped around a partner or with their mouths attached in outrageously long kisses that are formations rather than expressions of love. Incredible dancers Sarah Lane and Joseph Gorak rival Rodin's sculpture The Kiss, from a distance. Formations are Volpi's forte with groups of five or six emerging from the dimness like one looming body. Domino-like falls and line-ups—vertical, horizontal, and diagonal—comprise his catalog of motifs.
On first viewing, Private Light reflects 21st century impartiality. The eye-opening work is promising for ballet. Kudos to ABT for commissioning the young (25) Argentine Volpi's new ballet.
Twyla Tharp, the quintessential modern ballet choreographer made Known By Heart ("Junk") Duet for ABT in 1998 to Donald Knaack's "Junk Music." Gillian Murphy is typically scintillating and a perfect match for Tharp's high-energy moves. Blaine Hoven provides all the humor. He has superbly musical moments and finely draws his character. He boxes in a solo reverie. When Murphy enters, he grabs at the air around her elusive, spinning figure.
Merce Cunningham's Duets is a bright opener, with six couples in individual high-key primary color combinations. Former Cunningham dancer Patricia Lent staged it. She told a group of us watching a rehearsal that dancing at the Savoy inspired Duets. Creating it on ABT dancers in 1980, Cunningham "shared a zest for movement." We saw them learning to look everywhere, and not necessarily at the audience as classical ballet dancers do. They got it. It's hard to fathom ballet dancers doing Cunningham on pointe. It's a stretch in more ways than one. The partners create memorable forms with four arms by doubling their port de bras. Their dancing attends to the John Cage music; for example, Adrienne Schulte and Sean Stewart's lyrical dance counterpoints a percussive, repetitive section. Their timing looks syncopated to the jazzy numbers. Like Cunningham dancers, they interpret the music on the fly, in the moment, even if it is coincidental. Seeing it done differently (and with its own merit) only strengthens the integrity of Cunningham technique and style.
Closing the program, Company B is Paul Taylor's 1991, oft performed (why?) post-war fantasy. They lindy, polka, and otherwise goof to a score of Andrews Sisters' songs. It is endearing for a Saturday afternoon, but it does not date well. The funny man characters stand out. Are they Taylor's alter-egos? Craig Salstein is Joe, a nerdy guy the ladies fall for. Can it be fun for them to dress in bobby sox and long skirts and swoon over a man in big glasses and chinos belted at the waist? Salstein, as the mythic nerd, musters the magnetism to save the afternoon with bravado.