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Reviews

American Ballet Theater Performs The Classic "Swan Lake"

Skylar Brandt and Herman Cornejo in Swan Lake. Photo: Rosalie O’Connor.

At the Metropolitan Opera House at Lincoln Center on the evening of Thursday, July 13th, I had the incomparable pleasure of attending a superb—at moments even transcendent—presentation of American Ballet Theater’s beautiful production of the magnificent, immensely popular Swan Lake.

The ballet would be immortal if only for Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky’s incredible score—here expertly conducted by Ormsby Wilkins—one of the greatest in the repertory. The dazzling choreography is by former Artistic Director Kevin McKenzie after that of the legendary Marius Petipa and Lev Ivanov. The attractive sets and wonderful costumes are by Zack Brown, with effective and at times brilliant lighting by Duane Schuler.

The exceptional primary cast was notable above all for the extraordinary Skylar Brandt—who enthralled the previous week in the title role of Giselle—as Odette-Odile; she astonished in probably the finest of her many performances that I have seen. Her partner in the less spectacular role of Prince Siegfried was the outstanding Herman Cornejo—one of the best male dancers in the company and who also excelled in Giselle—and his brilliant solos in Act III were virtually a model of perfection. Roman Zhurbin and Andrii Ishchuk were both admirable in the two incarnations of von Rothbart, the evil sorcerer.

The secondary cast was also uniformly exemplary and I will for reasons of space name only the most prominent. Anabel Katsnelson, Erica Lall and Tyler Maloney (who also played Benno, the prince’s friend) together danced the delightful Pas de Trois in Act I. The episode of the Cygnettes in Act II is one of the most thrilling in the ballet and it was scintillatingly realized here by Zimmi Coker, Nicole Graniero (replacing Breanne Granlund), Betsy McBride, and Luciana Paris while the indelible dance of the Two Swans was enchantingly executed by Sierra Armstrong and Fangqi Li. The main roles in the exquisite divertissements of Act III were memorably performed by: Léa Fleytoux as the Hungarian Princess, Lauren Bonfiglio as the Spanish Princess, Rachel Richardson as the Italian Princess, and Kanon Kimura as the Polish Princess; Paulina Waski and Duncan Lyle in the Czardas; Isadora Loyola, João Mengussi, Paris again, and Patrick Frenette in the Spanish Dance; and Carlos Gonzalez and Melvin Lawovi in the Neapolitan Dance. The non-dancing roles were played by Nancy Raffa as the Queen Mother, and Alexei Agoudine as Wolfgang, tutor to the prince (and as the Master of Ceremonies in Act III). The superior corps de ballet was laudable on the whole and sometimes sublime—as at the conclusion—if occasionally slightly under-rehearsed.

The artists received an unusually enthusiastic ovation.

Ballet Theater’s summer season concludes the following week with a powerful production of Kenneth MacMillan’s terrific Romeo and Juliet with a magisterial score by Sergei Prokofiev.

Shakespeare in the Park Review—“Hamlet” in Central Park

Hamlet
Written by William Shakespeare; directed by Kenny Leon
Performances through August 6, 2023
Delacorte Theater, Central Park, New York, NY
publictheater.org
 
Ato Blankson-Wood and Solea Pfeiffer in Hamlet (photo: Joan Marcus)
 
Shakespeare in Central Park has always been a crap shoot. Since the overriding ethos is to please 2000 people who have gotten free tickets on a steamy summer night in Manhattan, even good stagings are not quite as good as they should be. Rarely is there a truly great production at the Delacorte Theater, and Hamlet, despite good performances and interesting directorial touches, strains to be decent.
 
Kenny Leon has trimmed the play—as most directors do—to a fleet 2 hours and 45 minutes, mostly eliminating the political and martial subplots. This streamlines the play to concentrate on Prince Hamlet’s strained relationships with his mother, who has married his uncle (her brother-in-law) right after the funeral of his father, the king, and with his sometime girlfriend Ophelia, whose own father, Polonius, and brother, Laertes, are also thorns in his side. Basically, it drops material that the Delacorte audience might find puzzling on Beowulf Boritt’s cleverly off-kilter and apparently post-apocalyptic (or post-pandemic) set that’s populated by a trashed Stacey Abrams election sign, abandoned Range Rover and a portrait of Hamlet’s dad in an American army uniform.
 
Usually, the most annoying Central Park bits are those shoehorned in with no regard for whether they make any sense: and, of course, these are often the biggest crowd-pleasers. It’s no different in Hamlet, as songs by Jason Michael Webb—nicely sung by members of the cast, especially the creamy-voiced Solea Pfeiffer, who also makes a quite sympathetic Ophelia—are heard throughout, most damagingly at the end, destroying the emotional catharsis of Horatio’s immortal words after Hamlet’s death.
 
Otherwise, Leon paces the play well, delicately balancing the undercurrents of melancholy and black humor, like the rollicking gravedigger scene, played with knowing hilarity by both Ato Blankson-Wood as Hamlet and Greg Hildreth as the gravedigger. Blankson-Wood, who at times seems too young for such an overwhelming role, is nevertheless poised onstage, reciting Shakespeare’s poetry as if he actually knows its meaning, unlike certain other actors on the Delacorte stage. 
 
It’s only in the ill-conceived ghost scene, in which Samuel L. Jackson, of all people, intones the thunderous voice of the murdered king and in which Leon, for some reason, has the dead father’s spirit enter Hamlet, who then lip-synchs the ghost’s lines as if it’s an outtake from The Exorcist, does Blankson-Wood overdo it, with risible eye-rolling and hamming it up that’s at odds with the rest of his confident performance.
 
There’s also good acting from John Douglas Thompson, who, as Hamlet’s murderous uncle turned stepfather Claudius, always enunciates beautifully; the formidable Lorraine Toussaint as Hamlet’s confused mother Gertrude; and a vibrant Warner Miller as a hip-hop Horatio. Less good is Daniel Pearce, who, as Polonius, pushes too hard for laughs in every line, even though Shakespeare has already written him as a buffoonish windbag. Unsurprisingly, Pearce is the audience favorite.
 
Still, this is a competent, coherent Hamlet, which, for a summer night at Central Park, just might be enough.

Second Evening With The Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center Mesmerizes

Photo by Cherylynn Tsushima

At Alice Tully Hall, on the evening of Tuesday, July 11th, I had the great pleasure to attend another excellent concert—of nineteenth and twentieth century French and Russian compositions for wind ensembles—presented by the Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center, the second of four in its Summer Evenings series. 

The program began very promisingly with an admirable account of the charming and inventive—at moments, even exquisite—Caprice on Danish and Russian Airs of 1887 by Camille Saint-Saëns, with Adam Walker on the flute, James Austin Smith on the oboe, David Shifrin on clarinet, and Michael Stephen Brown on piano. Program annotator Kathryn Bacasmot provides some interesting background on the history of the work:

In 1887, Saint-Saëns invited oboist Georges Gillet, clarinetist Charles Turban, and flutist Paul Taffanel to participate in a tour to Saint Petersburg for a series of concerts with the Imperial Opera Orchestra. The Caprice on Danish and Russian Airs was written specifically for the visit and dedicated to the Empress Maria Feodorovna, who was born a Danish Princess (Dagmar of Denmark). 

She adds:

Despite some disruptive bouts with cold temperatures and snow, the performances were extremely well received, with the audience particularly impressed by the wind players’ virtuosity. One anecdote relates that Anton Rubinstein, founder and director of the Saint Petersburg Conservatory, was so impressed he required all of the wind instrument students to attend one of the concerts. 

Brown returned to the stage along with horn-player David Byrd-Marrow for an admirable version of another appealing piece: the Villanelle of 1905 by Paul Dukas. Again, Bacasmot is informative here:

The composition of Villanelle came out of a particularly unusual series of events. For five years between 1900 and 1905, Maurice Ravel failed to win the Prix de Rome, a situation so preposterous that it ballooned into a full-scale scandal, known as “L’affaire Ravel.” The culprit became comically obvious when all of the 1905 finalists were discovered to be the students of one jury member. In the aftermath, Gabriel Fauré was hired as the new director of the Conservatoire, which administered the prize, and was tasked with rehabilitating the respectability of the institution. As part of his slew of reforms, Fauré decided new examination repertoire was needed and approached Dukas to fulfill the commission for Professor Brémond’s horn class. Since Dukas was rushing to finish other work, he pushed the completion of the examination piece to the last minute, relaying in a letter to his publisher, “I finished it yesterday at one thirty in the morning, after having received a telegram from Fauré telling me that Brémont [sic] was tearing out his hair!” The examination competitions were open to the public, but the first concert performance outside the Conservatoire took place in the Salle Érard in January 1907, and the work was swiftly adopted into the repertoire of performers.

The first half of the event concluded enjoyably with an accomplished performance of the striking Quintet of Jean Françaix from 1948, for which Walker, Smith, Shifrin and Byrd-Marrow were joined by bassoonist Marc Goldberg. Bacasmot notes the following:

The Quintet was written on a commission from the principal horn of the French Radio Orchestra, Louis Courtinat, who sought a work that demanded a high level of virtuosity from each player. Françaix delivered, noting with amusement that “When they sight-read the piece, they found that I had been a little over-zealous.”

The opening movement begins eccentrically and is playful on the whole: equally quirky and ludic is the second, marked Presto, but with a slower, more introspective Trio section. The ensuing Andante is more sustainedly inward—even, at times, lyrical—with some of the work’s most beautiful writing, while the finale is cheerful and propulsive.

Even stronger was the second half of the concert, starting with a remarkable version of François Poleunc’s ingenious Trio for Oboe, Bassoon, and Piano from 1926, which opens dramatically although the main body of the movement is vivacious—but with a meditative, more somber interlude—and, like the work in general, overtly classicizing. The succeeding Andante con moto is plaintive, if acquiring some sense of urgency at intervals, and the finale, is sprightly, with some dreamy passages—the placement of quotations from the Scherzo of Ludwig van Beethoven’s Eroica Symphony amidst the modernist inflections creates an unusual effect.

The program closed marvelously with a superior realization of Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov’s enchanting—and according to Shifrin, seldom played—Quintet in B-flat major for Flute, Clarinet, Bassoon, Horn, and Piano from 1876 about which Bacasmot recounts:

Two of Rimsky-Korsakov’s early chamber works, his String Sextet and his Wind Quintet in B-flat major, were written in 1876 and entered into a competition. The disappointing outcome was recounted by Rimsky- Korsakov in his memoir, My Musical Life:

The fate of my Sextet and my Quintet (sent in for the prize competition) was as follows. The jury awarded the prize to Napravnik’s Trio with the motto “God loves Trinity” (all good things come in threes); it found my Sextet worthy of honourable mention but disregarded my quintet entirely along with the works of other competitors. It was said that Leschetizky had played Napravnik’s Trio beautifully at sight for the jury, whereas my Quintet had fallen into hands of Cross, a mediocre sight reader, who had made such a fiasco of it that the work was not even heard to the end. Had my Quintet been fortunate in the performer, it would surely have attracted the jury’s attention. Its fiasco at the competition was undeserved, nevertheless, for it pleased the audience greatly, when Y. Goldstein played it subsequently at a concert of the Saint Petersburg Chamber Music Society.

The energetic first movement—and the piece as a whole—is surprisingly classical for a composer noted for his Romantic nationalism while the Andante is exceptionally pretty; the memorable Allegretto finale is jocular and spirited. The artists earned an appreciative reception.

The series continues on the early evening of Sunday, July 16th.

July '23 Digital Week I

In-Theater/Streaming Releases of the Week 
Amanda
(Oscilloscope) 
Benedetta Porcaroli’s tremendously affecting performance as an aimless 25-year-old unable to come to grips with adulthood after moving back to her family in Naples—her friends are nonexistent, her romantic relationships are a mess and she has no direction in life—brightens writer-director Carolina Cavalli’s otherwise superficial narrative that that rarely gets deeper into the psychological weeds.
 
 
But Porcaroli is unafraid to be grating, irritating, obnoxious, hurtful and immature yet remains sympathetic as she burrows into the eponymous heroine’s psyche.
 
 
 
The Lesson 
(Bleecker Street)
Nobody can play as deliciously smarmy as Richard E. Grant, who dominates this slick black comedy as J.M. Sinclair, a superstar author who condescends to his teenage son Bertie’s new tutor Liam, an aspiring writer himself. As we see Sinclair’s literary thievery through Liam’s own jaundiced eyes, director Alice Troughton takes Alex MacKeith’s clever but overloaded script at face value, which takes some of the acid out of the nastiness.
 
 
In addition, Isobel Waller-Bridge’s jaunty classical score is too on the nose to be truly ironic. Still, Grant is always formidable and Julie Delpy gives depth to Hélène, Sinclair’s wife, while Stephen McMillan as Bertie and Daryl McCormack as Liam nicely sell the film’s final, obvious dramatic irony. 
 
 
 
The Man from Rome 
(Screen Media) 
Based on The Seville Communion by Spanish novelist Arturo Perez-Reverte, this effective but unoriginal thriller sends an Irish priest from the Vatican to Spain to investigate mysterious deaths at a local parish—it turns out there’s blackmail and corruption as well as murder.
 
 
Although director Sergio Dow paces the mystery well, and Richard Armitage gives a persuasively stoic performance as the collared Columbo—who has an improbable fling with Macarena, the gorgeous estranged wife (Amaia Salamanca) of a billionaire developer with designs on her beloved church—but at two hours it drags on too long, even though it intriguingly depicts an all-priest Vatican IT team.
 
 
 
Blu-ray Releases of the Week
Book Club—The Next Chapter 
(Universal/Focus Features)
Wherein our group of vivacious seniors decide, during the pandemic, to travel to Italy for a frolicsome vacation that culminates in a wedding that seemingly no one really wants, as this silly sequel gets by exclusively on the charm of leading ladies Jane Fonda, Diane Keaton, Candice Bergen and Mary Steenburgen.
 
 
Director Bill Holderman, who cowrote the script with Erin Simms, showcases the obvious tourist traps of Rome, Venice and Tuscany but the foolish attempts at cheap laughs too often make these smart, independent women the butt of jokes for no apparent reason. The film looks good on Blu; extras include several making-of featurettes.
 
 
 
Scream VI 
(Paramount/Spyglass Entertainment)
I’ve never been a fan of the Scream franchise, even the first one that was simply a hokey, jokey slasher movie, but the latest iteration—set in an obviously fake Manhattan that has none of the city’s teeming, screaming atmosphere, even in the big subway set piece—might be the least interesting yet.
 
 
Most damagingly, it does very little with Melissa Barberra and Jenna Ortega, a pair of winning actresses in the leads, instead lazily doing the tired slasher movie bit and again bringing back dullards from previous iterations. The film looks sharp and detailed on Blu-ray; extras include a filmmaker’s commentary and several featurettes about the film’s making and franchise’s legacy.
 
 
 
CD Release of the Week
Kurt Weill—Propheten 
(Capriccio)
German composer Kurt Weill (1900-50) wrote a six-hour opera, The Eternal Road, which premiered in 1937; it’s been only sporadically done since—the daunting subject matter (a Jewish community is trapped in a synagogue during a Nazi pogrom) and excessive length usually mean only a section or two is heard. That’s the case with Propheten (Prophets), heard here in its 1998 world-premiere concert recording by conductor Dennis Russell Davis, the ORF Vienna Radio Symphony Orchestra, Weiner Jeunesse Chor and soloists.
 
 
Although there’s lovely music and strong vocal writing, the weight of such a serious enterprise seems to inhibit Weill, who only sporadically uses the melodic wit of his strongest music. Also included are Weill’s Four Whitman Songs for soloist and orchestra, sung by stentorian baritone Thomas Hampson.  

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