Every fall, over the course of two or three weeks, New Yorkers get treated to a generous helping of dance at the hallowed City Center. This Moorish extravaganza on West 55th Street was the original home of the New York City Ballet, and it is still a great place to see dance. What is particularly appealing about the “Fall for Dance” programs is not just their range—which could include ballet, modern, hip-hop, and flamenco in a single evening—but also their price: for $15 (plus some rather hefty fees), you can get a ticket anywhere in the house. The result is an audience that is young, ethnically varied, and wildly enthusiastic about everything it sees. Because it’s such a good deal, though, you have to buy tickets the first day they are offered if you want to be sure of getting your first choices. This year I managed to snag tickets to Program 2 and Program 4, and I was more than satisfied with the results.
Program 2 gave me a chance to see a good portion of Pam Tanowitz’s New Work for Goldberg Variations, which I had missed when it premiered last year, and I was grateful not only for the dance, but also for the performance by Simone Dinnerstein which the dance was designed to surround and accompany. I was also thrilled to see a new piece by Justin Peck, Sleep Well Beast, that he choreographed for himself and the remarkable dancer Patricia Delgado (who also happens to be Peck’s fiancée). The duet was so perfectly suited to the two performers that it felt as if they were making it up spontaneously, yet so difficult to execute correctly that they must have spent weeks rehearsing it. Delgado is the best kind of ballerina—delicate yet strong, flexible yet precise—and I sincerely hope we get to see more of her in New York. The two pieces that came after the intermission were less noteworthy (Paul Taylor’s Promethean Fire was a particular disappointment, largely because of its bombastic Stokowski orchestration of Bach’s Toccata and Fugue, a score which sadly matched the bombastic choreography). But by then I had more than had my money’s worth, so I didn’t mind.
Program 4 was, if anything, even more satisfying. It began with a Frederick Ashton duet (excerpts from Rhapsody) performed by Alina Cojocaru and Herman Cornejo. For me, any chance to see Cornejo perform these days is not to be missed, and from my excellent first-row mezzanine seat I could actually see his warm facial expressions as well as his precise gestures. Then came a Lucinda Childs work called Canto Ostinato, subtly and skillfully performed by a Dutch group called Introdans. This modernist work for four dancers was so minimalist as to verge on tedium, if you were looking only for excitement; but I found it incredibly soothing to watch the minor changes executed over time in such a bracingly intelligent manner. Neither of these pleasant experiences, however, prepared me for the wonder that was to follow: Jennifer Weber’s reimagining of Petrushka, with Lil Buck (the great inventor and purveyor of Memphis jookin’) in the title role. I expected to love Lil Buck on his own, but I was not prepared for how beautifully the full trio worked together: the liquid-boned Buck bringing new pathos to the puppet role; the wonderful Tiler Peck exhibiting a hard, sharp grace as the ballerina he loves; and, in the villainous role of the strongman who steals her, an amazing ballet dancer (new to me) named Brooklyn Mack. This was the kind of dance that leaves you breathless—it left me breathless, anyway, as each new episode unfolded, with every performer embodying his or her role to its fullest extent, and all three dancing (sometimes in unison) in a style that managed to combine ballet, jookin’, modern, and god knows what else. I can’t say anything better than to say that the performance gave new life and meaning to the Stravinsky score, and I only wish it had gone on longer.