Mary Ellen Hunt
San Francisco
Ballet, War Memorial Opera House, San Francisco, CA
The Sleeping Beauty
March 16, 20, 2001
With some seven casts, it is hard to choose which performances of San Francisco Ballet's The Sleeping Beauty to see, but Tuesday night's cast, led by Julie Diana and Pierre-François Vilanoba was one I didn't want to miss.
Many of the main roles were played by the same dancers as the opening night, with the notable exception of the Lilac Fairy and Carabosse, who were portrayed by Leslie Young and Muriel Maffre respectively. Thus it was a nice opportunity to compare some performances and see how consistent others were. The same five dancers performed the fairies at the christening, namely Julia Adam, Katita Waldo, Catherine Baker, Vanessa Zahorian and Lorena Feijoo.
Adam's variation as the Fairy of Tenderness is the most markedly slow in tempo, and it gives us a chance to admire the elegant carriage of her arms. Waldo looked slightly more strained in her variation (the Fairy of Generosity) this time, but nevertheless, her gracious demeanor superseded any tension. Catherine Baker as the Fairy of Serenity pulled off what I consider to be one of the most unpleasant combinations of the evening: passé to pointe tendue derriére and then a pas de papillon from that position. Baker does it, well serenely, despite the inherent awkwardness. Vanessa Zahorian's swift little variation as the Fairy of Playfulness was well-suited to her technique, but I was a little bothered that her eyes were so often focussed at the floor, rather than the audience.
Once again, Lorena Feijoo lit up the proceedings with the "Finger" variation or the Fairy of Courage. Watching her, I tried to analyze what made it so special and I came to the conclusion that is not only the sharp edges to her lines, but also the way that she moves so quickly to the position. Throughout the variation she was ahead of the music just enough so that the position could register clearly before she went on to the next one.
Leslie Young made a graceful and refined Lilac Fairy with an air of warmth that made her seem almost like a "close friend of the Royal Family." Her interactions with Muriel Maffre as the Fairy of Darkness or Carabosse, were a treat. Carabosse's pantomimed gestures could easily be hidden under the elaborate robes she wears, but Maffre projects her meaning beyond the normal outlines and is not afraid to move expansively into space to get her point across. In her mimed argument with Young I was highly entertained by her aggressive, in-your-face surge toward the Lilac Fairy, as well as by Young's unperturbed amusement at Carabosse's hostility.
The real reason I went to the ballet, though, was to see Julie Diana perform Aurora. It is a nerve-wracking role, and Diana seemed a touch skittish. She is, nevertheless, a fine dancer with the right technique for these classical works. If her tenseness betrays a lack of experience, her smile reveals her to be a beguiling performer. It is the pity of the situation that there were seven Auroras cast for the eleven performances of this run, so no one ballerina ever had the luxury of settling into the role with several shows.
From the start, Diana's Princess Aurora launched coltishly into her variations. For me, what makes her technique so pleasant to watch is that she is able to lift her upper torso out of the movements, and thus have the appearance of riding above a step. This shows most clearly in her light skimming jumps such as her grands jetés or the double ronds de jambe en l'air sautés, which she does better than many men. In her Rose Adagio, she used the inclinations of the body to effectively communicate the flirtations with her four princes, who were ably portrayed by Chidozie Nzerem, Steven Norman, Ruben Martin and Peter Brandenhoff. I especially liked the encouraging smile that Norman gave to her as she embarked upon the first balance in attitude derriére at the beginning of the adagio. Then too, the little thrill of excitement that Diana projects with her shoulders as she holds the bouquet of roses is another delightful detail. There was also a more clearly transmitted rivalry between the princes. These four were civil to one another, but still sizing each other up.
With the opening of Act II's hunting scene, there was a palpable shift in mood. Pierre-Francois Vilanoba was a quite disconsolate prince, resisting all of Alice LuAn Lewitzke's best efforts at cheering him. When Desiré forsook the hunt, I felt sorry for the countess. Good thing the Lilac Fairy happened by.
Vilanoba is one of those dancers at San Francisco Ballet that is so close to being a perfect prince, but lacking in one major area: the ability to partner handsomely. He has a strong, polished technique, an elegant deportment and he is one of the few who can pull off a white powdered periwig with grace. Nevertheless, in all of the classical roles in which I have seen him, he has supported his ballerinas more through brute strength, rather than finesse, straining an adagio when he ought to show nothing but ease.
His complete focus upon his partner, however is admirable, and he appeared truly smitten (and who wouldn't be?) with Diana. The vision scene, with its alternate seduction and repulsion tactics, had a beautiful tone to it, and his plea to the Lilac Fairy to take him to Aurora at the end held just the right note of desperation.
In the end, the grand pas de deux is the final proving ground though. The supported adage could have been more secure, but by the time they began their variations, both Diana and Vilanoba appeared much more relaxed. His variation included some very airy barrel turns that metamorphosed into a mange that he punctuated with a beautifully clean fifth position ending. For her part, Diana offered a tender rendition of her famous variation, which was highlighted by a series of delicately rendered piqués. All in all, it was the kind of performance that made you want to see them dance again.
This review initially appeared on Voiceofdance.com, March 25, 2001.
For questions or comments, please contact maryellenhunt@yahoo.com.