In a dark piece, the dancers dazzle

October 23, 2004|Globe Staff

Reprinted from late editions of yesterday's Globe.Bracketed by two of Balanchine's sunniest masterworks -- "Divertimento No. 15" and "Rubies" -- Thursday night's Boston Ballet premiere of "Distant Light," by Peter Martins, presented a darker, uncertain side of life. "Divertimento," set to the eponymous Mozart score, epitomizes the symmetry and harmony of 18th-century classicism; "Rubies," set to Stravinsky, shows the frenetic overdrive of the 20th.

In "Distant Light," Martins presents the tentativeness of right now. Martins's inescapable identity is as Balanchine's designated heir, the man charged with keeping New York City Ballet going in the 21 years since the great choreographer's death. This work by Martins is, however, a direct contradiction of Balanchine's worshipful attitude toward the ballerina. Women rule, however daintily, the realms of "Divertimento" and "Rubies," where men are outnumbered. Martins reverses the ratio in "Distant Light." To the abrasive, whining, sandpaper-ish score of the contemporary Latvian composer Peteris Vasks, he has fashioned an intense, tightly wound quartet for one woman and three men -- Lorna Feijoo partnered by Nelson Madrigal, Roman Rykine, and Yury Yanowsky at this premiere performance.

Feijoo is limp and incomplete without the men, who come and go constantly. She's alone onstage as the ballet begins, lying on the floor, writhing her way into a standing position, soon joined by her suitors. They use her to create almost superhuman shapes: One partner spins her by the throat; another drags her along the floor and drapes her around himself like a cloak. Each twosome strikes a different tone, from manipulation to tenderness.One Balanchinism that Martins does follow is locating the ballerina at the heart of the piece, onstage, exposed, for almost the entire half-hour work. In one rare bit of respite, she runs offstage and the men are alone, jumping around like gladiators in training: You miss Feijoo's presence, though, however briefly she's offstage. Another moment reminiscent of Balanchine resembles the ending of the master's "Apollo," only in reverse. Instead of three muses attending the young god, the three men together lift Feijoo off the ground and turn her while she's on pointe. At other times, they literally, and spectacularly, toss her into the air. Rather than showing her off, which is the usual intent of such daredevil partnering, they seem to be testing or toying with her.

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