As part of ‘Wonderment’ program, Ethan Stiefel’s new ‘Baroquen Dreams’ evokes ballet’s past

ROSALIE O'CONNOR

Leandro Olcese and others dance in American Repertory Ballet’s production of Ethan Stiefel’s “Baroquen Dreams” at The New Brunswick Performing Arts Center.

In a dance scene dominated by fads and disposable novelties, a ballet evening with a sense of history comes as a relief. “Wonderment,” the program American Repertory Ballet presented Oct. 18-20 at The New Brunswick Performing Arts Center, showed this company building on tradition. Classics of the 19th and 20th centuries shared the mixed bill with a modern work and with the premiere of “Baroquen Dreams,” Ethan Stiefel’s reimagining of the 17th- and 18th-century stage.

Antony Tudor, the choreographer of “Little Improvisations” (1953), is better known for works of high-octane drama, yet this small study in which adult performers portray two children reflects the same psychological acuity as Tudor’s major works. The children’s innocent games — showing off to get attention, rocking an imaginary baby, and making believe the girl is a Queen — foreshadow mature relationships in which, Tudor implies, childish emotions and fantasies will persist. Rueful recognition of our follies, rather than nostalgia, gives this ballet its wistful air. Dancers Lily Krisko and Tomoya Suzuki turn in crisp performances, with Suzuki’s strength bringing ease and clarity to his part. Pavel Zarukin accompanies them live at the onstage piano, playing Robert Schumann’s “Scenes from Childhood.”

ROSALIE O'CONNOR

Nanako Yamamoto and Aldeir Monteiro in “Black Swan Pas de Deux.”

The “Black Swan Pas de Deux” from “Swan Lake” (1895) depicts another kind of game, in which a glamorous seductress deceives a Prince, leading him to break a sacred lover’s vow. Odile, the Black Swan, simultaneously vamps the audience with a display of ballet pyrotechnics. Her double assignment is not so easy to pull off, for even when “The Black Swan” is performed as a concert number, the fun lies not simply in counting fouettés, but in observing Odile’s duplicity. The ballerina offers her hand to the Prince, then snatches it away; she allows him to embrace her, then breaks free; she mimics the White Swan, Odette, with her body folded on the floor, but abruptly turns her back when the Prince comes to rescue her. Nanako Yamamoto has mastered the steps, but does not make enough of these dramatic opportunities to beguile and tease her victim. She looks cheerful, not sly; and her Prince, Aldeir Monteiro, gamely does all the acting.

Filling the modern slot on this program is Lar Lubovitch’s “Something About Night” (2018), a company premiere set to Schubert chorales. Lubovitch fans will no doubt find it affecting; and the opening image of dancers at rest has a disarming tenderness, suggesting children who have fallen asleep in a pile. Unfortunately, this choreographer cannot see the line that divides noble feelings from schmaltz. His tenderness is relentless, and his lyricism knows no mercy. As soon as the dancers awake, their movement acquires a churning, tidal quality. Expanding and contracting their chests, they squeeze the last drop of emotion out of their upper bodies. ARB’s versatile dancers give this piece their all (especially Annie Johnson and soloist Andrea Marini) and the choreography features some lovely tableaux. Yet there is altogether too much loveliness, and the overall effect is cloying.

ROSALIE O'CONNOR

Leandro Olcese in “Baroquen Dreams.”

“Baroquen Dreams,” a “concept” piece, concludes this typically well-balanced evening. Stiefel — ARB’s former artistic director, and now its artist in residence — has become intrigued with ballet’s back story in the marble halls of European aristocracy. At the center of his new works stands a character called Le Maestro, the ballet master who commands the stage by banging his staff on the floor and flourishing his handkerchief. The other dancers are his puppets. At the outset, they lie in sad heaps, their strings hanging loosely from the rafters; but they rise tottering at Le Maestro’s bidding. Curly perruques decorate the space above; and upstage curtains rise to create dramatically lit openings with silhouettes. The music includes works by a selection of Baroque composers.

As the imposing Maestro, Leandro Olcese is both grave and sprightly, performing petit allegro passages low to the ground and bringing a flexed foot to his ankle in reference to Baroque style. A hectic quartet creates an atmosphere of forced gaiety; and then the Maestro becomes unhappily involved in a duet that he seems to direct. The reference, perhaps, is to Molière’s frustrations when mounting his play “Don Juan,” a subject explored at length by choreographer Boris Eifman.

Stiefel’s Maestro has more to worry about than his sex life, however. After a bustling divertissement in which ensemble members replace one another so individuals can perform brief solos, the Maestro is handed a staff topped with a Death’s head. His end has come.

Evidently, the Baroque period was famous for its gorgeous dramas (the French called their dance-packed operas “tragédies lyriques”); and if the setting were more pastoral one might even recall that doleful masterpiece of French painting, Nicolas Poussin’s “Et in Arcadia Ego.” By giving his Maestro a meaty acting role complete with death scene, Stiefel also acknowledges the ages-old debate between drama and pure dance, which flared at the close of the 18th century, just as the old regime was crumbling. The ballet, of course, did not crumble, but continues to refresh itself while looking to its past for inspiration.

For more on American Repertory Ballet, visit arballet.org.