The coldest douche to a budding artistic friendship is when you ask your new pal if they want to go to Swan Lake (free tickets!) and they reply, with an absolutely straight face, "No, I've seen Swan Lake ." Really? You have to drop it there, because there is literally no way to explain that, though the dance is always more important than the dancer, it is still different interpretations that renew the artform and refresh our spirits. I could easily enjoy Swan Lake every day of the week with a different ballerina.
And I have the chance right now, as San Francisco Ballet has just opened its 73rd season with Tchaikovsky's venerable warhorse, reviving the 1988 production designed by the late Jens-Jacob Worsaae, staged and choreographed (except for Ivanov's famous set-pieces in Act II, and Petipa's "Black Swan" pas de deux) by SFB artistic director Helgi Tomasson. During the run of nine performances, Tomasson fields four first-class ballerinas, starting with Tina LeBlanc at last Saturday's opening night.
I don't care about pecking orders — as long as the favored dancer is not a Lucia Lacarra, who kept being assigned opening nights she could barely get through — but reality suggests that, if she'd been in town instead of dealing with an obligation in her native China, Yuan Yuan Tan would have danced Saturday. But since she wasn't here, we got LeBlanc and, as an extra added attraction, Gonzalo Garcia's first-ever Prince Siegfried. To say they were not as exciting, glamorous and romantic as anybody you could think of would be to deny the cheering audience its rapture and just plain tell a lie.
Since not everybody will get to see LeBlanc and Garcia — remaining performances are scheduled to be danced by Kristin Long, Lorena Feijoo and Tan (though LeBlanc is penciled in for February 5 — what better way to avoid the Super Bowl?) — let's first cover the production values. Worsaae was a magnificent ballet designer; his costumes flow like real clothes, and the colors are subtle and rich. Even as handsome and hunky a dancer as Garcia looks better when he is not wearing powder-blue tights.
I like Tomasson's ethnic dances in Act III — though the "Fragonard" decor lets down the German romantic ideals of the story and music — but his ensembles in Act I could use some tightening. (The pas de trois is more academic than thrilling, always a surprise given its great music.) Or maybe Act I was under-rehearsed. When the swan corps arrived in Act II, there was no missing production assistant Irina Jacobson's attention to detail and thoroughly drilled arm positions. One of the best things about Tomasson as a leader is that he is not afraid to ask for help. He doesn't think he knows it all, and his full-length stagings are all the better for this modesty.
Full-blooded
In the pit, new music director Martin West encouraged a full-blooded interpretation, not as echt-Russian as the Kirov's recent visit to Berkeley, but sufficiently dramatic. If the ballet orchestra still sounds less settled and idiomatic than it did under the late Denis de Coteau, well, he was a genius, and he's been gone for a long time. All the character parts are danced with brio. I literally did not recognize Damian Smith as Rothbart, but his clean line and understated "evil" made him a formidable rather than campy antagonist to Garcia's Siegfried, not the sharpest knife in the drawer.
Garcia's hero in Sylvia was similar, sweet, strong and clueless, content to be seduced and manipulated by a powerful female. Garcia and LeBlanc embody this characteristic ballet relationship in an archetypical way. She's many years his senior, though because she's so tiny and in such good shape, she doesn't play older. Yet she clearly is an impressive, mature, gracious artist, and you can't help believing Garcia is eating up the example. My companion remarked approvingly that LeBlanc never goes for the big, expansive, "look at me" gesture, always finishing her combinations with serene security. Because she's so technically adept, she has lots of room for characterization. The initial meeting with Siegfried had original detail that broke you heart. Clearly Odette knew this might be her last chance to escape.
If the "Black Swan" was not quite so dramatic, it's probably because LeBlanc finds it difficult to be a bitch. Tan has exhilarating moments when she snatches her hand away from poor Siegfried and fixes him with an evil eye that makes shivers run up your spine. Give Garcia credit, for he is totally remorseful and agonized by his mistake. That sets up the painful lakeside duet — strictly a Tomasson invention, with interpolated music — all agony and remorse. I had no idea LeBlanc could express pain through movement so serenely. And that's why we keep returning to Swan Lake.