Boston Ballet Gives a High Voltage Performance

What is art? Or, more specifically, what is the art known as ballet? Is it a classical art, practiced and refined for centuries, filled with carefully measured plies and set to the most classic of classical music? Is it a modern art, a dramatic outlet for expression, sprinkled with eclectic costumes and moving semi-rhythmically to sounds rather than music? Could it possibly be--gasp--a fusion of both? Should a performance like that be even labeled "ballet" at all?

Boston Ballet, known more for tradition than innovation, manages to both evade and yet answer these questions with its partially-new production, Body Electric. Consisting of three main parts--the whimsical "Waterbaby Bagatelles," the jazzy "Four Hands," and the adrenaline-pounding "Celts"--the Ballet blends quirky modernism with rich tradition (not to mention audience favoritism). And the result? Not exactly mind-blowing, but solidly superb nonetheless.

The tone of the trilogy's first ballet, "Waterbaby Bagatelles," with choreography by the ultra-innovative Twyla Tharp, ranges from hauntingly mechanical to precociously cute. A gigantic grid of flourescent lights dangling at varying angles just inches above the dancers' heads adds to the surreal, Blade Runner-esque mood onstage. No-sweat-showing spandex and stretch velvet seem to be costume designer Santo Loquasto's fabrics of choice for this production--the men don shimmery silver tank tops and billowy white pants, while the women wear either two-color fluttery gowns resembling beach cover-ups, or bathing beauty-style suits and hair kercheifs. All this, added to robotical pattering about and (mostly womens' and a few mens') writhing on the floor due to various mens' pelvic gyrations, makes for an eccentric but appreciated appearence onstage.

Oddly enough, each of the seven segments of the dance developed a strong sexual charge, though the dancers' emotional intensity remained at a cool, aloof low. In Segment III in particular, Larissa Ponomarenko and Paul Thrussel entwined themselves over and over again in matching navy velvet outfits. Even the audience's pulse ran quickly, but like the lighting and the mood of the sub-ambient music, a strong emotional detachment pervaded this particular ballet.

Next on the program is "Four Hands," principal dancer Lazlo Berdo's choreographic masterpiece, set to sprightly Rachmaninoff works being performed live onstage by Freda Locker and Maya Isyanova. Amy Persky's costumes, again mostly consisting of stretch velvet (though black in this ballet) and artfully displaying the dancers' hands and feet, become the perfect accent for the breathtakingly intense piano music--at moments, the dancers seem to be the piano keys themselves. A fantastic lighting design by Linda O'Brien expresses the varying moods of the performance perfectly, from deliciously jazzy to achingly romantic.

Although all of the dancers deserve kudos for their equally fine performances in this dramatically-complex piece, Larissa Ponomarenko and Robert Wallace in particular win the audience's hearts. Their delicate, passionate duet echoes with almost painful beauty. In their movements are the words that people in love struggle to find, that describe what and how they feel for the other person.

Last, but not least by any standards, is Boston Ballet's much-loved production of "Celts," with choreography by Lila York and Costumes by Tunji Dada. Since its premiere in March 1996--and riding on the high-kicking heels of "Riverdance" and Michael Flately's debatably egocentric "Lord of the Dance"--"Celts" has become one of the most adored segments in Boston Ballet's recent history. Although the dance remains as pulse-pounding and foot-stomping as ever, this particular revival seems to lack the contagious energy that was known for "ensnaring the audience and lifting it to its feet with torrents of applause," as this reviewer noted at its premiere ("Learning to Lovett": Boston Ballet's "Hot and Cool," April 4, 1996).

At the dance's start, however, there was no doubt that this was going to be a spectacular performance. Opening against a dark stormy background and to the pulse of the Irish war drums, the effortlessness that the dancers convey in their obviously-difficult movements took many people's breath away. Dada's fantastic costumes helped the dancers ride on air, from the amazingly powerful male lead clad in black, to the passionate lovers in flowing crimson, to the ceaslessly energetic chorus in fluttery beige garments.

The conclusion, though, comes as a substantial let-down. After much applause for the dancer's performance to the pseudo-classical Irish music rhythms, the music begins pounding again, but this time to a fantastically energetic rock background. Immediately, the performers begin swirling and kicking across the stage again, until everything builds up to....nothing. The music fades away with disturbing abruptness, and the curtain falls as the dancers are still moving. Had everyone only waited until the song ended on one clear note, the resounding energy would have undoubtedly brought everyone in the theater to cheering out loud all over again.

But despite the awkward ending on which the evening ends, Boston Ballet's Body Electric stands out as a fusion of quality art and aesthetic enjoyment, of pleasure for the eye and ear. Although each of the dances stands out as an original work, one firm string ties them all together: pushing the boundaries (and creating new ones) of expression through human movement. "Waterbaby Bagatelles" questions those boundaries. "Four Hands" celebrates them. And "Celts" puts them to a great rhythm. For that and that alone, Body Electric transcends all questions about the purpose of art and becomes, quite simply great.