N.Y.C. BALLET COUPLES CAVORT, CONTORT IN WHEELDON'S `KLAVIER'

This article originally appeared in the Culture section of Bloomberg News on January 25, 2006.

Jan. 25 (Bloomberg) -- Trailing its mooring ropes across a dark stage framed in black velour drapes, a Paris Opera-style crystal chandelier lies crashed on the floor. Ten dancers, costumed with necrophiliac glamour, pace, embrace and fall to the opening measures of the Adagio Sostenuto from Beethoven's ``Hammerklavier'' piano sonata.

Christopher Wheeldon, resident choreographer of the New York City Ballet, has set the scene for ``Klavier,'' his latest work for the company. With the help of his designer, Jean-Marc Puissant, he is about to tell us that deep feeling is wedded to gloom.

Wheeldon, still a wunderkind at 32, is widely thought to be the fellow who's going to rescue classical choreography from its present doldrums.

Trained by the Royal Ballet and formed further at the New York City Ballet, he has been exposed to a variety of masters -- Frederick Ashton and Kenneth MacMillan in the U.K., George Balanchine and Jerome Robbins in the U.S. He has absorbed useful lessons from them all about craft, musicality and theatrical effect.

These skills have been evident in the dozen ballets he has created for the New York City Ballet, the Royal Ballet, the San Francisco Ballet and other ranking troupes eager to have his work. They are evident again in ``Klavier.''

Couples and Trios

Wheeldon divides his cast into two duet couples -- Wendy Whelan and Sebastien Marcovici, Miranda Weese and Albert Evans -- and two subordinate trios. Deftly manipulating the arrivals, retreats and interminglings of these little groups, he seems to partition the space differently and dramatically every few seconds. But to what purpose?

The two pairs manage to convey a message through the kind of movement they do. Singly and then together, the couples amplify a statement made at the opening, embracing and then collapsing to the ground. The female figures often look like so much malleable clay in their escorts' arms.

Now the men maneuver the women's bodies athwart theirs, in postures that are stunning and strange. When the women stretch their legs in taut splits, their partners skid them across the floor at a vicious speed. And the falls register ambiguously. Are the figures descending into sleep, sex or death?

Not Persuasive

Each duo seems to share a deeply felt passion, and it's clearly a tragic one. Unfortunately, the message remains a one- liner; it doesn't evolve. So while the dancing is handsome to look at, it's not emotionally persuasive.

The trios tell us nothing. Most often, one simply duplicates the maneuvers of the other. (They came into existence while the ballet was being choreographed, when Wheeldon watched the understudy trio working alongside the three dancers he'd originally chosen.)

Wheeldon winds up matters logically. He's too astute a craftsman to flub a finale. The full cast reassembles to repeat the pacing of the opening segment. There the dancers mysteriously kept their backs to the audience, shrouding their secrets.

Now they turn to face the spectators boldly, head-on, as if to indicate that something revelatory has been accomplished. But it's hard to know what.

The most noteworthy thing about ``Klavier'' is its motley casting, ranging from newcomers and chronically underused members of the company to dancers at their peak and older ones who retain a powerful stage presence.

The result looks as if Wheeldon chose his dancers not simply for technical efficiency but because they fascinated him as people. And since they have that in common, the group coheres.

© 2006 Bloomberg L.P. All rights reserved. Reprinted with permission.