Hari Krishnan's "ROWIES IN LOVE," as performed by inDANCE,  celebrated love between men. The piece can be seen this weekend at Jacob's Pillow.

It’s not often that one sees a totally unique voice in the dance world. But Hari Krishnan is one. He combines the specific gestures and strong stances of Bharatanatyam with the wildness of contemporary dance to tell relevant stories of today.
 
And at Jacob’s Pillow this weekend, (yes, the famed dance venue is featuring a spring show) Krishnan’s all-male troupe, inDANCE is showcasing his style by painting a picture of queer courting and love. The evening-length “ROWDIES IN LOVE” roiled as a cast of nine who asserted their power and passions. It was direct, honest and engrossing.
 
Lit in romantic and fiery red to enticing score by Niraj Chag, the evening-length dance, as seen on Friday night, grabbed one by the throat immediately. The nine – shirtless and dressed in shimmering red full-length skirts cinched with black belts at the waist – stood before the audience in a line at the edge of the stage. They were close. We could hear their breath and look into their eyes.
 
And then they unleashed a rapid-fire stomping and hand-gestures to the vocal gymnastics of a konnakol singer. They declared their strength as if they are upholding their right to exist for those who may question.
 
As the music turned to tablas drums, the dancers broke up their line to move one side – as if in a private world. Still moving from pose-to-pose via Bharatanatyam-style, they now claimed their individuality and pair off playfully. Dancers Demetris Charalmbous and Spenser Stroud are in the forefront – sweetly exploring each other as new lovers do. Smiling, embracing, and caressing, their liaison was flirtatious – lifting the curtain on relationships that for years too many wanted to shrink from and now, in certain circles, have grown hostile toward.
 
My favorite parts were when the dancers are all together – swirling in a circle like a bubbling hot stew. Their joy was so true that it transferred to audience who celebrated the freedom of skipping and running as one authentic self. Their raucous cowboy bit, perhaps a nod to the Chippendales dancers, also elicited a smile.
 
Of all the members of the cast, dancer Eury German deserved a shout-out. He led the section where a bouquet of red roses was both an offering and an awakening to each still (perhaps repressed) body that stood before him. German shined for his fluidity. He easily moved between the precision of the Hindi dance to the expressive freedom of contemporary modes. He threw himself into Krishnan’s style with power and knowledge behind his movement that was impressive.
 
“ROWDIES IN LOVE” demonstrated (and it’s sad that it had to be shown) that there is nothing to fear about love. Love can be rambunctious, volatile, heart-breaking, fun, but love is love is love.
 
In the Pillow’s Doris Duke Theatre, the piece was even more intimate – magnifying the impact of the dance.
 
“ROWDIES IN LOVE” is a piece that even the most demure will feel inspired to fall in love.
 
It will be performed at 2 and 7:30 p.m. today, May 2, and 2 p.m. Sunday, May 3.

Emily Gunter performed the 2006 solo "Becoming," choreography by Ellen Sinopoli, for the company's 35th anniversary. (Photo by Gary Gold)

For her 35th anniversary, the Ellen Sinopoli Dance Company was back at its home theater to offer a program that was less of a celebration and more of a mediation.
 
At The Egg, the small ensemble of six strong female dancers moved through the company’s history of shimmering collaborations with artists and musicians. Apart from “Filament” with the audacious junkman composer Don Knaack and the bright Egg Kids, the program was a mindfully serious – one that delved into the mystery of life itself.
 
Even Sinopoli’s latest work to music by George Gershwin – “Silken Threads” touched on the delicacy of the rhythms not so much the sassy sophistication inherent in the compositions. The recorded songs, “Short Story,” “Melody #17” and “All the Livelong Day,” were performed beautifully by pianist Kevin Cole. The ending, with the dancers reposed, resting on each other was lovely. But the piece was missing the buoyancy that the music begs for.
 
“Silken Threads” was one of those dances that Sinopoli will likely tinker with until it lands just right – as she had with the other older pieces on the program including “Clusters.” This 1995 work, that now includes photographs of trees and clouds by Thom O’Connor, opened the packed program. This piece shimmered with the sextet – in white silk tops and pants – bending and bowing to an invisible breeze. The music, by Mugam Sayagi, was subtle. First quiet – like when one first enters a grove of trees – and then rising in sounds when one opens their ears. “Clusters” was gorgeous. The addition of the photographs added this whole new sensibility, which was wonderful.
 
“Filament,” from 2012, was also a delight. Knaack, positioned upstage, banged, rattled and blew on numerous found objects as the dancers reacted by popping, jerking and racing about in an electrified romp. This was one of those dances where the eye doesn’t know where to look – to the tumbler, the jumper or the man behind a set of plastic buckets and plumbing hoses.
 
The solo “Becoming,” to music by Zoe B. Zak, from 2006 was also a highlight. A reaching and striving Emily Gunter brought forth the longing in a Rainer Maria Rilke poem that seeks identity in an ever-shifting world.
 
Gunter shared the program with Sinopoli, presenting her own premiere of “Dactylic Bounds.” Set to atmospheric music by A Sound Healer, Steve Reich, Matthew Duvall, Third Coast Percussion and Tryshe Dhevney, the piece was centered on the meeting of Medea, Medusa, Circe, Cassandra and the Maenads in an ode to sorcery and the power of women. The enigmatic work, however, was one of those that requires a second viewing and reading the program first in order to grasp it.
 
Also, on the bill was barkha patel’s “Zikr,” an Urdu word meaning remembrance. Dressed in long golden smocks, a single dancer appeared haunted by the pounding feet and clapping hands inserting themselves into her mental rhythm. As others came out of the shadows to join her in her isolation, they wove a society that acknowledged pain, but fed on unity.
 
Lastly, but not least, were the wonderful Egg Kids who enlivened the mainly sober program with another piece by Gunter. Titled “Meridian Juncture,” the work featured 11 teen dancers creating lines, circles and intersecting patterns – demonstrating simplicity often creates the most lively inventions.

On another note, I wonder if this was Sinpoli's swan song at The Egg. The new management has turned away from dance with no performance planned in the coming months. It's a shame as The Egg was one of the few havens for dance in the Capital Region. I hope the theater continues to support Sinopoli, but I'm not betting on it.

Parsons Dance is seen here in the electric "Fearless," choreographed by Courtney “Balanciago” Washington.

Parsons Dance is dance as it should be – energizing, musical and expressive. And on top of all that is the Parsons’ spin – incredible athleticism that delights and excites everyone in the audience.
 
It’s a 41-year tradition that roused a vocal audience on Saturday night at the Mahaiwe Performing Arts Center who were reacting to this marvelous company. Parsons is among the world’s best, and it was great to see them back in the Berkshires with some of their finest works.
 
The night featured the joyous creations of Artistic Director David Parsons including his inimitable “Caught” as well as a new piece by Courtney “Balanciago” Washington that melded seamlessly with the Parsons Dance personality.

Washington’s “Fearless,” set to “Talk to Me” by Champion, Four Tet and Skrillex with Naisha, is another stunner for the Parsons rep. It features the ensemble of eight in a futuristic disco/voguing dance that glow with a post-apocalyptic sheen. The dance is a challenge for the audience, daring them to take on their muscle. They are unstoppable.
 
Though “Fearless” fits perfectly into Parsons physical aesthetic, it is a bit of a contrast to the founding director’s own works that glory in the beauty and lushness of all musical styles. The evening opened with his “Wolfgang” to Mozart music, with dancers spinning and shooting straight in the air like launching rockets but landing like commanding matadors.
 
Here, as in the final piece “Nascimento Novo,” one can sense Parsons’ embrace of the music’s soaring sensibilities. Both Mozart and Milton Nasciemento radiate pleasure and that is what the dances and dancers consistently give to the audience.
 
Parsons goes deeper in “Mr. Withers,” a 2022 work, to songs and voiced over stories by Bill Withers. While the choreography is not the most inventive here, Parsons shows us the underlying tragedy in songs like “Ain’t No Sunshine,” “Grandma’s Hands” and “I Can’t Write Left Handed.” But Parsons doesn’t let us sink too low as he opens “Mr. Withers” with a sassy, push and pull in “Use Me” and a final morality message in “Lean On Me” with the dancers swirling as one in a circle on the stage. It was a timely reminder that we are all in this together.
 
The night also featured Robert Battle’s “Takademe” to the vocal acrobatics of Sheila Chandra. Emerson Earnshaw danced the solo with every bit of his body, including his tongue.
 
And as usual, “Caught,” where a soloist is seen at the height of a jump by a strobe light, captured imaginations. Danced by Megan Garcia Ziminski, the piece is always a hit and something Parsons’ presenters demand. Her jumps and lightning did not properly synch at the very start, showing her at the awkward near bottom of a jump. She adjusted and rapturously took flight.
 
While not fair to any dancer, I see savor the memory of the statuesque Parsons himself dancing “Caught.”
 
That aside, the company, which sadly has fewer dancers than ever before, is still one of the best in America, if not the world. Here’s a tip: If you want to convert a dance-naysayer into a devotee, take them to Parsons Dance. It’s guaranteed to work.

Ballet Hispanico New York dazzled audiences at The Egg on Friday night with its "CARMEN.maquia."

Ballet Hispanico New York doesn’t ignite fire, this company is fire.

That was clear at the very first steps of this revered ensemble’s rendering of Gustavo Ramirez Sansano’s “CARMEN.maquia” of Friday night at The Egg. Amir J. Baldwin as the obsessed Don Jose trained all eyes on his every move – a solitary figure contorting in torture.
 
And it goes from there – passionate, feisty, humorous and touching -- this “Carmen” remake left its mark. Set to snippets of Bizet’s iconic opera score as well as the composers other works, including parts of the second movement from “Symphony in C,” this version seared souls with a clarity and commitment to the flawed characters and their tragic tale.
 
As many know, “Carmen” is a story of clashing emotions. Lust and love spar with duty and fidelity – and in the end Carmen is dead and her lover imprisoned. It also leaves one a widower and another betrayed.

Amanda Ostuni dances the role of Carmen with requisite sass and insouciance – as seen in the sway of her hip and command of all the men who devoured her with their eyes. She toyed with Don Jose as he held her in jail – running her fingers down his back and pinching his buttock — until he succumbed to her seduction.
 
Their duet, at the end of the first act, was intense. He held her aloft, his face buried in her core as she wrapped her arms and legs around him. And then there was their encounter, at the end, when she died. It was preceded by an equally provocative physical struggle – he aggrieved and begging for her return. She, with a flick of her finger, stood her ground with a firm no.

Don Jose’s rival Escamillo was danced with telling tensile conceit by Dylan Dias McIntrye. Don Jose’s betrothed, Micaela, as danced by Francesca Levita, was delicate in her entreaties for Don Jose to return to her.
 
However, Escamillo and Micaela were one-dimensional. And to some extent, so was the title character, Carmen.  “CARMEN.maquia” belonged to Don Jose whose journey from indifference to Carmen to all-consuming fatal attraction to ultimate despair captured the imagination.
 
While many story ballets have their dull moments – mainly those in between were mime takes over for dance -- there were none in “CARMEN.maquia.” The streets scenes were alive with soldiers and workers – many of whom were enchantingly gossipy – fueling the conflict.

Furthermore, the sets by Luis Crespo were light and moveable with gray, black and white screens – of abstract images – that helped to shield the behind-the-scenes transitions.
 
Together, they made “CARMEN.maquia” a thoroughly enjoyable and emotional experience that is worth seeing again.
 
On another note, the decades-old Ballet Hispanico, founded by Tina Ramirez and now directed by Eduardo Vilaro, hasn’t been seen in this region for several years. It’s appearance on Friday night was important as it was the first show to open The Egg in 1978. Thus, it was fitting to usher for the presenters to host its glorious return to the newly renovated theater.

But another showing at The Egg is unlikely. It appears the theater is focused on staging music and comedy. Dance is vanquished as it has been in many other theaters. The reason? Producers say it’s too expensive and no one wants to see dance. No one wants to see dance because no one is exposed because few theaters are willing to stage it. It’s a chicken-egg problem.
 
And with public funding for all arts contracting, once again, it’s unlikely presenters will make the effort to gamble on dance. But judging by Friday night’s showing, dance is a safe bet. And companies like Ballet Hispanico are ensuring that.

This photo does not represent what audience witnessed on Saturday evening when LaJune McMillian presented the amateurish "Constellations" at PS21's small ice rink.

A bright idea executed badly is a terrible idea. And for those who watch it unfold, it’s torture.
 
That was the experience on Saturday afternoon at PS21: Center for Contemporary Performance when LaJune McMillian and dancers performed the world premiere of “Constellations” on the center’s small ice rink.
 
The idea of the piece was to create a world where, the website describes, “light, shadow, and motion create a cosmic landscape.” But aside from the electronic score, this 40-minute, outdoor show was hardly cosmic.
 
Instead, it featured four dancers in black bodysuits who had string lights wrapped around their right hands and poorly attached to the soles of their skates. About halfway into the piece, the skate lights unraveled off of one boot. Then another string and its battery pack, not able to withstand the movement, shattered and spewed its contents across the ice.
 
We’ve all seen costume malfunctions. They happen. While the broken lights contributed to the discomfort of watching "Constellations," what made this dance/skate so unbearable was the skating. It was tentative and wobbly. McMillian herself was not a great skater, so why or how did she come up with this idea.
 
The beauty of skating, once mastered, is the sense of freedom. One glides, not teeters, to create a seamless trajectory in any direction. “Constellations,” on the other hand, was lurching and grasping, and therefore unpleasant.
 
Only two of the four seemed adept at skating – but even they had difficulty. Letting go in this tiny synthetic ice rink, about the size of a large conference room, required too many jerky stops and starts.
 
And the promised show of light and shadow didn’t materialize. Rather, a purple light cast was upon them. The mystery of the cosmos was not revealed.
 
McMillian’s choreography was made up of lines and circles – skating dancers coming together and then splitting apart into their own orbits. But again, the skating was not proficient enough to suggest objects floating through space. It was amateur hour, all around. McMillian has much work to do – including learning to skate well -- before “Constellations” is ready to present.
 
Making matters worse, it started about 15 minutes later than scheduled. When people waiting outside with impatient children, it’s imperative to start on time.
 
I’m not sure why PS21 included “Constellations” in its first ever winter festival, dubbed The Dark. It was promoted as free and for children, so perhaps PS21 thought it didn’t have to be of the highest artistic caliber. But this is poor reflection on their choices for their loyal audience who stood outside watching, likely thinking “it’s got to get better.”
 
It didn’t. PS21 has to do better.

kNoname Artist / Roderick George's "The Graves Tears," performed at Williams College on Tuesday night, is a deeply moving, spiritual work. (Courtesy of kNoname Artist)

In this moment in time when the power structure wants to erase differences for homogeny, kNoname Artist reminds us that crushing authenticity, particularly that of the LGBTQ+ community, crushes humanity.

On Tuesday night at Williams College, Roderick George’s “The Grave’s Tears” evokes that truth by reeling viewers’ back to the AIDS crisis of the 1980s when thousands of healthy young men died from what was dubbed “the gay plague.” And many, including those in the highest elected office, didn’t seem to care.
 
What “The Grave’s Tears” tells us, in flesh and sweat, is what indifference costs.
 
This is a deeply spiritual work that carried its viewer across a timeline of the crisis. It opens with George entering from the shadows, an angelic figure with arm spread like outstretched wings. He is joined by the full cast of seven – all-men – in what can only be described as something close to George Balanchine’s “Serenade.” Dancer moved as one, wrists to their foreheads, arms extended as if shading their eyes from inspections glare and then sidestepping to the groves of a disco beat.
 
The vibe was joyous at first with a dance club scene with music by Diana Ross and Donna Summer – among others. Heads bopped, shoulders shifts and hips swayed to the thunder of the infectious beat. But then tragedy strikes – these strong vivacious men sink to the floor, stumble, stagger and struggle for support.
 
The work then breaks up into solos, duets and trio of anguish of souls seeking help and a way out of their pain. A voice over talks about mysterious lesions, fatigue or a cold that never goes away. It talks about hospital stays, fear of caregivers and undertakers. And then finally, a devastating of farewell that was heartbreakingly depicted by MJ Edwards and Zack Sommer. Edward’s effort to keep a partner alive is palpable, but futile and Sommer finally collapses on that stage that is covered in what appears like bits of dirt.
 
The symbology throughout was staggering. At one point, the dancers fall to the floor and their arms jut skyward like tombstones. There is a dark angel (another touch of Balanchine “Serenade”) that guides a dancer blindly to their death. George himself dances a solo in which he is tumbling about, seemly tossed by the relentless confusion and loss.

Ultimately, there is not good answer on how to handle our differences in who and how we love, or in how we express our gender. But one thing is certain, “The Grave’s Tears” insists we do better.

Dancer barkha patel performed ​“ramit aave: her playful arrival" at Union College on Friday night.

The path barkha patel treads is one of mystery in “ramit aave: her playful arrival.” As seen on Friday night at Union College, the dancer strides along a road to delve into the feminine side of sensuality, dying and ultimately into a territory of enlightenment.
 
She’s an intrepid explorer, using her skills in kathak dance and the hypnotic music of sarangi, tabla and voice, to lead her audience into an unseen world. And then she leaves the viewer there, slightly rattled and breathless.
 
The program notes for “ramit aave” (translated from Hindi as “she comes dancing”), tell the audience that patel is tapping into the forces of the Goddess Kali to release female desire buried for generations. Kali oversees time, doomsday, death, disorder, sexuality and violence. And in her work, patel dies and then rises as an erotic figure. Then she returns from on high as a spiritual being, one disillusioned by romance, but also unaffected by it.
 
The stage is set up with vocalist Shweta Pandya, tabla player Vivek Pandya and sarangi performer Rohan Misra on a low platform on which they sit. patel enters upstage on a well-worn pathway painted with red footprints. Carrying a vessel atop her head, she walks slowly in silence. Only the bells at her ankles can be heard gently tingling.
 
She pours from her vessel folded papers and crushed red flower petals. And then she dances, her long flared skirt billowing to the intriguing music.
 
So much of traditional Indian dance rests on storytelling. And it is one of the few dance forms in which the face and gestures tell its tale. In the first section, patel appears to be building something up that she strains to keep. She is unsuccessful in her effort and she crumples to the floor.
 
In the next section, a trio of mirrors reveals a woman preening, gently caressing her face and admiring her reflection. Then she steps out, beautifully confident with a flirtatious look in her eye. But then she is disappointed by a rebuff and finishes by stroking a fragile heart.
 
After an amazing musical interlude in which Vivek Pandya astonished with his fleet and flexible fingers and hands gliding over the tabla, patel returns from above. She walks through the audience offering roses she would then refuse to bear and instead stripped the flowers of their petals that she crushed as she went.
 
The magic was broken by technical difficulties as the lights went out on patel before they were supposed to. She called up to the booth, to turn them back on. “I’m not done,” she called.

But her request was unheeded. The audience accommodated her with cell phone flashlights and she completed her dance stomping in anger and then whirling, with her loose hair flying, as if finally attaining her higher calling.  

"9.2," seen here with Norika Isomura center stage, was performed on Friday night at Williams College.

Of all the -isms that good people are trying to shatter, ableism might be the most stubborn.
 
Cas Public, a Montreal-based ensemble, thankfully weakened the notion that people with physical and mental barriers are lesser on Friday night at Williams College. Its “9.2” – an evening-length work – questioned “can a deaf person dance.” And the answer is, of course. Their language is movement. They dance all the time.
 
The piece, choreographed by Helene Blackburn in collaboration with Cai Glover, who is deaf and a company member, is not only a repudiation that the idea of “disability” but a celebration of all humanity’s abilities.
 
That was immediate clear at the beginning of the piece. Dancers surveyed the audience, inviting members to participate in the show. Those who chose to take part in “9.2,” including a child, were not the typical foils for performers. Instead, they were an integral part the entire dance, including bowing with the company at the end. None of these folks were planted. And at least three of them danced with American Sign Language (quickly taught by Glover.)
 
That’s the thing with ASL – it is a dance. This is the revelation of “9.2.”
 
The work is contained by chairs – normal, child and toy size. Not only do they decorate the stage with a symmetrical design, they also define its limits and serve as a welcoming metaphor. Come, sit, join us.
 
Within its bounds, that the participating audience help to arrange, the dancers reveal their power with snippets from nearly deaf composer Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. Arranged by Martin Tetreault, the music is often clipped, not allowing ears to fully get a handle on it. That was likely the point.
 
There is also a video, by Kenneth Michiels, that features children – one of whom has a cochlear implant (as does Glover). Finally, there is a toy Volkswagen Beetle, with a video camera that projects its live images on the screen as it darts between the dancers.
 
And what dancers they are. Dressed in black, they, along with Glover who took out his implant, are fast and sharp. They moved to the highlighted sections of Beethoven’s symphony in spotlights on the blackened stage. The focus on lighted circles emphasized their refined top-to-bottom abilities.
 
Among the standouts were the statuesque Arnaud Mongeon whose fluidity was astounding. He’s a gorgeous dancer that devours the space with clarity. Norika Isomura, dancing both blindfolded and later sighted en pointe, carried herself with authority as she kicked and pas de boureed across the stage. At one point, her legs appeared like a metronome for a piano variation.

Glover was one of the ensemble, but took a central role in audience’s minds. As their spotlighted solos morphed into synchronized ensemble work, Glover was gloriously spot on. It seems ridiculous to point out that Glover is as fine a dancer as others in Cas Public.
 
Yet, that is reason for “9.2.” It’s a lesson I’m glad to learn.

David Parker took a nutcracker to “The Nutcracker.” And then he and The Bang Group sprinkled it with some seasonal magic to unspool the most irreverent and delightfully amusing take on the holiday classic.
 
His “Nut/Cracked,” now being presented at Kaatsbaan Cultural Park, is for all of those who love Tchaikovsky’s beloved score, but run out of patience with the ballet’s formality 30-minutes in. This is not to say that Parker and crew are disrespectful of the annual dance extravaganza. Rather, they put a humorous and often surprising spin on “The Nutcracker.” It’s deliciously, laugh-out-loud decadent.
 
It was created in 2003 as a genre and dance-fluid celebration that tapped, boureed and leaped to the jazzy rendering by Duke Ellington and Glenn Miller of the familiar music. However, much of the piece, which is about 70 minutes long, is guided by the music as written. And Parker, and co-director Jeffrey Kazin, cheerfully nod to Marius Petipa choreography – even in their off-kilter and hilarious versions of the scenes.
 
The waltz for the snowflakes is a good example. The dancers, white Ts and black stripped sports pants throughout, moved like skaters who slipped, slid and fell on the snowy ice. Not only does it add a slapstick element, which could be seen throughout, but it was so artfully done that it spiced up the choreography.
 
The piece began with Parker and Kazin tapping out and singing (lyrics they must have written) to the score’s overture. The dancers then burst from the wings to gather up the props for the show – a boa, a rose, hats, gloves and red bouquets.
 
Then it became clear that the score would be delectably tossed about when the dance of the Sugarplum, on a dark stage, came next. All that one could see was the feet of a dancer en pointe whose toes were following a miniature spotlight.
 
The stage went black again, ready for the party to begin. It cleverly did with two – like the feuding siblings Clara and Fritz – who twisted themselves around a gift, which when ultimately opened contained snow.
 
Though the order of the music was re-arranged, it didn’t matter as there were so many charming and hilarious moments – for example Parker’s rendition of the Chinese divertissement where he balances en pointe and sucks up a noodle from a cardboard food box. Just as the music ends, the noodle pops in his mouth.
 
The waltz of the flowers is a hysterical solo on bubble wrap, the growing Christmas tree crescendo is a burlesque-like wet dream and the Russian trepak is a parody of all amateur dance productions ever. The grand pas is a celebration of thumb-sucking affection. You have to see it to believe it.
 
It was ridiculously foolish and I loved it. You will too. Sunday’s matinee is sold out, but tonight’s 7 p.m. performance has tickets available at kaatsbaan.org.

Talmi Entertainment performed Tchaikovsky's "The Nutcracker" on Wednesday at The Palace Theatre in Albany. 

If you have seen one “Nutcracker,” you have not seen them all.
 
The ballet delight of the holiday season has a template, for sure, guided by Tchaikovsky. It opens with a holiday party where young girl receives a nutcracker doll as a Christmas gift. After the festivities, she slumbers and falls into a romantic reverie with her nutcracker who transforms into a prince. But it’s always in that coming-of-age dream, envisioned by the girl (often named Clara, sometimes Marie), where the classic diverges.
 
Talmi Entertainment (formerly known as the Moscow Ballet) offered a glittering rendering on Wednesday night at the Palace Theatre. Its lush palatal backdrops (by Berkshire designer Carl Sprague), gold lame trimmed costumes (designed by Arthur Oliver) and fine capable dancers, many Ukrainian, offered up plenty of eye candy to the crowd. And the house was packed, thanks to the horde of local children who were cast in nearly every scene – including those in the round-the-world divertissements, scenes typically reserved for the professionals.
 
The production, choreographed by Viktor Davyduik, also casts dreamy Clara with an adult dancer. It's a good thing as in her mind-bending journey, she also appears as the Snow Queen and the Sugarplum Fairy. It’s a tall order for any dancer to play multiple roles that span the entire ballet. Karyna Shatkovskaya pulled it off with aplomb – traveling through the first act as a wide-eyed child excited for Christmas and ending as a mature woman of confidence and style as the commanding Sugarplum.

Her Nutcracker Prince, danced by Rustem Imangaliev, while courtly couldn’t match her calm. His tours en air had momentum and height, but his landings were dangerously off-kilter. The audience braced for a potential hard fall every time he launched himself into the sky.
 
The stars of the evening were Aiya Melis and Rafael Urazov who dance the Arabian variation, but also made an appearance at the first act party as wind-up Moorish dolls and at the opening of the second act as the doves of peace. Davyduik obviously wanted to capitalize on their appeal. However, he shouldn’t have bothered, as their awe-inspiring strength – body-bending lifts and acrobatics — didn’t reveal themselves until their last appearance in the Arabian dance.
 
Davyduik also wanted to take advantage of the potential for parents, grandparents and siblings to buy tickets by casting a throng of children in nearly every scene. While adorable, especially those who danced around and in front of the snowflake fairies, it was also distracting and detracting.  That was particularly the case in the second act where most of the real dancing happens. But it was hard to see the professionals with cute kids clustered at the rim of the stage blocking the audience’s view.
 
It's unclear why Davyduik didn’t use the children for the Mother Ginger portion of the dance, which is generally where “Nutcracker” choreographers cast their tiniest dancers. In this production, there was no Mother Ginger. Davyduik used the music instead to unite the Chinese, French, Arabian, Spanish and Russian (here dubbed Folkloric) couples in a friendly pas de dix.
 
Regardless, of all the many “The Nutcracker” ballets happening in the Capital Region, this remains one of the best for both production designs and strong dancing.
 
Finally, producers were wise to remove all references to Russia in the name of the company and in the ballet. Americans can't abide or support Russian treachery in Ukraine. However, art has the power to unite. I hope and pray it will.