Review: DON QUIXOTE at San Francisco Ballet

Don Quixote is a curious outlier from the rest of the ballet canon in that its only intention is to celebrate our collective capacity for joy and frivolity. If you’re wanting to be deeply moved or lose yourself in a multilayered story exploring the human condition, look elsewhere. In the immortal words of Stephen Sondheim, this ballet is definitely a “tragedy tomorrow, comedy tonight” situation, chock full of sight gags, pratfalls and whimsy (even the live donkey is wryly humorous). And of course, scads of spectacularly fizzy dancing, otherwise there would be no point to the whole affair. If you don’t walk out of the performance with a big ol’ smile on your face, something has gone terribly awry. Opening night of San Francisco Ballet’s Don Quixote did indeed succeed in spades by that measure, even if the performance also included a most unsettling mishap just before the final curtain. But more on that later.

SFB’s version of Don Quixote features additional staging and choreography by Helgi Tomasson and Yuri Possokhov, but primarily sticks to the famous set pieces devised by Alexander Gorsky and Marius Petipa well over a century ago. We still get the “Kitri Jump” of mid-air splits where the ballerina’s back leg extends so far behind her that her heel threatens to smack the back of her head, triumphant one-arm lifts, coquettish snapping of fans, and the can-you-top this finale where the energy starts at an 11 and only ratchets up from there, basically Fourth of July fireworks on steroids.

The celebratory mood is abetted by the late Martin Pakledinaz’ vibrant costumes in the kind of intensely saturated tones normally found only in tropical fish. The women are swathed in miles of ruffles, the edges in contrasting colors to give them an extra pop, like some kind of exotic sea creature. Which is entirely appropriate since Pakledinaz’ main set features an ocean vista so alluringly aquamarine it practically begs you to jump right into the Mediterranean.

The story, mind you, is a mere trifle, a pale gloss on Cervantes iconic novel that serves only to provide the most gossamer of connecting tissue to justify all the dancing. Basically, Kitri wants to marry town barber Basilio but her dad has other ideas, then he relents and everyone has a big party. That’s it. The title character and his trusty squire, Sancho Panza, play only minor roles, popping in now and then to punch up the comedy. They also mime a subdued opening scene that intentionally throws you off the scent for the coup de theatre when the stage picture suddenly transforms from sepia into glorious technicolor, a la Dorothy Gale’s entry into Munchkinland.

On opening night, the performance overall felt just a shade “under” for much of Act I, the dancing a tad tentative here and there, the work behind the partnering showing a bit too much. But then in Act II the whole thing snapped gloriously into place and even the hokier scenes played like a house on fire. When the house lights came up for the second intermission, the audience was abuzz, like “Now, that’s what we came to see!” In the central roles of Basilio and Kitri, Francesco Gabriele Frola and Sasha De Sola were sublimely in tune for the seductive scherzo where they progress from puppy love to something more substantial (Is there any ballerina anywhere who falls in love onstage more convincingly than De Sola?), their bodies swooning into each other. Isabella Devivo infused her wild-child solo as the Reina Gitana with so much fire and fury I thought she might combust. (If SFB ever brings back West Side Story Suite, I’d kill to see her tear through the role of Anita.)

Surprisingly, the Act II dream sequence – sort of a classical palate cleanser between the fireworks that can often feel a little sludgy in comparison – was the highlight of the evening. Senior ballerina and sublime technician Frances Chung as the Queen of the Driads (the very definition of luxury casting) set the tone, exquisitely in charge, paradoxically angular and supple so that every turn of her head and flick of her feet carried a specific attitude, communicated a specific message. Then Julia Rowe added to the fun as a mischievously buoyant Cupid, all impetuous hummingbird-fast footwork and flibbertigibbety fingers (I could go on for days about the expressiveness of her hands; they seemed to transcend flesh and bone). It was impossible not to laugh out of sheer giddiness. But wait, there’s more, as De Sola entered in prima ballerina mode to cap the whole thing off. Her solo variation culminated in a hop-and-stop sequence that was positively jaw-dropping, her balances otherworldly, her changes in tempo extravagantly risky, her turns both refined and lightning-quick.

In the following Taverna scene featuring much of the cast from Act I, it seemed that any previous jitters had magically evaporated. Jasmine Jimison made a marvelously bendy Mercedes while Fernando Carratalá Coloma smoldered and devoured the stage as her partner, the bullfighter Espada. De Sola and Frola seemed to have a blast romping through his faked-death scene. When she grabbed his hand to her breast in mock sorrow and he used that as an opportunity to cop a feel, the exasperated look she shot him was priceless, like “Really?! You’re doing that now?!” Even better, Jihyun Choi and Seoyeong Yun were fleet and delicious as Kitri’s Friends, snappily in synch yet each their own woman, Choi slightly crisper, Yun more willowy. Their roles can be seen as sort of “Kitris-in-Waiting” and I could easily imagine either of them making a terrific Kitri before long.

By Act III, the hijinks and high spirits of the wedding celebration seemed guaranteed to bring the performance to an ebullient conclusion with lighter-than-air dancing by the corps and the surefire rousing closer of the wedding pas de deux. The adagio mostly went beautifully at first, including a textbook unsupported balance that drew audible gasps from the audience, though a would-be heroic overhead lift meant to swoop down into an elegant fish dive looked a little wobbly and more death-defying than it should. Both dancers recovered nicely, with De Sola irresistible in her fan-snapping solo and Frola astounding with the extreme elevation of his jumps and sense of wild abandon. Alas, perhaps too wild. In his final variation, Frola landed awkwardly coming back to earth after an especially hair-raising leap, and immediately left the stage, unable to finish the last several minutes of the ballet. De Sola and the rest of the company valiantly soldiered on, she somehow flawlessly whipping out her 32 fouettés like nothing was amiss. But it was hard to shake the pall that had fallen over the audience. Seeing a dancer get injured onstage is a thankfully rare yet gut-wrenching illustration of just how perilous their artform can be.

Hopefully, Frola will soon recover and come back to thrill us again before long. Since he will remain out of commission for the time being, I should mention that this run of Don Quixote will feature several different pairs as Kitri and Basilio, including some fabulous artists who are getting their first crack at dancing the leads, such as the always exciting Joshua Jack Price who will be dancing Basilio opposite the fabulous Nikisha Fogo as well as Sasha De Sola. But SFB’s roster is so stacked with incredible dancers that you really can’t go wrong.

This run of Don Quixote marks Val Caniparoli’s retirement as a dancer after having been part of the company since 1973(!) What an amazing performing career the man has had, dancing principal roles before maturing into zillions of character parts - fathers (as in Don Q), monarchs, Drosselmeyers and such. But not to worry, his career as a choreographer continues to thrive, so he’s hardly saying farewell to the ballet world. Still, the kind of longevity he’s enjoyed onstage is almost unheard of, so attention must be paid. Bravo, Mr. Caniparoli!

[Postscript: As is SFB’s recent wont, the program concluded with a sort of after-performance performance in the grand lobby that was another complete misfire. An undeniably talented trio performed traditional Spanish flamenco - the real stuff, gutsy and dark and devastatingly emotional – so completely out of context that it made for a jarring non-sequitur after all the fizz and fun of Don Q. Why not just trust that the ballet alone is enough and send the audience home still vibing with electricity from the rip-roaring choreography and superlative dancers?]

(all photos by Lindsey Rallo)

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