It takes a great choreographer to wrest a ballet out of Shakespeare’s “The Tempest.” But American Ballet Theatre boasts a new MacArthur “genius” in the form of artist-in-residence Alexei Ratmansky. Before a black-tie-gala audience Wednesday night that included Alan Cumming, Sigourney Weaver and Bebe Neuwirth, Ratmansky christened a shipwrecked-on-an-island tale that had promise but wasn’t all smooth sailing.
The ballet sticks closely to the Bard’s plot. Prospero, an exiled duke-turned-magician, meets his enemies again for a chance at revenge and reconciliation. For this, he’s assisted by his servants, the sprightly Ariel and the earthbound Caliban.
Santo Loquasto’s fanciful costumes gave Ariel a hairdo of spiked coral branches, and Caliban seemed part lion, part Wookiee. Loquasto’s set piece, a battered ship, seemed an homage to 19th-century ballet designs.
For his score, Ratmansky turned to Sibelius, the Finnish composer who’d written incidental music for the play in 1925. Though atmospheric, that music wasn’t meant for dancing, and it shows.
On top of this, Ratmansky jammed the action into every crevice of the music, but without Shakespeare’s dialogue, the characters have a hard time explaining themselves.
Ratmansky has a gift for making dancers look great, but Prospero’s role here didn’t use Marcelo Gomes’ gifts for passion or partnering. Instead, he looked stiff in a wig and robe that made him look like Jesus Christ, Superstar.
Daniil Simkin fared better as Ariel, in a showoff part with chain after chain of turning jumps. Herman Cornejo’s Caliban was rewarded with a poignant closing solo where he rebelliously ripped the pages out of his master’s books.
“The Tempest” really didn’t come alive until Joseph Gorak and Sarah Lane started dancing. As the young lovers Ferdinand and Miranda, they had the best choreography. The small, delicate Lane is an attractive ingénue, and Gorak, with his long legs and arched feet, is a star in the making. His slow, beautifully formed turns ended in eloquent extensions.
You could take away Shakespeare’s words, but with Gorak’s lyrical dancing, the poetry was still there.