Who ever thought New York City Ballet would give us an all-Martins program? For decades, director Peter Martins toiled in the long shadow of George Balanchine — the genius whose footprints he had to fill — and for half a dozen years was co-ballet-master-in-chief with another massive talent, Jerome Robbins.
Yet while all-Balanchine and all-Robbins programs have since become repertory staples, Tuesday night gave us the first show intentionally made completely of the Danish choreographer’s work. As part of the American Music Festival, the program featured some of Martins’ best pieces — and perhaps one too many.
First up was his first work: “Calcium Light Night” from 1977. It’s a pas de deux — sort of. First a man dances, starting and stopping as if he’s making the dance up on the spot. When he’s done, he walks off. The woman enters, flicking her legs to the brass. Charles Ives’ music sounds like a cacophony of old tunes played all at once. When it stops mid-thought, so does she.
When the two finally dance together, they barely connect. Instead, they write mysterious notes in the air with their fingers. He pumps her leg up and down and, on the last note, they push each other’s faces away. If they’re in love, someone should let them know.
The strength of “Calcium Light Night” is that Martins is trying new ideas. “River of Light,” from 1998, is what happens when that energy peters out. A dogged dissection of Charles Wuorinen’s avant-garde score, it features three couples who dance together, then switch partners. For every note the orchestra suspends in the air, someone moves a limb. It feels like a homework assignment.
“Barber Violin Concerto” (1988) was originally for two couples, one from the company and another of Paul Taylor-trained modern dancers. It’s now done only by company members. The first ballerina to dance it, Merrill Ashley, was a taut virtuoso. The original, if hokey, idea — she loosened up by doing angular poses with the modern guy — forced Martins to experiment. The current dancer, Sara Mearns, moves so lushly that the original point is lost in the glamour.
“Fearful Symmetries,” from 1990, is probably Martins’ best ballet — an insistent juggernaut set to John Adams’ propulsive score. The nonstop aerobics for the corps had echoes of the hard-driving ’80s. When the male leads threw the women around in violent duets, it recalled the “rough sex” defense of preppy killer Robert Chambers.
In Tuesday’s performance, Adrian Danchig-Waring extended his hand and Tiler Peck reached for it like bait as he led her offstage. But with her sweet smile and his calm demeanor, the dangerous edge was gone. All that was left was the workout.
Granted, no one is Balanchine, but Martins gets a bum rap because he’s a hard choreographer to love. He seldom seems to say what’s on his mind — and when he finally does, it’s interesting, but it’s rarely pretty.