The Tempest performed by the American Ballet Theatre (David H. Koch Theater) (review)

The Tempestmight seem to be particularly suited for adaptation to the ballet stage, given its masque with dancing nymphs and reapers. It is surprising, then, that it has been relatively neglected by choreographers (unlike, for instance, Romeo and Juliet, with its myriad dance adaptations). Alexei Ratmansky is only the third choreographer to translate the play into a major ballet, following Michael Smuin (San Francisco Ballet, 1980) and Rudolf Nureyev (Royal Ballet, 1982). Like Nureyev, Ratmansky created a one-act version of the play, and like Smuin, he focused on spectacle and magic. The primary innovation of Ratmansky’s adaptation was his visual and physical characterization of Ariel, Caliban, Prospero, Miranda, and the spirits. He also chose to use Sibelius’s incidental music, written for a stage production of The Tempestin 1926, which sets two portions of Shakespeare’s text for solo mezzo-soprano: “Full Fathom Five” and “Where the Bee Sucks.”

The program notes provided a lengthy summary, hewing closely to the events of Shakespeare’s play and interestingly omitting only the act four masque. The notes also described the ballet as “a fragmented narrative,” whereas the production was relentlessly linear, working hard to get all the play’s plot events and characters into forty-eight minutes of stage time. Ratmansky relied on pantomime sequences to recount the more detailed parts of the narrative. For example, Prospero told Miranda about his brother’s usurpation through a brief flashback. His spirits clothed him in his ducal robe and crown, and Gonzalo handed him a huge book, which he went aside to study intently, unaware when Antonio took the crown off Prospero’s head and placed it on his own. He banished Prospero through an imperious gesture, and Gonzalo helped Prospero retain the book. Later, the drunken Trinculo and Stephano moved with a rolling gait, bumped into each other, and fell down repeatedly. Trinculo mimed his disapproval of Caliban’s smell by holding his nose and waving his hands before reluctantly diving under the gabardine. Such narrative-driven sequences felt less like a dance version of the play than like a highly physical stage production.

Ratmansky was more successful in his evocations of the spirits and the central characters. The spirits were both beautiful and menacing, dressed in flowing turquoise draperies with spiky blue headdresses. Eight male spirits partnered eight female spirits, lifting them into the air, sliding them onto the ground, and tossing them to and fro in the opening scene, using their bodies to suggest the waters that engulfed the King of Naples’s ship. Ariel was a creature of fire and ice, clad in a full-length silver body stocking topped with an electrifying shock of red spikes on his head. Daniil Simkin was appropriately superhuman in the role, performing impossibly rapid and complex series of leaps and turns flawlessly, provoking audience applause at nearly every appearance. His manifestation as the harpy was terrifying, as he brandished huge red wings and laughed silently. Caliban, by contrast, when summoned by Prospero, moved heavily, dragging his limbs as though his feet were attached to the earth. He sank down to the floor and rolled around on it as he made his way to his master. His costume also indicated his connection to the earth; like Ariel, he wore a body stocking and a spiky wig, but unlike Ariel, his was mottled greenish brown with spiky tufts at his wrists and calves, and his headpiece was mossy green. He essayed some powerful and intimidating jumps when threatening Prospero and Miranda, but was immediately conquered by...