The ballet for 12 dancers told in 12 sections was both strange and something of a perfect fit. The resplendent crown of City Ballet’s Diamond Project, “Russian Seasons,” an endearing, capricious example of playful refinement, are being performed this week in the company’s season at Saratoga Springs, N.Y.
In “Russian Seasons,” with its folk sensibility, sly humor and bold, bright strokes, Mr. Ratmansky’s goal was to explore his Russian roots; the resulting ballet captures his wonderfully uncanny spirit. The artistic director of the Bolshoi Ballet, Mr. Ratmansky trained at the Bolshoi before performing with the Royal Winnipeg Ballet and the Royal Danish Ballet. He understands the modern world, yet he is also an old soul with a tender touch who can readily identify the humor in pathos and the pathos in humor.
But while “Russian Seasons” is deeply rustic and Russian to the core — recurring themes are love and separation — it also points to a universal place: all cultures have their share of superstition, spiritualism and whimsy. “Russian Seasons,” set to music by Leonid Desyatnikov, is an earthy ballet, full of personalities, and this is where Mr. Ratmansky, with his outsider status, achieves something quite remarkable: his cast members, selected for their disparate qualities, dig deep within the surface of City Ballet to create a unique world.
Handsome costumes by Galina Solovyeva — flattering Empire-style, knee-length dresses for the women and silky ensembles with matching boots for the men — transform the stage into a moving painting, awash in vibrant color. The women also wear matching pillbox hats with chin straps, though it’s a mystery why they are removed midway, then strapped on again for the ballet’s “Closing Song.” They’re splendid and, more important, of another time.
The ballet begins with four men — Antonio Carmena, Adam Hendrickson, Jonathan Stafford and Sean Suozzi — standing casually. Suddenly they snap their feet and arms into fifth position and leap straight in the air for double rotations. Albert Evans, crouching in the foreground, darts across the stage with silky agility. Everything is instantly distinct: the vocabulary is classical, the use of weight is daring, but we could just as easily be watching a knockout scene from a Gene Kelly musical.
After the group dance, in which Mr. Ratmansky shows his aptitude for moving dancers in dynamic, crisscrossing patterns, is a chilling solo for Sofiane Sylve. In “Lullaby” (sung by the mezzo-soprano Susana Poretsky), she is full of panic, like a mouse caught in a maze. Translated lyrics explain her mood: “Oh, to marry me/To an old man/Oh, I hate the old man.” Running forward and back, she flexes and points her feet, as if epitomizing the force of a shriek.
Jenifer Ringer, Alina Dronova, Abi Stafford and Georgina Pazcoguin close in on her like a chorus, clapping, while Ms. Sylve lifts her arms and lets them fall in despair. Finally, trapped by three male dancers who form a circle around her spinning body, she ducks underneath a pair of hands and escapes.
While all the dancers meet or surpass their promise in “Russian Seasons,” Ms. Stafford has never danced with more joy and lightness. In the third section, “Song for St. George’s Day,” she playfully breaks through Mr. Carmena and Mr. Hendrickson’s linked arms and, while on point, straightens her left leg to the side, swings it backward into an attitude pose and pauses in passé before striking an arabesque.
With all of her strength but none of her usual toughness, Ms. Stafford breezes through the steely footwork until, stopping at the edge of the stage, she massages her calf. Turning sideways, she stretches her leg while other couples, in pairs, bow elegantly. Mr. Suozzi is the last to leave, but Ms. Stafford lingers with a hand outstretched in the shadows. He grabs it, and they scamper offstage.
The setting turns somber in “Song for Whitsuntide,” in which Wendy Whelan plucks imaginary flowers (a line taken from the lyrics) and grieves for a lover who has not returned from the war. “He is not coming, he doesn’t send a letter/He forgot me.” Ms. Whelan, with her ethereal ability to show sorrow in the simplest of gestures, crouches, her elegant fingers shielding her face.
Even though it’s clear that Mr. Ratmansky has made Ms. Whelan, along with Mr. Evans, the centerpiece of the ballet, it is Ms. Ringer, the most deeply committed actress of the three principal women, who embodies the deepest interior narrative. In the haunting “Song for Ember Days,” Ms. Ringer doesn’t so much dance with Mr. Stafford, Mr. Suozzi and Amar Ramasar as drift along in their memories.
