Going to the American Ballet Theatre for me was like a dream. The 6-year-old in me was jumping and dancing, the 12-year-old was trying to do all of the moves they did, and the present version of myself, 17-year-old, was mesmerized and melancholy at the same time. My initial reaction walking up into Lincoln Center was that it was a beautiful square. The fountain in the center surrounded by huge buildings on the sides was a beautiful architectural layout. I thought it was interesting to see women in ball gowns walking around next to little girls at the ice cream truck. I loved the marble floors and high ceilings of the actual buildings. Everything seemed like it was one giant piece of art, like the theatre was a museum itself.
As far as the actual ballet, I absolutely loved the first performance, The Brahms-Haydn Variations. I’m into big productions like that and I could only imagine how long it took to practice and perfect (though I did, of course, notice a few imperfections). The second performance, Monotones I and II, I thought was very seductive in that there were only three dancers. We were drawn then to every detail of their movements, they could hide no mistakes. It was interesting to see how the three bodies interacted with each other. The third performance, The Green Table, however, I completely hated. I know by saying that I’m going against mostly everyone else, but I came to see classical ballet, not a comedy. These dancers did not train their whole lives to wear outrageous masks or, in the case of the Marcelo Gomes, repeat the same 4 steps over and over again. I understand they were trying to tell a story, but there is still a story in the bodies and movement of the first two performances, and the dancers did not have to make fools of themselves. Watching the ballet made me a little nostalgic for the days when I thought I would be one of those dancers on the stage, and my body twitched with muscle memory, aching to move like that again.