On October 19th, 2024, the Indiana University ballet program performed four
consecutive, yet extremely unique, ballets that I never expected to witness. Typically, when I
envision ballet, I picture your traditional dancers executing elegant movements across the stage
to orchestral symphonies, adorned in fluffy tutus, heavy makeup, and pointe shoes. And, per my
expectations, this year’s Fall Ballet began exactly in that manner with the new Mouvement
Joyeux by Durante Verzola and the classic Tarantella by George Balanchine. However, after a
brief intermission, I found myself in awe of the astounding performances in front of me: Ken
Ossola’s Silence and Jean-Pierre Bonnefoux’s Shindig were unlike any ballets I could have ever
imagined, complete with an on-stage singer and a live bluegrass band.
To begin, I’ll share with you some of my very positive (and slightly generic) thoughts on
the first ballet, Mouvement Joyeux. It was pleasant, perfected, bright, and airy, with dancers that
flitted around the stage like butterflies in exclusively teal and white costumes. This style and
presentation cooperated perfectly with the gleaming blue lights and Mozart’s orchestral melody,
all blending into an amalgamation of exactly what you’d expect to see when you enter a ballet:
gracefulness, beauty, and joy – per the name, Mouvement Joyeux, translating to “joyful
movement.” As I watched this piece, I was pleasantly satisfied. It was a charming production to
witness. Nothing too special, but simplistic and meant to elicit joy – which, for me, it did. I
found Mouvement Joyeux to be very enjoyable, particularly during the second movement when
the motions of the lead dancer, Lillian Smith, were hypnotically perfect. While this ballet was
traditional and nothing too crazy, it was fun to watch! I find ballet beautiful in any form.
Similarly, the second ballet, Tarantella, was even more technically traditional than its
predecessor, as the dance was created in 1964 and is based upon Italian folk myth and custom.
Composed of only two performers, the dance presented a woman and a man clad in vivid,
colorful, bouncy clothing that immediately reminded me of the bull and matador in a bullfight.
Their dancing resembled a bullfight as well, as the woman in bright red jumped and lightly
avoided the advances of the man. I was enthralled the entire time I watched this rendition of the
Tarantella. The dancers looked like they were purely having fun, smiling and laughing to themselves (and making the audience laugh with their facial expressions) as they pranced across
the stage to the rapid, upbeat music by Louis Moreau Gottschalk. At some point during the
performance, each dancer even brought out a tambourine that additionally contributed to the
whimsy of the show. I greatly enjoyed watching the Tarantella. But, similar to Mouvement
Joyeux, it was a traditional ballet. Slightly more energetic and exciting to watch than the former
performance, but nothing entirely unexpected. The Tarantella was invigorating to witness; and
yet, it could have never prepared me for what I was going to see next.
After intermission, the lights dimmed and the curtain slowly rose. Suddenly, my jaw
dropped. On the stage were countless dancers, standing straight-faced and straight-postured, man
and woman, all wearing the exact same miniscule light blue shorts, tan tank-tops with a red stripe
down the back, and no shoes. The background music: haunting. That is the only way I can
describe it. Rather than a distinctive melody, the soundtrack to this ballet was a combination of
clicks, quick percussion, and some faint piano. It felt yearning, despondent; haunting. Abruptly,
all of the dancers began to move. None moved in sync; all moved gracefully yet eerily. Their
movements felt like a combination of contemporary dance and ballet, and there was a steady
flow of dancers appearing on stage and disappearing through fog into the blackness behind them,
constantly circulating and acting uniquely from each other. Roughly halfway through the
hypnotizing performance, a singer materialized seemingly out of nowhere, and she began to vocalize sorrowful lyrics about loneliness and depression, adding to the eerie tone of the ballet.
Throughout the performance, variation did not particularly occur – it remained a
contemporary-traditional combination, only transitioning in musical aspects. I felt hypnotized
and chilled the entire time. It was beautiful, and entirely unique from anything I have ever seen.
Silence was a once-in-a-lifetime performance to witness. Unlike all the traditional ballet I
expected to see at the Fall Ballet last week, Silence solidified a new standard of creativity.
Finally, last but certainly not least, the next ballet that I was able to watch was by far my
favorite. It was fun, it was light, it was happy. It was, quite literally, a shindig. Begun by a
collaboration between The Greasy Beans, a bluegrass band, and Frenchman Jean-Pierre
Bonnefoux, Shindig is an artfully-crafted mixture of classical ballet and American southern
culture. Complete with a live bluegrass band that stood in the left corner of the stage, this ballet
was the most fun performance I have ever seen. As soon as the curtain lifted, the band jumped
into action and instantaneously played rapid, uplifting bluegrass music that forced the audience
to clap along as the dancers began to flit around the stage. Initially, couples sauntered out into a
scene resembling that of Oklahoma!, and quickly commenced dancing. But instead of the
graceful, elegant movement that I saw in the first two ballets, this dancing was bright, jumpy, and similar to a combination of the waltz, two-step, and polka – all common southern dances in the
United States that can be danced along to bluegrass. Each segment of Shindig coincided with a
different song from the band, and they centered around different couples, men pining after one
woman, and all of the men jumping around in cowboy hats. I found myself clapping along to the
music, fighting the urge to dance along in my seat. The dancers also looked like they were
enjoying themselves, prancing to lively music with their friends during the final segment of their
fall performance. This ballet was special, bridging two distinctive genres into one harmonious experience. Shindig left me feeling giddy, filled with a light that I could only sense as a result of
the ballet’s nature. It was a beautiful, artistic, ingenious performance.
Overall, the 2024 Fall Ballet at Indiana University was a rollercoaster of an experience.
The audience, including myself, was able to witness classic ballet, contemporary dance, and a
modern hoedown without even moving from our seats. We were taken from joy to excitement to
loneliness to giddiness in the span of two hours! And while this thrilling ride was complex and
temperamental, I am incredibly grateful that I was able to attend. I experienced two of the most
unique live ballet performances I imagine I will have the ability to witness in my lifetime, put on
by none other than my own university. On a larger scale, however, the transition from classic to
experimental through the Fall Ballet, I feel, signifies in some sense our need to welcome modern
change into the world of art, despite the fact that it is often perceived as either meaningless or
elementary, or both. And after viewing Silence and Shindig, two contemporary ballets, I believe
that I back that argument wholeheartedly: Encourage evolution in art, no matter how different
new art may be. Art is art is art. Mouvement Joyeux is art. Tarantella is art. Silence and Shindig
are both art. I witnessed true art last weekend at the Fall Ballet: creativity in its truest form.
Photos courtesy of IU Jacobs Ballet Instagram
