by Karen Backstein
The big news for New York City Ballet’s Eclectic NYCB III program was Tiler Peck’s Symphonie Espagnole, which premiered at the company gala two days before. It ended an evening that began with a sublime Opus 19/The Dreamer and included the return of Alysa Pires’s Standard Deviation in between. After Peck’s success with Concerto for Two Pianos in 2024, there was plenty of buzz for this sophomore work, not least because of her grand aspirations.
Every choreographer who also danced for NYCB must eventually confront the legacy of George Balanchine. Many do so unwittingly, or inescapably, including Balanchine’s male disciples, John Taras, John Clifford, Jacques D’Amboise, and Peter Martins. Even Jerome Robbins, already well established when he joined NYCB, labored under Balanchine’s shadow. Justin Peck’s career may be one of the exceptions, where he seemed as much in Robbins’ debt as Balanchine’s. But Tiler Peck showed her debt to Balanchine early and approached the issue with intention: she stated that she wanted to create a “big ballet,” one that used the stage fully and featured many dancers. The Balanchine masterpiece Peck was inspired by, and aspired to, was Symphony in C. She deserves points for chutzpah.
As soon as the curtain rose, the homage to Balanchine was visible. Peck arranged groups of one man with two women – a configuration he frequently used. (See Tschaikovsky Piano Concerto No. 2.) Following that, there were other familiar motifs: the principal ballerina spinning in front of a diagonal line of dancers, getting handed to the cavalier by the male corps, or standing behind the female corps that blocked the man from reaching her.
Allusions abounded, not only to Balanchine but also to Robbins, especially at the start of the adagio, when three women entered and linked arms, evoking the trio of ballerinas in Dances at a Gathering. But with the exception of the second section, the movement lacked the logic and flow that make steps seem inevitable. Was it Édouard Lalo’s music, not as suited for the task as Georges Bizet’s irresistible – and danceable – score for Symphony in C? In fact, this work is often thought of more as a violin concerto than a symphony. (Ed: And Leigh will be digging deeper into this in his review of another cast. Stay tuned!)
That wasn’t the only challenge posed by the music. There were those quickly recognizable tropes, in this case “Spanish,” in both the music and steps that serve as a shorthand for nationality, authentic or not. Lalo wove them throughout the symphony, borrowing from popular native themes. Although Peck didn’t lay it on thick, they’re in the heavily red (mixed with black) costumes by Robert Perdziola and the flamenco-like backbends, occasional “olé!” arms, and, for one brief moment, the zapateados or stomping footwork. But this was at best paying lip service, rather than digging in.
Indiana Woodward and David Gabriel led the up-tempo first movement. Both are among the most skilled and appealing dancers in the company. And, as they proved later in the season during their Coppélia, they can make a great partnership. But here, nothing quite gelled. They each zipped through arduous solos. The music may be allegro non troppo, but the dance felt troppo. All those big steps designed to make an immediate impression. Gabriel tackled the turns à la seconde, the manège, and many, many double tours. As Peck noted in her interview in The New York Times, “Guys, seriously, do you know how many double tours are in this piece?” The corps, as promised, did them too. For Woodward, there were piquant footwork and balances, the Balanchinean Russian pas de chat, the piqués. When Gabriel didn’t partner Woodward, the male corps did. And everyone in the background joined in for the fireworks. There was so much to see, and it all felt breathless.
The second movement brought a welcome surprise. In what already was a star-making season, Kloe Walker gave a performance luminous in technique and personality. Backed by an all-female corps, she whipped off a torrent of turns. This section was no simpler than the one before, but she handled this tour de force without losing her cool. She had a brightness and joy that made everything seem simple. It all felt warm and natural, as if she were enjoying a paseo, that Sunday stroll around the square common throughout Spain. She paused in an attitude turn, held the balance, and smiled at us. Amidst the section-by-section patchwork of costumes, the cutesy tutus from the first movement disappeared here in favor of a longer red dress, and those tutus stayed lost until the coda.
Roman Mejia led in the men, deployed much like the male regiment in Stars and Stripes. Between this and Zakouski, he’s been charged this season with doing a lot of flamboyant, masculine posing. So he leapt, he spun, he dropped to his knee, he stood still and looked proud. Sometimes he stomped, and sometimes the whole group did palmas, the rhythmic clapping the accompanies flamenco guitar. And nobody does swagger better than Mejia. He radiated charm even as he tossed off the most complex combinations of entrechats, cabrioles, and twisty jumps. But unlike his spectacular choreography in Concerto for Two Pianos, a lack of flow again hindered the effect. The bravura sequences proceeded in fits and starts, interspersed with walks and poses, never becoming dynamic. You wanted the choreography to take off the way Mejia did when he rose into the air.
The adagio came late, too late, after the three livelier sections. It calmed and quieted the atmosphere instead of naturally leading up to a sparkling coda. When the grand ending began, it had to start from scratch. But music dictates order – unless, of course, you’re Balanchine and willing to play with the composer’s score. Mira Nadon once again worked her magic, partnered by Ryan Tomash and backed by three excellent couples (India Bradley and Victor Abreu, Lauren Collett and Harrison Coll, along with Mary Thomas MacKinnon and Davide Riccardo). Nadon lavished attention on every single position and shape, as Tomash swept her up or as she turned in plié, her foot arched against his leg. Peck used the backing couples to create contrast and interest. But it was hard to brush away memories of other pas de deux that inspired this one. This was lovely, but not unique.
Everything culminated in a coda that felt busy rather than exciting, more predictable than fresh. All the dancers got a shot to shine again, Woodward turning and Gabriel leading his group of men in those double tours. Walker showed off her long line and balance, while Mejia executed his jumps and turns. Tomash entered, rolled on the floor as Nadon balanced above him. There were fish dives for all, the men lifted the woman first in splits and then straight up, and turned them in attitude.
Peck the choreographer possesses the same qualities as Peck the dancer: intelligence, taste, and an eagerness to tackle the hardest technical elements. Taking it easy is not her style. Everything she does is diligently thought out and carefully constructed. But inspiration is an amorphous thing. Even Balanchine mostly referred to himself as a “craftsman.” (“God creates, I do not create. I assemble and steal everywhere.”) While the dancing and dancers offered much to enjoy, ultimately Symphonie Espagnole was not as cohesive as her previous work for NYCB. The various parts didn’t fit as smoothly together, with some being stronger than the whole. This was solidly constructed, but was it the rousing closing ballet the company longed for?
Alysa Pires’s Standard Deviation, set to a score by Australian composer Jack Freer, was the centerpiece. Inoffensive yet forgettable, it’s one of those middle ballets that drop the program’s energy. This was not from a lack of effort on the dancers’ part. NYCB’s website description emphasizes individuals and groups “breaking away from the collective body,” and those constant breakaways gave everyone a moment in the spotlight. Although Abreu, Naomi Corti, and Emma Von Enck were the leads, with Abreu and Corti as a couple, the “corps” included a host of soloists (Gabriel, KJ Takahashi, Riccardo) and up-and-comers like Ruby Lister and Olivia Bell. Everyone gave their all in the sometimes-chaotic choreography. Takahashi and Gabriel, in roles below their pay grade, did even more, and Von Enck, had plenty of movement that seemed both frenetic and anguished, in keeping with the jazzy, sometimes dissonant music.
The gem of the evening was the opening and oldest ballet: a superlative performance of Jerome Robbins’ Opus 19/The Dreamer by Joseph Gordon and Alexa Maxwell. As the title suggests, Opus 19 is all about atmosphere: at its best, the dancers seem to float through a mysterious dream, not so much telling a story as capturing a feeling. Gordon and Maxwell brought an unprecedented level of commitment to the choreography. From the start, Gordon’s port de bras had weight and power, as if he were pushing through resistant air – or moving through a fantasy without being fully awake. He had both energy and classical beauty, and the technical challenges barely seemed like challenges at all. Maxwell matched him with sharpness and intention in every step. When her body bent low, she went limp. When she stretched, she took it to the edge, pulling away for him, and he had to grab her back. And when she bourréed away, she seemed phantom-like, a figment of his imagination. There was musicality in the way she let a gesture linger, taking her time. Both went for broke – as the corps did too – and it all came together to create magic. Gordon and Maxwell have become the finest interpreters of this work in recent years – perhaps ever, which is saying a lot as the originators were Mikhail Baryshnikov and Patricia McBride. The best wasn’t saved for last.
Copyright © 2026 by Karen Backstein
Opus 19/The Dreamer, Standard Deviation, Symphonie Espagnole – New York City Ballet
Lincoln Center, New York, NY
May 9, 2026
Cover: Kloe Walker and Mira Nadon with New York City Ballet in Symphonie Espagnole. Photo © Erin Baiano.
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