Company: Analia Farfan / Ajkun Ballet Theatre
Choreographer: Chiara Ajkun
Performer: Analia Farfan
Disclaimer: I was so enamored with the presence and the performance of Analia Farfan that, as a reviewer, nothing I say can be considered remotely objective. I want to know where her shrine was constructed so that I can go there to make offerings and worship. I’m just sayin’…. LJ
[This disclaimer must be prominently displayed in any reviews of, or concerning, the dancer Analia Farfan.]
Farfan is that rarest of dancers – one that doesn’t even have to move. Taking her place on stage, striking her opening pose and waiting for the music cue, she is a thousand watt light illuminating the auditorium. Dancers all smile on cue, but this is so much more than that. Farfan has what can only be described as a radiant countenance. Maybe that’s just a more expensive smile – I don’t know. But when she tilts her face ever-so-slightly upward – she lights up the cheap seats.
I’m not familiar with Don Quixote, or much of the classical ballet repertoire for that matter, but I know that it frequently gets mined for excerpts such as this solo. I’ve seen a few YouTube variations but nothing prepared me for the immediacy of this performance. Yes, I’ve seen some ballet and ballet films, but nothing this close, this personal, with an artist of this caliber. These weren’t the large, graceful movements you see from the thirty-sixth row in a program produced by the local ballet academy. Here, at the front of the stage, every detail, every nuance of this stellar talent’s performance was on display, and though my limited experience and capacity only allowed me to understand a fraction of what I was seeing, it was revelatory.
The fantasy-inducing, classical Spanish costuming in this program is arresting all by itself. Add a beautiful, classically trained ballerina (particularly, this ballerina), throw in an elegant lace fan, cue the orchestra, watch her rise effortlessly on pointe – fan aflutter, a look of obvious joy on her face – and I’m reduced to a mesmerized, speechless bumpkin. I may have had my mouth open – I don’t remember.
I am singularly unqualified to comment on the actual dance. As part of a classical repertoire, it has no doubt been performed a thousand times by some of the best dancers in the world. Since this was the only time I had seen it, obviously I thought it could never be better than this and that I was witnessing perfection itself. Plus, Farfan wasn’t just a dancer, she was an exotic character who interacted constantly with the audience. From her exuberant leaps to her coy little expressions behind the fluttering fan, she was dancing for us and communicating to us.
I’ve been exposed to very little ballet, and nothing that was performed at this level. What blew me away was how immediately recognizable the differences were in even the most basic elements compared to different dance styles and to dancers with less training.
Articulation:
She didn’t make a gesture by moving her arm. Her arm made five precise movements to complete a gesture. The isolation and precision are so fluid it looks like a single motion. If you don’t believe me, check the slow-mo replay.
Extension:
I finally saw the true meaning of extension, a term I’ve tossed around like I knew what I was talking about. Here was the ballerina on pointe – and the beautiful line created through her calves and legs, extending through her spine, her neck, her upturned face, her outstretched arm and finally, her expressive fingertips. She was beautiful, she was ten feet tall, and in an instant – I got it.
Expression:
Dancers’ bodies make the move, their expressions sell it. There are happy dance performances – this one was joyful. You may think I’m taking this over the top, but I’m serious. She wasn’t smiling – she was expressing joy. I have no doubt that this is a learned and highly rehearsed, actorly, skill – but it’s one that, as a consummate professional, she has clearly mastered. She was able to direct it, convincingly, through the lights and into the audience – where we were privileged to bask in it.
If all of this sounds a little pathetic to the dance cognoscenti, like I’m some simpleton who is just now discovering the difference between nickels, pennies and dimes and is excited to show you, cut me some slack. I was witnessing a dance that remains (for me) an exotic form, performed at an astonishing level by a great beauty who seemed to possess effortless and endless talent. It slayed me.
For people who are steeped in the ballet traditions and privileged to see the best companies in the world, this could probably be any Saturday night. Do they remember the first time they were exposed to this much elegance, this much precision, this much sheer beauty? I don’t think I’ll forget it. This had already been an aesthetically pleasing, visually rich evening. Who knew the dial could actually go to eleven?
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