Let’s talk about the elephant—or should I say, the entire absurd circus—in the room. Alexei Ratmansky’s new work for New York City Ballet is causing the kind of stir we live for. The Times calls it a “morality tale wrapped in farce,” and that phrase alone is a masterclass in artistic tension. It’s got me thinking: when did ballet become so… uncomfortably hilarious?
For years, we’ve placed Ratmansky on a pedestal as the narrative savior, the keeper of story-ballet flame in an abstract world. We expect profound human drama, psychological depth, tragic romance. But what happens when the world’s foremost narrative choreographer decides the most truthful way to tell a moral story is through the lens of slapstick, exaggeration, and outright silliness?
This is where it gets brilliant. Farce isn’t just comedy. It’s comedy amplified, distorted, holding a funhouse mirror up to human folly. By wrapping a morality play in these ridiculous trappings, Ratmansky isn’t dumbing it down—he’s sharpening the blade. The message might cut deeper because we’re laughing when we realize we should be cringing. It disarms us. In a pristine, often solemn art form, that’s a radical act.
Imagine the dancers: classically trained artists, masters of control and ethereal beauty, now contorting their faces, executing moves with a deliberate, comic awkwardness. It’s a testament to their incredible range. This isn’t just dancing a character; it’s deconstructing the very idea of “balletic” character to serve a bigger, messier idea. The sheer technical and artistic courage that requires is staggering.
This feels like a moment. In a cultural landscape saturated with self-serious commentary, Ratmansky chooses chaos and laughter as his delivery system. He’s forcing the elite world of ballet to not just *appreciate* humor, but to see it as a vehicle for serious critique. He’s asking the audience in the plush velvet seats to laugh, then immediately question *why* they’re laughing. That’s a powerful, subversive contract between the stage and the house.
So, is it a masterpiece? I don’t know. But it’s undoubtedly important. It’s a choreographer at the peak of his powers refusing to play it safe, challenging his own legacy, and, most thrillingly, challenging us. He’s reminding us that ballet isn’t a museum. It’s a living, breathing, and sometimes hysterically laughing, art form. And in 2026, that’s exactly the kind of vitality we need.
The curtain falls on the farce, but the moral of the story lingers, precisely because it arrived wearing a clown’s nose. Now *that’s* a magic trick only an artist like Ratmansky could pull off.
