A Night That Started With 17 Women in Blue
Picture this: the curtain rises, and there's no story, no plot, no characters. Just 17 women in long blue tulle, arms raised toward a distant light. That's how Serenade opens, and within seconds, you forget you're watching a ballet from 1934. It feels like now.
The Royal Ballet's recent triple bill didn't just honor George Balanchine's legacy—it made you wonder why we ever stopped talking about him in the present tense.
When Precision Becomes Emotion
Here's what makes Serenade devastating: the discipline is the drama. A dancer falls. Another rushes to catch her. Someone turns the wrong way, then rights herself. Balanchine built these accidents into the choreography, but they don't feel planned—they feel human. The Royal Ballet's corps moved with that uncanny unity that makes you hold your breath, each arm perfectly aligned, each step hitting Bizet's strings like they'd rehearsed in their sleep for years.
Critics used words like "luminous" and "transcendent." But what they meant was: this ballet still hurts in all the right places.
The Son Who Crawls Home
If Serenade is ethereal, Prodigal Son is brutality in tights. The title character doesn't just leave home—he explodes outward, leaping into the void with the kind of reckless confidence that makes your stomach drop. And his return? He crawls. Actually crawls, dragged across the stage by his own remorse.
The Financial Times singled out "thrilling debuts," and they weren't exaggerating. Watching a dancer commit that fully to Balanchine's vision—throwing their body into each fall, each desperate reach—isn't just impressive. It's uncomfortable in the way great art should be.
The Finale That Feels Like Champagne
Then Symphony in C happens, and suddenly you're at a party. Fifty-two dancers, four movements, zero fat. This is Balanchine showing off what classical technique can do when it stops apologizing. The corps moved like a single heartbeat, radiating pure joy that had the audience leaning forward in their seats.
Gramilano called it Balanchine at his best. Hard to argue when you're watching ballet that makes you want to call your friends and say, "You should've been there."
Why We're Still Talking About Him
In 2025, when TikTok choreography goes viral and dance trends die before lunch, Balanchine remains stubbornly relevant. Not because he's "classic"—but because he understood something essential: ballet doesn't need a story to break your heart. Sometimes, it just needs 17 women in blue, reaching toward something they can't touch.
The Royal Ballet proved that his work isn't a museum piece. It's a live wire.
Missed it? Keep your fingers crossed for a revival. Because some choreography doesn't age—it waits for the right dancers to wake it up.
—DanceWAMI
