Aurora means dawn. At New York City Ballet, there are Auroras — the princess at the heart of “The Sleeping Beauty” — and then there is Indiana Woodward, a dancer of inherent lightness and joy. Woodward is a young ballerina whose abandon gives a story ballet like “Beauty” not just care and aliveness, but a kind of modern soul. Doesn’t Woodward epitomize the idea of dawn? Her way of melding movement and music is bigger than ballet: She dances with an expanding heart, full of possibilities and new beginnings — not only in her dancing, but in dancing period.
In returning to the role of Aurora, which she debuted opposite Anthony Huxley in 2019, Woodward invested the character with new details seemingly born from her way of being. She didn’t approach the difficult balances of the Rose Adagio — in one segment, four suitors take turns rotating her in a circle and leaving her briefly unsupported until the next takes her hand — with trepidation, or worse, the sense that she was checking technical elements off a list, but greeted each with a sunny zest, even in moments of unease.
She never fell off pointe, but with each turn held her character close: A young woman gradually finding steadiness while looking brightly toward the next stage of her life. As the ballet progressed from the Vision scene — when the Lilac Fairy reveals to Prince Désiré that a sleeping princess lies waiting to be reawakened by his kiss — to the Wedding pas de deux, she illuminated the stage with speed and insistence, using her eyes, her spine, even throwing back her head as she swirled to add flourish to feeling.
In closing City Ballet’s winter season, “Beauty,” choreographed by Peter Martins in 1991, also featured a vivid opening-night cast with Megan Fairchild as Aurora, Joseph Gordon as Désiré and an enchantingly serene and otherworldly Mira Nadon as the Lilac Fairy. Maria Kowroski, a celebrated former principal with the company, returned for a reprisal of role of the evil Carabosse, which she played with wicked, glamorous glee. The Prince doesn’t have a lot to do in “Beauty,” but Gordon brightened the Wedding pas de deux with his windswept leaps and tender ardor.
And Fairchild’s Aurora remains one of gorgeous clarity. She still dances circles around everyone — with intelligence, with vitality and, like Woodward, the feeling of the dawning of a new day.
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This season also included debuts as Aurora for Unity Phelan and Isabella LaFreniere, who was promoted to principal dancer after Sunday’s final performance of “Beauty,” along with Nadon, Emilie Gerrity and Roman Mejia. Phelan, with the company veteran Andrew Veyette as her Prince, danced well — her brand of drama is wonderfully unfussy and that, along with the fluidity of her limbs, made her Aurora flow.
This was a first step in conquering the role. But there were glitches. During the promenade balances in the Rose Adagio, she seemed so fearful of missing her suitors’ hands that her chin dipped up and down. But later, when she more or less had the stage to herself, she moved with relish. In many ways, her interpretation was like her dancing — it grew over time. Veyette’s partnering, calm and assured, was an asset — the pair found synchronicity in ways that LaFreniere and Peter Walker, making his debut as the Prince, did not.
For a lyrical dancer like LaFreniere, Aurora posed challenges. Her opening balances were fraught and there were other moments when her supporting leg seemed to tremble, giving way to slips that left her connection to the music unresolved. Her variations in the Vision and Wedding scenes showed a more confident side of her dancing — robust, sleek, stretched out.
Walker’s innate air of mystery worked better in the Vision scene than in the Wedding scene; the pair’s fish dives were peculiar — instead of having LaFreniere, supported by Walker, sail smoothly into a diving position, her body stuttered into place. But Nadon’s Lilac Fairy, full of amplitude and splendor, was indelible. The way she lingered and glided through steps, stringing them together like pearls, made you wonder if the Lilac Fairy, not Aurora, was the star of the show.
Gerrity, also making a Lilac debut, was lovely, particularly for the fine, unwavering use of her arms and her overall allure. She is a mix of voluptuous and grounded — committed to the steps yet quietly in command of them. Emily Kikta, who debuted Lilac in another cast, was always in command, using her height and power: She dances beautifully big, she shows positions effortlessly, but with more flow, she could be jaw-dropping.
In a story ballet, every character, even the minor ones, matter. But with this “Sleeping Beauty” production, too much seems to ride on the dancers’ instincts. How else could Christina Clark as the Queen — imperious, elegantly aloof — be performing the same part as others who were so fussy and effusive? Some Queens looked more like a stage mother than a princess’s mother. The Countess was another brand of busy, in other casts: rolling her eyes dramatically, she waved her arms in exasperation as the prince maintained his distance moodily. Could anyone blame him?
The variations for the fairies, too, were sometimes hard to watch; the tempos, often rushed, turned many of them into an awkward sprint. The standouts stood out, including Nieve Corrigan (Vivacity) and Dominika Afanasenkov (Generosity), who showed the makings of a future Lilac Fairy in her musicality, her delicacy and her grandeur.
While “The Sleeping Beauty” offers moments for dancers to shine — its highlight remains George Balanchine’s contribution, the gloriously musical “Garland Dance” — it is still a Martins ballet. It suffers from theatrical whiplash and ponderous repetition; some variations speed by while others fizzle out. It’s not Martins’s worst dance, but bringing it back to the stage hardly signals a new beginning for the company. More like the opposite. When will his chapter of City Ballet finally be over?
Since Martins resigned as the leader of City Ballet amid allegations of sexual harassment and physical and verbal abuse in 2018, the company has been in a period of adjustment and change. An internal review commissioned by City Ballet’s board did not corroborate the allegations (and he has denied them). But there he was in the audience on opening night. It was disconcerting.
I get that “Beauty” is a cash cow. Audiences, especially lately it seems, fill the theater — to the rafters! But it’s a bad sign when the best part of a full-length production, beyond the section choreographed by Balanchine, is a wee scene featuring Little Red Riding Hood — here, tiny children sit cross-legged onstage swaying little trees while a boisterous Wolf is admonished by our adorable, cloaked heroine with a firm finger wag. Just as I want this ballet to be better, I want audiences to have better.
