Before Feb. 22, the extent of my experience with ballet was watching Barbie movies as a little girl. So, I went into the Cornell Ballet Club’s performance of Swan Lakewith an open mind and no expectations. The theater was small, every seat sold out with a row of people sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the chairs. The stage was closer than I’d anticipated it would be. I had considered bringing a notebook to jot down ideas for this article as I watched, but I’m glad I decided against it. From the moment the lights dimmed and the murmuring crowd quieted, I was transfixed.
The darkened, crowded theater swelled with orchestral music from unseen speakers. The tune was familiar — one of those pieces of classical music that everyone recognizes, Tchaikovsky’s “Swan Lake.” The soft pattering of slippered feet on the stage heralded the ballerinas’ entrance. It’s funny — I’d never taken into consideration the physical sounds of ballet beyond the orchestra. They appeared, one by one, their seemingly weightless white tutus cast in the blue and pink stage lights. I’ve always held a great degree of admiration for ballet dancers — the way they execute physically demanding steps with ease. These dancers were no exception. The movement of their arms was impossibly birdlike, emulating the flapping of wings. It was more than just their angelic, feather-adorned white costumes; at the same time they were ballerinas executing controlled steps, each and every one embodied a swan.
Awe is the only word that aptly describes what I felt watching them perform. Admittedly, I’m no expert in dance. I couldn’t name any of the complicated steps they executed so flawlessly, nor judge the difficulty of each. But as someone who enjoys beauty for the sake of beauty, this performance was an utter feast. There’s a reason ballet is equated with grace and elegance. When every ballerina was perfectly in sync, hitting an accent exactly on the beat of the music, it was magical.
The ballet wasn’t all serious, slow elegance either. There were moments of uptempo music and joyous, quick movement. I loved the “Dance of the Little Swans” in particular. It was the one variation I’d had prior knowledge of, and the reality did not disappoint. The four dancers, hands interlocked, moved to the fluttering music in harmony. Their synchronous movement was massively impressive and, beyond that, the segment itself was a breath of fresh air that set the stage for the more dramatic, sweeping dancing to follow. Another standout sequence was the coda (Yes, I did look up a list of the variations in Act II to be able to name it). Lively, energetic and triumphant, it was the perfect end to the performance. The soloist smiled as she danced it — an expression I found myself instinctively echoing.
My next foray into the world of ballet will be finding a full performance. This particular rendition of Swan Lake was an abridged version of the ballet’s second act, which meant it didn’t follow the general storyline. No prince came to save Odette from the curse of transforming into a swan. Rather, CBC’s performance centered the sisterhood of the swans themselves. As unconventional as it may have been, I feel that the abbreviated character did not detract from the show’s impact. In actuality, it allowed me to focus all my attention on the dreamlike dancing for its own sake. A first taste of the world of ballet — one that inspired a healthy appetite. I left the Schwartz Center wishing I could see more.
The Cornell Ballet Club is a new organization on campus this year, and Swan Lake was its first annual performance. I, for one, am glad it was established. Without the opportunity to see Swan Lake, I might never have discovered the joy and beauty that is watching a ballet performance in person. Unfortunately, Barbie of Swan Lake doesn’t do justice to the passion and joy radiating from the stage.
Melissa Moon is a freshman in the College of Arts and Sciences. She can be reached at mmoon@cornellsun.com.
