Among the highlights of Kevin McKenzie’s three-decade tenure as American Ballet Theatre’s artistic director was his inclusion, and nurturing, of touchstone Frederick Ashton ballets. None was more revelatory and glorious than the production of Ashton’s Sylvia (1952) that entered ABT’s repertory exactly 20 years ago. It has returned only sporadically, since it’s not exactly a sure-fire box office winner, but during ABT’s current Metropolitan Opera House season it returned, after nine years, for a full week of performances featuring five casts. 

(Sylvia is scheduled for five performances at Segerstrom Center for the Arts in Orange County next April.)

When ABT introduced it in 2004, Sylvia was a glorious if slightly quirky delight to discover. Even the Royal Ballet, for whom Ashton created this three-act mythologically derived work, had not danced it for four decades before it was lovingly revived for the 2004 Ashton centennial by Christopher Newton– whose deep knowledge dated back to its beginnings when he performed in it as a student. He also staged the ABT co-production; the current revival was staged by Susan Jones, ABT’s regisseur.

The ballet is blessed by a superb score by Léo Delibes, composed for the 1876 original Paris Opera version. There are several stunning choreographic sequences, including the captivating woodland opening ensemble for a dozen sprightly naiads, dryads, fauns and satyrs. As with the equally magical ensemble opening dances of Ashton’s The Dream, this sets a magical tone that draws the audience into an otherworldly realm as soon as the curtain rises.  

Its multi-faceted titular ballerina role, created for Margot Fonteyn at the peak of her career, provides terrific challenges for contemporary ballerinas – and four of them tackled it this year. A huntress nymph in service to Diana, Sylvia leads a fearless ensemble of eight fellow amazon-like nymphs in the early act one dances that establish her dynamic, if haughty persona. The bold, defiant assertiveness of their leaps is thrilling, as is the horn-dominated Delibes music. But things get messy once men invade their turf. Aminta, a shepherd whose solos display elegant line and innocent yearning, is no threat, and his amorous approach inspires only scorn from Sylvia, whose higher calling includes a vow of chastity. Orion, a more primitive type, foregoes any niceties and simply seizes what he covets.

The ballet’s hero, Aminta, is sadly passive. Supposedly sent by the god Eros to rescue the captured Sylvia, he comes up short in this mission. Sylvia takes charge of her own situation in the second act. Trapped and despondent after being captured by the boorish Orion, she sternly rejects his advances, then outsmarts him. She adopts a false playful seductiveness long enough to trick him and his servants into a drunken stupor, enabling her escape. It’s then up to Eros to propel the plot towards its third-act resolution and the lovers’ ultimate harmony, transporting Sylvia to where the lamenting Aminta awaits.

Much as I adore Sylvia and thrilled to its return, I must admit that Act Two is marred by kitschiness and some overly cute moments. It’s reminiscent of Bournonville’s Napoli in that one bears with Act Two as a byway to the upcoming delights of Act Three.

For that is when Ashton pulls out all the stops. Accompanied by an array of glorious Delibes melodies bursting with vigor, the processional in honor of Bacchus builds in excitement as buoyant, surging groups enter and interweave. The act culminates in the heartfelt intimacy of his choreography that finally unites Sylvia and Aminta. Their deeply eloquent adagio opens with his bearing her aloft in triumph gradually displays their delight in the other’s touch.

Catherine Hurlin, a robustly assertive, no-nonsense Sylvia whose deep femininity ultimately emerged, and Calvin Royal III, whose innate elegance and creamy phrasing were on stunning display in his yearning first-act solo, led Sylvia’s opening-night cast. I also saw the luminous, long-limbed Chloe Misseldine display febrile force and dynamic power in act one, convey feminine wiles in act two, and flower into dewy classical purity in the final act. Her Aminta was Reece Clarke, a tall Royal Ballet principal who blended pristine technique with a robust dramatic presence.

As Orion, both the forceful Cory Stearns and the proud-but-misguided Jose Sebastian avoided the role’s potential silliness. Carlos Conzalez’ Eros – the ultimate deus ex machina – was a figure of nobility and calm, with a nimble detour into gentle comedy in the scene where he disguises himself to restore Aminta to life and send him off. David LaMarche’s conducting brought out all the verve and subtle details of the Delibes score.

It’s certainly not Sylvia’s plot that distinguishes this enduring work; rather, the pristine beauty and musical subtlety of Ashton’s wondrous choreography gives a serviceable story its indelible poetry.

Susan Reiter covers dance for TDF Stages and contributes regularly to the Los Angeles Times, Playbill, Dance Australia and other publications.

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