Bodice in 'Wunderland'

Washington Ballet Work Has Rock-Solid Physicality, but a Paperback Heart

Just where was this land of wonder supposed to be in "Wunderland," Edwaard Liang's new work for the Washington Ballet? I'd say it was stuck somewhere between the pages of a Harlequin romance, where the otherwise upstanding heroine is ravished by the stable boy in a cloud of swoon so engrossing, you totally forget to turn over and tan your front.

Not that there's anything terribly wrong with a quick, sexy beach read, which is what I was reminded of in watching Liang's work Thursday at the Harman Center for the Arts on a program of three ballets that runs through tomorrow.

After all, it's seasonally appropriate.

It's also solidly representative of the neo-Balanchine brand of choreography that so many young dancemakers like Liang, formerly a New York City Ballet dancer, are creating. More than anything, it's a tribute to the body beautiful, particularly those of the women, who wear red leotards with plunging sweetheart necklines. The men are in flesh-toned trousers and tops. The music is Philip Glass (String Quartets Nos. 2, 3 and 5), not an especially inspired choice. What put me in mind of a bodice-ripping paperback was the way the women were all so prettily helpless and clingy.

Maki Onuki, fast becoming the company's go-to ballerina, danced with a weightless fluidity in her pas de deux with Luis Torres, but if it was supposed to be love, it was from a voyeuristically male point of view. He sails her through the air, she clasps her hands beseechingly in front of her in weak protest. She unfolds in a glorious attitude pose, her leg crooked up behind her, and he turns her by her knee, like she is a kind of machine. Then he swings her around his back with one hand and she ends up curled around his outstretched leg, head to the floor. Like a vine.

There was more clinginess between Jared Nelson and Elizabeth Gaither. She alternately collapses all over him and pushes him away. Snow falls, an incongruous but lovely touch. That's the thing about Liang's work: Those legs, those feet, that snow, all so visually beautiful -- it's pure escapist ballet, and we're sure to see more of him.

Balanchine's "Rubies," the central and showiest excerpt from his three-part ballet "Jewels," was hardly at its best with canned Stravinsky on a small stage. But if the dancing was not quite on target in the company's first effort at its tricky combination of nonchalance and marksmanship, it was delivered with high spirits. Sona Kharatian, as the leading soloist, is still feeling her way through the role's outsize dimensions -- she could channel a bit more Cyd Charisse in her legs; the high, dangerous kick isn't yet in her arsenal. But her moment came near the end of the first movement, when four men surrounded her, manipulating her limbs. Kharatian fixed each poor fellow with a devouring gaze, as if to assess how properly grateful he was to be handling her ankles.

Onuki slid like satin ribbon through the central pas de deux with Jonathan Jordan. She has always possessed fine technical facility, but in this role that rubbery body, avian build and natural cheerfulness telegraphed an intriguing mix of signals. There was abandon and control, flirtation and artless innocence -- the balance of power shifted between them in subtle ways.

Overall, "Rubies" needs more work. But do we really need more "Rubies"? As Balanchine ballets become like Starbucks -- one around every corner -- the Washington Ballet needs to ask itself if well-worn standards are the smartest use of its resources. The company looked best in Septime Webre's "Juanita y Alicia," which closed the program. This was the first work he created after arriving as artistic director a decade ago. Best of all, it is danced to Cuban songs performed live by the excellent band Sin Miedo. Call it a vanity production if you must -- Webre drew on stories his Cuban-born mother told him about her childhood, and Holly Highfill's reproduction of an old family photo forms the backdrop. But it is also full of authentic feeling: the bittersweet nostalgia of the son who wasn't around in those good old days, and deep affection as well as wit. Webre choreographed from his own experience for his own dancers. Unlike in "Rubies," there isn't the sense that the dancers are trying to force themselves into a mold. That's the great thing about having your own style -- as a director, as a company. It feels right.