Pennsylvania Ballet's "Program IV'

"We Can Do Anything" should have been Pennsylvania Ballet's title for its May performance. In a well-balanced program the company performed works as wildly different and separated by time and choreographic sensibilities as can be imagined.

It began with George Balanchine's Square Dance, which ballet's great classical innovator created in the 1950s. Balanchine was interested in the linear patterns of square dance and its gracious bowing and nodding gestures. But what he choreographed has ballet dancers transforming the bowing and promenading of the square dancer into ballet movement.

The music is Vivaldi and Corelli, so we're definitely not talking Hee Haw here. For those with the eye to see it, this is a beautiful transcription of square dance's formal structure into neo-classic ballet.

One thing uniquely Balanchine's is the addition of a grand pas de deux. Amy Aldridge and Zachary Hench performed this technically demanding duet with razor-sharp precision, looking at times almost like a beautiful abstract geometric pattern forming and reforming on the stage, which is just what Mr. B. would have wanted.

Robbins revisits Diaghilev

Afternoon of a Faun is Jerome Robbins revisiting the Diaghilev era solo performed by Nijinksy. In its earliest Paris 1912 version, it was actually considered a bit naughty. Scantily clad lady dancers were one thing, but a scantily clad man was quite another.

There is nothing naughty about the Robbins version, in which a solo has become a duet between a woman and a man. The music is Debussy's Prelude Ó l'Après-midi d'un Faune, a haunting sound with just the suggestion of a wail coming from the flutes.

The set is a ballet studio with ballet barres on each wall. A male dancer lies on the floor, and we see the shadow of a woman moving beyond the wall, ever closer to the doorway. Julie Diana, the lovely wisp with gorgeous technique, wafts into the studio and our sleeping hero quickly wakes up. With a series of perilous and beautiful balances, the dreamlike encounter between these two unfolds. It's a quiet dance, all soft gestures and gracious turns. As beautifully and simply as it began, it ends with Diana (faun, dream creature?) drifting out the doorway and disappearing.

Skirts for men, too

Last year the Netherlands-based Annabelle Lopez Ochoa choreographed Requiem for a Rose for Pennsylvania Ballet. Ochoa uses the music of Schubert's Adagio from the Quintet in C as the setting for a bouquet of red roses, 12 dancers wearing petal-like red skirts, men and women alike.

A mysterious presence opens the dance: a woman dressed in a green leotard with a red rose in her mouth. Ochoa called her the "heartbeat," but Abigail Mentzer could easily be confused as the serpent in the garden. Mentzer is excellent, helped along with a gorgeous head of red hair that she can make look like her own red skirt when she leans over and it cascades to her feet.

Riolama Lorenzo and Francis Veyette performed a difficult pas de deux among the dancing roses, who grouped and regrouped as a bar of silver slowly descending from above. When the silver bar reached the ground, all the roses disappeared behind it.

Mentzer the heartbeat/serpent reappears, walking toward the audience. The rose drops from her mouth. She falls to the ground. Either the heartbeat stopped, or the serpent expelled the roses from the garden. Who knows? Either interpretation works in this audience friendly ballet.

Some call it noise

The program ended not with a whimper but a huge bang: the company's premiere of In the Middle, Somewhat Elevated, an extremely experimental ballet created by one of the world's most challenging choreographers, William Forsythe, an American who lives and works in Germany.

This is a ballet with no beginning, middle or end. It suspends all performance expectations. It's not a come-on for applause, it's a serious exploration that asks: What is dance? What is music?

The stage was barely lit. There were no smooth edges or lovely flowers in this work. Forsythe uses music that most people would call noise"“ banging, rattling, squeaks and wails. It's a wall of noise that hits the audience, something close to hearing a train speeding by while thunder rattles overhead.

This is a strenuous dance in which the performers are constantly moving, although always oddly and unexpectedly. Arantxa Ochoa had a solo where, moving on pointe with her back arched forward, she looked like a spider rather than a ballerina.

Shock of the unfamiliar

The guys executed wicked jumps and then kicked sideways. Abigail Mentzer and Jermel Johnson were saucy in a clever duet that utilized their flexibility and ability to jump. Zachary Hench and Riolama Lorenzo's duet also stood out.

None of this was easy. None of the steps or sounds was familiar, and it must be said that some people in the audience left early. They missed out on something special.

Classical ballet isn't just white tutus. Choreographers like Forsythe push the envelope, forcing audiences to leave behind their preconceptions. It's a great addition and a brave one for Pennsylvania Ballet's repertory.