Press

From Stowell’s initial outing in this work, this small fleet dancer stood out for his velocity and poeticism. Now in this springtime ensemble he expanded boyish virtuosity into interpretive maturity. Stowell elongates the stretch and arc of his leg so luxuriously that it seemed a metaphor for waking from a long sleep. He renders his solo a mythic journey stepping zigzag through an unseen obstacle course.

The San Francisco Ballet reminds that there is more than one way to dance Balanchine, and its two leads, Christopher Stowell and Tina LeBlanc, adds an unusual spark of playfulness to the requisite verve.

Christopher Stowell, one of the troupes most distinguished artists, filled the role of Mercutio to the hilt, with buoyant virtuosity, witty swagger and an all-together impressive and detailed characterization.

And Christopher Stowell, a dancer one hates to see leave the stage. And dancing way beyond technique, he invents each movement spontaneously before your eyes yet conforms to classical form, pushes the limits and redefines them in the act.

The real star of the show was Christopher Stowell as Alain, who built the character very much on dance terms. Stowell, our cleanest technician and most scrupulous stylist of either sex, is perhaps our most interesting dancer. Alain’s idiosyncrasies shaped every move, especially when Stowell was in the air, and were never clearer than in the dancing itself: he shaped trajectories so that when he “stuck” his landing in a pose of exquisite silliness )that was simultaneously a beautiful rotated attitude), the image became an icon. The comic line was drawn with as sure a sense of the ridiculous as as little regard for the necessities imposed by gravity as if he were Mighty Mouse or Bugs Bunny.

I admire Christopher Stowell for his purity of style and frank manner. Stowell was the only one who got Agon right; in the second male role, he was vigorous, clear without calculation, and blessedly unassuming- delivering this astonishing choreography as if it had come fresh from Balanchine’s hand.

There was Stowell’s brilliantly ironic Mercutio, an achievement that will be very difficult for the company to equal in the years ahead…Stowell remains the complete classicist ( can there, should there be a Romeo in his future?). Saturday’s leaps, pirouettes and recoveries were exemplary, and so was the impersonation. His gnat-like Mercutio would have likely goaded a saint to armed combat.