American Ballet Theatre at City Center, Thursday 10/23/03: Paloma Herrera dances as if music annoys her, as if it she suddenly feels it buzzing in her left ear like a gnat; she acknowledges it with a twitch, and then she swats at it, hoping to smack it dead. But it always comes back.

There! Got that out of my system.

Now, in alphabetical order: Sandra Brown. Jose Manuel Carreňo. Herman Cornejo. Xiomara Reyes. Don’t even ask me to be objective. I love everything they do and when I see their names on the program I get the happies.

Fast approaching the category above: Marcelo Gomes. Carlos Molina. Gillian Murphy. Maria Riccetto.

The program started with Maxim Belotserkovsky’s back … I mean, Symphonic Variations, by Sir Frederick Ashton. Leigh says it’s about love and war and peace. I thought it was plotless. Ashley Tuttle (who was so wonderful in Movin’ Out she made me cry) is back to her old trick of looking to me like the right swan at the wrong lake. She was doing something with the steps—but maybe she should have done something else.

Martha Graham’s Diversion of Angels was beautifully cast: Stella Abrera and Gennadi Saveliev in White, Sandra Brown and Isaac Stappas in Red, and the Flying Cornejos (Erica and Herman) in Yellow. Either I’m learning to like Graham, or they were just that good.

I usually don’t notice the orchestra unless something goes radically wrong, but in the case of Pillar of Fire, it went radically right. Achingly hushed and fragile, I marveled that I could still hear it up in the cheap seats. Gillian Murphy—here as Antony Tudor’s miserable spinster Hagar—ripens more and more every time I see her.

Raymonda was a mess. Sorry. Better luck next time.

Anna Kisselgorf's Review from the New York Times.