Every spring, City Ballet fans hold their breath. Not just for the return of warmer weather, but for the company’s most ambitious repertoire—a mix of crystalline classics and daring new works. This year, the season promised a fever dream of athleticism and artistry. What we got was a beautiful, frustrating, and at times, dispiriting reminder that ballet is as much about the fall as it is about the flight.
Let’s start with the highs, because they were genuinely breathtaking. There were moments on stage that felt like pure alchemy—dancers finding a new rhythm, a lift that defied gravity, a duet so intimate you felt like an intruder. The spring repertory showcased some of the most exciting young talent in the company. You could feel the energy shift in the room when these artists stepped forward. They didn’t just perform; they inhabited the space, turning familiar choreography into fresh discoveries.
But for every glittering pirouette, there was a stumble. And I’m not just talking about technical errors. There was an air of fatigue that hung over certain performances. Some of the seasoned principals looked like they were going through the motions, their faces betraying a silent "been there, done that" that cut through the magic. The stamina required for City Ballet’s spring season is legendary, but this year, it felt less like a heroic push and more like a survival march for a few key dancers.
Then there were the "dispiriting downs" the critics can’t stop mentioning. Some of the new choreographic works felt like inside jokes—cerebral puzzles that left the audience cold. You could feel the restlessness in the orchestra section. We want to be moved, not confused. And while innovation is the lifeblood of any great company, not every experiment needs to make it to the stage of a grand spring gala. A misstep in programming can turn a night of potential transcendence into a long, awkward date with your watch.
Perhaps the most frustrating element was the inconsistency. One night, the company was untouchable; the next, the same ballet felt flat and under-rehearsed. For the price of a ticket and the anticipation that builds for these performances, the audience deserves a reliable level of excellence. When that wobbles, it feels personal.
So, is this the end of an era? No. But it feels like a pivot point. City Ballet is at its best when it balances the sacred with the surprising. This spring, the balance tipped a little too far into the dark, the difficult, and the draining. The fever broke—but not without leaving a few of us hoping for a cooler, clearer head in the fall season.
For fans like me, it’s a reminder that loving a company means weathering its off-nights. But it also means holding them to the standard they have set for themselves. Spring fever is a treat. Let’s just hope next year, the diagnosis is pure joy, with none of the aches.
