American Repertory Ballet
New Brunswick Performing Arts Center
New Brunswick, New Jersey
March 7, 2025
Spirit of the Highlands (world premiere)
Jerry Hochman
Sometimes theatrical productions, including ballet, are so brilliantly conceived and presented that they can make an awestruck viewer cry. Sometimes they’re all that, and so magical, entertaining and fun to watch that they make a viewer sing. American Repertory Ballet’s Spirit of the Highlands is an example of the latter. It’s a serious ballet, but it’s also pure and unapologetic joy.
Staged and choreographed by Artist in Residence Ethan Stiefel after August Bournonville’s La Sylphide, Spirit of the Highlands celebrated its world premiere Friday night – and celebrate is the appropriate word.
The title of this review is not a typo. There are multiple “spirits” evident in Spirit of the Highlands: the sylph in La Sylphide, who is a spirit of the Scottish Highlands by definition; the Highland style of dance that is reflected in most of the dance in this production, and the spirit of good cheer and superb performances that permeate this piece like nothing else American Repertory Ballet (ARB) has presented in years, and, as I’ll explain below, that distinguishes it from “standard” La Sylphide productions.
Not only is it the finest piece of work that Stiefel has presented since he became affiliated with the company, it’s an audience-pleaser that can, and should, be emphasized as such. By the time of this review’s publication it’s probably too late to see Spirit of the Highlands during its current four performance run. But when it returns, and it must, it should be seen. And bring the kids, the grandparents, and the aunt who you only see on special occasions. This is a special occasion.
Why am I so excited about this? The story has been around for centuries in one form or another. The ballet La Sylphide has been around for nearly 200 years and is a staple of ballet companies worldwide. [American Ballet Theatre, whose production of it was the first one I saw, has inexplicably mothballed it for many years. New York City Ballet has two versions – one choreographed by Peter Martins that’s faithful to the original, which NYCB hasn’t performed since, by my records, 2016, and an adaptation of it by George Balanchine titled Scotch Symphony, which is similar to, but a distillation of, the original, that was most recently in that company’s Winter 2025 repertory.] So what’s the big deal? This is just another La Sylphide.
It is – and yet it isn’t.
Seth Koffler and Clara Pevel.
in Ethan Stiefel’s “Spirit of the Highlands”
Photo by Rosalie O’Connor
La Sylphide is recognized as having been loosely inspired by early 19th Century French author Charles Nodier’s 1822 story, “Trilby, ou le lutin d’Argail (Argyll),” with the characters changed in the ballet’s libretto (written by French tenor and librettist Adolphe Nourrit) from a goblin/elf loved by a fisherman’s wife to a bewinged sylph lusted after by a besotted farmer (James), and involving the intervention of a cruel witch (Madge). The ballet premiered at the Paris Opera in 1832, choreographed by Filippo Taglioni for his daughter Marie, who became ballet’s first superstar largely as a result of this ballet.
After seeing it in Paris, August Bournonville, a dancer and choreographer for the Royal Danish Ballet, wanted to mount a version in Copenhagen, but the price of the score (written by Jean-Madeleine Schneitzhoeffer) was too high. So Bournonville commissioned his own score (composed by Herman Severin Løvenskiold) and choreographed his own version based on the original libretto. It premiered in 1836, and the lead role was danced by the then prodigy who later became, like Taglioni, another ballerina superstar, Lucile Grahn.
Taglioni’s version has been irretrievably lost (although attempts have been made to reconstruct it). Bournonville’s has been in the active Royal Danish Ballet repertory since its premiere, and is considered to be the oldest continuously performed Romantic ballet. This is the version (including the Løvenskiold score) that most ballet companies present, and that Stiefel adapted for Spirit of the Highlands.
As was the case with many of his story-telling contemporaries (like the Brothers Grimm), Nodier’s stories like Trilby told moral truths and had unhappy endings. The story of the evil witch Madge triumphing over the selfish James, whose passion for the sylph is in stark contrast to his lack of charity and cavalier attitude toward everyone else in the piece, is somewhat of an unpleasant surprise to audiences unfamiliar with it. There’s no catharsis, as in Giselle (a hugely popular Romantic ballet that followed on La Sylphide’s heels – or pointe shoes – in 1841); just a sudden and depressing dead thud at the ballet’s end, with James alone and in guilty despair, and the somewhat unwelcome moral: ‘don’t chase after impossible dreams; you’ll end up losing what you had.’ And it has a collateral message (which some might consider central): ‘be kind to a poor visiting stranger’.
Spirit of the Highlands maintains that teaching lesson; it’s faithful to the story. But along the way it’s exciting and significantly light-hearted – enough to overwhelm that unhappy ending. Indeed, even with the sad ending, somehow you feel like you’ve been invited to a party.
Annie Johnson and American Repertory Ballet
in Ethan Stiefel’s “Spirit of the Highlands”
Photo by Rosalie O’Connor
Cynics might assert that Stiefel had it easy here – he had a ready-made template. That’s true, but it misses the point. The style of dance, including the choreography and staging of it, are different from “standard” Bournonville presentations. Of equal or greater significance is that Spirit of the Highlands is neither a museum recreation nor a relic of a bygone era. It’s one of those rare productions that brings its audience in, transporting viewers onto the stage and into a town in the Scottish Highlands, participants in, as well as watchers of, the story.
Credit for this dance’s success is shared by all involved: the costume designer, Janessa Cornell Urwin; set designer Howard C. Jones; lighting designer Joseph R. Walls, and a host of assistants and supervisors who executed the requirements of each component part. And of course to Stiefel.
Stiefel has said that he was inspired to mount Spirit of the Highlands by his own Scottish roots, via Clan Munro, and wanted to create, or recreate, the dancing in La Sylphide using authentic Highland Dance. With the assistance of Highland Dance Consultant Kenra Monroe, that style has been recreated here – down to the fingertips. [A helpful attendee advised to be on the lookout for the particular way the fingers are presented in Highland Dance. And sure enough, the finger-positioning is distinctive, even more so than the difference between classical Russian and French positioning and Balanchine neo-classical finger-positioning.]
American Repertory Ballet
in Ethan Stiefel’s “Spirit of the Highlands”
Photo by Rosalie O’Connor
But there are more differences than just finger-positioning. Highland Dance has a kinship to Irish step dance, and I could see indications of that style here. But, differently from Irish step dance, here the emphasis is upward rather than downward into the ground, and arms generally are raised overhead rather than held stiffly at the dancer’s sides. And rather than being individually focused, even in a group context (touching isn’t allowed), here there’s a greater sense of camaraderie and social cohesion – even though Highland Dance, in a different context, is considered a competitive sport.
Abetted by Jones’s expansive Highland sets (including its glorious Highland backdrop) and Urwin’s authentic-looking costumes (all of which, as tartans, reflect Clan Munro colors), Spirit of the Highlands has Highland spirit aplenty. And, emphasizing the “statement” that Stiefel is making, the stage is bordered in Clan Munro tartan, and the theater curtain has been augmented with the Clan Munro shield that contains the clan’s inspirational words to live by, or to fight by: “Dread God.”
A portion of this dance’s success can also be attributed to the NBPAC stage, which condenses the performing space, in contrast to larger stages on which La Sylphide is presented, which dilute it. But Highland spirit in this production is primarily carried home by the performances of all the ARB dancers. There were two different casts; I saw the cast that performed on opening night.
Clara Pevel (center) and American Repertory Ballet
in Ethan Stiefel’s “Spirit of the Highlands”
Photo by Rosalie O’Connor
I’ve written about Clara Pevel before. She has the equipment (strong technique; attractive stage appearance) to be a company go-to whenever a story ballet involves a sweet-looking, ethereal presence. It’s no surprise that she was cast as the Sylph here. She even looks a bit like Marie Taglioni based on photographs I’ve seen of that legendary ballerina.
Pevel started out somewhat nervous-looking, at least to me, which isn’t surprising since, to my knowledge, this was her first opening night leading role. That’s an observation, not a criticism. She worked out of that quickly, contributing secure pointe work, but, more importantly, being in character at all times. She was a playful, child-like sprite whose feet never seemed to quite touch the stage floor, inherently alluring but at the same time totally innocent in an otherworldly sort of way. Her appearance, whether considered “real” or a dream (many, including myself, can argue that it’s both), is as seductive to a dreamer of a man as a Black Swan is to a certain prince, but in a totally different way.
That dreamer of a man is James (here named, not surprisingly, James Munro), asleep on a chair on his wedding day, who suddenly spies this beguiling creature emerging from behind that chair. Played by Seth Koffler (in what I think was also his first leading role), his characterization of James as a self-absorbed dreamer was spot-on. That being said, he concurrently comes across as a “nice guy,” not as egocentric as those I’ve often seen in the role. He’s not a cad (as Albrecht is in Giselle); one can see why Effie and the Sylph might be drawn to him.
Seth Koffler and American Repertory Ballet
in Ethan Stiefel’s “Spirit of the Highlands”
Photo by Rosalie O’Connor
However, based on what I’ve seen from him previously, I didn’t think he was capable of the virtuosic physical requirements of the role. But he surprised me. Not only did he consistently and cleanly execute the requisite jumps and entrechats and the Highland Dance that Stiefel added, he did so in a quality way, appropriately detached, but with panache.
Gurn (as in grrrr), James’s foil who loves James’s fiancée, was portrayed by Tomoya Suzuki, whom I don’t recall seeing previously. Suzuki’s Gurn here is a second fiddle (in another context, he might be Sancho Panza), but also one who, appropriately, is critical to the story. Whatever his role required – forcefulness, meekness, a comedic display, or bravura execution, he delivered. His performance here was outstanding.
That fiancée is Effie. The audience first sees her being dressed for her wedding while James is chasing after his Sylph. She spends most of the time, however, resisting Gurn’s advances and crying over James’s inexplicable absences, all while preparing for her wedding that day. But she’s also an opportunist. When James disappears yet again, she decides that Gurn will do, since she already had the gown and like what else was she supposed to do, be a spinster or …a Willi?
I’ve seen Annie Johnson many times, always, as I recall, in secondary roles. I considered her competent, but not exceptional. That evaluation has now been updated. While Effie doesn’t have much dancing to do here (she does dance, but that’s not what’s critical to her role), her rendering as a confused, suffering bride-in-waiting must be delivered properly. Given the opportunity to display her acting capability, Johnson rose to the occasion. If there is a way that Effie is supposed to be portrayed (and I think there is), Johnson’s is it. Perfect.
Madison Elizabeth Egyud
in Ethan Stiefel’s “Spirit of the Highlands”
Photo by Rosalie O’Connor
Indeed, the entire cast looked perfect for their roles, including the one whose performance is the glue that holds everything together. As conceived here, Madge is an evil witch (or, as the character is identified here, a Celtic High Priestess and Mystic), but she also generates the fun that permeates this presentation.
Madge was portrayed by Madison Elizabeth Egyud. Although I recall seeing her name and watching her in the context of a group, I don’t recall anything about her performances that I’ve previously seen, aside from her physical appearance, that stood out; I really had no idea what she was capable of. I do now.
The following statement may appear outrageously over-the-top, but it’s how I saw her accomplishment here. Egyud is one of the finest Madges I’ve seen. Ever. And I’ve seen some of the best. To say her performance here was shockingly good would be an understatement. Every step she took and every move she made, although obviously calculated and rehearsed, was brilliantly delivered and breathtaking to watch. Her timing, mime, and demeanor were exceptional each and every minute of her performance. Her Madge, the ballet’s “bad guy,” was pure delight.
Madison Elizabeth Egyud (center)
and American Repertory Ballet
in Ethan Stiefel’s “Spirit of the Highlands”
Photo by Rosalie O’Connor
And then there were the remaining members of the cast. I could spend multiple paragraphs lauding their performances as well; I didn’t see a weak link in the bunch. The cast included the Laddies and Lassies who executed Stiefel’s Highland Dance choreography so well (respectively, Tiziano Cerrrato, Mario Elefante, Roland Jones, and Eduardo Ramos; and Emily Cordies-Maso, Erikka Reenstierna-Cates, Michelle Quiner, and Savannah Quiner), the twelve Sylphs, the five additional named characters, and Madge’s Druid entourage (Matias Caneles, Derek Fox, and Felicia Garo) who would have stolen every scene they were in had Egyud not been so dominant.
None of the ARB dancers appearing here is a ballet household name. Yet. But they prove a point. Talent is not limited to what one can see in New York City or Philadelphia (or San Francisco, or Houston, or Seattle, or Boston…). In the more than fifty years since I started going to ballet performances, the level of quality in every nook and cranny of the ballet world has exploded. There’s exceptional talent to be seen everywhere.
So the next time that Spirit of the Highlands is presented, at NJPAC or elsewhere, New York or Philadelphia ballet-goers should make it a destination, rather than the other way around. I’d see it again in a heartbeat.
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