Atlanta Ballet's Rite of Spring reminds teacher of playground

The Atlanta Ballet packed the orchestra and first balcony on Valentine's Day with two pieces that reached me as no other ballet has done.

A piece to music by Bach fascinated me at the time. Bach's music is so abstract and steady: How do you make dance without a dramatic story? Writing this months later, I'm afraid I don't recall more detail than that. But the draw for me that night was the other dance on the bill.

Stravinsky's head-banger The Rite of Spring has pumped up my heart rate since I was a teen. I'd never heard it live, and the arrangement by conductor Jonathan McPhee for a reduced orchestra did not stint on those eerie effects (high bassoon, bird song, sharp contrasts of volume and texture) and the violent ecstasy of those pounding chords and unpredictable jabs.

But the dance that embodied the music affected me strongly -- and everyone speaking excitedly during our exit. The choreographer Claudia Schreier, in a video played before the dance, says that she alluded to other versions in her new version. I wouldn't know: being a word guy myself and no dancer, I've paid little attention to ballet in my 65 years.

But I taught middle school for 40 years, and recognize in this Rite of Spring the energy, neediness, and cruelty of early adolescence. There were runs and leaps, dances in circles, packs of dancers chasing others: typical playground activities.

Like middle school, where the bodies of males and females are not differentiated yet, the differences between the sexes were blurred by diaphonous loose-fitting tunics. Males going with females would suddenly push them away -- so middle school, so cruel.

The most painful moment for me was an almost comical movement. Imagine a playground of children, legs stiff and wide apart, standing in a circle around a girl who has been knocked on the ground. In sync, they all hop a bit closer, then a bit closer.... It was awkward and incongruously menacing.

Despite the energy and athleticism and the power of synchronized movement, there were signs of insecurity and pain. Elbows pinned high at an awkward angle; slouching movements; sudden falling and rising. Some stage images called to mind gang warfare in West Side Story, while others brought to mind the undead in films. Stage fog and vines encroaching from the ceiling added to the zombie effect.

I consulted a review by by Robin Wharton, Arts Atlanta, Feb 12, photos by Shoccara Marcus.