Ballet Rhode Island’s ‘Peter and the Wolf’ and 2025 ‘Made on Hope’

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The company is always intentional and consistent with offering audience members from all walks of life – all ages, all backgrounds, the gamut – access points into the work. Peter and the Wolf, choreographed by Ballet RI Trainee Adele Walden, exemplified how they do that through family programming.

In that same welcoming spirit, the annual Made on Hope – a collection of premiere works – was also choreographed in-house, entirely by company members. Seeking fresh voices and nurturing the next generation opens the field all the wider, making it something that many can continue to savor. To boot, this year’s theme was “Intersections” – speaking of connection!

The accessibility offerings began right away with Peter and the Wolf: dancers inviting young audience members onstage to try out some steps, educating them on matters from etiquette to the role of music in the show to come, and even letting them hold a pointe shoe. The instructional tone was age-appropriate, warm, and engaging.

Audience members then had a chance to meet the cast members after the show. It felt clear that the goal at hand went far beyond offering a good show; Ballet RI is doing their part to build lifelong lovers and supporters of dance.

Also contributing to accessibility was voiceover narration (with that same effectively friendly tone). Characters had clear markers and motifs of both music and movement: a plodding oboe and flexed feet for the Duck (Eliza Jones), a light flute and spritely jumps for the Bird (Emma Halter).

The ensemble delivered their movement signatures with authenticity and command; the Cat (Hayley Donahue) was sassy, Peter (Erin Miller) offered a youthful élan, and the Wolf (Gina DeRoma) got mysteriously low and earthy.

Perhaps most importantly, they seemed to be having a blast with the work – which can make the audience experience all the more special, with this sort of programming in particular. They weren’t afraid to get delightfully silly: for example, the duck swimming on her belly and Grandpa (Jordyn Chepolis) fully leaning into the bit of “I’m elderly and tired, but still in charge here, please and thank you.”

Did this approach of fun and warmth work; did it capture young audience members’ attention and imagination? Toward the end, with the whole ensemble together onstage, the little one seated next to me excitedly said to her caretaker “they’re all dancing together!,” and other variations on that theme…multiple times. I think that just about says it all.

Made on Hope had a notably different feel, but that sense of warmth and welcoming into the work remained. Choreographers had an opportunity to share a bit about their work before it was presented. Whether through short videos or these sorts of opening remarks, that’s par for the course with Ballet RI: providing dancemakers with chances at translation to audience members, and for audience members to be better equipped with a bit more context.

Clay Murray’s explosive and tenacious Fractured Mirror kicked off the program. Motion accumulating, a spark from one dancer seemed to set others alight. Momentum escalated from there. The ensemble remained powerful and resolute through racing choreography: a high kick oozing into a popped toe sliding backwards, smooth yet muscular lifts.

Alexandria Troianos and Audrey Lukacz, with gorgeous attunement to their own and each other’s moving souls, were trusty soloists guiding them all. On an intellectual level, I did want to understand more about the stakes inspiring the high drama in the ether. On one of heart, I simply savored the mystery and visual beauty filling it.

Nina Yoshida-Webster’s soulful and thoughtful Nagame came next, a duet danced by Katherine Bickford Vigly and Garrett McNally. In her introductory remarks, Yoshida-Webster explained the title’s double-meaning, translated from Japanese: rain, but also perspective, gaze. Movement gradually built to a passion-filled, measured turbulence. The duet partners realized Yoshida-Webster’s keen kinetic vision with full breath and exponential energetic length.

A musical shift ushered in a softer feel of them resting in each other – as Yoshida-Webster had also mentioned, the shelter as the storm rages. A bit of turbulence remained, but now it seemed shared rather than solitary. To end, the duet partners looked up as they together stood in a center spotlight. The rain sounds from the work’s opening returned. They indeed had shelter through the storm.

Alexa Kearnan’s My Life is a Movie was cinematic, just as Kearnan had claimed: imagistic, carefully structured, and theatrical. Right from lights up, the dancers executed sharp gaze and clear images through the linear. The movement took its time, allowing the ensemble to explore its lilts, its rises and falls. After a crescendo, the movement going at breakneck speed, they all stopped on a dime. It was a beautiful demonstration of rhythmic variance, and its captivating impact on me an example of its effectiveness.

Through those nuances came a sense of exultation, of bliss in motion – but also one of yearning. That tension embodied Kearnan’s testifying to love for what she does and excitement about what’s ahead, but also recognition of what’s been lost because of the sacrifices that she’s had to make. A gestural motif of arms reaching toward but head leaning away reflected such duality. It’s an impressive work with true potential to make a very personal experience resonate much more universally.

Stephen Gunter’s sweet and soothing work came in three separate sections, titled by their score: EKAPT, Care For You Still, and Harvey. The passion and tension that Gunter described in his introduction were clear right away, built by the dancers’ theatrical touches. The movement vocabulary easefully rode the riffs in the soft rock, arms curving and balances shifting.

One might not expect rather classical movement to work well with that sort of music, but it did here. A little intentionality and rigor can go a long way. The structure of three pairings also felt effective; we could get a different flavor with each and each could have time to truly develop. Towards the end, the three pairings moved in quick succession, and then together – underscoring their commonality.

I Am Pagliacci was an inventive, thought-provoking work from Gianna DeMassio exploring the “sad clown” phenomenon: creatives, and performers in particular, experiencing significant mental health challenges. One persona seemed to be orchestrating a clump of dancers, them moving with a puppet-like quality – as if by an outside force. An artist’s life can certainly come with that feeling of things moving by forces beyond one’s will.

They smiled big and moved with jerkiness: exuberantly, expansively, lightning-quick. White gloves and those exaggerated movements instilled the idea of the clown. That sense of outside control deepened with a duet of a mysterious figure controlling the “maestro”. DeMassio keenly used manipulation of negative space (where another mover is not) to convey physical control.

The work came full-circle, ending with the maestro again poised before the orchestra, ready to lead them. Creative and personal lives continue to intersect and diverge, however accurately or inaccurately perceived from the outside.

The heartfelt and fiery Intertwined, from Troianos, closed the program. A group moving in unison shifted into deep contrast: dancers running by a soloist, moving slowly and anchored to her spot. Would her path intersect with any of theirs, as Troianos had referenced in opening remarks? Another structural chapter brought in athletic, tenacious, and highly rhythmic movement. Backbends and heads releasing back referenced opening hearts to people coming into our lives – a courageous act when they are bruised and healing.

The ending brought us back to the opening tableau, with some dancers lying supine and others gazing at each other. As long as we live, people will come in and out of our lives. That’s a deep and powerful truth, one that could kinetically translate because Ballet RI opened the space – and offered the support – necessary for Troianos to bring it to the stage.

It could translate to audience members, and leave the theater with them (in any way it might), because of that spirit of approachability by which the company operates. If we want dance to mean something beyond our own “bunhead” circles, we’ll need to follow Ballet RI‘s lead: continuing to refine and offer ways of keeping the art form’s doors wide open.

By Kathryn Boland of Dance Informa.

Alexa Kearnan, Alexandria Troianos, Audrey Lukacz, Ballet Rhode Island, Ballet RI, Choreographer, choreographers, choreography, Clay Murray, Contemporary dance, dance review, dance reviews, Eliza Jones, Emma Halter, Erin Miller, Garrett McNally, Gianna DeMassio, Gina DeRoma, Hayley Donahue, Jordyn Chepolis, Katherine Bickford, Katherine Bickford Vigly, Nina Yoshida-Webster, online dance review, online dance reviews, review, Reviews, Stephen Gunter