
The question is often asked, how do you attract young, diverse audiences to old classical ballet warhorses? Some ballet companies have tried a star-studded cast or updated productions that are not bogged down by outdated mime sequences and character dances. Still, studies show that ballet audiences are aging and decreasing.
American Ballet Theatre (ABT) may have inadvertently found one solution. ABT’s multi-ethnic casting in La Bayadere may render some answers to the challenge of audience diversity. On the night that I attended (Saturday May 23) there were noticeably more people of color in the audience and might I add more young folks, as well.

With Misty Copeland’s memoir “Life in Motion:Unlikely Ballerina” still being on The New York Times bestseller list, undoubtedly many audiences members came to see Misty Copeland in La Bayadere as Gamzatti. Still, Copeland being a woman of color dancing the second female lead Saturday night may have added to a younger, more diverse crowd.
Paradoxically, La Bayadere is set in India where there are lots of brown people. And in the ballet’s nearly 150-year history, Misty Copeland is one of the few women of color to dance one of the ballerina leads.
But this incongruent casting is all too common in classical ballet. From Don Quixote to Le Corsaire to brown characters in the Nutcracker, Petrouchka, and Raymonda, ethnic themes with brown/black characters have been whitewashed. Only now does there seem to a slight glimmer of change.

When it comes to the dancing, Copeland as Gamzatti was in her element. Though cast in this role since 2012, injuries have prevented Copeland from performing Gamzatti frequently. Setbacks aside, Copeland brought the right combination of technical brilliance, stagecraft and regal austerity to Gamzatti. This is a role for an actress ballerina who can breeze through several technically difficult solos while staying in character. Copeland rose to the challenge.
All the technical gifts are there, as well as a keen sense of stagecraft. However, at this juncture in her career, Copeland is maturing into an artist with great depth. Where some ballerinas would be content to whip through multiple fouette turns and high developpes, Copeland employs these pyrotechnical feats as a reflection of Gamzatti’s determination to win Solor at any costs.

Alina Cojocaru as Nikiya was the perfect personification of lyrical plasticity. In her interpretation of Nikiya, Cojocaru’s arabesque was much more than a perfectly placed arabesque. Each arabesque seemed grow and evolve, highlighting Nikiya’s ever-growing love for Solor and quest for purity.
Though Cojocaru “Kingdom of the Shades” pas de deux and variation are examples of pure classical technique and interpretation, her first act pas de deux and solo lacked passion with very little chemistry between her character and Solor (Herman Cornejo). Perhaps, Cojocaru is better suited for classical repertoire where she portrays a shade, a spirit or some romantic memory, requiring very little sexual tension or passion.
Herman Cornejo has come into his own as a danseur noble. As Solor, in spite of his diminutive stature, Cornejo was majestic, regal, and classically pure. Pyrotechnical bravura has always been matter of fact for Cornejo; however, Cornejo has now matured into an artist that uses his technical acumen to serve his character.
Still, the standout in La Bayadere was Misty Copeland. Not only did she shine, her performance illuminated Gamzatti. And ABT’s casting of Copeland is proving that when audiences of color see themselves reflected on stage, they show up.
—William S. Gooch



Wonderful Misty Copeland !
“As, seraph-like, from out the dark clouds’ chorus,
With softness woven, graceful, light, and fair,
Resembling Her, in the blue æther o’er us,
A slender figure hovers in the air,—
Thus didst thou see her joyously advance,
The fairest of the fairest in the dance…”
Wonderful Misty Copeland !
“As, seraph-like, from out the dark clouds’ chorus,
With softness woven, graceful, light, and fair,
Resembling Her, in the blue æther o’er us,
A slender figure hovers in the air,—
Thus didst thou see her joyously advance,
The fairest of the fairest in the dance…”
Wonderful Misty Copeland !
“WHAT hope of once more meeting is there now
In the still-closed blossoms of this day?
Both heaven and hell thrown open seest thou;
What wavering thoughts within the bosom play!—
No longer doubt! Descending from the sky,
She lifts thee in her arms to realms on high.
And thus thou into Paradise wert brought,
As worthy of a pure and endless life;
Nothing was left, no wish, no hope, no thought,
Here was the boundary of thine inmost strife:
And seeing one so fair, so glorified,
The fount of yearning tears was straightway dried.
No motion stirred the day’s revolving wheel,
In their own front the minutes seemed to go;
The evening kiss, a true and binding seal,
Ne’er changing till the morrow’s sunlight glow.
The hours resembled sisters as they went,
Yet each one from another different.
The last hour’s kiss, so sadly sweet, effaced
A beauteous network of entwining love.
Now on the threshold pause the feet, now haste,
As though a flaming cherub bade them move;
The unwilling eye the dark road wanders o’er
Backward it looks, but closed it sees the door.
Wonderful Misty Copeland !
“WHAT hope of once more meeting is there now
In the still-closed blossoms of this day?
Both heaven and hell thrown open seest thou;
What wavering thoughts within the bosom play!—
No longer doubt! Descending from the sky,
She lifts thee in her arms to realms on high.
And thus thou into Paradise wert brought,
As worthy of a pure and endless life;
Nothing was left, no wish, no hope, no thought,
Here was the boundary of thine inmost strife:
And seeing one so fair, so glorified,
The fount of yearning tears was straightway dried.
No motion stirred the day’s revolving wheel,
In their own front the minutes seemed to go;
The evening kiss, a true and binding seal,
Ne’er changing till the morrow’s sunlight glow.
The hours resembled sisters as they went,
Yet each one from another different.
The last hour’s kiss, so sadly sweet, effaced
A beauteous network of entwining love.
Now on the threshold pause the feet, now haste,
As though a flaming cherub bade them move;
The unwilling eye the dark road wanders o’er
Backward it looks, but closed it sees the door.