Ballet con Café

An Adventure to the Met: ABT’s Don Quixote

Monday, June 29, 2026 — New York City, Metropolitan Opera House

It’s ABT’s summer season, and if you’re a ballet lover who also loves an adventure, I’d suggest carving out a day and going to check it out. I started this little tradition a couple of years ago. My first time watching ABT was for Romeo and Juliet with Calvin and Catherine, and I was amazed by both the dancers and the production itself. Since then I’ve watched Like Water for Chocolate, and last year’s triple bill featuring Juliano Nunes’s Have We Met?

As usual, even though I knew weeks ago that I wanted to come, I didn’t actually decide until this past Sunday — a last-minute trip to enjoy some ballet and find a little peace in the middle of the chaos that is New York City. I’ve always believed that if you’re at peace within yourself, you can find peace in chaos. That’s how I feel walking around NYC: appreciating the details, the present moment, and the unrelenting movement you can feel pulsing through the city.

So I booked my flight Sunday at 5pm and caught the 6am flight Monday to enjoy the whole day. I bought my ticket once I landed in the city — it’s basically a routine for me now: arrive early, walk up to the box office, get a ticket. It always works (though I do check online beforehand just to make sure seats are available; if it looks tight, I’ll just buy online).

I spent the day soaking up inspiration from everything around me. Brazil vs. Japan happened to be playing that same day, and if you know me, you know ballet and soccer are my two passions — I’ll let you guess which one I’m actually good at. I watched the match at a pub in true New York fashion: a Monday at 1pm, people wandering in for a beer and the game, tourists, college students, and about as diverse a crowd as you’ll find on a weekday afternoon.

After a great match and emotions already running high, I got ready for the evening’s performance. Walking into the Met is always something else — there’s so much history in that building it almost feels like the opera house is telling you its own story as you move through it. It was a full house, and a wonderfully diverse audience.

Act I

The ballet opened with the beautiful Met Opera House orchestra. This production was staged by Susan Jaffe and Susan Jones, with additional music by Isaac Albéniz. The score was lovely throughout, though I wasn’t a fan of the toreador music edits in the third act.

Basilio was danced by Isaac Hernández, and Kitri by Catherine Hurlin — their chemistry onstage was excellent. The first act was rich in detail. I remember watching ABT’s Baryshnikov Don Quixote on repeat as a teenager, so seeing the sets come up live had a real emotional resonance for me.

The lighting, designed by Natasha Katz, genuinely impressed me. Having made ballets myself, I know how hard it is to find a great lighting designer, and I appreciated the craft on display here. The corps did solid work, and the comic scenes landed just as I’d hoped, beautifully interpreted by the cast. My one note: I’d love to see the corps use the stage’s full space more actively. I noticed a few moments of dancers simply standing in place without much interaction — something that wouldn’t register in a small theater, but reads very differently on the Met’s stage with its two-level sets. Kudos to everyone who kept that Spanish vibrancy alive throughout.

I’m not sure how much of the choreography was altered, but I found it a little odd to see petit allegro in the toreadors’ corps work — I’d expect sharper, more powerful movement in a section known for exactly that. Then again, that’s just my opinion; perhaps the choreographic research behind it found that appropriate.

The act ended on a rough note: Hernández attempted a triple tour and fell on his back. It was a good reminder that even ballet stars are human, capable of a wrong split-second decision like any other dancer — though some directors do take that kind of thing personally.

Act II

Once again beautifully lit, Act II gave us a standout from Léa Fleytoux as Cupid (Amour), whose enchanting bourrées made her look like she was gliding through fast-paced footwork. The Romani dance was also very well executed.

The dream scene lived up to its name — a dream. The costumes and overall design were so striking it felt almost like reading poetry in motion. That said, the corps again showed some spacing issues visible to a trained eye. Catherine Hurlin and Sierra Armstrong led the scene beautifully, with clean lines, conscious transitions, and artistry that suited the moment perfectly.

Act II closed with the tavern scene, delivering exactly what you’d expect: a big party, complete with a “duel” between Basilio and Espada, strongly danced by James Whiteside. The audience clearly loved it — plenty of laughter as the scene unfolded.

Act III

The third act itself was short and effective, built around the grand pas de deux and the wedding guests’ variations. The grand pas was well executed, with Hernández making safer, more deliberate choices this time after his fall in Act I, though he still seemed a touch anxious. I missed some of the finer details in his variation — taking more time in his tendu preparations to show off his lines, rather than chasing extra turns that occasionally looked like a fight to stay upright, and not quite finishing his last diagonal with full pointed feet through the transitional tombé pas de bourrée. Small things I notice and care about, but nothing, I think, that changed the audience’s experience.

Final Thoughts

The show was splendid. I love coming to New York to watch ballet as part of my solo adventures — finding peace, inspiration, and a little chaos, all in the same day.

Pittsburgh Ballet Theatre – A Midsummer Night’s Dream

Benedum Center, Pittsburgh | Sunday, May 17, 2026

This past Sunday I didn’t need to go too far to watch a good company deliver a great, clean, and fun performance. I drove to Pittsburgh to see Pittsburgh Ballet Theatre’s production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, choreographed by Ben Stevenson with music by Felix Mendelssohn.

Pittsburgh Ballet Theatre was not entirely new to me — I caught their Wizard of Oz last May, choreographed by Septime Webre, and that was a blast. I’ve worked with Septime’s ballets before and loved them. That night actually planted a seed: I had the insight that I should start writing about the ballets I watch, since it’s something I do quite often, and now even more so. But I had never visited PBT’s facilities, and everyone I’ve ever met who came out of that company has said great things about it — and their dancers have always proven that reputation right.

A curious connection I have with PBT goes back to my first professional job in Brazil, dancing for SESIMINAS Cia de Dança in Belo Horizonte. That is the very company where Alexandre Silva trained — a dancer who would go on to become a principal with PBT for 12 years. I also worked with Cristina Helena back then; she helped produce a golden era of dancers in Belo Horizonte, and her influence still echoes. The Brazilian pipeline for the arts in the United States is real and formidable — the amount of talent coming out of Brazil is extraordinary.

Before getting to the performance itself, a word about the history of this ballet. Shakespeare wrote A Midsummer Night’s Dream around 1595, and the story has fascinated choreographers ever since. Felix Mendelssohn composed his famous overture for the play in 1826 — remarkably, when he was only 17 years old — inspired by his love for Shakespeare’s work. The shimmering strings evoking the enchanted forest and the playful woodwinds representing the fairies already showed the musical imagination that would define the Romantic era. In 1842, he was commissioned to expand the overture into a full suite of incidental music, which gave us the iconic Wedding March now heard at ceremonies worldwide. The story has since inspired a long lineage of choreographers: George Balanchine created what became his first completely original full-length ballet to this same Mendelssohn score, premiering at New York City Ballet in January 1962; Frederick Ashton created his one-act The Dream in 1964 for The Royal Ballet to mark the 400th anniversary of Shakespeare’s birth. Ben Stevenson’s version — which had its world premiere with Texas Ballet Theater in 2022 — was the first full-length ballet he had choreographed in 22 years. Sadly, Stevenson passed away in March 2026 at the age of 89. What we witnessed on Sunday was, in many ways, a tribute to one of ballet’s great storytellers.

The Benedum Center is beautiful — very spacious inside, with a design and atmosphere that make you feel like you’re entering a sacred place. The waiting hall is a little tight, but it remains charming and full of character.

As usual, the show opened with a pre-curtain speech from Executive Director Nicholas Dragga and Artistic Director Adam McKinney. Both spoke well, but I’ll say what I always think in these moments: Adam could have connected more with the audience about the ballet itself. You never know who’s sitting out there — it could be someone’s first ballet — and those extra few minutes to paint the world of the story are never wasted. The speech ended, conductor Charles Barker stepped onto the podium, and the PBT Orchestra came to life beautifully, enhanced by the Mendelssohn Choir of Pittsburgh — a touch that added real depth and atmosphere to the evening.

The curtain rose, and Puck — performed by Emry Amoky — immediately captured our attention artistically. His embodiment of the persona was genuinely compelling and showed real investment in the character. However, the technical execution did not match the demands of a principal or soloist role of this caliber. The transitional steps were unclear, positions were not hit cleanly, and the choreography as a whole did not read with the technical sharpness that Stevenson’s work requires — he is an extremely demanding choreographer technically, and the gap was visible to a trained eye. Amoky is a young dancer with clear potential and plenty of room ahead of him. I hope he works on those details, because they make all the difference.

The role of Oberon, performed by Lucius Kirst, was another story entirely. Clean technique, strong and trustworthy partnering skills, and a genuine comedic instinct that came through beautifully in the acting. He was a pleasure to watch. PBT’s women were remarkably strong across the board: Hanna Carter as Titania, Tommie Lin Kesten as Hermia, and Grace Rookstool as Helena were all beautiful, musical, and hilarious in equal measure. Their comedic timing and sense of rhythm stood out especially — musicality at that level elevates everything around it. Matthew Griffin as Bottom rounded out the principal cast with a strong performance: funny, technically solid, and fully entertaining without ever tipping into slapstick for its own sake.

What struck me most about this ballet is how easy it is to follow the story. Ben Stevenson’s narrative intelligence is something truly rare — his ability to communicate directly with an audience, to make complex dramatic situations instantly readable through movement, is a gift that few choreographers possess. I studied his Cinderella years ago and always admired his storytelling instinct; seeing it live, especially in a work this whimsical and layered, reinforced everything I thought. The first act was genuinely hilarious. The second act went by so fast it felt like minutes — which is always the highest compliment you can give a production.

I will definitely be back. Pittsburgh is right there, PBT is a serious company, and Sunday was a very good reminder that you don’t always have to travel far to find quality ballet.

Miami City Ballet — ¡Vamos! To the Beach Broward Center for the Performing Arts, Fort Lauderdale — May 2026

This past Sunday I made the trip down to Fort Lauderdale to watch Miami City Ballet for the first time in years, and the occasion could not have been more special: the retirement performance of my dear friend and former classmate, Nathalia Arja.

Nathalia and I go back over twenty years, to when we were both young students training under her mother at the Escola de Dança Alice Arja in Rio de Janeiro. We were kids then — wide-eyed and dreaming. She left Rio at fifteen, which in Brazil is the age of a quinceañera, a full-blown celebration of a young woman stepping into the world. I was there for her party. I remember it clearly. And now, decades later, I was there again — this time to watch her take her final bow as a Principal at one of the most prestigious ballet companies in the United States. Nathalia joined Miami City Ballet as a school apprentice in 2009, rose through the corps, was promoted to soloist in 2014, principal soloist in 2016, and finally to Principal in March 2020. That kind of trajectory, built entirely on discipline, artistry, and sheer force of personality, deserves every standing ovation it gets. The New York Times once called her “fabulously fearless” and “exultant,” and anyone who has watched her work will tell you that barely scratches the surface. Watching her on that stage Sunday, filled with joy, completely in her element, having the time of her life — that was worth every mile.

There was also a personal dimension to being back in that building. Miami City Ballet was, in a very direct sense, the reason I moved to the United States. I attended their summer intensive in 2009 on a full scholarship, and from the moment I arrived, something clicked. The facilities, the professionalism, the energy — it all showed me what was possible. I didn’t stay that year, but it planted the seed that eventually brought me to Milwaukee and then to everything that followed. Coming back now, as a professional myself, felt like closing a circle.

The program itself carries a name that perfectly captures MCB’s brand identity: ¡Vamos! To the Beach is a fun, fresh program built around the ultimate Miami beach day — sun, movement, music, and culture brought to life through dance, in a true reflection of the city. That is exactly what Miami City Ballet does better than almost anyone: they make ballet feel like it belongs here, like it grew out of this particular soil. The marketing alone for this season was exceptional — cinematic, warm, and thoroughly Miami. The Broward Center itself was gorgeous that evening, right along the Riverwalk in downtown Fort Lauderdale, with skyline views that make the whole experience feel like a proper night out.

The program unfolded as a three-part repertory evening with no purely classical score anchoring it — just an all-American musical arc: The Andrews Sisters, George Gershwin, and The Beach Boys. That’s a bold curatorial choice, and for the most part it worked.

The night opened with Paul Taylor’s Company B, set to the swing-era recordings of The Andrews Sisters. The piece is deceptively layered — on the surface it’s all sass and Americana, bright-eyed girls and sailor boys, but underneath it carries the shadow of wartime. Taylor weaves loss into the exuberance, and that contrast gives the work its emotional weight. Watching Nathalia inhabit that material — completely free, completely present — was exactly the retirement performance she deserved. Pure joy on stage.

The second piece was the world premiere of Durante Verzola’s Grand Glittering Gershwin, and this was the highlight of the program for me — both artistically and personally. Structured in three sections, it brought an athleticism and vibrancy to the stage, with five couples, a trio, and a small female ensemble filling the space with buoyancy and speed — spunky, alive, articulate through the wrists and arms, with a distinctly American kinetic energy. I had the privilege of working with Durante at the Suzanne Farrell Ballet at the Kennedy Center, and he was already an exceptional talent then. What he has become since is no surprise to me. His choreographic instincts remind me of the Balanchine tradition — graceful, technically demanding, structurally rich — but with his own voice fully present. Art Deco cool meeting contemporary style, as vibrant and free-spirited as Miami itself.

The closing work was Twyla Tharp’s Deuce Coupe, a company premiere for MCB. Originally created in 1973, the piece is a landmark crossover ballet that fuses classical technique with contemporary social dance, set to a medley of Beach Boys songs. Its signature device — a lone ballerina in white proceeding methodically through the entire classical vocabulary while a vibrant ensemble churns around her — creates a fascinating tension between tradition and rebellion. It drew younger audiences who came knowing the music but had never engaged with ballet before, and that remains part of its enduring power. It’s a high-energy, unapologetically fun closer, and seeing Rui Cruz absolutely living in it was a pleasure. He’s a wonderful dancer, and this kind of work lets his natural charisma breathe.

Speaking of which — the Brazilian presence in this company continues to be remarkable. Nathalia, Rui, and the broader pipeline of Brazilian talent at MCB is not accidental. It reflects a deep culture of rigorous, passionate training back home, something I wrote about recently when discussing the global reach of Brazilian ballet dancers. Nathalia herself began training at five years old in Rio, competed internationally, won scholarships to companies on multiple continents, and chose Miami — and Miami City Ballet is better for it. After the show I had the chance to reconnect with some old friends, including Renan Cerdeiro, who spent over a decade as a Principal with the company and whose legacy here is undeniable. There was something genuinely moving about having so many people from that original Rio circle together again under one roof, all of us having traveled such different paths to get there.

This was MCB’s 40th anniversary season finale, and they closed it with grace, energy, and heart. I’ll be making more trips to Miami. There is a lot to see — and clearly, a lot still to come.

Reading Verona: A Review of Juliano Nunes’s Romeo and Juliet for Philadelphia Ballet By Stephano Candreva | April 30, 2026

Thursday evening, April 30th, I drove to Philadelphia to see Juliano Nunes work again — this time with something different at stake. Unlike his world premiere with ABT, this is Nunes’s first full-length narrative ballet, and that distinction matters. The Academy of Music received us with the weight of its history the moment you step into the grand hall. It was a sold-out Thursday night performance, which is remarkable by any measure — though perhaps less surprising when Nunes’s name is attached.

A few weeks prior, I had attended Works in Process at the Guggenheim Museum of Art — an open rehearsal format paired with a conversation with the choreographer. Watching Juliano move through the studio, coaching dancers toward the truest expression of the work, brought something back for me. In 2019, I had the privilege of working with him at Atlanta Ballet. The pandemic took that creation away from us before we could perform it, but not before it left a mark. I remember asking him how to improve my craft. He told me to take the time to explore movement as many times as necessary — to understand where it originates. That advice sent me deep into improvisation practice, into the kind of physical inquiry that still informs how I work today. Seven years later, watching him shape another company’s body of artists, that conversation felt very present.

Philadelphia Ballet has recently moved into a new, state-of-the-art facility — an achievement that deserves more than passing acknowledgment. Anyone with real experience inside performing arts nonprofits understands that something like this is not simply a capital campaign. It is years of sustained vision, relationship building, and institutional will. Executive Director Shelly Power deserves significant credit for it.

The evening opened with brief remarks from Artistic Director Angel Corella and Shelly Power. I’ll be direct: I missed an opportunity here. One of the most powerful things an artistic director can do before a performance is connect the audience to the work — the history of the Prokofiev score, when it was first staged, the lineage of choreographic interpretations. That context doesn’t diminish a new production; it elevates it, and it deepens the bond between an institution and its public. It was a small omission in an otherwise impressive evening, but worth noting.

Then the orchestra began.

Prokofiev’s score under conductor Beatrice Jona Affron was flawless from start to finish — and I use that word deliberately. The playing gave the dancers something extraordinary to move inside of.

What Nunes has built here is, at its core, a deeply literary ballet. And I mean that as high praise. Romeo and Juliet belongs to Shakespeare — not to MacMillan, not to Cranko. What Nunes has done is tell the story his own way, and that should be normalized in our art form. His version felt like turning pages: the music as the hardcover, the sets and costumes by Youssef Hotait as the pages, and the movement as the words themselves. It began with a single image — a large book, bold letters: Verona. From that moment, the visual logic never let go.

Romeo was danced by Zecheng Liang with exactly the energy Shakespeare wrote — youthful, elegant, playful, and reckless with love. His dark and light blue costuming enhanced his line beautifully. A particular standout was Jorge Garcia Alonso as Benvolio — I had already noticed him at the Guggenheim, but at the premiere he exceeded even that impression. His lines, his quality, the ease with which he inhabits the stage at such a young age: this is a dancer to watch closely. Mercutio, performed by Isaac Hollis, was solid, though I found myself wanting more — particularly when he shared the stage with Arian Molina’s Tybalt, who owned every moment with a command of character and technical authority that was genuinely phenomenal.

A special mention for Mayara Piñeiro as the Harlot. She brought a character fully to life — present, powerful, and real. Principal dancers earn their title by making a difference in every role they inhabit, regardless of scale. She did exactly that. I also appreciated that the harlots’ costuming avoided the gratuitous sexualization that this type of role often invites. It was a thoughtful choice that honored the characters without undermining them.

A recurring visual motif throughout the production was a papyrus-textured backdrop that descended during scene transitions — another page turning, another chapter opening. As the story darkened, the pages themselves bore marks: deep, shadowed streaks that recalled the look of a cut wound. It was subtle, intelligent design.

Thays Golz as Juliet has grown remarkably. I have been watching this company engage with Nunes’s vocabulary over several years now, and the evolution is visible in her body. She moves with grace and occupies her space with full authority. Her partnership with Liang carries a particular authenticity — they are a couple in life, and that knowledge lives in the performance. Their duets conveyed the specific texture of young, naive love: the certainty of it, the recklessness, the belief that the world can be faced and defeated together.

The balcony pas de deux deserves its own paragraph. The balcony was integrated directly into the book structure, with a field of stars behind and Juliet centered above as the wind caught her dress. The partnering that followed was deeply musical, technically demanding — Nunes’s signature lifts and maneuvers — and emotionally true. There were moments where it felt as though the music was moving the dancers rather than the other way around. That is a rare and beautiful thing to witness.

A note on the corps de ballet: the consistent, sustained relationship between Nunes and this company has produced something real. The corps delivered work that, in my judgment, was stronger, cleaner, and more musical than what I saw from ABT’s corps in his work there. Nunes’s choreographic language is not simple. It rewards investment and time. Philadelphia Ballet has clearly invested both.

The second act delivered its tragedy with full dramatic weight. The death of Mercutio — comical and then devastatingly sudden — had the audience laughing until it held its breath. Romeo’s confrontation with Tybalt, and the final scene at the tomb with Paris, played with all the inevitability and sorrow the story demands. Watching young love destroyed by the hatreds of others, knowing the ending before it arrives and feeling it anyway — that is the test of storytelling. Nunes passed it.

Congratulations are due to everyone involved: the dancers, the orchestra under Beatrice Jona Affron, set and costume designer Youssef Hotait, and above all Juliano Nunes — for creating something that is genuinely his, genuinely whole, and genuinely moving. I am already looking forward to what comes next.