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IMPRESSIONS: BALLET HISPÁNICO in Gustavo Ramírez Sansano's "CARMEN.maquia" at New York City Center
By Lisa Jo Sagolla
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Published on June 10, 2025
Omar Rivéra & Amanda del Valle; Photo: Steven Pisano
Choreography: Gustavo Ramírez Sansano
Music: Various works by Georges Bizet; Carmen Fantasy (based on Bizet themes) by Pablo de Sarasate
Set Design and Construction: Luis Crespo
Costume Design: David Delfin
Lighting Design: Emilio Lavarías
Dancers: Amanda del Valle (Carmen), Amir J. Baldwin (Don José), Amanda Ostuni (Micaela), Omar Rivéra (Escamillo), Mia Bermudez, Thierry Blanchard, Antonio Cangiano, Francesca Levita, Dylan Dias McIntyre, Andrea Mish, Adam Dario Morales, Daniel Palladino, Isabel Robles, Yadamy Soria Fernanadez, and Olivia Winston
New York City Center
May 29 - June 1, 2025
In his tastefully enthusiastic, gala-evening pre-show speech, Ballet Hispánico artistic director Eduardo Vilaro introduced his company’s presentation of CARMEN.maquia by reminding us that this year marks the sesquicentennial of Georges Bizet’s renowned 1875 opera, Carmen. Though composed by a Frenchman, and based on a novella by French writer Prosper Mérimée, the opera, with its fiery, feminine titular character, has become an iconic representation of Spanish culture. Hence, Vilaro’s choice to celebrate this 55th anniversary season of Ballet Hispánico, America’s premier Latinx dance company, by bringing a revival of choreographer Gustavo Ramírez Sansano’s contemporary-dance interpretation of Carmen to New York’s City Center for a springtime, five-performance run.
BALLET HISPÁNICO's "CARMEN.maquia"- Pictured L to R Isabel Robles, Andrea Mish, Amanda del Valle, Mia Bermudez, Olivia Winston; Photo: Steven Pisano
Premiered in 2012 (and first performed by Ballet Hispánico in 2014), Sansano’s CARMEN.maquia is purportedly a narrative ballet, adhering, for the most part, to the opera’s basic plot. Don José, a dutiful soldier, abandons proper devotion to his betrothed, Micaela, to follow his attraction to the wild, dangerously flirtatious Carmen, a cigarette-factory worker. Blamed for instigating violence at the factory, Carmen is arrested, yet allowed to escape by Don José, who is then imprisoned. Though he’s eventually freed, and eschews his military career for a “gypsy” life with Carmen, she takes up with a magnetic toreador, Escamillo. Furiously jealous, Don José pursues Carmen, she resists, and he stabs her to death. However, one gleans very little of this story from Sansano’s choreography.
BALLET HISPÁNICO's "CARMEN.maquia"- Amanda del Valle, Omar Rivéra; Photo: Steven Pisano
Danced to various recordings of orchestral arrangements of the well-known Bizet music, and exquisitely executed by the dancers of Ballet Hispánico, Sansano’s movement vocabulary is sharp, choppy, fast, gesture-driven and decidedly contemporary (there’s no pointe work in this ballet). The busy choreography allows not a beat of music to go by without a new move danced squarely upon it, leaving insufficient time for our eyes to “add it up” into coherent choreographic statements. Quirky jumps, robotic arm positions, vibrating heads, and angular floor poses are all cleanly set forth, yet discretely, with little sense of phrasing. What we see is a conglomeration of movements -- but no storytelling.
BALLET HISPÁNICO's "CARMEN.maquia" , Amanda del Valle; Photo: Steven Pisano
If you don’t read the plot synopsis in the program ahead of time, you will not be able to follow the dramatic narrative playing out onstage. Which is not to say that Sansano’s choreography lacks drama. It could be argued that character is the driving element of any affecting drama, and Sansano does a superb job of conveying the personalities of the ballet’s principal and ensemble characters. The tough, sassy stances, swats, and head tosses of the women factory workers tell us oodles about who they are and what they think. Carmen’s eloquent hip actions speak volumes about her character. Escamillo’s balletic leaps establish his electrifying appeal, while the airy lyricism of Micaela’s movement paints her as a dimmer force, and Don José’s writhing and contracted torso signal his tortured soul.
BALLET HISPÁNICO's "CARMEN.maquia"- Amir J. Baldwin and Amanda del Valle
But it’s in delineating the characters’ actions and motivating emotions that Sansano’s choreography falls short. The pivotal first-act seduction scene, when Carmen entices Don José to free her, starts compellingly, as he ties her up in a long black rope. But then he unties her and she dances bird-like, doing little kicks, darting steps, and quick arm, head, and hand movements. It looks like she’s annoying, not seducing, him. Suddenly, the dancing stops and in the quiet stillness we start to feel the couple’s growing passion – thanks to persuasive acting on the part of dancers Amanda del Valle, who gives a thrilling performance as Carmen, and Amir J. Baldwin, whose gripping portrayal of Don José is fraught with feeling. Sansano’s choreography seems to have two modes: hectic and paused. Ironically, on more than one occasion throughout the ballet, it is when the movement ceases and these top-drawer interpretive artists just exercise their acting chops that the drama is most palpably communicated.
Kudos also to Amanda Ostuni, in the role of Micaela. Her pristine technique, supple spine, and delicate attack combine to illustrate her character’s prim nature and, in so doing, to also underline the contrast between Micaela and Carmen, thus deepening our understanding of Don José’s inner conflict.
BALLET HISPÁNICO's "CARMEN.maquia"-Amanda Ostuni and Amir J. Baldwin*
While the performers do much to fill in the expressive gaps in Sansano’s choreography, they cannot compensate for the ballet’s tonal discrepancies. Carmen’s story is a tragic one, yet here snippets of comic action are slipped into the proceedings, compromising the ballet’s overall dramatic build and leaving one confused as to how such amusing passages should be appreciated. What are we to make of the monkey-like squawks, “psst”-implying elbowing, and buffoonish behaviors of the ensemble members portraying a crowd assembled to cheer the admired toreador, Escamillo? Their antics call to mind slapstick clowning of The-Three-Stooges ilk. Yet just as one starts to embrace their silliness, the ballet’s tone shifts to sultry and sensual as Escamillo and Carmen engage in a pas de deux of dragging, crawling, teasing, and taunting maneuvers. And when that ends -- suspensefully, with Escamillo’s exit and Carmen’s refusal to chase after him -- the comedic tone returns as women scoldingly shake their wrists, fingers, and hands at Carmen with cartoonish glee. On other occasions, ensemble members pop up, suddenly, from behind the set pieces -- white, geometrically-shaped screens and structures that are re-arranged to create different scenic environments. The dancers’ surprising appearances lend a farcical tone to what are otherwise weighty scenes.
The ballet’s scenery (designed by Luis Crespo) also includes strikingly-painted, Picasso-inspired, hanging drops that evoke an appropriately foreboding tone. Yet, the movable geometric pieces do nothing to suggest the story’s various locales. When we see Don José partially visible behind a low rectangle, it looks like he is sitting at a desk, while in front of him an ensemble of women scampers around in the dark. One has no idea this is supposed to depict Don José in jail, haunted by imaginary visions of Carmen. And it was only after re-reading the program synopsis that I realized the four narrow rectangles of varying heights, around which an anguished Micaela later dances, are meant to represent a mountain range
Coordinating with the white set pieces and flooring, all of the dancers wear white costumes (designed by David Delfin) -- the men in tight tops (some marked with a solid black line) and stirrup pants, the women in flatteringly-styled leotards and long filmy skirts – with the exception of Carmen, who is dressed all in black. The production’s spare, black-and-white visual aesthetic works well to spotlight the sleekness of Sansano’s hard-lined choreography.
Yet what remains puzzling about the ballet is how mildly seasoned it is with Spanish flavors. Considering its dramatic source material, and its variation on the title -- tauromaquia means “bullfighting” -- one expects the choreography to more significantly incorporate, as press notes promised, elements from Spanish dance, flamenco, and paso doble (a partner dance suggesting a matador and his cape or a bull). But to my eye, it’s “too little, too late.” For most of the ballet, the movement lexicon feels more “street” than Spanish, more freshly contemporary than timelessly classic, more cooly abstract than culturally specific, and largely devoid of the delicious curves, spirals, and ensnaring circularity associated with Spanish dancing.
BALLET HISPÁNICO 's "CARMEN.maquia" Amir J. Baldwin, Amanda del Valle; Photo: Steven Pisano
It is only in the ballet’s final scenes that we start to notice references to bull horns, arched-back flamenco postures, and classic paso doble steps infiltrating the choreography. And, wow, is it exciting! When the ensemble spreads out across the stage -- standing in profile, arms up, torsos curved in elongated C-shapes, pelvises pushed way forward – and takes tiny, in-place steps in unison to the rhythm of the famous “Toreador Song,” we are spellbound. Granted, that song is so irresistible that it, alone, will excite an audience. Nonetheless, it’s at this climactic point in the evening that the ballet’s artistic and cultural components coalesce in the way we’d been hoping for all along.
