I came into this documentary with open arms as a previous critic here had left a glowing review. I love ballet. In another life, I would have pursued it as a profession.
It makes a great foundation for the documentaries of late. Classical music combined with top-notch cinematography and beautiful movements--think David Gelb of "Jiro Dreams of Sushi."
But this gave us all of that with no story. The audience barely gets any background. Justin Peck is set to choreograph a new ballet for the New York City Ballet. The ballet's name and substance is mysteriously hidden from the viewer. The dancers and outside collaborators also remain anonymous.
I had a difficult time remaining engaged. While the dancers move beautifully and the process of creating itself so intriguing, without any commentary from the "characters" in this lack of "story," I was left bored and unfulfilled.
I suggest watching it during some downtime or while doing chores, because there are moments that you cannot help but watch. But others, less worthy, are left, perplexingly, uncut. We stare for what seems likes minutes on end at the minutely expressive faces while they look on at the real action to see.
It makes a great foundation for the documentaries of late. Classical music combined with top-notch cinematography and beautiful movements--think David Gelb of "Jiro Dreams of Sushi."
But this gave us all of that with no story. The audience barely gets any background. Justin Peck is set to choreograph a new ballet for the New York City Ballet. The ballet's name and substance is mysteriously hidden from the viewer. The dancers and outside collaborators also remain anonymous.
I had a difficult time remaining engaged. While the dancers move beautifully and the process of creating itself so intriguing, without any commentary from the "characters" in this lack of "story," I was left bored and unfulfilled.
I suggest watching it during some downtime or while doing chores, because there are moments that you cannot help but watch. But others, less worthy, are left, perplexingly, uncut. We stare for what seems likes minutes on end at the minutely expressive faces while they look on at the real action to see.