On Friday, the Pacific Northwest Ballet kicked off its 2024/25 season with a trio of ballets that combined in my own sick brain to tell a back-to-school narrative, befitting not only early autumn’s crisp air and fresh notebooks but also the controversial budget battle on the minds of so many Seattle parents. 

But enough politics for now. The show, which runs through Sept 29 at McCaw Hall, began with Edwaard Liang’s The Veil Between Worlds, which featured massive, billowing satin sheets that recalled the pure pleasure of parachute day in gym class. After that, we sank into the somber, swampy process of actually learning something with Jessica Lang’s Black Wave, a world premiere from PNB’s new resident choreographer. Then PNB Artistic Director Peter Boal rang the bell and let us all out for recess in the form of Justin Peck’s The Times Are Racing, a “sneaker ballet” (the dancers wear tennis shoes) driven by Dan Deacon’s maximalist electronic score and inflected with movement from breakdancing, cheerleading, and other afterschool activities. 

Totally constructed overarching narrative aside, the program’s wild mix of choreographic styles showed off this company’s great strength: Its versatility. After shaking off a medium amount of dust, the opening night crew nailed most of the classical and musical movements in the first ballet, nailed all the weirdo twitchy contemporary stuff in the second ballet, nailed all the highly kinetic group movement in the closer—and, most impressively, they nailed all those different demands in the same night, which is very difficult to do! 

Liang's The Veil Between Worlds closed out last year’s season, and so Boal’s decision to open this season with it really leans into the ballet’s title, as if it really does operate as the veil between last season’s world and this one. Like last year, Oliver Davis’s eponymous 2021 composition filled the auditorium’s air with sweetly aching violins as the dancers leapt and soared across Mark Zappone’s sky-colored, minimalist sets. And like last year, Zappone’s costumes wrapped the dancers in blue and orange ribbons he appeared to pull from a sunset sky. And like last year, principals Dylan Wald and Elle Macy knocked out the audience with a gorgeous duet that looked like two swans very elegantly falling through the clouds in slow motion. 

Only this year, Wald seemed to evolve. He always cuts a striking figure onstage, but in his solo for the opening night performance, he danced to Davis’s weeping violin in a dawn-colored sky, projecting all the pride and promise of a big red sun rising to greet the new day. Each movement looked so sure that it seemed inevitable; strong and swift, but also soft and flexible. He was electric. 

After that sweeping, lyrical, sky-high ballet the evening submerged beneath Lang’s Black Wave, a brand new piece featuring a somber score from Salina Fisher; a dark, greenish-gray backdrop dominated by a huge, gnarly bough; a handful of dancers in gender-neutral costuming colored in light blues and greens; and soloist Leah Terada in gauzy white at the center of it all. In the broadest possible terms, the whole thing looked like a bunch of swamp ferries elegantly and erratically moping around in a minimalist swamp. 

According to the program notes, “mental health awareness” inspired the ballet, as did “the philosophy behind ‘kintsugi,’” the practice of repairing broken pottery with gold lacquer. I couldn’t 100 percent track any sort of linear narrative, but the mental health focus certainly shined through. 

In the beginning, Terada looked like a ghost, only instead of haunting the living, it appeared as if the living haunted her. The blueish and grayish figures lorded over her, danced with her, and toyed with her, but, try as she might, she couldn’t shake them. In the middle of the ballet, she appeared to die, shouldering herself into the earth like a bear bedding down before finally succumbing to darkness. But then the scenery changed—the big bough slowly dropped to the earth and then rose back up, and as it did some trick of light made the arboreal set piece look like arteries. (Thanks for the cool effect, lighting designer Brandon Stirling Baker.) The music changed from sad violins to bright and bubbly bells, and then Terada arose and mastered the elegant swamp creatures before leading them to some kind of escape. By the end, they became the soil in which she (somewhat literally) planted herself, swaying like a long blade of grass. 

Throughout, a paradoxical tension between the music and movement suffused the piece with an unsettling energy. Though the violin music played at a slow tempo, the dancers often moved quickly–sometimes looking like rewinding tape–and yet, despite the differing speeds, they stepped in time with the music. Slow-mo mania. A one-act panic attack. A deep, dark dive into the psyche. I was into it! 

But above all else, the ballet confirmed something that I’ve believed for a while: If you want something new and weird to look professional and good, then cast Terada. Whether she’s dueting in a superfluid Alejandro Cerrudo piece, swarming with Crystal Pite’s insects, or lying down to die in Lang’s swamp, she displays the ability to fully immerse herself in the idiosyncratic movement vocabularies of whichever choreographer comes her way. She embodies the company’s versatility and embraces its penchant for producing contemporary work. Major kudos.

To conclude the evening, we emerged from the swamp and found ourselves on a blacktop during recess in Peck’s The Times Are Racing. The stage filled with dancers in costume designer Humberto Leon’s 1990s streetwear; cut off shirts, daisy dukes, sweatpants, shorts, and sneakers. Dan Deacon’s pulsing, propulsive “USA I-IV” blasted from the speakers, and then the dancers got to work. 

PNB audiences are likely pretty familiar with this piece—and with Peck’s work in general—and yet again it didn’t disappoint. There’s lots of fun synchronized group movement, lots of energy, lots of influences from hiphop, breakdancing, and cheer. 

But a playful, slap-happy, almost gymnastic duet between Principals Lucien Postlewaite and Sarah-Gabrielle Ryan stole the show. They danced with all the excitement of two school friends who hadn’t seen each other all summer. Ryan threw in some fun hip work, and Postlewaite bounced around like a schoolboy who’d just chugged a Mountain Dew. If only the kids could just get off their phones, this is the kind of shit they could accomplish. 

Oh, and, speaking of accomplishments! PNB promoted Luther DeMyer to soloist. Congrats, DeMyer! Anyhow, get your ass to the show. It’s a good one.