On Saturday, March 21, Pacific Northwest Ballet (PNB) opened its doors to present the world premiere of Momotaro (The Peach Boy), part of its family matinee series. Based on a Japanese folktale from the Edo period, Momotaro follows a boy born from a giant peach who sets out to defeat ogres with the help of a dog, monkey and pheasant.
Momotaro is choreographed by PNB Resident Choreographer Jessica Lang in collaboration with her husband, dramaturg Kanji Segawa and performed by students of the Pacific Northwest Ballet School.
On the first day of spring, families filled McCaw Hall, some children in tutus others wearing animal ears. The red velvet curtain shimmered with anticipation.
When the curtain lifted, the audience was transported to a storybook Japanese setting with a traditional home with shoji, and set beside a river. With cherry blossoms and a stylized Mount Fuji, it looked as if the scene were lifted straight from a children’s picture book.
The first dancers we meet are the elderly couple, Obaasan (Elise Hueffed) and Ojiisan (Max Ray), who inhabit this world.
The river is delineated by a coil of blue fabric that curls along its edge. Contained by this ribbon of blue, light projections ebb and flow, suggesting the movement of water.
Suddenly, younger ballet students, dressed as peaches, draw giggles as they twine and circle on to the stage. Their rounded, bright orange costumes establish a playful tone. Young Momotaro (Rohan Samant Manning) also bursts from a shimmering peach to enthusiastic applause — and one “yay” from a young audience member — establishing the hero of the story.
After the younger students set the playful tone, the older Momotaro, danced by Christopher Karhunen, brings more technically demanding material to the stage. His grand jetés and clean turns add athleticism to the role. With his expansive jumps, soaring across the stage, I briefly wondered whether the role was being danced by a company dancer rather than a student.
Momotaro’s three companions are introduced next: the dog (Evelyn Pak) bounds onstage with buoyant energy, engaging directly with the audience; the monkey (Landon Spurbeck) is quick, acrobatic and delightfully mischievous; and the pheasant (Tess Fein), in a shimmering green costume with feathers, moves with lyrical ease. Her elongated lines and pointe work lend elegance to the character.
Projected animations continue with drifting clouds, marking each stage of Momotaro’s journey. The effect is like turning the pages of a picture book, with clouds moving from one page to the next.
One of the most visually serene scenes develops at sea, where the pace slows to adagio and Water Fairies embody flowing water and misty fog. Three Star Fairies, in white classic tutus, shimmer as they twirl, suggesting a night sky in starry motion.
These moments highlight the breadth of the PNB School, showcasing dancers across age levels and training stages.
Movement and mood shift on Ogre Island. Taiko drummers intensify the scene as the ogre ensemble sweeps across the stage in long grass-like costumes. Their low-to-the-ground movement and traveling across the stage sharply contrasts with the earlier choreography. Hearts leap with every jump and drumbeat. Here, Lang introduces movement that departs from classical ballet, choreographing one of the production’s most thrillingly kinetic sections.
The score blends music by Saburo Moroi, Kazuko Yamada and Takashi Yoshimatsu with traditional folk music. Taiko drumming by Japan Creative Arts & The School of TAIKO (Ringtaro Tateishi) adds a distinctive, pulsing energy to the production.
The drumming fills the theater without feeling overwhelming. From my seat near the top, the volume felt balanced, though for those with sensitive hearing, a pair of headphones might be helpful.
The Boss Ogre (Max Howard) makes a commanding entrance with his impressively powerful jumps, and he is greeted with enthusiasm from the audience. The ensuing battle is energetic and densely staged, with fast-paced ensemble work that builds momentum. The performers’ visible enjoyment — especially within the ogre ensemble — is infectious; I found myself wishing I could join them, shaking and leaping to the taiko drumming.
The resolution arrives too quickly as Momotaro defeats the Ogre, who just might’ve stolen our hearts. Though the transition feels abrupt, it aligns with the production’s focus on younger audiences. Segawa and Lang’s adaptation carries a feminine sensibility: emphasizing compassion over confrontation. This adaptation emphasizes empathy and light-heartedness more than a fierce battle won. The message is not “good versus bad.”
As a narrative ballet, the story unfolds as a clear hero’s journey, prioritizing visual storytelling over emotional or psychological depth. Lang’s adaptation carries a feminine sensibility: emphasizing compassion over confrontation.
Brad Lo Walker’s narration flows like a story being read aloud without overshadowing the performance. Designs by Yuki Takahashi (sets), Meleta Buckstaff (costumes) and Reed Nakayama (lighting) add cohesive visual support.
The final bows are met with enthusiastic applause and cheering as cherry blossom-like petals fall, festooning the stage in a final celebratory image — like the final page of a picture book before it’s closed with a contented smile.
While it forgoes the emotional depth of a full-length story ballet like The Nutcracker, it offers a thoughtful and captivating introduction both to the art form and to the story of Momotaro, a Japanese folktale.
Momotaro blossoms in the imagination — a hero’s journey brought vividly to life with color, dance and music — an apt offering for a cherry blossom afternoon in Seattle.
Momotaro continues at McCaw Hall, with final performances March 28-29.
