Flesh and Bone

Flesh and Bone is so grim, so devoid of pleasure, so moldering that you're left to wonder why this significant collection of talent didn't actually have something fun or exciting to say about the New York ballet world.

Hay and the rest of the cast, which includes Raychel Diane Weiner and Karell Williams, are the main draw of Flesh And Bone, and if the show manages to ignite interest in the ballet, the world is a better place for it. But whenever it’s not focused on the dance, Bone manages the difficult feat of making ballet look inelegant.

For conveying such a rich sense of authenticity alone, for showing us the physical rigors facing those whose goal is to challenge gravity, Flesh and Bone deserves praise. The actors playing dancers are all professional dancers, too, so that the practice scenes are lovely and don’t require much dodgy camerawork. The storytelling, alas, leaves something to be desired.

The series’ dependency on melodrama is acceptable, but Walley-Beckett exaggerates too much when more substantive character development and evolution is needed.

Unfortunately the end result is a cast of supporting characters that fall flat without the proper development, and a lead that never quite opens up to the audience.

If the show had demonstrated more confidence in ballet’s ability to transfix audiences and ditched all the rib-sticking melodrama (at an extremely padded 60 minutes, every single episode drags), it could have been something really special.

The sheer number of underdeveloped or one-dimensional supporting characters after eight episodes is perhaps the biggest frustration of Flesh and Bone, because it leaves the show's whole world feeling underdeveloped and unrealized.