(above image of Joaquin de Luz and Megan Fairchild in Tarantella by Paul Kolnik, courtesy of NYCB)

So, Sunday marked the end of New York  City Ballet’s winter season. I was honestly in a blue funk all day yesterday, which shows, I guess, that I am really beginning to love this company since I’ve normally only gotten so sad over ABT and Alvin Ailey.

Sunday was a one-day only program, the All-American Season Finale, which included Robbins’s Glass Pieces, Martins’s Hallelujah Junction, and Balanchine’s Tarantella and Stars and Stripes. Tarantella (this is the only time it showed this season) is always fun, with its cute Neapolitan peasant boy-tries-to-get-girl caricatures, lightening-charged footwork, and series of bravura solos for both man and woman, all performed with a tambourine. I was completely out of breath after watching Joaquin de Luz fly across the stage and ultimately steal a kiss from Megan Fairchild. Joaquin is not just a dancing virtuoso but a dramatist as well and his characters are always these virile, sexed-up, but charming, innocuous men. I really love him.

Glass Pieces and Hallelujah Junction also really grew on me. I don’t know if it was Maria Kowroski or what, but the  slower, more adagio section of Glass Pieces was very compelling this time, and it really spiced up the last man-centric, drum-beating, section as well. At first I wasn’t a huge fan of Maria Kowroski, but either she has improved or she has really grown on me. I always thought she had an excellent dancer body, but now she is using it in a much more expressive way, really to say something. The only thing I’m not in love with choreography-wise in Glass Pieces is in the last section, how the men come jogging out, hands powerfully punching the air, doing their ‘man things’ to the booming drums, and then the women daintily slink in to the sound of the flutes. Corny.

I was able to watch more than just the mesmerizing lighting in Hallelujah Junction this time. I love the movement theme –toward the beginning — of the landing a jump or phrase on releve and then swiftly lowering the ankle to the floor. On Andrew Veyette it looked kind of teasing but in a sinister way, like the slicing of a knife. There is something very sinister in general about Andrew Veyette, very virile in a threatening way, which makes him perfect for the devious man dressed in black here.

And I love how Sebastien Marcovici, the man in white, kind of Janie Taylor’s saviour, would powerfully jete across stage after him, threatening him, banishing him. Sebastien and Janie are such the romantic couple, in part because they work so well together and in part because of their respective sizes. Someone very knowledgeable in the dance world told me they thought he’d been working out a lot, trying to build muscle. I do think he seems to have become more muscular lately, especially his legs. Building muscle often decreases the muscle’s flexibility and he doesn’t seem to make a perfect split on a jete like some of the others, but I still think it’s so romantic that he’s so much larger than little Janie; he can just sweep her off the floor and scoop her up into his arms — aw

The program notes state that Stars and Stripes, the somewhat cheesily patriotic but excellently danced Balanchine ballet, was shown at presidential tributes, like that of Kennedy and Johnson, and at Nelson Rockefeller’s NY gubernatorial inauguration. It’s so weird to me to think of that, though I could see it performed back then. But now? At President Obama’s inauguration? It just doesn’t seem like it would fit. It would seem kind of anachronistic, sadly…

Anyway, the talk of the ballet world lately has been Sir Alastair’s New York Times season wrap-up.

Taylor Gordon, my friend and fellow blogger / dance writer, says, “whether you agree with him or not, it boggles me that one person has the power to say these things in basically the one print medium dance criticism has left. Ouch.”

Macaulay basically takes the women of NYCB to task, saying none of them really command authority like true ballerinas,

Continue reading ‘New York City Ballet Season Finale and Wrap Up With Response to Sir A’

(photo, of Vernard J. Gilmore and Antonio Douthit, by Andrea Mohin from NYTimes)

So Sir Alastair called Festa Barocca “rubbish”!

I didn’t really know what to think of it, to be honest (which is why it’s taken me so long to write about). I found it oddly intriguing and very different from his (choreographer Mauro Bigonzetti’s) other work that I’ve seen, Oltremare. That piece made perfect sense and was clear in what it was trying to express: the fear, sadness, and longing of poor immigrants bound for the New World. This wasn’t so clear.

The whole piece is set to Handel’s classical Baroque music, but the movement is extremely varied, encompassing ballet, Argentine Tango, African — a hodge-podge, and with styling that looked at times Asian (like the beautifully flexed wrists), Egyptian (the iconic “King Tut”-esque Cleopatra arms), and even some styling that reminded me of the movie Pulp Fiction (with the bandit eyes — where Uma Thurman and John Travolta are dancing, extending elbows outward, arms turned down, circling their eyes with their fingers — remember that?)

There was definitely a lot of humor, and Hope Boykin, whose enchanting solos frame the piece, smiles out at the audience a lot, kind of indicating she is taking us on a wild ride. I couldn’t really tell, though, if Bigonzetti was making fun of Baroque music, or if he was trying to expand our assumptions about how it could be used for dance. Don’t think I’d ever have thought of putting African to Handel. Or, if Baroque music is defined as representing the “perfect order” of the universe, of “avoiding trivialities as well as willful eccentricities,” then maybe he is playing with the definition of Baroque music itself.

By the way, Antonio Douthit (right in pic above) and Jamar Roberts I thought were the best in the ensemble parts. Jamar really threw himself into it full out and made the most of every little movement detail. And Antonio is one of those unbelievable dancers who seems to be able to excel at both ballet and African. Have I said that before here? Sorry if I have; I honestly forget what I’ve tweeted and what I’ve blogged. He has these gorgeously high extensions that he holds so well and he’s graceful and feathery, but then he can be so rhythmic with those beautifully snaky full body-undulations as well.

The dance is comprised of several ensemble parts, a couple of solos, and a couple duets that seemed by turns sexy, mysterious, and kind of violent. At points, it seemed like the men were casting a spell on the women, at other places it seemed the women became the mens’ puppeteers, like when the women would raise their legs to their partners’ faces or necks, gripping with their toes, kind of teasing them as they circled their feet about, head or throat attached, round and round, and then harshly pushing them away.

Macaulay seemed peeved because such movement (which he amusingly calls “acrobatic foot fetishism”) didn’t seem to fit the Italian lyrics of the Handel songs. I didn’t know those lyrics, but, assuming the translation in his article is correct, it is rather interesting how a husband’s singing “Where are you? Come, beloved, to console my spirit” to his wife (who doesn’t yet know he’s dead) correlates with a dancer throttling her partner’s throat with her foot. Either an unusual reinterpretation, or Bigonzetti is trying to throw in some comedy with the duets as well (which generally seemed more serious), or else he, like many choreographers, is more interested in putting movement to rhythms than actual words.

In the end I’m not sure what to make of it. I loved the dancers, as always. I’m not sure I could ever be dissatisfied watching them do anything. I’m interested to hear what others make of this piece though. They don’t yet have any of it up on YouTube, but let me know if you see it live.

Oh, and costumes (by Marc Happel) were gorgeous. Men and women both wore long, brightly-colored flowing skirts in the ensemble pieces, donning more form-fitting garb for the intricate pas de deux.

(Hope Boykin in solo, above; below, Gwynenn Taylor Jones and Clifton Brown in first duet; photos by Steve Vaccariello)

thanks to us dance tweets

The awesome Deborah Friedes has set up a new dance blog directory here. So, you can find all participating dance blogs in one place. So much easier than going down blogrolls clicking on URLs one by one, and so much more aesthetically inviting than RSS feeds. Thanks Deborah! And, if you write a dance blog, be sure to add yours!

(photo of Twyla Tharp’s Brief Fling by Lois Greenfield, from American Ballet Theater)

There’s a good article by Joan Acocella in this week’s New Yorker reviewing a couple of recent dances at Brooklyn Academy of Music. In it, she talks about American choreographers and their uneasiness with ballet, their distrust of the dance form as inherently European (and snobbish). Hence, their need constantly to compare and contrast it with other forms of dance, even to deconstruct it.

Funny, but when I saw Tharp’s Brief Fling recently during American Ballet’s Theater’s City Center season, as much as I liked the fun of it (especially since my favorites Marcelo Gomes and Craig Salstein danced in my program — both of whom really up the drama and humor as far as they can possibly go), I couldn’t help but get annoyed thinking, why do so many choreographers either contrast ballet with other dance forms (with modern, with American social, with aerobics, with tango — in Brief Fling, it was with traditional Celtic or Scottish dance) or try to take it apart and show its underpinnings, to critique it — like early William Forsythe, like Jorma Elo, like even the new piece ABT commissioned by Lauri Stallings? So, I was thankful for Acocella’s little historical discussion of American choreography and ballet. Go here for the article.

She also reviews, Urban Bush Women and Compagnie Jant-Bi and falls for African dance! Yes, Joan

For anyone who may be interested, the National Book Awards are happening right now, I think somewhere around Wall Street. Anyway, Ed Champion’s podcasts are quite entertaining — particularly this one with Candace Bushnell (#5). Hmmm, I wonder if Mr. Bushnell is there…

Update: Had a little too much fun reading all the tweets last night during the national book awards. I was following three journalists covering the event — one kind of curmudgeonly (but aren’t the smart-asses always the most fun!), one serious, and one all genuinely excited about everything. So, something would happen — dinner break, a winner announced, an interview with literary bigshot at the press table, an announcer who got a little carried away with an introduction — and you’d get three completely hilariously diverse perspectives:

“B giving speech” / “B giving emotional, compelling speech” / “B ‘more inflated than a helium tank.’” (that one, my fave of the night, is an actual quote).

Or, “going to interview B from C publication” / “shit, here comes D w/ camera; am trying to look busy.”

Or, “time for dinner, be back soon” / “oooh, caviar and whipped butter atop little toast points!” / “cream is rancid, bread is stale; journalists seriously pissed.”

Anyway, how funny would it be if dance writers did the same covering some dance event — a gala, or opening night extravaganza of some big, much-touted company. Of course a lot of interested people might actually be at the event and wouldn’t need to read via computer. But no matter, we’ll all just whip out cellphones during intermissions, or carry them around with us if at a party, bumping smack into each other while laughing or rolling our eyes at each other’s quips as shown on the faces of our Blackberrys and Iphones. I mean, when you think about it — how much better than actual talking. Human vocal chords can only reach so far. With a mobile, you can be heard easily by all in attendance, even rooms away, and of course by those not at the event as well. This is how people will communicate in the future — no words spoken with actual mouths; the room will be pure silence, save only the clicking of cell phone type pads. I’m a better writer than talker anyway, so fine with me…

The critic and author died this morning. He was 81 and apparently in ill health. I used to see him at things all the time. A small man with white fuzzy hair and goatee, he was very noticeable. I didn’t know he was sick. Obits here and here.

“Some of the acting is stilted in spots, but the dancing is fantastic. And the leitmotif of class resentment is an apt one for the times.” Scroll down to the bottom to see the short review. The critic is a television not dance writer. I guess it shows what different audiences’ expectations may be. Via Selly whose review (with a good many comments) is here.

…and it’s getting cold! Which I hate. Cold makes me think of death. Although, I was just skimming my newish Complete New Yorker (which I won by taking one of those New Yorker marketing surveys — people actually do win those!) and I ran across a review from 1988 by Arlene Croce of Edward Villella and Miami City Ballet, which I read with interest since it’s kind of timely (the company will be coming to City Center in January for the first time in a while). Anyway, in explaining why Villella had a bit of a hard time getting his company off the ground, Croce noticed that ballet seems to thrive in cold climates where people wear heavy coats, like Russia and northern Europe and New York. Too much sun, too much natural beauty, and no indoor culture. Anyway, will try to think of winter that way: it’s because I’m freezing my tush off that I have ballet in my life…

(above picture is of holiday decorations at the Time Warner Center, which I took a few days ago)

So, I had my class — first in I don’t know how long, but over a year at least. It was advanced Cha Cha at Stepping Out, with Jules Helm (above, in jeans and black shirt), a very nice, patient, and thorough teacher (we began with 20 minutes of stretching, working just about every part of the body, including the foot, which not many teachers spend time with and which I need because my feet tend to cramp. So I didn’t need my set of ridiculously shallow warm-up plies that I did at home, during which I nearly twisted my hip out of its socket… I am really prone to hurting myself…)

I was sent to the studio to write a review of the class by Explore Dance. It was a very comfy, homey, social atmosphere, not at all threatening, which was good because I’d intended to take the intermediate class, but, long story short, ended up in advanced. The routine Jules taught us was fun and challenging without being too crazy hard and I managed to get the steps down, though my technique was heinous and I’ve once again forgotten how to balance in heels (not that I ever knew). At one point I nearly flew over sideways after a double spiral (two spins in which you put one foot in front of the other and turn a full rotation without picking your feet off the ground) and took my partner down with me. The male students were thankfully very nice though — which was a welcome change from some of the other studios I’ve been to. Anyway, will post to the (serious) Explore Dance review when it’s up.

Oh and my old teacher Luis was there (teaching now at three studios); so fun to run into him!

If you’re having a lazy Sunday afternoon, here’s some reading. Some of these links are a bit old; you may have read them already:

Joan Acocella on San Francisco Ballet (she likes at least two of the same dancers as I, and gives a good overview on the company and reasoning behind its repertoire);

Robert Gottlieb reviews a new book on Balanchine by Nancy Goldner (whose writing sounds comfortably accessible, almost bloggy!) in the NY Review of Books;

Apollinaire Scherr on how to view a Wheeldon ballet, and suggestions for Wheeldon’s future in this troubled economy;

James Wolcott, in his usual hilariously hyperbolical manner, recounts his experience with ABT’s new ballet Citizen;

Alex Ross explains what went wrong between the original Doctor Atomic and the Met’s version of the opera;

Claudia La Rocco laments Gerard Mortier’s decision not to take on the directorship of New York City Opera and wonders what will happen with the planned Brokeback Mountain opera (which I was really looking forward to);

Counter Critic reflects on the passage of Proposition 8 in California.

Happy Sunday, everyone. I’m off to cover my first dance class for Explore Dance. First, meaning, I’ve never written formally about a dance class before… Please wish me luck!

My friend and fellow blogger, Taylor Gordon, is dancing in the Radio City Christmas Spectacular this year. She invited me to their dress rehearsal yesterday evening, which was more like opening night — the huge theater was completely packed and the show was totally smooth; no glitches at all.

Somewhat ridiculously, in my 15 years in New York, this is actually the first time I’ve ever been to the Christmas show. I’ve been in Radio City Music Hall to see musical artists (like Whitney Houston, long long ago) and have seen the Rockettes perform very briefly at the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree lighting, but this was my first time at the actual show.

I was so blown away. The Rockettes are absolutely amazing in their spectacular formations — with many difficult-looking formation changes — and incredible synchronicity. I see now why they’re so legendary.

The show was mostly song and dance with a small playlet about two young boys meeting Santa and Santa eventually convincing the older, more skeptical one of his magical abilities, which I thought went on a bit too long. But all the musical numbers were a thrill and really kind of made you want to get up and sing and dance yourself. Not to sound corny, but it really does get you into the holiday spirit. I’ve been kind of nervous and depressed lately and this got me out of my blue funk.

And it was such a thrill to see Taylor on that huge stage! She had a part as a dancing bear in this little Nutcracker scene at the beginning, and then as a “tourist” skipping and dancing her way through Central Park and other NYC tourist attractions. She was of course excellent! And she was also in a Santa number (all dancers dressed in heavy Santa costumes) which completely blew me away — I totally thought the Santa dancers were the Rockettes!

I took a few more pics and have a mini photo album here (click on thumbnails for a short caption). Also, Taylor’s been keeping a great journal of her experiences with the show on her blog.

Thank you, Taylor. It was magical

Or something like that! My friend and fellow dance blogger Jolene is this insanely amazing combination Med School / Neuroscience PhD student with prior ballet training who somehow finds time to blog extensively about music, theater, and dance in the Bay area. Anyway, she read about this contest hosted by Science Magazine and then picked up by the New York Times on choreographing your PhD dissertation. Finding it a good way to promote “conversation between science and the arts” she decided to participate. Watch her entry and learn more about her project here. Gorgeously deep ending dip makes me very jealous… Very original, Jolene!

Wow, this looks interesting. (Via Claudia)

If you haven’t already, make sure to read (and listen to) Claudia La Rocco’s excellent WNYC post containing interviews with several NYC dance artists speaking about the role of race in their work and how they view the election. She apparently came up with the idea to do the interviews after an angry back and forth between Time Out editors and readers over the fact that the magazine’s list of top 40 New Yorkers who’ve made the most impact on the city over the last decade is, as Claudia put it, rather “monochromatic.”

At least things are different in the literary world. Check out the list of recent Whiting Award recipients. Also, Galley Cat is doing a series of author interviews about the election. Here’s one with poet Douglas Kearney over harmful language used in political speeches. His upcoming projects sound very cool.

I meant to write about this yesterday but took the day off from writing when I got a pleasantly unexpected invitation from Lucky Broadway Girl to see a play! Imagine that: words, actual words spoken on a stage! Hehe, I used to go to plays all the time but kind of stopped when I got so into dance — had no time. Anyway, we went to see Love Child, off-Broadway, at the 59East59 theater, which I’d never been to before.

Nice space, for lots of small theaters — kind of like some of those buildings on far west 42nd street. The play was good and the actors (Daniel Jenkins and Robert Stanton) excellent — these two men played several different characters and they had to change from one to another in a split nano-second. No time for line flubs! And there was a little choreographed movement — sometimes they had to do a little series of turns to show they were going from one character to another. So there was some dance after all Anyway, so great to finally meet Lucky Bway Girl!

The Dance Times Square showcase I won’t say much about because I’m writing a review for Explore Dance which I’ll link to as soon as it’s up, but just briefly: wow, their best showcase yet, or at least one of their best. Sabra and Neil from SYTYCD were there, each danced two solos apiece. Excellent solos, obviously. Neil’s were both kind of Movin’ Out style, white t-shirt and jeans, the first more beautifully balletic with lots of whipping fouettes and multiple pirouettes and big leaping jetes. He has a really beautiful line. Somehow I’d kind of overlooked that on the show. His second solo was more gymnastic with a few fun tumbling passes, which I guess is what he’s known for (not only on the TV show but he was also in Tharp’s acrobatic Times Are A’ Changin’). I personally prefer the ballet, but the crowd went nuts when he went flying

And Sabra danced gorgeously. Her first was this kind of cutely sexy Bjork-esque number in a pink and white baby doll dress, and her second a more passionate contemporary of the style you’d see on the show, danced in a vibrant purple unitard. She moves so well, and she dances with such passion and emotion and her form is so perfect; she has perfect ballet turn-out. This was the most up-close I’ve seen her and she really is a miraculous dancer; I can clearly see how she won the crown.

Still, to me Eugene Katsevman and Maria Manusova stole the show with their three Latin combo routines. They are such a splendid partnership — they’re both very good dancers, both quick, sharp, and precise, and neither tries to outshine the other; they actually work as a team, which is unfortunately becoming increasingly rare in ballroom…

And Michael Choi (a DTS teacher) and his professional partner Becky Melton did a luxuriant ballroom combo to Andrea Bocelli’s rich, luscious Con Te Partiro, one of my favorite musical pieces period, but particularly for ballroom dance.

It was a tribute to the Helen Sawaya Fund — a group supporting breast cancer survivors, and they (the member survivors) did a little Broadway-esque / ballroom number, all dressed in dazzling bright red gowns, with the male pros at DTS, all in dapper black tuxes. Mercedes Ellington presented them, and opera star Aprile Millo sang. Gorgeous voice — and she sang without accompaniment. Philip told me some interesting stories about her — she has a cult following and there are even some exhibits in the Met opera house dedicated to her! No wonder it was so packed in the house — opera divas with cult followings, TV stars, stars of the Latin ballroom world… And this was the most diverse it’s ever been — a lot of the numbers were kind of Broadway dance or contemporary dance combined with Latin and ballroom. They weren’t one specific style. So, the studio is branching out!

All in all, it was a fabulous night. As always, the students are loads of fun to watch, and to cheer on — both advanced and beginner. Elaine (full disclosure: my friend), who often steals the student portion of the show, ended it (with teacher Michael Choi) with a disco tribute to Donna Summer, and had the crowd roaring to its feet. This biannual showcase is always such a blast. It’s not ABT, you know, but it’s just a huge blast!

Tonight and tomorrow night I have law events, so may be little late with my DWTS posts, but will definitely tape, watch, and blog! I’m excited — I think — to see the contestants dance with each other. That’s what they’re doing tonight, right?…

(photo from ABT)

Blah! I had a very strange dream last night in which this one basically told me in his own sweet way that I need to calm down and not stress over blogging like a mad fiend. I have no idea why Angel Corella was on my mind since, although my favorite ballet company begins their City Center season tonight, he, for the second CC season in a row now, is not participating (likely to work on his own company, in Spain). Which is probably why he invaded my dreams — I’ll be missing him badly these next two weeks.

I do know why blogging like a crazed nutter was on my mind. I’m trying to juggle way too much. I’m like a rabbit on speed these days. While I love blogging about dance, sadly, it doesn’t pay and I need to spend less time writing ridiculously long reviews (which I don’t think people appreciate anyway) and more time on paying work (and on writing the two novels I’m currently working on simultaneously, as well as revising my first, and on legal CLE courses so I can keep my license). I honestly think I was less busy when I was practicing law full time.

So, in the interest of shorter reviews (there will be a couple of longer ones in other publications, and I’ll link when they’re up), here goes my last, insane, week:

1) Chase Brock Experience:

Went to this last night. Was supposed to see Danny Tidwell perform as a guest artist but he didn’t show, nor did Neil Haskell. Edwaard Liang did, and he and Elizabeth Parkinson (Tony-nominated star of Tharp / Billy Joel project, Movin’ Out, pictured above in John Bradley photo, taken from here) were, by far, the highlights. Parkinson, in specific, showed me how a great dancer can make any choreographer look good. Everything she did had meaning, even basic choreography (and Brock’s choreography is very basic) like rising to the balls of her feet. The way she went on releve was heavenly.

I hadn’t heard of Brock, but he’s a 25-year-old choreographer who makes theater, modern, and ballet (non-pointe) dances. His modern and ballet were lacking — choreography was very basic, very unoriginal. It was like he was a Larry Keigwin but without the ingeniousness, originality, and sophisticated sense of humor. He’s young though, and can learn a lot by watching other, more sophisticated artists.

2) Three Movements

This is an off-off-Broadway play on Theater Row I saw on Sunday, about the Balanchine, Tanaquil LeClerq, Suzanne Farrell true-story melodrama. The characters were given different names, but playwright Martin Zimmerman made clear it was based the Balanchine story.

First, I finally got to meet (NYTimes writer and now blogger) Claudia La Rocco, in the elevator of all places! Fun fun – -by far the best part of the afternoon, as well as hanging out with my ballroom friend, Mika.

If you’re not a balletomane, story is basically this: Balanchine, the Russian / American choreographer, could only work, and could only fall in love (non-sexually, as many contend he was a closeted gay man) with ballerinas who could be his muse. He often married his muses, but of course, no sex. He married his muses, then obsessed over their bodies, every little flaw, and starved them (in the documentary Ballets Russes, many of the dancers remember him taking food away from his wife Maria Tallchief, because she was too “fat” — ie: large-boned; their marriage lasted approximately 5 minutes, because Tallchief had a brain). Is it obvious yet how much I like Balanchine as a person?

So, he married Tanaquil LeClerq, up-and-coming ballerina extraordinaire, his main muse, and therefore star of all of his ballets. After driving her hard in rehearsal — the choreographer comes across here as completely impossible to please — she collapses, tragically stricken with polio, unable ever to walk again. I don’t know why more writers don’t focus on her — her story seems the most awful, the most pathetic, the most heart-wrenching. Because she can no longer be his muse, he falls out of love with her. He must look for a new one, which he finds in 18-year-old Suzanne Farrell. Of course he falls in love with her, dumps bedridden LeClerq, and proposes to Farrell (he’s 60, mind you, and is dumbfounded when she doesn’t accept). But Farrell is in love with a male ballet dancer in the troupe, Paul Mejia. In a jealous rage, Balanchine fires Mejia (yes, the man is a walking advertisement for the need for sexual harassment law), fires Farrell, and threatens she’ll never be anything without him, etc. etc.

It’s very hard to make Balanchine likeable. Here, I could tell there were many in the audience who knew nothing about him, judging by all the snickers and harrumphs when the actor (Mike Timoney) recited his more misogynistic fare (telling Farrell her tiny thighs were too fat — which the dancer recounts at the beginning of her autobiography, so it’s not untrue — and screaming at her later when she tries to leave him, telling her he didn’t teach her, but “created” her — the man had a major God complex, to put it mildly). To me, this play did nothing to make me feel any sympathy toward Balanchine whatsoever. Nor did I feel what it was about him that made his work genius. But, then, I already knew the story and had preconceived notions of how I’d feel upon seeing it dramatized. Perhaps someone who didn’t already know the story is a better judge here?

It’s no mystery why writers choose to re-tell this story. It makes for great drama. Of the fictionalized accounts I’ve read though, I like Adrienne Sharp’s the most, and recommend it, particularly if you don’t know the story (it’s a short story contained in this collection, all about dancers). She most softened Balanchine’s edges, making him human, vulnerable, and to some extent, even forgivable.

(all photos from the play, by Jacquelyn TerHar, above, Erin Fogarty as Farrell, Mike Timoney as Balanchine)

(Timoney, and Maria Portman Kelly as LeClerc)

(ditto from above)

The play runs through October 26th and tix are $18.

3) San Francisco Ballet

(photo Andrea Mohin, NYTimes)

Went back for more on Saturday, and loved them again. Dancer-wise, they are one of the best companies in the world. Everyone, down to the most recently-hired corps member, is just flawless. Standing out to me again were the same ones as before – Lorena Feijoo, Davit Karapetyan, Pascal Molat (their bravura dancer), and the newbie Cuban guy Taras Domitro — probably because I was looking for them; they also had main roles though.

As far as the dances go, my favorites (I saw two out of three programs) were Concerto Grosso and On a Theme of Paganini, both by the company’s artistic director, Helgi Tomasson; Ibsen’s House, by Val Caniparoli, whose work I’d never seen before; and Balanchine’s The Four Temperaments. Sir Alastair did not like anything on that list besides the last and, though I disagree with him, I can see his point. Tomasson’s choreography is very basic, very classical ballet, nothing out of the traditional vocabulary, and nothing like the richness, the variety, the suspenseful development, and the engrossing intricacies of Balanchine. Seeing the Balanchine next to Tomasson makes you realize Balanchine’s genius (the way a play about him likely never could).

But what I like about Tomasson is that he knows how near-perfect his dancers are, and he showcases that to maximum, brilliant, spectacular effect. Concerto Grosso is basically a male ballet class, beginning with simple tendus, all the way up to the super-advanced ginormous leaps, barrell turns, and twisty, impossible-looking corkscrew jumps. These men are such excellence personified, I could sit there and watch that ballet repeat all day long. In fact, I recommend to anyone seriously trying to learn ballet to see this company, and watch very closely. The dancers are not only perfectly precise, every movement perfectly, fully executed, but they somehow add so much character and passion to every little thing they do. Even non-story ballets grow to have little narratives with this lot.

Which is why I liked Ibsen too. This is not so much a rendition of any of Ibsen’s plays as a kind of an expressionistic work of Ibsen’s universe. Women wearing richly hued fabrics in 19th Century designs, dance in solo, in units, and with their men, all of their stories fraught with drama, with anger, conflict, love. I didn’t know what exactly was going on in each little segment, and I don’t think the choreographer meant for you to, but watching the dancers lament, cherish, struggle both internally (which, brilliantly, could be read on both face in movement of the body, particularly with Feijoo) and with each other, was deeply engaging. And made me want to read up on my Ibsen!

Philip has some more great pictures of the company on his blog, here and here.

4) Cynthia Gregory at Barnes & Noble

On Friday night, I went to see the legendary ballerina give a talk with writer Joel Lobenthal at the B&N at Lincoln Center, basically to promote her new DVD, of her dancing with equally legendary Fernando Bujones (now deceased). We saw some clips of that DVD, particularly of her dancing Strindberg’s Miss Julie (had no idea there was a ballet made from that play!) and excerpts of her dancing Sleeping Beauty. She was a truly gorgeous dancer, moved with a great deal of emotion and purpose and fluidity, and with her size, seemed to devour the stage (kind of like a Veronika Part). And she was very dramatic, very expressive — would have been my kind of dancer, and I can see why Apollinaire loves her. Apollinaire’s also right about Bujones: he does resemble my favorite!

Gregory has a sweet, very charming personality. She talked about dancing with Bujones, and her various other partners, including Erik Bruhn, and Nureyev, whom she characterizes (unlike many who’ve worked with him) as very sweet and mild-tempered, albeit passionate, and said she was thinking of writing a book about all of her male partners — she danced with basically everyone who was anyone in the 70s and 80s. She was greatly encouraged to do so (write the book, that is) by the crowd (which pretty much packed the reading room).
One thing I found interesting, she said Bruhn taught her how to make up words to her movements and her miming gestures, which helped a great deal with her acting. Brilliant, Erik Bruhn! So, inside, she was singing words to herself while dancing. I think all dancers should do this, so they know what they’re trying to do, all the better to show us.

She talked about what she learned from other female dancers of her day, Carla Fracci (how to imbue her roles with humanity), Natalia Makarova (making the most of slow, dramatic developpes), how she coaches today, what it was like to work with big choreographers like Ashton, Tudor, and Balanchine (only worked with the latter once), traveling with the company, and just her life in general. She also mentioned she’s taken up painting and there will be a showing of her work in December at the Vartali Salon (yes her hair salon!), in NY.

5) Doctor Atomic

(photo, Suzanne DeChillo, NYTimes)

I saw this opera at the beginning of last week at the Met. It tells the true story of J. Robert Oppenheimer and his work in creating the world’s first atomic bomb, which we of course dropped over Hiroshima and Nagasaki, during WWII. The opera takes place before we bombed Japan, though, in July 1945 when Oppenheimer and his crew were testing it in New Mexico. It deals with the different personalities involved — Oppenheimer and his wife, his co-workers, the demanding military man who oversaw production — and each person’s internal conflicts and power struggles with the others.

Because I am tired and hungry — I started this post nearly 4 hours ago — I’m just going to refer you to Anthony Tommasini’s review for description, to scenes of the opera on the Times website, to the Met’s mini-site, and to Alex Ross’s blog where you can listen to one of the best arias in the work.

As I said before, I don’t have a lot of opera-going experience, but I liked this and think it’s definitely worth waiting in line for one of those $30 tickets, as I did. In particular, I liked: the sets — the mobile art-work suggesting pieces of debris hanging from the ceiling, the enormous bomb itself (anatomically correct, as the artist worked from a model), the cubicle-d office the physicists worked in, the posters of the actual people involved posted at times over the cubicle holes in place of their bodies, the gorgeous Native American katchina-like statues that at one point stand atop the the cubicles in warning; some of the choreographed movement — at one point singers are contorted in their cubicles, limbs askew, doing a prolonged handstand, their legs and feet bent awkwardly, shoved up against one side — in synecdoche of the effects of the blast; the libretto, comprised of actual documents from that period, writings and speeches of Oppenheimer, and the poetry of Baudelaire, John Donne, and Muriel Rukeyser, beloved by Oppenheimer; and of course the John Adams score itself, creating the whole atmosphere of horror, conflict, fear, and at the end, right before the blast, the drums just beat through your body — I was actually shaking — and this is followed by the voice of a Japanese woman searching for loved ones, for water, asking for help. The whole thing is spectacular, chilling, haunting.

Okay, I don’t know how well I obeyed, Angel, but it’s time to stop, time for my poached eggs & croissant

“When, in today’s ballet, you see a man express his feelings for his lady by hurling her into the air, catching her upside down, and wrapping her around his neck like a pashmina, you are seeing the legacy of the Bolshoi.”

– this from Joan Acocella in her latest New Yorker article, analyzing Morphoses (whose NY season just wrapped up) and trying to place Christopher Wheeldon in the pantheon of choreographers.

I burst out laughing when I read this quote because that’s a perfect (albeit hyperbolized) description of my favorite partnering moves in my favorite of all dance scenes, the balcony pas de deux from Kenneth MacMillan’s Romeo and Juliet — the scene that made me fall in love with ballet. (See Julio Bocca and Alessandra Ferri go at it here.) Acocella says MacMillan is a disciple of the Bolshoi style with its sweeping expressivity, its Romanticism, its high-theater dramatics.

But:

When, on the other hand, you see a woman in a leotard merely hold the man’s hand as she flashes her legs out in eighty-two fabulous, clean ballet steps, and then, in a change of heart, fall into his arms and do something hair-raisingly sexy, like a front-facing split, you are seeing a child of “Agon.”

“Agon” being one of George Balanchine’s masterpieces, Balanchine style being the antithesis of Bolshoi / MacMillan (aka “the pashmina”).

Acocella goes on to say Wheeldon’s choreography contains a bit of both styles. I hadn’t really seen that though. I saw him as more a follower of Balanchine with everything abstract, subtle, understated, and focused on steps, on movement rather than on creating character or bringing about an emotional response in the audience. Which is probably why I’m not an enormous fan of Wheeldon, though I do value seeing his work from time to time. On the other hand, I can’t imagine ever tiring of a pashmina.

The article is very interesting, as all of Acocella’s writings are. She always makes me see something I hadn’t before, makes me reconsider, want to see a piece again. Here, she finds in some of Wheeldon’s original, intricate partnering (which people have, aptly I think, referred to as pretzel pas de deux) something actually rather unsettling, even sinister in a way. I hadn’t thought of those twisty, undefined shapes that his dancers make with each other that way before. I always spent my time at a Wheeldon dance playing the inkblot test, trying desperately to figure out what exactly the odd, contorted shapes evoke. But maybe they’re not meant to evoke a specific image at all, yet still charge you with feeling, the same as a pashmina but in a less over-the-top way, without the drama. I will look at the partnering in his ballets anew now. (I couldn’t find a video of such a pdd, but here’s a Wheeldon sampling for comparison to the MacMillan.)

In any event, I dearly hope Mr. Ratmansky brings some of the Bolshoi with him to ABT. And I hope Mr. Wheeldon can let loose some more of his inner pashmina What is life without passion?…

Seriously, here is the full Acocella.

And, while on the subject of the New Yorker, for people interested in books and art and the artistic life and all, here is an interesting article by Malcolm Gladwell, on the different types of artistic genius and how each is cultivated, which I think could just as easily be titled, “Why This Country Will Never Produce a Cezanne”… Interestingly, Gladwell seems to locate young novelist Jonathan Safran Foer’s genius in the fact that he was a “best-seller” in his twenties rather than the critical acclaim he received. We’re so accustomed to equating success with money in this country, which is part of Gladwell’s point about the Cezanne issue.

Oh, one last thing: I’d written earlier about Acocella interviewing Ratmansky as part of the New Yorker festival. I was extremely sick that weekend and unable to attend, but Evan was there; here is her report. And here is reportage from Lori Ortiz on Explore Dance.

Tina Brown’s new online magazine, The Daily Beast, launched today (via Maud, who’s an “insider”). I wonder if she can employ one of those newly out-of-work dance critics? It doesn’t look huge on the arts, but then again it just launched.

For some reason, The New Yorker didn’t much publicize this year’s festival, but thankfully I sat next to Brian Siebert, who writes about dance for that magazine, last night at Morphoses (more on that soon!) and he alerted me that the festival is this weekend, and that as part of it, Joan Acocella (the NYer’s main dance critic) is to interview the man of the moment, Alexei Ratmansky, tomorrow, Saturday, at 1 p.m. at Cedar Lake studios. It appears they are no longer selling tickets on their website, but you can apparently go to the headquarters at 18th Street between 6th and 7th Avenues or else purchase tix at the event venue itself one hour before.

It appears that some of their writers are also live blogging and /or videotaping at least some of the events, so if you can’t be there, you can perhaps see / read about them online.

Go here to see other festival events.
(above cartoon taken from the New Yorker Festival website)

(photo by Linda Vartoogian, from The Ballerina Gallery)

On October 17, at 7:30 p.m., legendary ballerina Cynthia Gregory will speak to Joel Lobenthal (dance critic of the now sadly defunct NY Sun) at the Barnes & Noble at Lincoln Center. She’ll be promoting a new DVD, Together, of her work with Fernando Bujones.

we don’t really need them to, like, communicate intelligently or anything…

(Steve, a ballroom friend of mine, showing me his favorite newspaper for arts coverage last October, during our studio’s “field trip” to see Pasha and Anya on the SYTYCD tour)

For those who haven’t already heard, that paper, The NY Sun, folded the other day (leaving Joel Lobenthal — one of the better dance critics imo — presumably out of a job) along with two other arts-heavy alternative weeklies, The Chicago Reader and the Washington City Paper (via Galley Cat).

Another unfolding drama in the literary arts world is that the Nobel prizes winners are scheduled to be announced soon, but the Swedish head of the literature committee has apparently told Americans we’re being left out of the running; we’re too insular, uninvolved in the world, we “don’t translate enough and don’t participate in the world’s great dialog of literature.” Of course this has angered many, including David Remnick, EIC of The New Yorker; here is Galley Cat’s snarling response.

I seem to buy a lot of translations so it would be nice if Mr. Engdahl was more specific on what is not being translated here, and I don’t know what he means by our failure to participate in the world’s great literary dialog, but I disagree with him that all of our writers are insular, though the ones who come to mind first who are not (Junot Diaz, Colson Whitehead, David Foster Wallace, etc.) are probably too young in their literary careers (tragically of course in Wallace’s case) to be considered for this “body of work” award. Still, this line of his resonates: “U.S. writers are ‘too sensitive to trends in their own mass culture,’ dragging down the quality of their work.” I’m not sure if it’s the writers or the publishers, but I do think we’re far too concerned here with how much money the work will make, which in large part depends on how “trendy” is its topic or author. I do think we’d be hard-pressed to argue with him that a work’s artistic merit is generally more important in Europe, its dollar ‘value’ more so here. And where has this fixation on money gotten us?…

(all photos by Richard Termine)

So, last night I went to the Guggenheim primarily to see this Works & Process combination dance / fashion program, “A Two Part Affair — Ballet and Modern Meet Uptown.” I was really looking forward to it because, unlike the other W & P programs, which are more of a preview of an upcoming show, this was a performance only to be shown at the museum. Two choreographers — one, Pam Tanowitz, from the Modern world; the other, Brian Reeder, from Ballet — collaborated to form a kind of hybrid dance form.

Also exciting was that Jillian Lewis, from Project Runway, did the costumes. She, along with Tanowitz and Reeder, spoke about the production on a panel moderated by dance writer Robert Greskovic (who is actually a pretty funny guy — who knew! — cracking jokes right and left, making fun of himself for being so out of it as to not know who Lewis was I probably shouldn’t admit it but neither did I :S — I just don’t watch enough TV…)

Anyway, the program, as its name implied, consisted of two parts: the first danced to Renaissance music; the second to modern composers like Charles Wuorinen (creator of the upcoming operatic version of Brokeback Mountain), Philip Glass, and Lou Harrison. This second part, I far preferred to the first, though to be honest, I thought most of it was pretty eh… pretty, but just nothing that really blew me away, either costume- or choreography-wise.

I feel like we’re currently in the midst of a rather unfortunate period of Minimalism. Choreography consisted mainly of ballerinas tip-toe-ing around, taking very small steps, men and the sole female Modern dancer doing these small side-sweeping steps, sometimes with flexed feet, sometimes pointed. Once in a while there’d be a leg slightly raised and a very small waist-high lift, but overall there was nothing spectacular, nothing the least bit dramatic about the movement. I think choreographers still need to tell a kind of story with the movement, even if it’s not a full narrative but of the Balanchine (“whenever a man and woman are onstage together, there’s a story) variety. I just didn’t see that here — dancers kind of partnered at random with one another, broke into a short solo, but there didn’t seem to be anything to it that you could hook onto.
And the costumes — well, here are some more pictures so you can see for yourselves:

(again, all photos by Richard Termine)

So, as you can see, all of the men’s costumes consisted of pink or blue diaphanous t-shirts and tights with cut-outs that were also see-through in places. The female dancers all wore leotards with exterior underwire bra; the two ballerinas sassy little striped tutus and the Modern woman a lacey thing that wrapped around her neckline feather boa-like. But the tutus and boa were worn only in the first, Renaissance section; they were taken off for the modern.

I mean, Lewis was likely going for sexy– she said she wanted to focus on the body, highlight the human form — but to me, I guess that’s just been done before. Plus, she used such light colors and mundane-looking fabrics, the costumes just kind of almost weren’t even there. And, even including tutus and boa, they just didn’t seem to fit at all in the context of the Renaissance. I then remembered seeing David Hallberg dance earlier at the Guggenheim in a fabulous Christian Lacroix. He left out the delicious candy-apple velvet jacket, but here are some pics he took of himself in the tights. I mean, hello — THIS is what we need to spice up Ballet, I say! I say away with minimalism; bring back Lacroix!

Anyway, I really did appreciate the concept of this program; I think collaborations can be very fruitful and lead to innovation and creativity. Back to the dancing for a moment, I really just think the choreographers needed some more time. There was one point during the second, modern, part where Roman Zhurbin (center, in the bottom picture) held his arms out and each ballerina grabbed on. He lifted, walked slowly around stage carrying the two of them. To me, it was beautifully reminiscent of Balanchine’s Apollo. At center stage was one of the male modern dancers in a kind of Martha Graham-esque pose, body bent over forward, foot flexed back, seeming to carry a non-existent world atop his arched-over shoulders. So, also Apollo-like, yet fundamentally Modern in form. It was like a double-sided Apollo. I feel like they should have gotten rid of everything else, used this stunning moment as a starting point.

I think the rest of it was kind of too hybrid. They didn’t use the Ballet dancers to show the beauty and poetry of the dance form; ballerinas were going on pointe and Zhurbin would point instead of flex his foot at times, but that doesn’t really mean anything. It just looked like a very watered-down form of Ballet. And then both Zhurbin and the female ballet dancers had these very muscular bodies — particularly Zhurbin (aka Ballet god! — never noticed that before; ABT is really under-using him…), and the Modern dancers were more thin, almost a bit scrawny in comparison. But of course there’s a reason for that — Ballet requires great use of the legs, the thigh muscles for those huge jumps and the calves for pointe work. And the upper body is so developed for spectacular overhead lifting. If you don’t show some of that difference in the movement, I think the bodies end up looking a little weirdly unbalanced…

One final thing: writer Claudia La Rocco didn’t see the program, unfortunately, but here’s an interesting discussion she and her commenters started about Ballet’s current kind of identity crisis and how costuming fits into that.

(photo by Nicole Bengiveno, from NYTimes)

Hmmm, this is turning out to be a bit of a drama. NYTimes chief Sir Alastair weighs in on Alexei Ratmansky’s joining ABT, as does Apollinaire Scherr, who points to this piece of commentary, one of the most interesting in my opinion, by Robert Johnson in the New Jersey Star Ledger.

Johnson is the first critic I’ve read who’s not head over heels in love with the choreographer, but one of his reasons for so being is that he seems to think Ratmansky has somewhat of a Communist streak. He says that during his directorship of the Bolshoi, Ratmansky tried to revive the company, suffering in the wake of Perestroika, by re-staging some successful Soviet-era ballets. Johnson asks what “red eminence” this programming might have. Ratmansky’s own work “Bright Stream,” set to music by Soviet composer Dmitri Shostakovitch, and praised by many dance critics here (the ballet, that is, was praised, not Shostakovitch), Johnson calls “a disingenuous frolic on a Soviet collective farm,” then interprets Ratmansky’s latest “Concerto DSCH” which recently premiered at the New York City Ballet as a mockery of Imperial Russia, with Soviet revival style triumphing.

I unfortunately haven’t seen “Bright Stream” or any of these other Soviet era ballets, but of course am now dying to. I did see “Concerto DSCH” and didn’t interpret it at all the way Johnson does.

But, even if you can attribute these underlying, subconscious politicized ideas to the choreographer, which is a huge if, so what? Can’t someone critique the Imperial period without being considered pro-Stalinist? (Johnson reminds of the bloody atrocities committed by the Soviet regime) Has anyone ever seen Peterhof? It looks just like Versailles. Your first thought is, whoa, look at all this opulence, no wonder there was a rebellion. But in any event, can an aesthetic critique be interpreted as a political critique? I personally think not, but even if so, is this reason for threat? Aren’t we post-Cold War now?

I don’t know, maybe it’s just me, but I found that part of the article a bit shocking in a McCarthyist kind of way. But I do have to say, I applaud Johnson for resisting herd mentality and offering the first real Ratmansky criticism. (He does have more bases for criticism; this is just the one that seemed most prominent to me. And, by reading James Wolcott, Laura Jacobs seems critical as well — I’ve got to get a subscription to the New Criterion!) In the end, I do have to say, with all I’ve read on Ratmansky this past week, Johnson most makes me want to run out and see everything I can by the man…

(photo by Jennifer Taylor, of “Bright Stream” from NYTimes)

Oh and, somewhat apropos of the critics jumping on the bandwagon thing, I just want to point people to an interesting discussion, begun by Claudia La Rocco (who is so awesome to comment here ) on fans versus critics down in the comments section of this post.

Blogging will resume as soon as a Wednesday deadline passes, I promise!

In the meantime, here are a few things to keep you entertained:

1) Christopher Wheeldon (choreographer and artistic director of Morphoses — upcoming next month at City Center) talks ballet and creativity on Big Think here, here, and here; general Wheeldon link here. (Also, read some Morphoses dancer and choreographer blogs here);

2) check out Cedar Lake Contemporary Ballet’s Project 52, a year-long documentary on the company in weekly video installments;

3) Claudia La Rocco discusses the new Broadway musical Fela!;

4) a discussion I found interesting about whether J.D. Salinger’s Catcher in the Rye should still be required reading for high schoolers, or whether it no longer has adequate “currency” so as to resonate with young people today, here, here, and here;

and

5) if you’re interested in the writing life, guest blogger Joshua Henkin, author of Matrimony, turned The Elegant Variation into a crash course on creative writing last week. His entries begin here.

Okay, wish me luck!

Obviously this is a lot for one post

First, my HuffPost on this week’s SYTYCD episode is now up. I’m still so excited Richardson was on this week’s show (I hope that picture I posted wasn’t too corny! — it’s the only one I have of him and I just felt like it was ‘real’ you know…) Anyway, I love Nigel Lythgoe for doing this, for working so hard to expand that show, bringing on all these renowned performers and choreographers, showcasing world dance. The group Bollywood number was fabulous. It’s so cool that TV audiences are getting to see the things people who live in the large cities take for granted and huge kudos to Nigel for that.

Second, I’ve had a head pain episode (I refuse to call them ‘headaches’ because those are the things people get that are alleviated with one Advil and a glass of water) since last Saturday, which is the longest one of these has ever lasted. My biggest problem, besides the pain, is that I was diagnosed with both common migraines and Trigeminal Autonomic Cephalgia, which is a rare neurological condition (although, judging by my blog stats, is becoming less rare) which I don’t entirely understand, but which causes severe, knife-stabbing-like pains to one side of the head, combined with numbness and sinus-like symptoms (loss of hearing, swollen, watery eye which I enjoy calling ‘golf ball eye’ because that’s how wonderful it looks, clogged nostril, and sinus-like pressure) to the same side of the face with the stabs. With a migraine it’s more like there’s a pounding or a throbbing or a pulsing than a stabbing, they don’t last as long, and there’s some sinus-like pressure but without the intense symptoms (no golf-ball eye or excessive tearing, no real hearing loss). Sometimes the migraine ‘just’ remains a migraine — I say ‘just’ because it’s obviously still painful in itself but at least it usually responds, for the most part, to my migraine medication. But sometimes the pounding is not really a migraine but the beginning of the TAC stabbing. Maybe a migraine can even turn into a TAC… I never know what medication to take (since I have different meds for each type, it’s dangerous to take more than one within a certain period and taking the proper one can make all the difference). I have a neurologist but there is so little known about this condition, he doesn’t have a lot of answers. And there’s nothing on the internet written for a lay audience, which is beyond frustrating. I’d start an internet support group if I had the time… Anyway, all that is by way of explaining why I haven’t been writing much lately…

Third, I was very excited to receive a comment on an earlier post from none other than Claudia LaRocco, poet and dance critic for The New York Times! Apropos of her recent post about dance criticism on her newish blog, The Culturist, and a conversation she’d had with another writer, she had asked what I thought the role of judgment was in criticism, whether it was inherent to the form. I’m still thinking about it, but thought I’d put the question up in case others have thoughts too. I think there has to be some judgment in the analysis. I think criticism that is poetically written is a joy to read on its own (Laura Jacobs writes like that as well as Claudia), and I do think criticism is an art form in and of itself. But I’m finding by reading Edwin Denby and some earlier dance writers that I still think there has to be some judgment about the dance, that speaks in way to where the dance and dancers stand in the canon of Dance and of performers past and present. You feel a sense of history and continuity of an art form when you read about it that way. And the critic can’t do that unless s/he says this is not that good because of such and such, this was really worthwhile because of this and that, etc. I know a lot of dance enthusiasts think negative reviews are responsible for decreasing audiences (someone posed that question to chief NYTimes critic Alastair Macaulay when he spoke at Barnard a while ago) but I disagree with that unless the critic really sarcastically blasts all of dance or something. And I still think every critic everywhere would have to be doing that all the time in order for it to have an effect. Arlene Croce said it’s the critic’s job in a democracy to be critical. People get upset when their favorite dancer or choreographer is criticized, but hopefully then there are enough voices around for a real debate — although with arts criticism this is unfortunately not often the case. I’m probably getting way off the point (my headache is still lingering!), but just wondered if others had any thoughts. You should also definitely read her post on the Culturist here where she talks about a workshop she recently led where she asked for different kinds of responses to a dance performance, and received some very interesting ones, like a poem written by a Colombian critic in response to a Maguy Marin piece (the video of which she embedded). I definitely think there is a place for some criticism like this — I agree with the commenter that the poem did make me see things I hadn’t before, but I think there needs to be more of what I mentioned above as well — with some judgment and analysis. Any thoughts?

I went back to ABT last night for another Merry Widow with Jose and Julie in the leads. Couldn’t resist! And I’m glad I did; I ended up meeting Roslyn Sulcas, writer from the New York Times, who is really nice and down to earth, and elegantly beautiful.

Anyway, I already wrote a bit about this ballet earlier, and have to get ready for a pre-competition dinner, but I quickly just want to mention a few other tidbits about Jose that make him so great, that I noticed last night. He keeps in character throughout, even when he’s not center stage. I mean, they all do, but Jose really keeps in character. As Julie’s rich widow was dancing with the Pontevedrian men, each man trying to curry her wealthy available favor, Jose was sitting off to the side flirting devilishly with Misty Copeland. And he was really flirting, not just chatting. At one point he raised his eyebrows at her in a way that made me nearly fall out of my seat.

And the way he struts around stage, like a cocky, spoiled, at times drunk, misbehaving boy … it’s not at all balletic, the way other dancers might do, but perfectly in character (and somehow on him, mischievous as it is, becomes so endearing).

I also noticed that when he spots as he’s doing a slow turn, carrying his ballerina in his arms, he looks at each spot on the floor with intent. During his pas de deux with Julie when he was remembering happy times with her in the past, he looked down at each point on the floor like he was lost, forlorn, wondering where they all went. With most dancers they look like they’re doing exactly what they’re doing — spotting so they don’t lose balance. He turns simple technique into art.

(The pair dancing together in “Apollo”, photo by Gene Schiavone; all photos from ABT website)

I also wanted to point out how fantastic Joseph Phillips was, as leader of the Pontevedrian men, with his spectacular bravura-embellished folk dancing, and Craig Salstein as he sweetly but sadly unsuccessfully vied for Julie’s hand. And Julie as the widow was sweetly flirtatious, her smiles and raised eyebrows infusing her prolonged flexes of the foot into quick, snappingly sharp points, with added sexual meaning.

The couple behind me were confused during first intermission because this photo of Irina and Max (by Fabrizio Ferri) was shown on the Playbill’s cover, and yet, they weren’t in the cast.

Anyway, I’m very excited for Giselle next week!

(photo of Julie Kent in “Giselle” by Roy Round)

Happy 4th of July, everyone!

I’ve been so busy lately trying to juggle various things I got very behind on my reading, particularly dance reading. So I spent part of my weekend browsing the online arts sections of my old favorite magazines and newspapers and found a few interesting things. I’m really loving some of Claudia La Rocco’s recent reviews. This Bayadere piece is really beautiful in her descriptions, and this one had a poetic charm to it as well — look at the Ravel simile! Made me wonder what her background was — if she was a fiction writer or poet. So, I did a Google search and found several of her poems, like this one and this one, and this one on Shen Wei. (At least I assume this is the same Claudia La Rocco!) It does make perfect sense; poetry, fiction, and dance (and perhaps music) writing have a good deal in common. It’s so hard to write about something so inherently visual or sensual and it really makes you strive for that perfectly specific adjective or metaphor or simile that will convey to your readers as precisely as possible what you saw and what it felt like, how it touched the senses and the soul, without resorting to cliche (which tells the reader nothing). Of course you also need analytical faculties, but I personally find the most challenging part is just getting a well-written, apt description down without over-using the “amazing”s and “beautiful”s, etc. etc.

I was also looking through Time Out, after Ariel pointed out a few Gia Kourlas pieces, and found this interview with Tom Gold, who recently retired from New York City Ballet, particularly interesting. About halfway through he talks about how City Ballet has changed over the years and how technique now seems to be stressed over developing the dancer’s personality, conveying the humanity of the dance. I think that’s all important. I feel like, with a few definite exceptions, dancers are focusing so much on the steps, on making them perfect without thinking about what’s behind them, what they’re trying to convey to us with those steps. Didn’t Damian Woetzel recently say people don’t go to the ballet to see technique? We don’t! Gold said he hopes we return to the age of Romanticism soon and I couldn’t agree more. He also has a few amusing expressions of annoyance at artists who are so insistent on being the “new thing,” on being original, that they seem to lose focus on what they’re doing, on the joy and spontaneity of dance, and their work ends up being contrived and derivative anyway. There’s nothing new under the sun, but there are new ways of bringing things to light and exploring them.

Last night’s La Bayadere was ABT’s best night at the Met yet. They had the largest, most enthusiastic audience, many of whom seemed to be Marcelo fans! He got lots of ‘bravos’ and huge applause throughout, and he sensed early on the crowd was really with him so he kind of took it over the top with the enormous jetes and those interesting running-in-the-air jumps, whatever they’re called. I thought he may throw his back out after he landed a tour jete on one knee and dramatically arched back, his fingers gracing the ground behind him. And when he lands a jete it’s almost earth-shattering because of his size. But of course those huge leaps fit in with the role too since his character here is a warrior. It’s funny; it was like he was on a mission to really deliver – -it seemed his dancing was even fuller-bodied and more theatrical than usual. He’s always my favorite no matter

Dancers are definitely very sensitive to how the crowd is reacting to what they’re doing — or at least Marcelo and Angel are, which is probably why I like them so. You can read their feelings all over their faces. Or at least you can if you kind of “know” them from seeing them so many times.

And Veronika Part really owns this role. Her expressive wrists, those luscious developes of which she is the queen (lift of the leg at the knee, then slowly unfolding to a full extension), and her gorgeously almost tragically poetic arabesques (back leg lifted). Oh, by the way, Bayadere is set in ancient India, and tells the story of Solor the warrior who falls in love with a temple dancer, Nikiya, but is betrothed to the princess Gamzatti. Veronika (as Nikiya) got loads of applause during her solo curtain calls at the very end of course. This is how the ballet should always be; the crowd going nuts like that.

But Marcelo and Veronika weren’t just great on their own; they were a perfect partnership as well, which to me is really everything, more important than the solo dancing. I really believed they were hopelessly, tragically in love. She was so forlorn, I wanted to cry for her when it was clear she wasn’t going to get her love. And Marcelo as always was the perfect actor, making perfectly clear how truly torn he was between his beloved and his betrothed, especially after the latter’s sexy, seductive whipping fouette sequence, and then how distraught he was on realizing he was in love with Nikiya but had to marry the princess.

Of course this ballet is so beautiful, many come regardless of who’s dancing, just for the story and the poetry of the choreography, particularly the breathtaking Kingdom of the Shades scene (which at first I have to admit I wasn’t so fond of because it’s so slow and there are few men ) but has really grown on me with its beauty. This is the part of the ballet where Solor sleeps and dreams of his Nikiya, whose image floods his subconsious by suddenly duplicating itself many many times over, as illustrated by a series of ballerinas all in white, emanating from the mountainside traveling forward in a pattern of lovely arabesques, then taking center stage and bourreeing in place, all in perfect sync, in perfect harmony, reminiscient of a spirit-world, and foreshadowing that this is the only place Solor and Nikiya will be together.

(all photos by Gene Schiavone, courtesy of ABT)

Finally, Michele Wiles was PERFECT as the princess Gamzatti. Throughout the first two acts she was icy cold bitchiness, which to me, she’s thus far excelled at. Critic Joan Acocella once referred to her as a sunny cheerleader type, but I’ve never seen that in her. I see her more as the spoiled rich girl who will have her way at all costs. She was pure golden-dressed evil when she puts the snake in Nikiya’s bouquet, basically casting a spell on her. Yet, when it’s clear Marcelo’s Solor is in love with Nikiya and is only going through the marriage because he must, you really start to feel sorry for Michele’s princess. She tries hard to maintain her power, but she can’t. She found the vulnerability in the character and made her sympathetic and that’s what makes this a true tragedy — for all.

It was also just such a great night because there were so many people there. I finally got to meet James Wolcott from Vanity Fair, and his wife Laura Jacobs who writes about dance for the New Criterion (and whose book I keep going on about — she writes so beautifully about dance)! I suspected they’d be there because they love Veronika so. I’m so shy, I always feel like such an oaf meeting famous people But they’re really nice and it was so cool to finally meet them!

Philip was there too and we hung out during first intermission, with friends and blog readers Susan and Philip’s opera buddy (whose name I keep forgetting…)

Great ballet, favorite dancers, very fun audience, meeting famous writers you admire, chatting with old friends — excellent night all around! I am happy.

I’ve had another full weekend of dance and am quite exhausted. Saturday and Sunday days I went to New York City Ballet for, sadly, my last of their programs celebrating Jerome Robbins. Until this season I’d only seen the very major works by Robbins, so it’s been really educational to see the others, although this season made clear why some of his ballets survived better than others.

Yesterday’s program was all set to Chopin (much of it to piano music) and included the famous DANCES AT A GATHERING, which I thought too slow-moving and long (the man needed an editor, big time!) to sustain my attention and one of my favorites OTHER DANCES, similar to GATHERING but much shorter and to the point. Julie Kent from American Ballet Theater, a favorite of mine, guest-starred in this one, with the very handsome Gonzalo Garcia. They were lovely together, and you can see why Julie is the star she is with the little things she does like holding her hands to her heart while regarding the onstage pianist, indicating hearing a beloved tune she just MUST dance to. And third was the comical, slapsticky THE CONCERT in which Sterling Hyltin and Andrew Veyette (fast becoming a favorite of mine) cracked me up so I nearly laughed out loud (naughty in such quiet atmosphere!!!)

Today’s matinee was the long, but far better (imo) THE GOLDBERG VARIATIONS set to Bach. It was long and similar to GATHERING in that it involved many couples, a combination of solos, duets and ensemble work in which the dancers interracted with each other, but there was so much more variation in the choreography, so many surprises — Andrew Veyette and Amar Ramasar doing handstands-cum-somersaults over each other, Andrew lying down and balancing Amar in the air only by his feet, Amar floating bird like above, boys exiting stage together disregarding girls, girls doing the same, playful wiggles of the behind for Andrew and Wendy Whelan, an astonishing series of turning leaps for Gonzalo and Jared Angle — a lot of great, fast, fun, original choreography during both allegro and slower adagio sections that made you keep your eyes peeled for what was coming next. Even costume changes from 18th Century to contemporary workout ballet garb helped keep your attention.

The second one on for today, entitled BRAHMS/HANDEL I didn’t like so much. It was co-choreographed with Twyla Tharp and it just didn’t seem to go anywhere. It made full use of the company and there was a lot of playfulness, mainly by, again, Andrew Veyette, who at times looked like a frog bouncing from one lillypad to another. He’s so cute. I really like him and I’m realizing it’s only partly because he’s such a great dancer who brings so much to the stage. I think it’s also that he reminds me of my cousin who died a couple of years ago. Just in his lightness of spirit, his ability to be funny, and his youthful enthusiasm and boundless energy, the way he throws himself so into everything he does.

Anyway, I have reviews of some of these programs upcoming, so won’t go on anymore here.

On Saturday night, I saw a small ballet company, Christopher Caines Dance Company, at the Rose Theater in the Jazz At Lincoln Center area of the Time Warner building. It was my first time both seeing this company and in that theater, and, man is that space small! It’s a tiny room, almost a studio, and they had little cocktail tables set up surrounded by chairs, for the audience to sit at. I’d sat in that kind of space for a Flamenco production at Baryshnikov’s Performing Arts Center, but never for a ballet performance. When they first began I thought, oh no, this is far too intimate for ballet, but then, when the program got underway, I began to forget my surroundings and became mesmerized by the dancing in a way I don’t think I’ve ever been before with ballet. It was really cool. Anyway, review coming up!

Michelle Vargo, my favorite dancer in the ballet, in a photo by Chris Woltmann, courtesy of Christopher Caines Dance Co.

Finally, I ‘ve managed to upload my pictures of Damian Woetzel’s farewell performance on Wednesday night. I liked best the picture I posted up top because it looks like he and Ethan Stiefel are about to have an intimate moment Anyway, here’s the rest of the album. Click on thumbnails for captions. Ethan Stiefel, Paloma Herrera, Gillian Murphy, and Angel Corella were there from American Ballet Theater, and they all, along with all of NYCB went up onstage at the end to join in the confetti storm. Angel and pals sat in the row in front of us (I sat next to Philip and in front of Evan) and I of course I couldn’t stop fixating. I was really nervous and I think it’s because I had just turned in my Angel write-up to HuffPost and then there he was right in front of me. Of course I only said glowing things about him, but it still made me nervous being around him like that. The man is like a human-sized doll, I swear. His skin is like milk, not a single flaw, his hair was gelled up into this almost Elvis-esque do, not a single strand out of place, and his long-lashed eyes, the way they blink open and shut and open and shut … just like a walking baby doll.

Anyway, I feel like everyone’s already said everything about Damian’s farewell, but it was a wonderful show. First on was FANCY FREE, Robbins’s character-driven classic about three sailors on shore leave trying hilariously unsuccessfully to pick up some girls in a bar. Damian danced the cocky one (also known as the Latin, or Rhumba sailor, but I call him the cocky shithead); Tyler Angle was the romantic, and Joaquin De Luz the short, high-jumping guy who tried to impress with his bag of tricks.

Next on was the Rubies section from Balanchine’s JEWELS, the Russian choreographer’s tribute to American jazz and sass. This one was fun because in this ballet there’s a main couple with lots of virtuosic partnering and alternating solos and the program had listed Ashley Bouder and Joaquin De Luz as that couple. But it was actually danced by three different couples, including, in the middle, Damian, partnering sweet Yvonne Borree. It was a nice surprise, and man, did he give his section some real gusto. At one point he went spinning off into the wings, like, in Sir Alastair’s nice simile (in his wonderfully-descriptive and informative review), “an accelerating tornado.”

And third on, was PRODIGAL SON, based on the Biblical story of a boy who tries to go out into the world on his own, only to return to his loving father beaten and nearly destroyed. So much pathos for his very final performance! I think the whole audience was in tears.

Four dance-dazed and star-struck bloggers during intermission! Thanks to Sarah (second from right) for the photo. Also, there’s an event tomorrow night (Monday) at the Jewish Community Center about Robbins. Some NYCB dancers will be performing and there’s a lecture. I can’t go unfortunately, it sounds really interesting. See Sarah’s post for deets or go here.

You guys, I’m wondering if people can answer a question for me. I guess this applies mainly to my readers who are not located in NY and who have never before seen American Ballet Theater, New York City Ballet, or any of the companies I write about. But it also applies to anyone who has an answer really.

Do you think if a writer is really good and can convey the beauty of a dancer or of a dance, that pictures are unnecessary? Are there any such writers? Joan Acocella, Arlene Croce, Edwin Denby, Julie Kavanagh, Laura Jacobs? (I use those examples because those writers have published books, in which there are few if any visuals). Is it even possible to convey the beauty of an inherently visual art form in words? Do pictures even do justice since dance is not just visual, but inherently movement-oriented?

Do you need a combination of writing and visuals? Is there a difference between blogs, books, magazines, and newspapers in terms of what you expect?

Do you care more about the dancers the writer is talking about if the writer posts a picture of them? Do you have more of a human connection to them that way? If so, is a full-body picture of them in a dance pose better than a headshot? Do you connect more to the face or body form? Or do you honestly just not care about them at all if there’s no chance you’ll ever see them perform?

I ask mainly because bloggers are beginning to run into copyright violation issues with videos and photos.