Strand Downtown Sale

 

For New Yorkers who don’t know, the Strand downtown — Fulton Street location — lost its lease and is moving out. They’re having a 50% off sale through, according to Galley Cat, the end of September. Above are some of my purchases — spent about three hours there and would have bought a lot more if the Joan Acocella and Balanchine hadn’t been so blasted heavy. I could barely carry my double bag-full home!

I bought The Dud Avocado because I remembered Terry Teachout had posted about it (and saw he’s written this edition’s intro.), and the White Swan, Black Swan looked interesting. It’s a collection of short stories written by dancer turned fiction writer, Adrienne Sharp.

There isn’t a whole lot left, but in the Dance section there are a couple more old-ish hardcover copies of the Balanchine for $7.50 apiece, an unused-looking copy of the newish Lincoln Kirstein bio for $9.00, and a bunch of huge photo books, some for as low as $2.50. The section doesn’t have its own label (what else is new?) but is within Opera and Classical Music.

Dance At Tribeca Film Festival, and Pasha & Anya Perform in New York!

 

Crazy day yesterday. I waited in line for nearly two hours to buy my Tribeca Film Festival tickets. The festival takes place April 23-May 4. Tickets went on sale to American Express cardholders yesterday, they’ll go on sale to downtown residents on April 18, and on the 19th to the general public.

I always love this festival. My dad is a big film buff, a would-be filmmaker really, and he’s gone to practically every film festival in existence. But I feel like this one is kind of my own; I feel a special fondness for it since DeNiro established it in the aftermath of 9/11 in order to re-charge the lower Manhattan economy. I worked two blocks from the World Trade Center and frequently hung out in Tribeca, and it took me a long time to get over 9/11. I remember sobbing while waiting in line to see a festival movie the first year, standing on an upper floor of the Regal Battery Park Cinemas, standing by a window overlooking Ground Zero.

 

Anyway, this year there are two movies related to dance — I mean, there are lots of great-looking movies, but two involve dance: “Whatever Lola Wants“, a narrative about a struggling NYC dancer who follows an intriguing man to Morocco, where she becomes enthralled with belly dance; and “Gotta Dance“, a documentary about the first ever cheerleading team for seniors.

Funny, but while I was waiting in line at the festival’s new Village box office for tickets, I ran into an old friend, Claire, from my former studio, Dance Times Square. She and her friend were waiting in line to buy tickets for all of their friends and family to “Gotta Dance,” which it turns out, they are in! She also told me she’s performing in the upcoming Dance Times Square student showcase, on May 19th, and that Pasha Kovalev and Anya Garnis are scheduled to dance a number or two as well 😀 It’s so wonderful of them to keep performing in these student showcases and local things, since now, they obviously don’t have to.

Another movie that I’m psyched about is “Elite Squad” by a Brazilian documentarian I really like, Jose Padilha. I’d really liked his “Bus 174” about a young man from the Rio ghetto who held a busload of passengers hostage. Like the best true crime literary journalists, his films have a way of finding the larger significance of a story, bringing out the human element without resort to sensationalism, and making you feel for all people involved. This one’s about police force corruption in Rio. Padilha co-wrote with Braulio Mantovani, writer of the famous “City of God.”, I walked around the corner to the Strand bookstore, and bought these three books. I’d gone for the new Pulitzer prize winner (the first for a Dominican author), The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, by Junot Diaz, which I can’t wait to read, but ended up not wanting to spend so much money, and these, being older, were on sale. I’ve been scouring NYC bookstores for anything written by Pauline Kael for some time now, and ridiculously haven’t been able to find a thing. She’s only just about the most famous art critic ever, right?! It’s been only seven years since her death and now bookstores are no longer bothering to stock her; horrible. Anyway, at least the Strand came through. And, I also got this book by Dominick Dunne, since apparently I’m into true crime lately, and Norman Mailer’s advice to writers. I guess I’ll wait for a 30% discount Borders coupon for the Diaz.

Last, I was so famished and with all that standing in line for the movie tickets, I knew I couldn’t make it home without passing out, so I ended up at “Buono Sera” on University Place. They don’t seem to have their own website, but here’s the New York review. The maitre d looks and talks just like Vincent D’Onofrio, which was fun, and they had a great small band playing in the back, near a little screen showing filmed aerial views of various parts of Italy — very interesting idea for a restaurant, showing video clips of the homeland like that. Service was excellent; I don’t think I ever had a water glass that wasn’t filled to the brim, and when I noticed the films projected on the back wall and turned around to watch, ‘Vincent’ apparently thought I was looking for the waiter and came over, apologized, and told me he’d take my order instead! I only wish their food had been as good as their entertainment and service. Actually, I shouldn’t say that. The wine was excellent as was the panna cotta dessert. The only thing I wasn’t in love with was my main dish — the gnocchi. It was fine and everything I’d expect from a plate of potato dumplings covered with marinara sauce, but there nothing extra special about it; it was just there, unlike the panna cotta. Also the foccaccia was hard on the edges and I wasn’t in love with the dipping sauce — just a basic marinara.

Anyway, okay enough blabbering. I have to go read my books.

Schuyler Reads My Blog and Wants to Be a Dancer!

 

A little over a year ago I attended a panel discussion hosted by Media Bistro on authors who got book deals from their blogs. After being introduced to the panelists, I looked up all the blogs on the internet, and was particularly taken with this one, by author Robert Rummel-Hudson. It was about his daughter, Schuyler, who was born with an extremely rare neurological condition known as bilateral perisylvian polymicrogyria, which makes it impossible to move certain facial muscles, resulting in the inability to speak. The blog, and the resulting memoir, follow Schuyler’s journey learning to speak through other means, and the lessons she teaches Rummel-Hudson along the way about being a father.

Well, the memoir just came out and last Wednesday Media Bistro threw a book party for Mr. Rummel-Hudson. Ariel and I went and I finally got to meet him. I’d commented on his blog a few times, so he knew of my blog, and has been reading it a bit as well. Well, he told me on Wednesday that Schuyler really enjoys all the pictures I post of dancers, and she’ll often go dancing about the house, imitating their poses. As for right now, she wants to become a dancer herself 😀 I swear, this almost made me cry! I bought his book, which he signed, saying, “thank you for giving Schuyler some dancer dreams.” Aw!!!

Anyway, here are a couple of pictures. I didn’t want to scare anyone with a flash so they’re grainy.

This is Rob in the background (in the brown suit) signing books and chatting with people, and Ariel is in the foreground boozing it up. Haha, just kidding, she only had one glass of red wine and only because of me :S

And here’s Ariel again at a restaurant we went to afterward, called Banc Cafe, which we both loved. Her mom sweetly treated us, albeit from afar. Because Ariel had recently been sick, and, since Ariel now lives in NY far from her family in Alabama, her mother felt badly not being able to comfort her with some good home-cooked meals, so she directed Ariel to take herself and me out for a great dinner. And great it was! This is obviously the dessert portion — Ariel is having apple pie and I an enormous chocolate mountain thingy and chocolate martini. Thank you Mrs. Davis!!! Lovely lovely night 🙂

Movmnt Magazine Dance Blogger Party

 

Sorry I’m so late in getting this up! Last Monday evening, David Benaym, Editor-In-Chief and co-founder (with Danny Tidwell) of Movmnt Magazine hosted a dance blogger party at his office’s downtown NY headquarters. From left to right in picture above: Tony Schultz from The Winger, Doug Fox from Great Dance, Dea Soares Berrios, a friend of mine and The Winger’s, from Brazil who writes the personal blog Dea Nos Eua about her experiences moving to the U.S., her husband Al Berrios behind her, Taylor Gordon from The Winger and Off Center, me, Evan from Dancing Perfectly Free, David Benaym, and Brian Gibbs from The Winger.

It was a great time! David (pronounced Du-VEED) is extremely animated, and being from France, has a serious accent. People were having all kinds of funny mis-understandings 😀 We had some good discussions about dance and the internet, which companies are the best at using it (NYCBallet and Alvin Ailey, both of whom have YouTube channels), which are the worst (unfortunately my favorite American Ballet Theater was the sad winner in that category), which issues people are afraid to discuss in the blogosphere (dancer eating disorders being a big one), how most bloggers’ personas are so different from the writer’s actual personality (as well as pictures; we all agreed Schultz’s Winger headshot looks nothing like him!), and how we keep in touch with each other on a daily basis through our blogs though we’ve rarely met in person: at one point, David remarked how worried he was about Jolene. We asked why and he said, “Did you see? She said she would not come because she was very very sick and would soon go to hospital.” “Nooooo,” we all — and I mean all — sang out in unison, “that’s Ariel!” (who’s better now, by the way). Then he said, “Ohhh, well then who is Jolene?” Again, we all said in unison, “she’s the one who lives in San Francisco…” — I find it sweet that we all keep up with each other so well via our blogs; we really are a tight community. And finally, we talked about whether bloggers (particularly the snarky ones 🙂 ) should be anonymous (we’re all dying, for example, to know who Danciti is, though some thought anonymity was fine). I know I’m forgetting tons of stuff; we decided through Al’s suggestion, that the next time, we would take minutes or record.

 

At the end, David gave us little gift bags containing issues of the latest magazine as well as a few back copies, a pair of Movmnt socks (hehe, like they give you on VirginAtlantic for overseas flights), and a copy of his and Danny’s book, “Moving Still.” Since I helped to organize the event, I received a special copy, containing all of the featured dancers’ — including Tidwell’s — autographs 🙂 Even though I don’t agree with David about everything (for example, he thought about 10 posts a week on The Winger was good, otherwise it’s too overwhelming; I think, seriously, the more posts per day the better — my ideal number would be a Gawker-sized 30+ per weekday, although I realize this is never going to happen without a salaried, full-time blogger staff; there needs to be a Nick Denton of dance…) but I have a great deal of admiration for someone who has such an entrepreneurial spirit, who’s such a risk-taker and doesn’t think twice about creating his own path. He not only started his own magazine and wrote two books — his own novel (only available in French) as well as “Moving Still,” but he founded his own publishing companies to produce all of these things.

If you’re near a Barnes & Noble that carries it (one thing I learned from David is that you have to pay a bookstore shitloads of money just to carry your mag, even though they get a big profit from sales anyway?..), the latest issue is available. It includes an article by Taylor about dancer injuries, and two profiles from dancer Matt Murphy on composer Nico Muhly and “Center Stage 2” star Kenny Wormald, amongst other good things of course! Or you can visit their website.

Also, if you’re a dance blogger and near NYC and you want to be included on our email list, send me an email (found on my contact page). I don’t always organize these things but I seem to be the current “maintainer of email addresses.”

"Sex and The City" and Ballet Go Together Like…

 

First Candace married Charles, then Baryshnikov graced the TV show with his majestic presence, and now yummy Magnolia Bakery, whose original West Village location was popularized by the same (Sex & the City, that is, not Misha 🙂 ) is opening a new location just a few steps from Lincoln Center. Should make for an ideal after-ballet snacking ‘n chatting ground. Ariel and I, who were in the neighborhood, went to check it out today, since I’d heard it opened its doors yesterday, but unfortunately it’s only been available for private parties for the last two days. Tomorrow is its official public opening, 11 am sharp. Cupcakes for breakfast!

I Second Anthony Lane on "Persepolis"

 

…in giving this film an overall not so fresh tomato. And I mean second literally — everyone is raving about this movie; Lane (my favorite of all art critics) is the only one who hasn’t. Of course I’ve been looking so forward to seeing it, and of course that’s never a good thing, with me at least. With the exception of Alvin Ailey, it seems that everything I’ve looked forward to lately I’ve ended up being disappointed with.

Anyway, this is a graphic film, in French with English subtitles, based on Marjane Satrapi’s graphic memoirs about growing up in Iran during the country’s political turmoil of the 1970s: first the displacement of the Shah, followed by the violent revolutionary war, then the oppressive regime of Khomeni. At the movie’s start, the Shah is being overthrown and of course there are all kinds of imprisonments and murders. Marji’s father and uncle are supporters of the revolution and the movie begins with them telling her (and us) in detail about the politics of the period, and why the Shah is bad for the country. To me, this is not only confusing but becomes very boring very fast: I like my narratives to be character-driven; if I want to know about the politics of a time, I’ll consult a history book. Plus, Marji’s only about four years old when they’re feeding her these views, so how much can such a young child take in anyway? Just showing Marji’s family and friends being taken away and not heard from again from her child’s point of view makes enough of a statement. But, fortunately, we only get this for about the first twenty minutes; then we delve more into the characters.

I think my biggest problem was that I couldn’t fully connect to Marji. Having learned from her outspoken grandmother and mother to speak her mind, she challenges her teachers’ authority when they spout political propaganda in the classroom, then flouts police commands to wear her veil on the streets. Fearing for her safety, her parents send her off to a French school in Vienna. But several other people, including her grandfather who is severely in need of medical attention unavailable in Iran, have been denied passports, so I was curious at how quick and easy it was for her parents to obtain the necessary documents. That’s never explained.

It’s at her school in Vienna where she reaches puberty and begins her studies in earnest, discovering major philiosophers and knowledge she’s been denied in her home country, as well as lipstick, fashion and boys. She falls in with a group of young French intellectuals, which seems to suit her well, she has fun going to parties and meeting new people, and she gets her first boyfriend. But she has problems generally getting along with people. Though most of the students at her school come from international backgrounds, she feels out of place as an Iranian. And her aunt, to whose security her parents had entrusted her, promptly and inexplicably throws her out of her house and into a convent. Marji doesn’t get along with the nuns and their strict rules, so she runs away and becomes a border at the home of an older woman whom she fights with as well. Then, most astounding to me, after surviving the horrors of wartorn Iran, witnessing bombs destroy neighboring houses and their inhabitants, watching relatives be hauled off by the police, and hearing of their murders, she ends up having a breakdown over her boyfriend’s unfaithfulness. In a fit of anger, she leaves the house where she has been staying, begins living on the streets, catches bronchitis and nearly dies — supposedly over the boy. In the hospital, she calls her parents and asks to return.

She returns to Iran grown, the war now over but the oppressive regime firmly in place: the police are everywhere making arrests if women don’t wear veils in public, if they suspect people of going to or coming from a party where there’s been alcohol consumption, if someone is dressed in too Western a manner, etc. etc. Her family organizes a sweet extended family reunion for her, but, having come of age in the West, she now feels disconnected from everyone she knows. She begins seeing a shrink (how middle-class, how American?…) who pronounces her depressed and gives her meds that don’t work. Eventually, she is able to pull herself out of it and begin an Art degree, but after police arrest her and a new boyfriend for holding hands in a car, she decides, at 21, to marry the man and give up her education. And this is where I really felt like walking out of the theater. After surviving all that she has, she makes so many ridiculously stupid choices: nearly killing herself over a cheating boy, getting married and giving up her education because she can’t hold hands with a man in public?… I can’t even understand what she’s doing back in Iran in the first place and I want to scream at her to go back to Europe.

Anyway, eventually a resolution is reached and the ending hints that Marji has been able to find a kind of peace with herself. I’m definitely glad I saw the movie because it does give you a good sense of what it was like to live in Iran during the reign of Khomeni. But as an examination of displacement, exile and identity, I felt it was lacking, that it didn’t hold a candle to something like Andrei Makine’s brilliant “Dreams of My Russian Summers.” When when when are they going to make that into a movie?! (Actually, I have no idea how they’d make a film out of that book — it is so perfect as a novel; I just want everyone I know to be exposed to it, and unfortunately many more people see movies than read…)

But having said all of this, Persepolis has been nominated and received all kinds of awards, and everyone besides Lane is raving about it (and he wasn’t that harsh, for Lane anyway; only said it was “simple”), so I’d be interested to hear what others saw in it, if anyone did?

The Diving Bell and the Butterfly

I was recently reprimanded by a co-worker at my office holiday party. He told me, “You used to be interesting. You used to know about all the cool small independent films and off-off-Broadway plays. Now all you ever go to is dance stuff.” So, in an effort to revisit my days as an “interesting” person, over the holidays I went to see a little independent film, which I really liked.

The movie, based on the book of the same name, tells the true story of the Editor-in-Chief of French Elle, Jean-Dominique Bauby, who suffered a massive stroke in 1995 and was henceforth in a “locked-in” state. This horrendously frightening situation means he was completely paralyzed throughout his entire body, and could not speak, but could still hear, see, and understand everything happening around him. The sole part of his body that was not paralyzed was his left eye and eyelid and, through the help of an ingenious speech therapist, he learned to communicate by blinking that one lid. Basically, the therapist devised this method where she would begin reciting letters of the alphabet to him, beginning not with “a” but with the most often used letters, such as “r,” “n,” etc. (think “Wheel of Fortune”, not that I watch the show…). When she arrived at the letter contained in a word he needed to express his thought, he would blink and she would write down the letter. They went along this way until he had an entire sentence. It sounds extremely cumbersome, but he was able to write his entire memoir this way. And it wasn’t really as time-consuming as it would seem: just like with your cell phone when you go to text message, the therapist would be able to figure out the entire word based on the initial letters long before she had to go through the entire alphabet.

Anyway, I found both this method of communication and watching how Bauby’s friends and family react to him as well as the way he deals with his situation simply fascinating. Director Julian Schnabel included a bunch of flashbacks to Bauby’s life pre-stroke, as this flashy womanizing powerhouse of a fashion editor, which I guess makes sense, because it’s such an obvious contrast, but I actually found those to be the most boring parts of the film. The present, with this man confined to a wheelchair hooked up to an IV and a breathing machine receiving visitors and learning to communicate (and giving us his often rather satirically amusing thoughts through a voice-over) was just captivating. And the actor who played Bauby, Mathieu Amalric, was beyond amazing. The acting job he did with that left eye — whoa!

And his voice-overs are hiliarious. At one point his friend comes to visit and he’s trying like hell to get the hang of the communication method. But of course he keeps looking at the letters on the page that he’s supposed to recite and in what order, so he keeps missing Bauby’s blinks at the proper letter. “You have to look at me, you idiot,” Bauby yells, without being heard by the offending friend of course. And it’s such a human thing to do, because who can remember the order of letters you’re supposed to recite? That same friend also keeps pacing back and forth while speaking his thoughts, which I do all the time. But Bauby can’t move his head, which sits still in the wheelchair’s frighteningly enormous padded headrest, and he can’t see through his right eye, so, with the camera situated through his vantage point, we see the friend mumbling first off-screen to the left, then off-screen to the right, popping every so often into view. “He can’t see you…” a nurse finally calls out, and the friend yells, “oh shit, oh shit.” You feel both the extreme frustration of Bauby as well as the annoyance and embarrassment of the friend for screwing up.

My only qualm is that, for an artist, Schnabel can really be annoyingly literal with those voice-overs. At the beginning, we see the operating room through Bauby’s working eye. The doctor asks him, “can you tell me your name?” Bauby answers. The doctor again says, “your name, can you tell me your name?” Again, Bauby answers. “It’s okay,” the doctor says, “it just takes time. It’ll come to you.” Bauby says dejectedly, “they can’t hear me.” But he hardly needs to; we get it! Later, two technicians from the phone company come to install a phone in Bauby’s room so he can “talk” through the speech therapist to friends and family. They manage to get in without going through reception, and they begin asking Bauby, in his bed, where to place the phone, until they take one look at his completely immobile body and extremely animated left eye and become thoroughly bemused. Just then the nurse arrives, furious that they’re in the room without her permission, and explaining he can’t talk. The workers regard each other, thinking the obvious. One hesitantly asks her why then he needs the phone, and the other says under his breath that he must be a heavy breather. We hear three people laughing — the two workers and Bauby himself, but then Schnabel has Bauby say anyway, via voice-over, to the nurse’s horrified face, “Henriette, you have no sense of humor.” But by this point in the film, we’re well used to the sound of Bauby’s voice, and his laugh, so we don’t need the added obvious commentary.

Anyway, it’s a really fascinating movie and I think it’s going to do well at the Golden Globes. I may even pick up the book; from some of the voice-overs it sounds really beautifully poetic.

Go Helio & Julianne!!!

So tomorrow night is the grand finale. My mom and I have been fighting about this all weekend. No, not really. But she wants Marie to win, or maybe possibly Helio, and I want Helio, Helio and Helio. In that order. No, not really; I’m just happy he’s made it to the finals. Okay, I say that now but on Tuesday night if he doesn’t get the championship I am going to be cursing all of America 🙂 Look at this website, by the way! He’s not the greatest speller, but it has a cool design and there’s tons of stuff to get into, including some funny video footage of him being interviewed for Brazilian TV, and some Carnival dancers teaching Julianne Hough solo samba. Of course she picks it up in all of two seconds.

Anyway, it still blows my mind how popular this show is. My mom and I went out to dinner tonight (my last night in North Carolina; I fly back ludicrously early tomorrow morning) and the family next to us was talking on and on about it. They were Marie fans. There are a lot of them I’m realizing. An interesting thing about this show is the variety of age groups it appeals to — far wider, I think, than SYTYCD‘s demographic.

Anyway, I want Helio to win not just because he’s a little cute who melts me with that laugh, but because, of the three left, I think he’s struggled and improved the most throughout the show. The other two remaining contenders — Marie and Mel (of course I wanted Jennie to be in the finals, underdog champ-rooter am I!, but oh well) are professional performers — maybe not pro dancers of a sort, like Sabrina, but they’re singers. So, they already had a sense of rhythm, and knew how to dance at least enough to give their singing some spice. Helio’s a race-car driver, not even an athlete who uses his body so much, so this is so foreign to him. He’s come the farthest and he should win!

Okay, truth be told, I also like him because he reminds me of the favorite. He’s very favorite-esque, albeit half the favorite’s size. And he’s from Samba country! And he’s cute! And he melts me with his smile! So go Helio, go Julianne! Merde!

Also on tomorrow night, if you’re in the New York area, is the lighting of the Lincoln Center Christmas tree. The ceremonies, scheduled to begin at 5:00, include a book signing by New York City Ballet dancer Kyle Froman of his new, diary-like photo book, “In The Wings,” excerpts of NYCB’s Nutcracker, to be performed, according to Philip, by Megan Fairchild and Tom Gold, and some opera excerpts by the Met Opera. Should be a lot of fun. I was hoping to be there, though I also supposedly have a Samba class, and I’m getting up at 4 a.m. and am working all day, and I can’t miss the aforementioned finale; I have no idea how I’m going to do it all… Happy end of the holiday weekend!

Happy Happy Night: Feisty New Dance By Peter Martins and Promising New Ballet Movie!

I really had a nice time last night at New York City Ballet‘s opening night gala program, celebrating the start of their winter season. The highlights for me were the two world premieres — one of a new ballet, by NYCB artistic director, Peter Martins, the other a brief but fabulous excerpt from a new movie-in-the-making of Jerome Robbins‘s jazzy cool ballet, “N.Y. Export: Opus Jazz.” Rather than go in chronological order of the program, I’ll start with the highlights.

I’ve seen a lot of new ballets lately, and this one by Martins has definitely been one of my favorites. Titled “Grazioso,” it’s set to a score by Mikhail Glinka from the operas “Ruslan and Ludmilla” and “A Life For the Tsar.” I don’t know these operas, but the handy dandy Wikipedia tells me the first is based on a Pushkin poem with a complicated narrative, but at one point depicts three would-be suitors vying for Ludmilla’s hand in marriage. I assume this is the part Martins had set his ballet to, as that’s what I perceived “Grazioso” to be about.

And what a mad fun sexy competition it was! Everyone who knows me knows this is exactly the kind of thing I go for 🙂 : men trying to outdance each other with bravado galore. But there weren’t only high, twisty jumps and sailing-across-the-stage-in-a-splits leaps, Martins filled his male dancers’ variations with lots of very intricate, fast, complex footwork that required great precision and agility. And of course these men had that in spades. They were: Andrew Veyette, recently promoted to soloist, Daniel Ulbricht, who is known for his virtuosity and wowed audiences last season with his Mercutio in Martins’ “Romeo + Juliet,” and Gonzalo Garcia, a recent NYCB transplant from San Francisco Ballet, who I find to be very Rasta Thomas-esque. The sassy, daring, very athletic Ashley Bouder, whom I am growing to love more and more each time I see, danced Ludmilla.

One of the reasons I love Ashley is that she just throws herself into everything she does with such wild, intense abandon; she’s very much a risk-taker, which is what Balanchine wanted of his dancers. And, she’s a cute actor to boot. If I was a guy, though, I’d be very intimidated partnering her. She doesn’t really wait for the guy to be ready to go into a lift, she just throws herself up and he’d better be there to take her the rest of the way or else! That’s the way it should be of course — do your own thing and let the man figure out how to support you 😀

As far as the choreography: there was some cute partnering — at one point each man takes turns promenading Ashley around slowly and delicately, trying his best to be the most chivalrous. Then she takes off running, fluttering around all three men in an outer circle, like a Firebird, each one taking her hand and doing a little running lift with her before she rejects him and goes on to the next guy. Gonzalo, probably the best actor of the guys, feigned a stunned, dejected look when she threw off his hand and went into a lift with Daniel. Upon her rejection of him, Daniel simply shrugged and prepared for some more crazy bravura turns. Andrew looked thoroughly befuddled by her behavior, in a cute way of course! I liked these duets better than Martins’s “Romeo + Juliet” pas de deux, but I still think where Martins really excels choreography-wise is in the solo dancing, particularly with the men. As I said, some brilliant fast, fun, intricately-patterned footwork that made for a dazzling competition for Ludmilla’s flighty little hand.

The only thing I didn’t get was the costumes. Ashley was wearing this cute A-line cut, slightly puffed shoulder-sleeved dress with an apron-like covering. She looked like a chambermaid. The guys were wearing these 70s-style black tops that looked like they were made out of stretchy lycra with low-cut V necks lined with florescent colors — a different shade for each man. She looked like she belonged in a Dickens novel, they in Studio 54.

Second highlight was the movie-in-the-making adaptation of Jerome Robbins’s “N.Y. Export: Opus Jazz.” (above image is taken from the film’s website). Craig Hall is a natural film actor, let me tell you! He’s extremely photogenic and he has the subtle acting skills required for on-screen close-ups. They only showed a very brief excerpt but I think this is going to be fabulous when finished. They filmed it in what looks to be a run-down area of New Jersey, overlooking the Hudson River toward Manhattan. There’s a sole train track running through a patch of dead grass surrounded by abandoned buildings, and the filmed piece begins with Craig standing right in the middle of the tracks, a cocky, death-defying look on his face. Pretty Rachel Rutherford approaches him from behind, they perform a series of lifts, she seemingly trying to get him both off of the dangerous tracks and to love her. At the end, he walks away and she looks forelorn.

They were wearing regular, street clothes, I think just jeans and t-shirts. So, the filmmakers are taking the Robbins out of its 50s-era creation and placing it in the present to show how timeless Robbins — and ballet — really are.

And what I really love is that the filmmakers shot the pas de deux from various angles, some from high above, so you’re looking down on the would-be lovers at the different shapes their two bodies are making. It’s so much more interesting than seeing it straight on, from floor level, in the theater. This is what film can do for dance, I believe, really enhance the viewing and interpretive experience by showing different shapes and different viewpoints based on the angle of the camera and the distance of its gaze. I can’t wait for the film in whole to come out. The dancers who introduced it, Ellen Bar and Sean Suozzi, mentioned that it had just won an award, though I didn’t get the name of the festival.

So, the rest of the evening: they began with the Rose Adagio from “Sleeping Beauty,” Beauty being danced with the sweet, charming Megan Fairchild. This is the part where she is courted by four princes, who each take her around in a promenade, then let go of her hand while she performs those very difficult one-footed balances on her own. The new Martins ballet kind of had echoes of that now that I think of it. They also performed “Liturgy,” another Christopher Wheeldon Rorschach ballet. NYCB stars Wendy Whelan and Albert Evans (pictured at the top of this post, on the program’s cover) did the physically demanding, at times very beautiful and, as the name implies, beatific, pas de deux. I think I’m learning to not try to “get” Wheeldon — at least not his pas de deux — but just to appreciate Wendy’s mind-bogglingly, seemingly skeleton-less body and the enchanting, spidery shapes she makes with it. At intermission, I saw Philip and he exclaimed, “wasn’t Liturgy fantastic!” Taunting me! They also did a small excerpt from Balanchine’s “Western Symphony” a cutely raucous ballet celebrating the American West, replete with saloon girls, led by dazzling Maria Kowroski, and cowboys, led by Damian Woetzel. I’d seen him in a Fall For Dance Robbins piece several weeks ago and was underwhelmed by his performance then, thinking he didn’t give it his all. But, happily, he was back in full force last night, dancing and acting the rowdy, spur-kicking cowboy perfectly. Damian really is such a cutie.

They ended with a little filmed tribute to Lincoln Kirstein, this year being the centennial of his birth, and then on to the party, which I’m too poor to attend.

But I did see the set-up. Here’s where I stood sipping a glass of wine at pre-performance cocktail hour, apparently across the room from Sandi. I spied Kristin, and was about to say hello when interrupted by a bartender asking for my order. After I was finished, Kristin was nowhere to be found. There was no red carpet bearing famous people, so I guess there wasn’t much for her to film this time, as there had been for Martins’s “Romeo + Juliet” premiere. As I was leaving, I did see David Michalek waiting for the party to begin, which made me wonder if Candace Bushnell was there… the connection being of course celebrated artists married to star dancers, not that Michalek is venturing into the world of social satire / literary chick-lit 😀

Norman Mailer

Norman Mailer died today of renal failure. He was 84 years old. Here’s a good write-up on his life and work from MSNBC, and here’s the NYTimes obit. He was an incredibly prolific author and won several Pulitzers. He is quoted as having despaired that today’s young writers aren’t even trying to write serious novels anymore; they’re not inspired by the great writing of, for example, Hemingway, the way he was and instead all just want to write screenplays, supposedly because writing movies pays well. I think the problem is not with the writers; it’s more that it’s near impossible to get a literary novel published these days. Agents and editors only want something that has the potential to sell very well. I wonder if that was so to the same extent in his younger days.

Lit ‘N Latin Lunch

Help. I’ll usually find an intriguing-looking book on a blog or at a bookstore, then order it online at NYPL and have it delivered to my local branch. It often takes a matter of weeks, sometimes even months, to arrive, but somehow this time they all came in at once. I now have two weeks to read all these books, and I’m still only about half-way through the Kavanagh.

Anyway, the book on the bottom left, The Epicure’s Lament, is not an NYPL order, it was actually just given to me by my friend, Dee, when I met her for drinks Saturday night. She was raving on and on about the author, Kate Christensen, whom I hadn’t read. Now, I see that today, one of my new favorite lit bloggers, Maud Newton (whom Terry Teachout led me to) has posted a short interview with the author. Funny, Dee actually told me she likes Maud too (though my friend never reads my blog! It’s okay, she’s not a dancie… 🙂 )

The book in the top middle is a collection of Laura Jacobs’s dance writings from The New Criterion. I think it’s such a lovely title, “Landscape With Moving Figures,” because that’s one really nice way of looking at dance: a painting, but one with moving instead of still figures. I was led to the book after a dance writer friend pointed out to me, regarding a recent ranting post of mine, that a NYTimes review just can’t be compared to the longer, in-depth articles the New Criterion allows. So, I decided to check out those articles. Will post more as I read along, but so far am really enjoying it. Her prose is very poetic and it really immerses you in the world of dance; she calls the arabesques of the great dancers “more than a pose … a phenomenon…”

Last night I went to Dance Times Square‘s biannual pro / am showcase, at the Danny Kaye Playhouse at Hunter College. It was sadly Pasha and Anya-less, although maybe I shouldn’t be too sad: if Pasha was still there, I’d be spending loads more money that I don’t have on exorbitant privates. Happily, though, there were some new teachers, lots of new students (and a lot more men, which is great to see since ballroom classes are usually quite women-heavy), and some really cute routines Tony and Melanie designed that perfectly showcased the students’ varying levels of ability. In the pro section, Jose DeCamps and Joanna Zacharewicz, the new national Rhythm champs, performed a couple of fast fun Latin routines, likely in Pasha & Anya’s stead. I’m sad that Andrei Gavriline, former U.S. Latin champ, is no longer teaching at the studio, because it was always hugely exciting to see him and his partner, Elena Kruychkova, perform. There were a lot more people in the audience than before, likely because of Tony and Melanie’s now regular stints on So You Think You Can Dance (people behind us were definitely new to the showcase as they kept saying things like, “yep, yep, that’s her, that’s the one that danced with Pasha on the show!”), so it seems to me this is a great opportunity for all the ballroom pros to be seen by a larger audience than just the regular dancesport fanatics (like me). I know they’ve been on Dancing With the Stars before, but that show just doesn’t highlight the professional dancers so much. Now they’re having Jennifer Lopez on tomorrow night. She’s not a dancer. I knew continuing the streak of Savion Glover-caliber results-show performers throughout the season was too much to expect.

Speaking of that show: I found it very frightening when Marie Osmond fainted. Ridiculously, I was sitting there on the edge of my couch all throughout the commercials waiting and waiting to see what happened. Right before the show returned, I realized I was watching a tape and could have hit fast-forward. I’m glad it was nothing. I was very annoyed how the judges were harping so on Helio. I thought his rhumba was so cute, so sexy in its own charming way. Why can’t a smile be sexy? And why can’t rhumba be romantic or beautiful or soft and sweetly lyrical instead of some kind of lust-filled mating dance where everyone has to make goofy sex faces at each other? It’s just not natural for some people; let them be themselves. And that car, that car, THAT CAR 😀 I still worry about him getting hurt, but when he pulled up in that thing to scoop Juliana Hough off to the beach…ooh la la! Also, Mark Ballas is starting to annoy me. He’s such a show-off, doing all those cork-screw jumps and high kicks and snake dive things all over the floor while his partner dances by herself. A ballroom man is supposed to be the frame, not the picture, or the picture and the frame. And it’s just my pet peeve when pro men out-dance their female students like that. I was so glad when he went to do some crazy trick and the camera homed in on Sabrina. Thank you, camera man.

Okay, that’s all for now. Sorry this post is so all over the place.