Tag: Dance Critics / Writers / Bloggers

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Times Joins SYTYCD Debate, Ignoring Some But Not All Blogs

Claudia LaRocco writes briefly in today’s NYTimes about TV show So You Think You Can Dance and whether it’s of any value in bringing concert dance to a larger audience. She didn’t mention the lively debate taking place on Apollinaire’s blog, in which I nominated the wonderful Rasta Thomas as “Ambassador of Dance.” Apollinaire sweetly made me feel good about the Times’ mention of him as well in that role, since when all the other nominations came in and people began talking, I felt really stupid, as if I’d nominated Playgirl’s Playmate of the Year (if they even have such a thing 🙂 ) So, I’m glad the powers that be were on a similar wavelength 🙂

I’m also glad that Ms. LaRocco interviewed Kristin Sloan of the Winger to weigh in on the question, and so didn’t completely leave out the blogosphere. Unfortunately, SYTYCD was mentioned not once on the Winger. I don’t mean to be critical at all, it’s still my favorite dance blog and I dearly love many of the contributors, but I think with so many of them now, no one’s really in charge and everyone’s expecting someone else to take on the important issues, so the debates have been had elsewhere. I just wish the dance community was a bit more cohesive. I just feel sometimes like everyone’s writing, blogging, talking in a vacuum, and that’s unfortunate for dance because it cuts down the level of discussion…

Update: Kristin just published a really interesting post on a Chinese TV show on cable that she compared to our SYTYCD. I like the sound of this one! Okay, I take back what I said above 🙂 🙂

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If Only!

“It turned out it was Lana who had to have the stage. Not in the way they did, not being on it. . . Each production was a mystery to be solved. . . Lana would answer with her own performance — on the page. . . Deep down, Lana knew she would end up in New York. A city where they argued about the arts. And respected critics.” (emphasis added).

From the novel, Women About Town, by Laura Jacobs.

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Mark Morris, Mozart, and Full-Length Concert Dance on TV

Over the weekend, I watched Mark Morris’s Mozart Dances, filmed for TV and shown as part of PBS’s Live From Lincoln Center. I actually watched the tape I made of it three times, plus I’d also seen it live last year. Doug Fox was very disappointed with the televised filming; visit his blog for some interesting commentary. Also, as I’d linked to earlier, read Apollinaire’s article for more on the filming aspect of the program, and an interview with the filmmaker.

Before turning to the filming, I briefly want to give my two cents on the dance itself. I’m not a huge fan of contemporary Mark Morris. I’ve skimmed Joan Acocella’s book on him and wish like anything I would have been able to see Strip Tease and some of his earlier, more iconoclastic work from the 80s when he was a young upstart. Now, it seems like he’s toning it down. My first thought on seeing the program was that it was too slow and repetitive, making it long-winded and a bit tedious. But each time I watched, I liked it more and more and saw more of the things Acocella had written about, just in subtler form. (Go here for her current New Yorker article on this piece). One of the ways in which the dance is broken down is by gender, as Alastair Macaulay noted in the Times. The first movement is danced almost entirely by women, the second by men, the third by both together. In the first, the women, as Macaulay also noted, look very weighted and “flat footed.” The men in the second act (my favorite), in contrast, look light and feathery. This is the opposite of course of classical ballet, where the ballerina on pointe looks poetic floating about in the air and the grounded man is her support, her connection to the earth. So to an extent this is the usual Morris turning those gender assumptions on their heads.

And he does it well: during the part of the first act’s piano concerto where the music sounds like a lullaby, the women, wearing these almost dominatrix-looking black costumes — black bra and underwear with diaphonous black chiffon gown hanging from the bottom of the bra to the knee — do not tiptoe around in a circle all willowy and delicate, but brashly stomp forward, arms swinging front to back as if in a march. Hardly the maternal ideal. During the men’s portion, at one point, the men, wearing blousy, billowing white shirts, dance in a circle as well. But their dance is quite different; it’s light and lyrical, poetic, like a Balanchine ballet. But where Balanchine would have pretty ballerinas with long flowing blonde hair bouncing around, playfully holding hands with each other, raising arms, and inviting a dancer through their arc, Morris’s dancers do the same but the whole look is altered because they are men. Or is it? What is femininity and why does gender matter in dance? Maybe it doesn’t. And I love Joe Bowie, the main soloist in the men’s section. I love that the man who, at least to me, represents Mozart himself is an urbane black guy dressed in hipply ripped black conductor’s jacket and black spandex bike shorts. Morris definitely challenges gender and race assumptions, though it’s rather pathetic that they still need to be challenged. And the costumes were simply superb.

Also, Morris is known for being a very “musical” choreographer, meaning what exactly? He works with the music well? To me, his dance is almost a contradiction of the music. His dancers’ movement is very modern, yet the music is obviously classical. Also as Macaulay notes, Mozart has a lot of beautiful lyrical flourishes in his compositions. Morris doesn’t seem to follow those by creating his own lyrical poetic flourishes; the dancing instead is rather intentionally mundane, earthy. There’s no virtuosity either (big leaps, multiple pirouettes and fouette turns, etc.) Which is part of why Morris doesn’t thrill me. Cool costumes, evocativeness and assumption-questioning aside, to me the whole thing generally dragged and there didn’t seem to be any climactic arcs or discernable overall themes.

Interestingly Morris says during his interview segment of the show, that he doesn’t like “poses;” he finds the steps in between poses to be “the dancing.” I guess that’s what I’m missing here. Of course that’s what Ballet and Latin are all about, so call me shallow, or bun-brain or Latin girl or whatever, but I’m for the poses. Of course getting from one pose to another easily is what dancing is all about and it’s necessary to make smooth transitions. [In my own dancing I concentrate so much on the pose — the arabesque (one leg lifted in back), the develope (slow, unfolding delicate kick), or how my body looks in position in a lift, that I forget to think about getting into the position in the first place. The result: I look like crap on my way into a lift, etc. But I think this is common among students / amateurs, and I’m learning… :)] In any event, watching my Morris tape a few times, though, the dance has grown on me a lot, so maybe if I kept watching it would continue to do more for me.

So, the film aspect. Funny but I felt the exact opposite of Doug. I didn’t think the camera did enough, had enough of a point of view. I was glad that, for once during a full-length concert dance performance, someone didn’t simply plop a tripod at the edge of the stage and hit ‘record’; the camera-operator actually had an opinion, told the viewer where to look. The camera would at times home in on one dancer, either his or her entire body or just torso, then would pan out to the ensemble. At times it would follow a dancer or smaller group of dancers, excluding perhaps things happening at the other end of the stage. These were all reasons Doug gave for disliking it; I felt that this was too rarely done, and when done was still too lacking in focus. When the camera homed in on a dancer’s upper body, it did a half-assed job; if you want to humanize the dancer, make people relate to him or her, get a close up of the person’s face. It doesn’t have to stay there long, but a few close-ups go a long way. The eyes are the window to the soul, you know.

And you can’t just focus the camera in and out without playing with angles. Everything here was a straight shot. Forgive me, by the way, for not knowing correct film terminology; I know what I mean, but don’t know if I am expressing it right because I have no film-making (only extensive film-viewing 🙂 ) background. For example, when some of the dancers were doing pirouettes, do a close-up of that dancer and angle the camera so that it’s focusing on the dancer at a diagonal. It makes the dancer look superhuman, like s/he has miraculous balance and it’s really cool. And, like with those little wrist-flourishes the dancers were doing, home up really closely and find a better shot — maybe of the wrist coming toward the camera — to make it look multi-dimensional or something. And, as I said, unfortunately, there were no big jumps and leaps here, but if there were, have the camera underneath the dancer. This emphasizes the majesty of the height and showcases the dancer’s musculature. Generally, it always heroizes the subject to have the camera focused upward at him / her — so this could have been done at any point, with pirouettes, etc. Conversely, if you want to highlight a dancer’s vulnerability, create poignancy or sympathy, do the opposite and place the camera at a downward angle on top of him or her. Also, it would be cool to have, like in those highly successful Anaheim Ballet videos on YouTube, the camera directly behind or immediately next to the dancer so that the viewer would be given a sense of what the dancer sees, during, for example, fast pirouettes.

Of course none of this could be done with the Morris the way it was constructed. To do any of the above, the choreographer would have to work very closely with the filmmaker discussing the most effective correlation of movement and film angles. It would change the entire choreography. This piece was meant for the stage; Morris meant for the audience to come to its own conclusions about its meaning and evocation. He specifically tells us during the interview segment (which I loved — in a way those interviews were the best part), that he directs his dancers not to make any decisions about the emotion of the movement — if a movement is fast, dance it fast, not happy; if it’s slow, dance it slowly, not sad. So, he certainly wouldn’t want the filmmaker intruding on the audience’s turf either. Which is largely why this didn’t work for me. You can’t effectively film a play made for theater for the same reasons you can’t film a dance made for the stage. You can obviously create a film version of a play, a film version of a dance, but they are versions, not the same exact thing placed on film. Film is a completely different animal than live theater and it must be treated as such for it to be effective, exciting, and garner a good-sized audience.

I mean, I’m glad that this film exists and that I have it taped; I can now watch it repeatedly and gain more appreciation for Morris. I’m just saying that I doubt that anyone new to dance was blown away by it, unlike with SYTYCD. Did anyone else see it?

A few final thoughts. Doug was also annoyed by the film’s flashing to musician Emmanuel Ax, playing piano, or to the conductor. I actually liked this because I felt it gave the viewer an idea of the whole performance with all of its various elements. The conductor and musicians are part and parcel of a live performance. Plus, I loved the music so much, I wanted to see who was responsible for it! I also liked the interviews with Ax and Morris. I like that Ax mentioned that he had a camera on the piano so he could see the dancers as well. Sometimes, when I’m at the ballet and I’m lucky and have a seat up close and central where I get a good view of the conductor, I like watching how he relates to the dancers, if at all. Sometimes it seems that the conductor doesn’t even look up onstage, which can result in music played way too fast, not giving the dancers sufficient time to get where they need to go or to act something out fully in a dramatic ballet. And the interview with Morris: it’s always fun to hear a choreographer talk about his work. Always! I also liked the behind-the-curtain shots, though I don’t know if anyone noticed them but me. I love how some of the dancers just collapsed after that curtain went down! And, when Sam Waterson (did his voice seem shaky and nervous or was it just me?) gave his opening remarks, it was prior to the curtain going up, so we got to see dancers warming up and talking and planning, maybe giving each other little pep talks. That was quite fun too!

I would have liked to have seen some interviews with the dancers as well. One of the reasons these shows — SYTYCD and Dancing With the Stars — are so popular (I know, some of us have had this discussion before with America’s Ballroom Challenge), is that the competitors are portrayed as not ‘just’ dancers, but real people to whom everyone can relate. Little background stories are given — where the dancers are from, how they fell in love with dance, etc., little interviews, little clips of them in rehearsal trying to learn choreography, sometimes struggling with it (again, something we all can relate to), having their own hurdles to overcome — it’s all part of what makes the dancers, and therefore the dance, come alive to us. Mark Morris after all isn’t performing, his dancers are! They could have at least had interviews with Bowie and Lauren Grant, the two main soloists, or we could have heard the dancers talking with Morris during the segment where he is shown instructing them.

Okay, that’s all I can think of, for now…

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David Michalek's "Slow Dancing": A Good Idea But Poorly Executed (*Update in Bold)

Hehe, my friend, Ariel Davis, a young journalist currently in NYC for an internship with a big magazine, emailed me bright and early yesterday morning to tell me that we were quoted in the NYTimes! Of course I immediately scoured the article. Well, we weren’t actually quoted, in that our names weren’t listed, but we were the ones exclaiming, “he looks like a god,” the top quote in Claudia LaRocco’s write-up of the opening night of the Slow Dancing films I’ve been mobile-blogging about for about the past fifty posts now. (I promise to stop soon with the cell phone blogging; it’s just so exciting, in its own way). Anyway, the “god” Ariel and I were speaking of was Herman Cornejo of course 🙂

Anyway, I’m going to see it several more times before it leaves NY, but so far my thoughts are that the project is a great idea that has some real kinks to work out.

For starters, Lincoln Center is really annoying me and if I was Michalek I would be pissed. Slow Dancing starts at 9 p.m and continues until 1:00 in the morning; Midsummer Night Swing ends at 10:00 p.m. But after the MNS band stops playing, Lincoln Center really shuts down: the alcohol and snack bars all close shop, making it impossible to enjoy a drink with friends while watching the films, and, more seriously, a very noisy cleanup begins. The Aquafina guy noisily dismembers his metal booth then hauls it all, bit by bit, to a huge garbage-like truck waiting, motor running, in the nearby taxi cab lane; the bar guys clinkily clear bottles and glasses from their shelves; garbage collectors noisily bag trash and load it onto little trucks, which they drive dangerously through the crowd darting in and out and around groups of people, sometimes even honking if you don’t see them coming — how’s the audience supposed to focus on the film with all this crap going on? You feel like Lincoln Center’s telling you it’s time to go home now, show’s over, you’re out past your bedtime. Until July 29th, when this exhibit ends, could they possible re-arrange clean-up schedules? It’s hugely disrespectful to the artist and his audience.

As for the project itself, I think it’s a great idea and it seemed to work well when I saw it indoors at the earlier Works & Process event at the Guggenheim Museum, but for some reason, it’s not as exciting outdoors on the huge Plaza. I think part of my being so captivated at Guggenheim stemmed from the fact that I know and love all three dancers who were showcased that night: Wendy Whelan (ballerina of New York City Ballet), Herman Cornejo (American Ballet Theater), and Desmond Richardson (Complexions). But the vast majority of the dancers participating in the whole project I don’t know, or at least don’t recognize.

As LaRocco alludes to in her article, not a lot of the people on the Plaza for Midsummer Night Swing paid much attention to the films, unfortunately. Several heads did turn when the screens first lit up, and people watched for the first couple of minutes, but when they couldn’t see very much happening, they returned to their own fun. LaRocco bemoans that these social dancers, themselves participating in Dance, are ignorant of those on the screens, many of them the greats of ballet and modern dance.

Well, why should those dancers, having such a blast learning to dance themselves, stop what they’re doing in order to worship these people on the screens, whom they don’t know? Might someone, perhaps, tell them who they are?

From what I’ve seen so far, here are my critiques of the project:

1) No one knows who the dancers are and no one is bothering to tell them. If they’re not going to have easily available pamplets listing the names and credentials of the dancers, with pictures, could they run the names and a brief word about who they are somewhere prominent on the screen, at least at the start of each performance? Names humanize people. I’ve noticed this watching people watching filmed ballroom dance competitions — people who aren’t really seriously into the art of ballroom just kind of glance at the screen and look away after all of a minute — there are far too many people out there on the floor at once, it’s too much to take in, it’s confusing and nonsensical.

But once names are placed over the dancers (briefly, not for the entire time the camera’s focused on them of course), people pay much more attention, even if they’ve never heard the name before (which is highly likely). You think, ‘oh that couple’s obviously from Russia with huge names like that,’ ‘oh a Japanese couple,’ ‘wow, another Russian; a lot of Russians in ballroom, who knew…’ ‘oh wow, those are the national champions, yeah, they are really good,’ etc. etc. Names humanize. A little bit of info goes a long way.

Update: I went again tonight (Sunday), with Oberon, and found that there are little Lincoln Center playbills near the entrance to the State Theater, along with a poster, both giving the names and a brief background of each dancer next to his or her picture. I still like the idea of printing the names somewhere on the screens though! Also, I met Wendy Whelan tonight — she’s a very sweet person! Here is a picture of her and Oberon. Awww 🙂

2) There are either too many of the same types of dancers or there’s not enough variety and spontaneity in the rotations. At several points, there are two to three dancers shown all at once who are all doing modern. This is boring and reductive. Also, can everyone not be dressed exactly the same? Wendy Whelan and Janie Taylor are ballerinas but they’re both dressed in the same silky flowing gowny things as about ninety percent of all the women. To someone who doesn’t know dance, it could be confused with yet more modern. Couldn’t at least one be in a tutu and on pointe. And, could someone do a fouette or multiple pirouettes? The movement is too much the same. It would be much more interesting if there was, say, in the middle a classical ballerina on pointe in a tutu doing fouettes, then say the African dancer guy on one end, and maybe William Forsythe doing his modern on the other end; then shift in the next sequence to the bellydancer, adjacent to the head-spinning break dancer, and sandwiched in between, the drag queen; then next sequence, say the guy on the crutches, the pregnant woman, another ballerina; or have a ballerina surrounded by a strong ballet guy and one of the modern women. Just make sure there’s variety in every sequence of three. That makes it interesting and it’s more of a celebration of Dance, in its rich variety.

3) I realize the point of the project is to show movement in extreme slow motion, but I feel that it is too slow. At points you can’t even see the dancers moving at all. This actually may be a glitch in the film, because at some points I think the films have actually stopped for a while — sometimes even for as much as a full minute. This is confusing to the audience, who is already perplexed enough trying to figure out, as LaRocco illustrated with one couple’s conversation, if there actually is movement. Possible technical problems aside, though, the movement is generally still too slow. Instead of people admiring every detail of the body in motion, every ripple of a muscle, the audience just gets bored, especially if the dancer isn’t “flashy” enough. These past couple days I’ve become most fascinated with Glem Rumsey, who dances here as his flamboyant drag persona “Shasta Cola.” I find myself waiting for him to come on because I know I’m going to be most entertained. In contrast, one of the dancers I was most excited to watch was Janie Taylor. Yet, I find myself getting unexpectedly bored when she’s on here. She does nothing really over-the-top; no spectacular balletic feats. Even that crazy hair flip that generated a lot of press talk pre-show opening — it’s nothing; I almost missed it. There’s no appreciation for subtlety when the movement is this weighted down. The guy on crutches is initially intriguing because you’re wondering what he’s going to do, but you get bored and stop watching when he takes so long to get going. All of a sudden you look back and him and he’s in the air. You think, ‘oh wow,’ but it still doesn’t hold your attention for long because it takes a number of minutes for the guy to do one rotation. You lose interest. Same thing with the Whirling Dervish. Slow-mo can have a very dramatic effect, but not when it’s this slow.

My own personal favorites are Herman Cornejo, Desmond Richardson, William Forsythe, and the aforementioned Rumsey, all of whom, excepting Rumsey, I’m pretty sure I like simply because they’re already so familiar to me. I’m bringing a bunch of friends to the show over the next couple weeks, many non-dance-goers, so will be interested to hear what they think, who their favorites, if any, are. Will most definitely report back!

In the meantime, I’ve started an album on the photo page; I expect to add more pictures, but here are the first few.

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Ashley Bouder's Absolute Gem of a "Ruby"

Okay, this has to be short and sweet because I have about five briefs to write before I go to bed tonight, but I just got back from seeing my second production of “Jewels” at NYCBallet— go here for my post on seeing this wonderful ballet for the first time. (By the way, I just started flipping through Terry Teachout‘s book on Balanchine and noticed he signed it and wrote, “To Tonya, in honor of her first Jewels.” Aw!!) This was my first time seeing ballerina Ashley Bouder in the main role in “Rubies,” as her debut in the part took place just last night (which explains what Alastair Macaulay was doing sprinting back and forth across Lincoln Plaza last night — if you don’t know what I’m talking about, go here, for my post on last night. Hehe, I hope I’m not revealing anything I shouldn’t be 🙂 — Arlene Croce said she used to do the same thing… and it does show how happening the NY dance scene is right now if the critics are running all around like mad people trying to see everything at once.) Anyway, as I said, Macaulay did not seem to have been successful in getting into Jewels last night, so I do hope he went back today because Ashley Bouder IS NOT TO BE MISSED IN THIS ROLE!!!! Oh my gosh, she completely knocked me out! She is such a powerhouse, just wizzing around stage in those turns this way and that, traveling at lightning speed and changing directions like there’s nothing to it. But she is not just an athletic, virtuostic marvel — she is known for that after all — artistically she was brilliant as well; she really brought to this role exactly what Balanchine must have had in mind when he created it. She perfectly exemplified the sexy, jazzy, sassy, flirty American with showgirly flair. She really brought Rubies to life for me, in other words. I can’t help but still love Diamonds best — just watching all of that beautiful partnering, the stage filled with couples at the end, the gorgeous pas de deux and the Tschiakovsky music… it just makes me nearly cry — but Ashley’s performance today almost made me reconsider my favorite “jewel.” It’s really too bad that today marked the end of the NYCB season (a lot of endings this weekend), but when they bring it back, you MUST go see this one in Rubies! You must!

I loved Emeralds just the same — it’s probably my least favorite of the “stones” but I think it’s slowly growing on me. And I’m loving Rachel Rutherford — last time I went on and on about her beautifully expressive wrists, this time I couldn’t get over her lovely en pointe tiny-stepped pas de bouree couru turns. Is she dancing the role that Balanchine originally choreographed on Violette Verdy I wonder? I’d love to see what Verdy looked like, not to compare, but just because the former history grad student in me wants to know. Philip, who accompanied me today, handed me his binoculars when Robert Fairchild took the stage! (He knows how much I like him 🙂 ) We were sitting near the front of the orchestra!! I said, I don’t think I need them to see him that close up! And Maria Kowroski was stunning again in Diamonds, as was her very leading-manly partner Charles Askegard (who I forgot to mention last time). Oh dear, I almost called him Charles Bushnell… Speaking of which, Candace Bushnell (his wife, and “Sex and the City” lady), was right when she told him he was tall for a ballet dancer. I usually sit in the fourth ring, where everyone looks a lot shorter, but sitting up front, as I have been lately, you can really see people’s real sizes!

Oh, also, Philip and I met up with some of his friends, Monica Wellington and her beautiful daughter Lydia (who is currently a student at the School of American Ballet, run by NYCB), and, at intermission, they took us to the patron club, called The Green Room. This was the first time I’ve been in there and it’s really lovely. It looks just The Green Room at the Victoria and Albert Museum in London, so called after 19th Century artist / designer / writer / philosopher William Morris. It looked like it was perhaps decorated with his wallpaper designs… Beautiful!

Oh, last note, happy Gay Pride day, everyone 🙂

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Farewell To My Favorite Ballerina

Last night was Alessandra Ferri‘s last night performing with ABT; she is now retired. Horribly sad night. I don’t even know what to say other than that I am very sad right now.

(Here she is with her two little girls).

But I have to say, the blow was lessened by Roberto Bolle, who played her Romeo. When I first heard she was bringing in someone from La Scala (Italy’s national ballet company) to dance the male lead in her final performance, I was so upset. Why wouldn’t she dance with an ABT dancer — why not Jose Carreno, who partnered her frequently? Actually, I was secretly hoping they’d bring back Julio Bocca (who was known as her long-time ABT partner and who retired last year), but no such luck. Why someone from outside, I thought? She said it was her gift to him (Bolle) — to let the world see him. Now I can see what she was talking about!

Seeing someone new, and with such promise(!!!), made you focus on a beginning, not an ending. And, oooooh, he was so amazing last night as Romeo; words cannot even describe! He was overall the best Romeo I’ve seen at ABT (excluding the aforementioned Jose, who I think all ABT fans know in their heart of hearts is going to be going soon) — he acted the part perfectly, he danced it spectacularly. And he is oh so gorgeous — such a beautiful beautiful man. He needs to come to ABT permanently! WE NEED HIM AT ABT!!!!! What is La Scala anyway? New York’s where it’s all at, right!! We so need a tall, dark and handsome romantic male lead. Of course there’s Marcelo, my love, but he is not enough. And, well, he is just different anyway. He’s like the down-to-earth college football-player boyfriend. Roberto is tall, dark, and foreign. (I mean, Marcelo’s from Brazil, but he just looks so American, and he’s been here since he was 13 so he basically is American). Anyway, we need Roberto!!! Oh please please please please please, Kevin, make him an offer he can’t resist! Puleeeease!

(I am really sorry my pictures are so crappy — I was sad and my hand was shaking and people were bumping me right and left, so they’re blurry as hell, but, still, I have GOT to get a new camera!)

Of course there were 10,000 curtain calls. Here are a few more pics:

(Picking up her bizillions of bouquets, the conductor behind her)

The dancers came out one by one (just like with Julio’s farewell), to hug her. Of course I had to get a shot of Marcelo in the action!


Here comes Paloma in the flowing red skirt. David is behind Alessandra, diagonally and to her left. He was the first one out.

Aw, Kevin McKenzie (ABT Director) hugging her.

It’s raining confetti!


It goes without saying, the house was PACKED.

They had these enormous, blown-up photographs of her, taken by her husband, photographer Fabrizio Ferri, lining the walls of the lobbies.

There wasn’t as much curtain-call insanity as when Julio retired last year: no taking out a beer, letting it explode all over the stage, pouring it on yourself, then letting the crowd watch you slowly enjoy your beer, then letting David and Marcelo hoist you high over their heads and carry you all over stage, then coming out in your underwear at the end… but then again Julio is Julio… 🙂

About the two previous pics, taken with my cell phone: in the second one down, the poster is of Angel Corella and I think Diana Vishneva posing for Romeo and Juliet, not Roberto and Alessandra — it was just the only thing I could think of to take a picture of on the spot during intermission so I could gush on and on about how in love with Roberto I was!!!

And top pic below, I tried to take a picture of the Fabrizio Ferri photographs in the lobby with my cell phone, but, as you can see, it didn’t come out so well! I was very excited because I was sitting in orchestra, and this couple came down to the front and was looking for a pair of free seats (like there were going to be any on this night of all nights). I heard the guy behind me say, “Are you looking for seats? Well, the seat next to me will be free but only for the second act. My friend, who’s from the New York Times has gone over to NYCB to watch Jewels for this act, but he’s coming back over here for the final act.” Oh wow, I thought, I wonder who it is. The woman looking for a seat sat down. Then, a couple of minutes later, I hear, “Oh, sorry, the seat’s not available after all. Alastair is back.” Apparently the Jewels idea didn’t work out. Of course I whiplashed my head around. He didn’t look very old! Not that The Times is going to hire as their new chief dance critic an 80-year-old to replace the retiring 80-year-old, but still — he looked REALLY young. Of course I didn’t sit there and stare, but … he looked so normal! I just expected a chief critic to look like … the conductor in my picture above, or Gorbachev or something, big and hefty and aged and distinguished ha ha! And, also, he looked American — he was wearing a Polo-type t-shirt… (Macaulay is a Londoner). Maybe that guy was just goofing with everyone, trying to impress by pretending to know Alastair Macaulay and it wasn’t him at all, haha!

Anyway, ugh, it was obviously an unforgettable night and I am really really going to miss her. I think I included in this post practically all of the pictures I took, but in case I didn’t, here’s the album on my photo page.

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Macaulay on ABT, and More Same-Sex Ballroom Stuff on NYTimes Website

NYTimes’s website is rocking these days. First, NYTimes Chief Dance Critic Alastair Macaulay’s review of ABT’s opening night gala is now up. Read it here. Whoa, far more critical than anyone was of NYCB’s opening. I’m not trying to be thick, but I honestly don’t understand his paragraph on the excerpt from Othello, danced by Alessandra Ferri and Marcelo Gomes, and choreographed by Lar Lubovitch. This in particular is what I don’t get:

“This choreography pursued a hammy old dance-expressionist rule: ‘Never express an emotion to the left that you don’t also express to the right, preferably several times either way.'”

This is in the context of his contention that Ferri’s “willing victim” schtick didn’t really work and Gomes struggled with being “intense.” So, I don’t get it: is he saying Ferri did something wrong, Gomes did, they both screwed up together, or the choreography was nonsensical? And what does he mean by left and right — does he mean literally don’t do something one-sided or half-assed, or does he mean it in an art versus reason sense (don’t make an intellectual choice if you can’t back it up with the proper emotion), or in a political sense (Ferri’s willing victim and /or Gomes’s macho intensity were anachronistically and stupidly misogynistic for this day and age, making them disingenuous)? They’re all interesting points of view; I just want to understand! Oh wait, is he just saying either she needed to take it down a notch or he needed to take it up a notch? That makes sense, and is what I was saying as well (the second part, rather). Well, everyone just go see Othello and we’ll all figure Macaulay out together 🙂 …

Also, they have a video of the gala here with some rather amusing commentary by former Wonder Woman Linda Carter. The reporter concludes that many of the chi chi guests came out not to watch the dancing, but to hob-knob and boogie down themselves. Interesting.

And, finally, something my friend sent me regarding that same-sex ballroom dance competition held here two weekends ago that I blogged about earlier and was written up in the City section last weekend — the Times has a little video clip up of that too. It’s really quite interesting: they give a little history of the competition and talk about some of the reasons why people participate in same-sex ballroom dancing — it’s not always because the couples are homosexual; sometimes women just feel sexier leading rather than following, and it’s too hard to lead a male partner. Interesting. I never did get the hang of following! Here’s the video.