Tag: Maurice Ravel

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MORPHOSES OPENS ITS 2009 NEW YORK SEASON WITH ITS BEST PROGRAM THUS FAR

 

Performance photos coming soon; in the meantime please enjoy another BRILLIANT photo by Kyle Froman.

Christopher Wheeldon’s Morphoses opened its NY season last night at City Center and I felt it was the best program they’ve done in their three years of existence. (At least Program A was; tonight I’ll see Program B). It’s a varied program with work by four different choreographers: Wheeldon himself; Bolshoi A.D.-turned ABT resident choreographer Alexei Ratmansky, whom all the critics downright worship; Australian Tim Harbour; and the Dutch husband and wife team Lightfoot Leon.

I must talk first about the third piece on the program, that by Lightfoot Leon, Softly As I Leave You. This is one of the most riveting pas de deux I’ve ever seen and it’s performed by the absolutely mesmerizing Drew Jacoby and Rubinald Pronk. Every single person who is not a professional critic was absolutely spellbound by it, could not stop talking about it. This happened at both the Fall For Dance Festival, where the work premiered (which I wrote about here), and last night. It’s simply about a couple, one partner’s decision to leave the other, and it’s a harrowing decision. After the lights went out on the final poignant image, the elderly woman on my left, whom I didn’t know, grabbed me and said, “Oh my God, that was so good!” And from my friend, who thinks the Arvo Part music used (Spiegel im Spiegel) is completely over-used and was expecting not to like it for that reason: “Oh my God, that music actually worked here!” she exclaimed, open-mouthed. She agreed it was one of the best duets she’d ever seen. And people were going on and on about it during intermission, both here and at FFD.

So why in the world do the critics hate it so much??? They ALL do. ALL OF THEM. It’s like in order to be a professional critic there are certain things you’re required to hate and this is one of them. And yet audiences are so overwhelmed by its power. Clement Crisp rants, “I can find not one iota of merit in its vulgar posturings.” Guardian critic Luke Jennings calls it “slick surfaced” and replete with “glib insincerity.” I can’t remember Alastair Macaulay’s exact words after its FFD premiere, but he hated it too. And a Ballet.co critic whom I spoke with at an ABT Guggenheim event (and who was the only non-Brit of the lot) complained how awful he thought it was as well.

This happened — I’m sorry, I’m getting off on a tangent — but this happened with practically every Fall For Dance piece, and with ABT’s recent season: EVERY SINGLE CRITIC hated every single one of the pieces the public adored (Barton, Millepied, Mark Dendy’s BRILLIANT Afternoon of the Fauns) and loved those they found least compelling (Ratmansky). I mean, more on this later, but what do you do if you’re an artistic director or choreographer? Do you cater to the critics — the “important people” or do you trust us, the commoners?

Anyway, mine and my friend’s second favorite piece of the night was Tim Harbour’s Leaving Songs. Guess what: all the critics hated it. I need to move to Europe… This dance had such emotional depth. It was about the cycle of life, death and rebirth — though I’m not sure you’d know that if the choreographer hadn’t said so in a little film clip shown before the program. But that doesn’t matter; you can come up with your own meaning anyway. The movement was kind of a combination of modern, classical and what looked to me to be African, and the music, by Australian composer Ross Edwards, is equally varied, at points sounding classical European, at points more percussive and African-sounding.

There were several striking moments, such as the point during a pas de deux where a man puts his hands around a woman’s neck and she falls before him. It kind of seems as if he’s strangling her out of anger, but then her arms flutter about beautifully, almost-bird like. It’s a combination of violence and grace. And there’s a moment where the group is dancing in ensemble and the movement is very wavy and undulating, very African, and everyone’s moving in unison and the music slows and the dancers slow, almost like they’re approaching death. Then the drums start pulsating and the dancers come to life and begin sidling cautiously but with intention toward the front of the stage. There are also several very sexually suggestive scenes with women’s legs splayed in the air. No tights are worn, and my friend and I couldn’t stop wondering how in the world they keep those leotards from shifting…

Anyway, I found the Harbour very compelling. And Rubinald Pronk really stood out here as well. He has so much fluidity and expansiveness in his body, and I don’t think anyone has more intense eyes.

 

(photo from Vail website)

Alexei Ratmansky’s Bolero was enjoyable too, largely because of the familiar Ravel music. For me, Ratmansky is one of those artists whose work doesn’t jump out at you and hit you over the head with its brilliance. Rather, I’ll need to see a dance of his several times before I get a sense of what it’s about, before I can fully appreciate it. Wheeldon’s work is the same. The critics seem to think this is the mark of a good choreographer — that it grows on you and you notice new things with each viewing, and I suppose it is. But for the average consumer, going to the ballet so often to see pieces over and over again to understand and appreciate them more fully can get prohibitively expensive. Dance art is not like a museum or art gallery where you can stand there for as long as you like.

Anyway, in Bolero, there are four pairs of women and men, each person wearing a number on his or her top. The women wear white tops and little skirts, almost like cheerleaders and the men wear black. If the women were cheerleaders, the men didn’t seem to be any kind of sports players though. They danced in groups divided between male and female, almost as if they were competing with each other, or as if their movement was some kind of back and forth dialog. And then toward the end, they began to partner each other more, the crescendo of the music complemented by various lifts that I found at points to be a little humorous, though it may have just been me. For example, when those trombones (I think that’s what they are anyway; maybe they’re tubas), are blaring kind of off-key at the end, the men lift the women over their heads, upside-down and the women do these upside-down developes, their legs splaying along with the warped trombones. I thought it was funny but I might be the only one.

 

And then the first piece on the program was Wheeldon’s Commedia (photo above by Erin Baiano), which was made in homage to Ballets Russes and was premiered last year. I wrote a bit about it here and here.

Here’s an excerpt from the company performing Commedia at the Vail International Dance Festival:

Also, this season marks the company’s collaboration with the young orchestra (most players are under 30, Wheeldon said), Philharmonic Orchestra of the Americas, founded and directed by the very entertaining, energetic Alondra de la Parra — yes, a female conductor OMG! The evening opened with Wheeldon giving a little address and then the orchestra playing on Overture to Estancia: Malambo by Alberto Ginastera. At the same time the orchestra played the Overture (this was their first time playing in a pit for dance, and not centerstage, by the way), a screen was dropped over the stage and a delightfully humorous film was shown of the dramatic conductor directing her crew, the violinists all swaying dramatically in unison at points. It was a lot of fun. Whole night was very good.

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ABT OPENING NIGHT GALA FALL 2009: THREE PREMIERES IN BLACK AND WHITE, AND WOOD

 

Photo of Veronika Part in The Dying Swan, taken from Vogue; photos of the three premieres coming as soon as I receive them.

After ABT‘s fall season opening night gala performance last night, the really wonderful James Wolcott and Laura Jacobs took friend Siobhan and me out for dinner at Shun Lee (I’d never been there — but wow, excellent excellent food!) and when Laura asked me if I was going to write about the performance, I kind of rolled my eyes and said, “I’ll try!” We all agreed that dance is absolutely the hardest art form to review, especially on seeing a dance for the first time. Let alone THREE dances seen for the first time. With visual art you can stand there all day and examine at it, with music you have recordings and scores, film critics generally see a movie several times before writing a review. With dance you have one chance — often one split mili-second — to remember a half an hour or so of movement, images, patterns, structure, costumes, music, lighting — everything. It’s impossible. Since starting this blog I have so much more respect for dance critics.

Anyway, there were three premieres last night: Seven Sonatas by Alexei Ratmansky, One of Three by Aszure Barton, and Everything Doesn’t Happen at Once by Benjamin Millepied. Also on the bill was a performance by Veronika Part of Fokine’s The Dying Swan. ABT performed, for the first time, in Lincoln Center’s Avery Fisher Hall, a concert hall not accustomed to housing dance performances. (ABT usually holds its fall season in City Center, but changed venues because of City Center’s renovation plans.)

I’m going to be seeing each premiere a couple more times this season and prefer to write after I’ve seen each more than once. But since the season is so short (it ends October 10, this Saturday), I’ll write something up front. These are only first impressions though, and I’ve found I see so many more things with repeated viewings.

Honestly, everything kind of blended together for me. Part of this was because of the sparseness of the Avery Fisher stage — there were no sets, no wings, no curtains — so dancers warmed up onstage before us, giving each piece a kind of Cabaret-like feel; and part of it was because costumes for each piece were all black and white. I remember lots of black, lots of white and the hardwood of that stage.

1) Ratmansky’s Seven Sonatas was performed to Domenico Scarlatti music by three male-female couples: David Hallberg and Julie Kent, Herman Cornejo and Xiomara Reyes, and Gennadi Saveliev and Stella Abrera. Costumes were all white — flowing dresses for the women, classical tights and 18th-Century tops for the men. The movement was a combination of classical and modern and, though the ballet was generally story-less, each couple seemed to have a little narrative: Cornejo and Reyes were the young, playful couple, Herman full of high jumps with many beats of the feet that really wowed the crowd and Xiomara dizzying rapid multiple turns. At one point Herman did this crazy turn in the air, landed on his back, and caught her. Crowd went wild.

Abrera and Saveliev seemed to be a more mature couple, perhaps in mourning. It seemed Abrera was a woman, possibly a mother, who’d lost a child or something — Saveliev seemed to be trying to console her and keep her from self-destructing. It seemed like she kept trying to break free of him and reach out to some invisible thing.

I’m not sure what Hallberg and Kent were meant to represent except maybe a modern couple — they seemed to have the most modern movement. David appeared to be trapped in a box and he kept pushing out; he had a lot of quick movement with fast stops in different directions and a lot of it in parallel — not turned-out — position. Julie had a lot of sharp, staccato movement. They could’ve also been a courting couple: at one point, David was on one knee and he invited Julie to run at him and jump on him. When she did, he took her into this lovely lift. It’s sweet and many in the audience lightly laughed.

The ballet was broken into duets and solos and bookended by two ensemble movements, the first pretty and lyrical, the latter more chaotic as they all perform their very different movement motifs at once, some trying on others’ movement styles — everyone does the staccato arm patterns for a while, etc. At the end, the women lay on the floor and the men wrapped their bodies over them.

One other thing: our David Hallberg is sporting longish hair these days đŸ™‚ I think it looks good, and fun for a change! Funny thing is, he’s so beautiful and glamorous, I tend to get jealous if him, even though he’s a man… which I guess should be kind of odd…

2) Barton’s One of Three was set to Maurice Ravel’s Violin Sonata in G and danced by a whole slew of tuxedoed men, and three women — Gillian Murphy, Misty Copeland, and Paloma Herrera. Why is it that women choreographers tend to use men so much more! (And female dance-writers tend to focus on male dancers đŸ™‚ — is this feminist?)

Anyway, the piece begins with Cory Stearns walking out dressed in a tux and black jazz shoes. He does a little solo and his movements are all modern, angular, which contrasted in an intriguing way with the tux. I don’t know if it was his being a bit weirded out by the curtainless stage (which forced him to walk out in the dark with all of us watching) or whether it was part of the character, but he seemed to have this loopy smile in the beginning, that was really rather endearing. I chatted with a friend during intermission and she felt just the same.

Anyway, soon Cory was joined by more tuxedoed men, and then by Gillian, who came prancing out in a long white cocktail gown with her radiant red hair tied back into a sleek twist. The men would kind of veer toward her, sideways, their bodies leading their heads in, to me, a rather amusing way. Gillian’s character was very haughty, very glam and posh and she acted like she was ordering the men around with her little finger. The men often seemed led by their bodies, moving first with the back, or at times one leg would take a step, the rest of the body reluctant to follow (I noticed that most with Jared Matthews, who I thought was dancing at his best last night). I found this a very interesting movement motif.

Misty Copeland was the lead character in the second movement. She wore a short black and white dress, her costume and character more flirty and wild. But same thing — she seemed to kind of taunt her tuxedoed men.

And third movement was led by Paloma, wearing a black lacey top and black pants. She smiled a lot more than Misty and Gillian, but she seemed to move in a slinky, sexually-empowered way, like a tanguera.

Now that I think about it, though there were many more men here, the women seemed to have all the power. Fun!

3) Next on was Part’s Dying Swan, which was really poignant, as I knew it would be. It’s a very short piece, but it’s funny how the ballerina can really do it however she wants to; I just saw Diana Vishneva perform this in the Fall For Dance Festival and her Dying Swan was very different. Whereas Diana spent most of the time on her toes, bourreeing, Veronika spent more time on the floor, one leg stretched out before her (like in above picture), then rising again to her toes for one more breath. Diana’s swan seemed to flutter about more, like she was fighting death, she lay down only at the very end. Veronika kept holding her arms up in front of her, her wrists bent and her hands cupped over, as if to foreshadow what would happen to her body. In general, Veronika’s swan accepted and approached death more gracefully or willingly, but Diana’s, with that broad wingspan, at times really looked strikingly birdlike. I don’t know if I can say I liked one interpretation better than the other — both were breathtaking and both very poignant.

Did anyone else see both swans?

4) And the program ended with Millepied’s Everything Doesn’t Happen at Once, set to David Lang music that was at times mellifluous and at times cacophonous or eerie. He used a large group of dancers but Marcelo Gomes, Isabella Boylston and Daniil Simkin had the main parts and so stood out the most (and Kristi Boone shone in a smaller role).

There was a lot going on here — both in the music and in the dance, and I felt that, unlike with Millepied’s earlier piece for ABT — From Here on Out — composed to music by Nico Muhly (who was in the audience) — in this one the movement kept up, didn’t let the music outshine it. The stage is set up to resemble — at least to me — a pool. Dancers would gather around it and watch the people dancing in the lit-up center. At the beginning there seemed to be a swimming motif, with large, rounded arm movements resembling breaststrokes. Movement is also evocative of birds as well though, and some of the same lifts were present as in Millepied’s recent work for NYCB, where the women are perched on the men’s shoulders, their arms outstretched sideways.

In the middle part, Marcelo and Isabella have a rather haunting solo. The ballet is generally story-less but as far as I could make out any narrative, it appeared she was sort of struggling against him. He seemed very careful and gentle with her (in sharp contrast to a later, more hostile duet he has with the super-strong Kristi Boone, who seemed to be either Isabella’s competitor or her double), but she — Isabella — nevertheless kept trying to push away from Marcelo as he held her. The duet ends with them walking toward the back of the stage holding hands, connected, but her body is lunging as far as possible away from his. A rather warped relationship.

Then there’s a rather amusing section where bravura dancer Daniil Simkin is struggling with a bunch of women. He tries to break free of them but then he keeps throwing himself into their arms, making them catch him in these rather breathtaking group lifts — one of them ending in a perfect split in the air. And he has a bunch of crazy multiple pirouettes that had the audience audibly gasping. It all went with his character though, who seemed rather crazed, like he may have just escaped from an asylum or something. I kept wondering who else was ever going to be able to perform that role…

I didn’t go to the gala party but in addition to Muhly, I saw Alessandra Ferri in the audience, one of the Billy Elliots, and apparently Natalie Portman was there.

Anyway, I’ll write more at the end of the season, when I’ve seen these new dances a few more times. Here is Haglund’s review.

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FALL FOR DANCE ’09 PROGRAM 1

 

 

I’m on a tight schedule with my book rewrites, but here are some of the highlights of the Fall For Dance Festival (Program 1) thus far.

It’s always a delight to see Paul Taylor’s hilarious Offenbach Overtures with the would-be ballet dancers tripping all over each other, the muscly men first dueling then making up and swinging their way offstage in each others’ arms, the female cabaret dancers comically warring for attention. I was happy to see SLSG favorite Michael Apuzzo in my cast (he’s not in the photo above unfortunately, as he wasn’t in the first night’s cast) — he’s always very dramatic, full of character, and I noticed he had the highest, most straight-legged jetes as he and the other guys went sailing offstage at one point.

I was at this performance with my friend, Michael, and we hung out for a while in the lounge afterward (where they have $2 wine and beer and $4-$5 plates of food). I’m very shy, but I always seem to have really outgoing friends, and Michael went up to a woman with a bouquet and asked her what it was for — something along those lines. It turned out she was in Paul Taylor, and once I knew that, I recognized her as the striking Parisa Khobdeh, Michael’s partner (Michael Apuzzo that is, and partner in Offenbach that is). I then realized a bunch of the Paul Taylor dancers were hanging out in the lounge (except for that Apuzzo!) — so the FFD brochures  are not lying about the “come mingle with the dancers” parts of the adverts for the post-performance parties in the lounge.

 

 

Anyway, the other highlight of Program 1 was B/olero performed by the highly respected Israeli company, Batsheva, choreographed by their artistic director, Ohad Naharin, and set to the familiar Maurice Ravel music. Except this was a remix — at times the music would be slowed so that it would sound somewhat warped. The music would also veer from speaker to speaker, so it was like the sound was traveling around the auditorium.

Well, there are many Boleros around and Naharin’s was a more minimalist one in terms of the action, but not the emotion. It was a duet for two women dressed in black dresses. At times their movement was basic, at times still, at times spastic and chaotic, at times sexual and almost kinky, and at many times hypnotic. A common motif was the swinging back and forth of the arms, mechanically, like the arms of a clock, the rest of the body still. I always feel with his work that I have to see it several times to get the full effect, and I wished I could have seen this one again.

 

 

 

In celebration of the centennial of Ballets Russes, every night at FFD one company performs a piece on honor of that legendary company. Program 1’s was the Boston Ballet’s rendition of Nijinksy’s original Afternoon of a Faun. This was a real treat for me, as I’d never seen the Nijinsky version live and in full before. I’d only ever seen it on tape or, if I remember correctly, only the faun version (without the nymphs) performed by Royal Ballet star Johan Kobborg with the Kings of Dance.

Anyway, Nijinsky’s version is from 1912 and you can really imagine how shocking it must have been in its day, with the faun so overtly sexual, so taken with the nymphs, he ends up masturbating with a cloth left by one, which he recovers, takes up to his little rock perch, places it on the ground and begins rubbing his groin into it. You still don’t see much of that today onstage (at least not in ballet), so I think it’s still somewhat risque. And yet the faun, at least as portrayed by Altankhuyag Dugaraa, is so sweet and so endearing, and you feel for him after those nymphs tease him and you’re happy for him when he retrieves that cloth. I would so love to see a clip of Nijinsky in this. I would also love to see his Rite of Spring some day; I don’t think it’s been performed for eons though, I think because the choreography hasn’t really been preserved, sadly.

 

 

And completing Program 1 was Savion Glover, which I wrote about briefly in my previous post.

See the rest of Andrea Mohin’s NY Times slide show of Program 1 here.

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THE POPULARITY OF KEIGWIN + COMPANY

 

 

 

 

During ballet season my time is so limited and I just can’t attend everything I want to. And so, regrettably, I had to miss Keigwin + Company at the Joyce last week. But my friend, writer Christopher Atamian, agreed to attend for me and write a review here. I’m a big fan of Larry Keigwin, but unfortunately my friend didn’t like the performance very much! Oh well, such is life… Anyway, I’m very thankful and flattered that professional writers want to write for my blog. I do want to make clear, though, the views expressed herein are Mr. Atamian’s and not my own. I’ve seen all of the pieces reviewed here except Triptych, which is new, and I’ve really liked all of them. I also think diversity of opinion and the dialog it can engender is very important to the arts. Here is Mr. Atamian’s review.

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GO SEE RIOULT!

 

Over the past week, Rioult (formerly called Pascal Rioult Dance Theater) has become one of my favorite modern dance companies. Artistic director and choreographer Pascal Rioult’s work is like a visual opera, or an opera told all in dance (since opera is already visual). It’s so breathtaking. And his movement style is like a combination of Balanchine and Martha Graham (he danced with Martha Graham’s company). His dances are very expressionistic and full of drama and intensity and his dancers, most of whom are excellent movers, know how to convey that drama by dancing with a real sense of urgency and specificity of purpose. Every movement they make, there seems to be a specific thought behind it. If only all dancers would dance like this…

I saw four pieces over the past week at the Joyce (Chelsea): the world premiere of The Great Mass, set to Mozart’s Great Mass in C Minor; and three of Rioult’s classics: Views of the Fleeting World, Les Noces, and Wien. I loved all of them.

The Great Mass, Rioult’s only full-length evening work, is dedicated to Marguerite Rioult, Rioult’s mother, who passed away this year. She was a musician — a piano teacher and choir director, and a lover of Mozart. It’s so much harder to describe works that you really like than works that you don’t, particularly when they’re abstract, but suffice it to say this was really beautiful, and, again, very operatic. I don’t know much about Mozart unfortunately, but the music is choral, and known as his greatest Mass (go here to listen to the “Kyrie” section), and the dance included all sections of the music: Kyrie, Gloria, Credo, Sanctus, Benedictus, and Hosanna. Through much of it dancers wore richly embroidered white bodices with white tulle skirts and danced as if taken by the spirit, in passionate praise and glory.

But my favorite part was the darkest, a middle section from Gloria in which the dancers wore skin-toned leotards and appeared to be either spirits in hell reaching desperately upward toward a light shining brightly from above, or else humans still on earth praying desperately for salvation. They looked almost animalistic, serpentine, as they writhed around on the ground, then crawled about each other, trying to lift themselves upward toward the light. In the following section, three of my favorite dancers in the troupe — Robert Robinson (who looks like a smaller version of Clifton Brown), Jane Sato and Marianna Tsartolia — danced a pas de trois, each woman wrapping her arms and legs snake-like around Robinson, as if they were by turns trying to tempt him and hold onto him for dear life, as if he’d lead the way to salvation. Tsartolia had a more tormented look on her face, and seemed more desperate, while Sato gave her movement a more tempting and seductive feel. Robinson looked like he was trying to retain inner strength. That’s what I loved about these dancers — everyone was so specific in their movement and intent, like they were always playing character.

The second program began with Views of the Fleeting World (pictured above), a long piece set to Bach’s The Art of Fugue, that consisted of many different sections: Orchard (shown above, with the dancers in the gorgeous red skirts), Gathering Storm, Wild Horses, Dusk, Sudden Rain, Night Ride, Summer Wind, Moonlight, and Flowing River. Each section had a different theme and mood and each was accompanied by a different background impressionistic painting. My favorite section was Moonlight, when the magnificient Penelope Gonzalez danced a very sexy, almost entirely floor-bound duet with Brian Flynn. When I was reading up on the company, I read a lot about Gonzalez, and I see why so many critics love her. She is a tiny powerhouse, one of the most remarkable movers I’ve ever seen.

 

 

My friend Mika and I were mesmerized by the way they snaked their limbs in, out, over and around each other’s bodies, sometimes a flexed foot, sometimes a pointed toe, how they lifted themselves up from the ground, upper body, then lower body, touching the floor at times only with one small part of their back (talk about a work-out!), how they’d dramatically arch their backs, how she’d slowly climb onto him, he’d lift her with his arms, on his back (that’s hard work too). I was so blown away; this is one of the most brilliantly choreographed, mesmerizingly, tantalizing, beautiful “sex scenes” I’ve ever seen in dance.

Then was Les Noces, Mika’s favorite of the night. It’s set, just like Jerome Robbins’ ballet of the same name, to Stravinsky’s Les Noces, and, like Robbins’, depicts the marriage rite of passage. Whereas Robbins’ (which I wrote about here, near the end) depicted a Russian peasant wedding set about a century ago, Rioult’s is contemporary, and the curtain opens on four women dressed in bras and underwear dancing intensely atop a set of four chairs, kind of Mein Herr-like, the emotion they convey by turns fearful and seductive. After they dance, they help each other into a pair of bloomers and a corset-like waistband. The lights then dim on them and turn to a set of four men, dressed only in underwear, who dance atop four chairs of their own, the emotion similar but more masculine, more angry (perhaps some don’t want to get married, feel like they’re being pressured) At the end of their dance, then don black, tuxedo-like pants. The two groups then turn chairs toward each other, break into four separate male / female pairs, and each pair really goes at each other, an intense battle of the sexes. The consummation scene begins, as in Robbins’, fraught with fear and trepidation and is rather horrifying, but eventually softens and grows sensual. The couples have overcome the storm.

And the evening ended with Wien (Vienna), set to Maurice Ravel’s La Valse (which was originally titled Wien), which has become one of my favorite pieces of music, the same that Balanchine used for his La Valse (which I wrote about here). Rioult’s version carries the same dark themes as Balanchine’s — beauty turned bad, encroaching tragedy, social refinement embodied in the Viennese Waltz disintegrating in the face of human violence and destruction. But here, a small group of several huddle around each other, walking to the waltz in small steps, one right after the other, almost mechanically, or Charlie Chaplin-like. There is something inhuman and distorted about their movement, their need to huddle in a group, and follow the others. As the music swells, they move faster, but they’re moving so quickly, and in circles, that  they can’t retain their balance. One in the group will try to reach up to the sky, only to go crashing to the floor. The others, far from helping the fallen one up, simply walk over him or her, making an effort not to trip, but to keep their steps — it’s like they’re in a militaristic march and they can’t step out of line. At points they waltz with each other — men with women, women with women and men with men — but it’s a very grotesque kind of waltzing. The women often look like rag dolls, dead; the men viciously throw them about. The movement is very different from Balanchine’s, but the piece has that same intensely haunting, world-gone-mad quality.

I strongly recommend this company! They’re at the Joyce through the 19th. Go here for info and to see an excerpt from Views of the Fleeting World.

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PASCAL RIOULT DANCE THEATER REHEARSAL

 

Today I, along with several other bloggers, was invited to a studio rehearsal of Pascal Rioult’s The Great Mass, which will premiere at the Joyce Chelsea in two weeks. Set to Mozart’s Mass in C Minor, it looks like it will be really glorious. Today all the dancers were in workout clothes, and Rioult (who is from France, and a former Martha Graham dancer) gave them instructions, but I can’t wait to see the fully costumed final product onstage.

I really like these rehearsals and am so glad dance companies are inviting us to view the process. First to begin inviting (that I know of anyway) was Cedar Lake Contemporary Dance, then TAKE Dance, Elisa Monte Dance Co., now Rioult, and perhaps Dances Patrelle, upcoming in two weeks as well. The process of dance-making is, I feel, unlike the creation of any other art because of its collaborative nature, and I feel like being allowed into the process a bit allows me to understand the art form better. I wish choreographers would let us to watch even earlier on, when they’re very first conceiving a work! As long as my schedule is flexible, I love coming to these things. I feel like Edwin Denby watching Balanchine! đŸ™‚

Anyway, more to come on Rioult as soon as their season begins in two weeks. In the meantime, visit their website for info and a video of his dance set to Maurice Ravel music.

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Miami City Ballet

 

I spent practically the whole weekend at Miami City Ballet (at City Center). Wow, what a great, world-class company! They presented two programs of almost all Balanchine (one Tharp) and they really brought Balanchine to life for me. The company’s director is Edward Villella, who performed with Balanchine and was a very renowned dancer in the fifties and sixties, still considered by many to be the greatest American male dancer ever. He was there of course and took bows with the dancers. Twyla Tharp was also there for the program showing her In The Upper Room, bouncing around  during the curtain calls in jeans and sneakers with her gray hair tied back into a pony tail, and of course her signature glasses. What fun!

Anyway, program one was: the excellent Symphony in Three Movements (my first time seeing it), La Valse (also my first time — gorgeous ballet), and Tharp’s Room; program two was: Square Dance, “Rubies” (the second section of Jewels), and Symphony in C.

My favorites were mostly from the first program.

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