firedog

Good question. By the 19th century, usually there was a separate person who wrote the librettos for ballets. (There were exceptions; the Danish choreographer August Bournonville wrote his own libretti, which he called "ballet poems" and scorned those choreographers who turned over this task.) The libretti had to be turned into the theater's censor; often the librettist would be a theater employee, sometimes, as in the case of Theophile Gautier who wrote the libretto for "Giselle," a poet in his own right. The libretti don't include the dances, just something like "a brilliant pas de trois" or "the nymphs then dance a ballabile," but give the story in great detail. There was much more mime in 19th century ballets than we have now. If you'd like to see some examples, you might want to look at Cyril W. Beaumont's "Complete Book of the Ballets." He prints many of the libretti for the 19th century ballets, as well as cast lists and commentary. (The original "Sylvia" is in there.) Hi Alexandra ~ Ouch ! - most of my post got deleted when you hit that button !! I think I can remember posting that I thought that the plot of Sylvia was one of the mysterious things about it, that I thought that in spite of the pathos & drama in the story that it was basically a comedy, because it all ends happily; and that I'd noticed that there had been some significant changes to the plot of Torquato Tasso's Italian Renaissance masterpiece from which it was taken - for example, in Tasso's play Amintas, in despair of getting Sylvia, trys to suicide by leaping off a cliff, yet not only is he spared from death when a bush breaks his fall, but also he wins Sylvia at last because seeing his near-death finally breaks her resolve to resist him. That the best comedy is usually highlighted by tragedy, even if the last lurks just below the surface of the events depicted. Also that the ending with Eros winning his merry prank in masquerade as a Persian pirate, Diana forgiving Sylvia & Aminta, and Diana & Eros reconciled (or at least agreeing to suspend hostilities . .) was really quite sublime. I also thought there were comic intentions in Allen Moyer's parlor-room decor in the First Act, but that he had pushed it too far, and that it crossed over the thin line from of what is comic to what is just gross & to what actually detracts from the production. For example, I'd really enjoyed the sharp counterpoint of the nymphs & satyrs dancing that opens the First Act, but that all of this classic baroque pecision choreography made no sense in front of the set of sheer rococco Late Victorian excess. A little more sublime in the First Act (sets fitting the music) would also have balanced off Morris's Sylvia a lot better . . .

Hi Alexandra ~ Many thanks for posting the really sweet Dance Times reviews of Sylvia by Paul Parrish & Rita Felciano - they make our local reviewers here in S.F. sound as clueless as Orion's slaves by comparison !!!

Wow, Helene - thank you for the superb descriptions of the dance sequences in this Morris Sylvia, and of Saturday & Sundays performances in particular ! It is amazing how different the performances were with each casting change. After I'd seen Friday's performance I had rather wanted to see one of the last two with the cast mixed about, but couldn't manage it - yet now with your keen description, I have got some idea of what those performances were like ! This ballet really was a joy, and like you, I would happily see it again !

(The rest of this post was deleted accidentally by an idiot moderator, i.e., me, who was trying to answer a post and talk on the phone at the same time, and clicked the edit button instead of the quote button. Firedog -- please accept my apologies. I've emailed you to explain.)

Thank you for the reference to the Wall Street Journal review which I would have missed !! The local reviews here in San Francisco were not very good - Stephanie Von Buchau in the 'Bay Area Reporter' casually describes Sylvia as "a forgotten 19th-century score by a minor, academic composer," and goes on to frankly state that she'd never liked 'Coppelia,' Delibes' earlier ballet for which he is most famous. About the same time Michael Simpson in the San Francisco Chronicle on May 3rd says acidly: "the score by Léo Delibes is as memorable as a paperback romance." I was quite shocked as I've always considered Sylvia one of the most beautiful tone poems ever written, if nothing else. When we went to see the new Sylvia Friday May 7, I suspected these big lukewarm reviews had had a strong negative effect, as the house for this much anticipated & long-awaited production had far too many empty seats, and was only about 3/4 full. There were some bumps in this production not warned about by these grumbling reviews. The live orchestra did not play that well - the Prelude was very stiff and two of the violin solos hit so many bad notes it was embarrassing. Worst though, was the set in the First Act, which was so "loud" it was amazing we could hear the orchestra at all. It had the general look of a nightmarishly over-the-top Second Empire parlor room. The backdrop was of weird gigantic flowers as big as trees against a blurry view of forested cliffs plunging off in the distance. The immense garish flowers had the effect of making the dancers, who were supposed to be human-scale gods & heroes, look like absurd little fairy folk. The huge flowers were also of a strange variety apart from their size, appeared to be bright red daffodils (which I have never seen) and vast conical lavender spears of snapdragons. To the left was a ghastly life-size statue on a pedestal that appeared to be spray-painted gold with EROS captioned in huge French Victorian letters on the base, which also had a normal-sized flower vine growing on it. In the foreground was a swampy bog with an asphalt ramp curling up behind it, and between the foreground and background, a colossal sheer olive green curtain came all the way down from the proscenium arch & was drawn up sharply to the left with a sash like a net curtain in a vast parlor window drawn back for a better view of the strange giant flowers. Otherwise the dancing, costumes, and choreography were marvelous & must have been taken from stage directions original to the ballet. Beautiful as the dancing was, it was difficult to tear my eyes away from the terrble sight in back of it, and it seemed like a heartbreaking missed opportunity as the score of the First Act evokes a sylvan landscpe better than anything I have heard in music. Instead we were witnessing this scary horticultural nightmare and wondered whether the ballet should have been called Flora instead . . . The Second Act, Orion's Cave, had a far better set, a delightful French looking cave with stone benches and bunches of garlic or cheese hanging from the ceiling - however the choreography suddenly changed to Modern Dance with a few ballet steps for just Sylvia herself, and the plot suddenly got a bit murky. Fending off Orion's remarkably polite advances, Sylvia instructs his clumsy slaves to squeeze the fresh grapes they are bringing into the cave into juice which somehow instantly turns into wine in 2 seconds without even an appearance by Bacchus, and makes them all including Orion dead drunk. Then to escape the well-sealed cave she invokes the god Eros who does appear and happily melts it away, end of Act. By the Third Act, all is forgiven, the set is glorious - looks like the spectacular French scenic wallpaper of the early 19th century. The foreground is the forecourt of the Temple of Diana set on a river running behind this foreground & behind that the temple-clad skyline of a perfect classic city on a hill. The choreography, the costumes, dancing, and special effects (lightning & thunder) are utterly superb, especially Muriel Maffre who electrifies the stage as Diana. Maffre remains perfectly in character throughout, is wonderfully expressive, and outdances everyone on the stage. It is hard to descibe how amazing this performance was, but if Joan Crawford had been able to dance on point and delivered the best performance of her life, it would have looked like that !! James Sofkrano was also a great Eros, so that both the "gods" in this production had been perfectly cast. Even though this Sylvia production wasn't absolutely perfect, the overall genius and brilliance of Mark Morris shined right through the minor flubs. There were so many saving ingeneous turns throughout this production that one could easily imagine, with a few changes, what a perfect production would be like, and one realizes that that this wonderful piece did not deserve it's long obscurity at all. It's terrible to think that several whole generations of ballet fans have lived and died without ever seeing a full production of this amazing classic piece !!