Tome upon Tome

[Farrell Fan]

Just three years after Greg Lawrence's 622-page "Dance with Demons," comes another biography of Jerome Robbins, this one by Deborah Jowitt and extending through 619 pages. Of course I'm looking forward to reading "Jerome Robbins: His Life, His Theater, His Dance," and ordered it today from amazon.com. But why does nothing remotely comparable yet exist for Balanchine? The best Balanchine biography is Bernard Taper's, which started life as a New Yorker profile and got added on to. I suppose it's easier to write about somebody who inspired considerable hatred, even in himself, than about a man who described himself as "a cloud in pants."

[cargill]

I don't know if people saw the review in yesterday's New York Times book review section, but it seemed like the person writing (I forget his name) wasn't all that familiar with the material--he said Robbins was a big hit on Broadway with Fancy Free! The review was a good one, on the whole, I'm happy to say, so the book should sell well, but I was a bit disappointed that the NYTimes couldn't come up with someone better.

[sandik]

I saw an early version and was very impressed with the depth of the research -- she had unprecedented access to his records and made excellent use of them.

[Rachel Howard]

I thought it interesting that Nicholas Fox Weber described Jowitt as "a dance critic at the Village Voice." Surely an understatement!

[Farrell Fan]

The copy on the book jacket puts the Village Voice job into context. "Deborah Jowitt, also known as a dancer, choreographer, and teacher of dance criticism and history, has been the principal dance critic of The Village Voice since 1967."

I started the book yesterday and it's wonderful.

[socalgal]

I began reading this Robbin's bio yesterday also!

And am loving it.....

[sandik]

I thought it interesting that Nicholas Fox Weber described Jowitt as "a dance critic at the Village Voice."  Surely an understatement!

No kidding!

[atm711]

I am reading it, too---and I have to keep saying to myself---"Separate the man from the artist" ...there is only one word to describe him--schlemiel. In 1942 he got out of the draft by admitting his homosexuality and ten years later he 'named names' to HUAC because he feared he would be identified as a homosexual. :shrug:

[Ari]

I'm not going to make a case for Robbins as a fine human being, but in 1942 he had nothing to lose by admitting his homosexuality. He was a complete unknown. By 1952 he was an extremely successful Broadway director and had reason to fear that his career would go up in smoke if his sexuality were out in the open. That doesn't make his behavior any the less craven, of course.

[dirac]

However, by admitting in 1942 that he was gay, Robbins put it on the record, and he did it himself. It's hard not to believe that he wasn't being a teeny bit opportunistic. I suspect -- can't prove, obviously -- that exposure of his sexuality was not the real, or let's say the only, reason for Robbins' appearance before HUAC. Not only was his career looking much better in 1952, but there was the prospect of work in television and the movies. A hostile witness before the Committee didn’t need to worry about his future in the theatre, but work in television and film would be closed off indefinitely. Robbins had prospects in both areas (he couldn’t have any way of knowing that his career in Hollywood would ultimately work out not too well) and there’s not a doubt in my mind that these considerations would have played a role in his decision. Obviously, that’s not a motive he would broadcast to the world. One doesn't like to judge a fellow when not in his shoes, of course, but there it is.

[Farrell Fan]

When I started Deborah Jowitt's book, I called it "wonderful." On another thread, Ive referred to it as "excellent." Now that I've finished it, I haven't changed my mind, but must admit there were many pages I found a chore to get through. Jowitt goes into detail about everything Robbins ever did, including theater pieces that never came to fruition, usually because be backed out. Of course I realize it's valuable to have all this on the record, but I just wish there was a way to write a comprehensive biography without being quite so comprehensive about it.

Where Jowitt's book has it all over Greg Lawrence's is in her use of Robbins's letters, journals, and assorted notes, to which she had access. So we get bits of his touching, lifelong correspondence with Tanaquil Le Clercq, and interesting details about his working relationships with Lincoln Kirstein, Balanchine, Peter Martins, Leonard Bernstein, Stephen Sondheim, Ethel Merman, Zero Mostel, and scores of others. Until fairly late in his life, Robbins had numerous love affairs, primarily, but not exclusively, with men. Although Jowitt identifies some of his lovers, she is discreet about details.

Robbins's notes and journal entries most often express frustration and self-doubt about what he happened to be working on at the moment. But there is this notable exception. When he was choreographing In Memory of... "The first session with Farrell was, he noted in a log written in Turkey the summer after the premiere, 'the most extraordinary rehearsal I've ever had...It was as near to automatic writing as I've experienced. Suzanne was incredible...We were all possessed, high, amazed, spent, inspired. At that point the ballet fused, Suzanne and I fused, Suzanne and the ballet fused.'" I almost blew a fuse reading that.

For much of his life he attempted to come to terms with his past. For years and years he thought, planned, and made notes about what he might have envisioned as his crowning theatrical achievement, in which, addition to embracing his Jewishness, he'd try to exorcise the specter of his testimony before the House Un-American Activities Committee. "The Poppa Piece," he called it, for Harry Rabinowitz, the father he'd been ashamed to acknowledge as a young man.

[Thalictum]

A TEENY BIT opportunistic?

How many people reach Robbins's eminence without being more than a teeny bit opportunistic?

[Alexandra]

I have no opinion on whether or not Robbins was opportunistic -- but to Thalictum's comment, I don't know of any reliable reports that Balanchine, Ashton, Tudor or Fokine ever shoved someone under a moving train (metaphorically speaking) to get a position. (My understanding of "opportunistic" is someone who is not the best person for a job, say, who seizes an opportunity -- illness or absence of the person who is the best person for the job, perhaps -- to forward his/her career. Which is different than saying, "Yes, thank you for the opportunity, Mr. Kirstein. I'd love to come to America.")

[atm711]

When I started Deborah Jowitt's book, I called it "wonderful." On another thread, Ive referred to it as "excellent." Now that I've finished it, I haven't changed my mind, but must admit there were many pages I found a chore to get through. Jowitt goes into detail about everything Robbins ever did, including theater pieces that never came to fruition, usually because be backed out. Of course I realize it's valuable to have all this on the record, but I just wish there was a way to write a comprehensive biography without being quite so comprehensive about it.

Although I am only a quarter of the way through the book I am luxuriating in this aspect of the book--and I am in awe of all of Jowitts details. I saw many of those early musicals ('On The Town', Billion Dollar Baby, High Button Shoes, and Look Ma) and she has jolted my memory. I saw 'Interplay' for the first time when Robbins did it for Billy Rose; it looked like a carefree romp and made little impression on me; however, when he did it for Ballet Theater, Sharaff's costuming (using Mondrian-like colors) brought it together, along with the artful lighting.-----so far, so good. I am separating the man from the artist. B)

[dirac]

I haven’t yet started Jowitt’s book and so cannot judge, but Farrell Fan’s comments echo a concern that sprang to my mind when I heard the book was six hundred pages plus. Of course, there are going to be goodies in such a wealth of detail, but I think the trend toward the “First he did this. Then he did that. Then he almost went there, but decided not to because the weather was bad, so he went over here instead” brand of biography may have gone a bit far. I am currently reading Ron Chernow’s biography of Alexander Hamilton, and was favored with such information about the Hamiltons' home life as the following (from vague memory) about what the Hamiltons were accustomed to have for dinner: “Eliza served beef, mutton, and veal, with [some veggies, can’t recall], topped with apples and pears.” I waited with bated breath to find out which desserts were customarily served chez Hamilton, but on that subject I fear Chernow was coy, as Aaron Burr would say.

[atm711]

“First he did this.  Then he did that.  Then he almost went there, but decided not to because the weather was bad, so he went over here instead” brand of biography

This is exactly what the Jowitt book IS NOT. If you have not seen the works she cites, you will have a pretty good idea of what they were all about. It is so refreshing to read a bio of an artist's work----.

[dirac]

This is exactly what the Jowitt book IS NOT.

Relieved to hear it.

[Alexandra]

I think the amount of detail in a book of history -- biography, history of a company, etc. -- is really one of those things that are very much a factor of reader backgrounda and interest. I know when I first read Buckle's biography of "Nijinsky" I was bored to tears -- and very disappointed, because I had enjoyed Buckle's criticism and expected the biography to be like it. I read it again last winter and what had seemed tedious to me 25 years ago, because I hadn't seen those ballets and found it hard to keep them apart, was fascinating now. If I read a book about something that doesn't interest me in the particular, but does in the general, I'll become impatient with the details, but if it's in a field of interest, then I want MORE details and complain if there isn't a lot of specific information.

[Farrell Fan]

I enjoyed the descriptions of the musicals and ballets, too, and agree that Jowitt does a good job describing them for folks who never saw them. What I found tedious was reading about works that Robbins got interested in doing: The Cannibals, The Bacchae,The Mourning Dove, Taniko, The Measures Taken, The Office, The Exception and the Rule, and others, which, except for The Office, he never got around to. The entire two-year period of his involvement with American Theater Laboratory is like this and, at that point, I think Jowitt's biography bears more than a passing resemblance to dirac's amusing description. But I'm glad I persevered through these parts and wouldn't hesitate to recommend the book.

[dirac]

I now have a copy of the book, and although I'm not finished with it, I’m afraid that I concur with Farrell Fan. I admire the book in many respects, but there is an awful lot of “In September 1953, Robbins....in October 1953, Robbins thought about.....” It’s not that much of the information isn’t fascinating, but it is easy to lose the forest for the trees. As might be expected, Jowitt is especially good with the discussions of ballet (not that the Broadway related stuff is bad at all, but much of it is familiar) but even there I thought that some of the descriptions ran a bit long. There’s so much information that vivid personalities like Bernstein, George Abbott, and Jane Bowles just become names on the page. I wonder if Jowitt might not have done better to keep the personal biographical sections to a minimum –they’re clearly not where her heart is – and focused on the work in something like the manner of David Vaughan’s Ashton book.

However, if you are interested in dance you shouldn’t miss this. The photographs are well selected, and I especially enjoyed reading the excerpts from the letters of Tanaquil Le Clercq. And Jowitt has a dry, subtle wit that makes itself felt without drawing undue attention to itself.

[Ari]

I just finished reading this book, and share many of the feelings of previous posters with respect to the plodding nature of the narrative and Jowitt's meticulous (you might say exhaustive) accounts of Robbins's work. Nonetheless, it was a fascinating read. For those interested in New York City Ballet history, it's a must. Just compare the chapters on the NYCB of the early fifties to Anatol Chujoy's history of the company -- what an intriguing and hilarious difference! One effect the book had on me was to make me yearn to read Lincoln Kirstein's collected letters. Let's hope they'll be issued as an adjunct to the official biography. And the pages on the events surrounding Peter Martins's appointment as Balanchine's successor were very revealing. Apparently Balanchine insisted on it largely to prevent Kirstein naming himself Artistic Director, which he thought would destroy the company.

As others have mentioned, Jowitt pays scant attention to Robbins the man, preferring to emphasize his work. I think more attention to the man would have illuminated the work, but throughout the book Jowitt seems skittish whenever it comes to dealing with the Robbins conundrums (which are one of the things that makes him so interesting). Occasionally she suggests a reason why he may have said or done something, but she never attempts a wholesale interpretation of his personality. This is disappointing for many reasons. Going into the book, I had a pretty negative image of Robbins as a man, but what Jowitt reveals about him made me like him much better and long to understand what made him tick. It looks like Amanda Vaill will address this in her biography, which is due to be published late next year.

Reading this book, I began to rethink my own view of Robbins's work. Perhaps I've been looking at it the wrong way, expecting him to give me what others (mainly Balanchine) give me, instead of what he was prepared to offer. I'd like to re-watch the Robbins rep now with a more open mind.

I guess that's a pretty high compliment to Jowitt.

[dirac]

Occasionally she suggests a reason why he may have said or done something, but she never attempts a wholesale interpretation of his personality. This is disappointing for many reasons.

For a biographer to let words and actions speak for themselves can be an effective tactic, but while reading the book I sometimes found myself thinking, "Stop being so self-effacing! Tell us what you really think!"

[dirac]

Just finished a biography that made me have second thoughts on the above post. There are some biographers who tell you what they think, and tell you, and tell you, and tell you......

I