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Tuesday, May 15

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An appreciation of the late musician Rich Dallessio.

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And last but not least, his English Horn playing simply slayed me. He was particularly proud to finish his career as solo English horn at the NYC Ballet, a job he adored. He just recently told me how lucky he was to have that job and how he revered his colleagues in that orchestra. I know Rich would want you all to know that.

 

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The Central School of Ballet gets its costumes back (but not much else).

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Last night (May 14), a member of the public found the costumes in an open garage in Bromley-by-Bow in London, close to where the tour vehicle was last tracked, and called Ballet Central to report the news.

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A review of the Royal Danish Ballet in 'The Queen of Spades' by Bruce Marriott for DanceTabs.

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The good news is that Queen of Spades is a good-looking crowd pleaser and the RDB dancers look fantastic in it – I can’t emphasise that enough. Also good that it’s a step up from his last commission, Frankenstein – thank goodness, really. I also note that his Sweet Violets (for the Royal Ballet, 2012) contained some gorgeous character-driven pas de deux – he has the ingredients, but threading them all together into an unequivocal hit currently remains illusive for the busy Scarlett.
 

 

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A Gene Kelly photo gallery.

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Gene Kelly’s iconic style in twelve photos

 

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A compare-and-contrast of various Firebird ballets by Alastair Macaulay in The New York Times.

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Mr. Ratmansky transforms all four. His Firebird is just one of a flock of firebirds of both sexes. His Maiden and her friends are spiky, conflicted, impulsive, odd. And Kaschei is glamorous, lithe, vain, creepy.

 

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A review of Atlanta Ballet by Andrew Alexander for ArtsATL.

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Young Russian choreographer Maxim Petrov of the Mariinsky Ballet made an impressive stateside debut with the evening’s final work, Concerto Armonico, though Tatyana Noginova’s outfits for the men bore a distracting resemblance to Spiderman’s costume. It was a striking similarity one tried to dismiss as soon as it was noticed, but it persisted, thanks to a delicate black weblike pattern across the blue and red costumes’ chests. The strange resemblance emerged again during moments when the male dancers crouched down and snuck across stage to quiet, sinister passages of Alexander Tcherepnin’s music (that’s a device that would have read as too interpretive and theatrical even without the costumes).

 

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