Ari

I don't think Wheeldon is interested in running NYCB. He likes his international career, and has been saying in interviews that he doesn't like working with NYCB dancers as much as those in other companies.

Besides, I do think the Board will look for someone who is a product of the Balanchine tradition. If Boal does a good job running another company, my money would be on him as the number one choice.

I don't know, carbro. Martins is under a great deal of pressure, and it remains to be seen how much longer he can take it. (To tell you the truth, I don't know how he's lasted as long as he has. It's not just the criticism, it's the often nasty and personal nature of the criticism that must be wearing, even if he tries to ignore it.) Kistler will probably retire in the next couple of years, and there will be less of an imperative to remain in New York. Not that I think his retirement is imminent, but five to ten years does not seem like an unrealistic time frame.

Don't you think that any woman who had just discovered that her lover was a two-timing rat would be crying at the very least?

But ballet is a stylized art that doesn't make its impact through the use of realistic effects (at least not in classical works like Giselle). When I see such added touches -- they crop up occasionally, like Odette and Siegfried kissing in the last act -- I find that instead of moving me they jar me. It's out of context with the rest of the production.

A very interesting list of candidates! I'm glad that most of them come from the PNB tradition as Russell and Stowell have developed it -- I'd like to see some continuity. Victoria Morgan seems to be the odd person out in this list.

The big shock is seeing Peter Boal's name. I'd wondered if he was interested in directing a company some day, given his involvement with the little troupe he created, but I don't know if he has the necessary experience at this point. And I'd hate to see New York lose him -- not just as a dancer but as a teacher.

Interesting, too, that there are two married couples on the list (if you count Benjamin Houk's wife). Russell has always said that she couldn't imagine either herself or her husband directing PNB alone, so I imagine they must have influenced this choice.

Thank you for mentioning Nijinska, ATM. Her memoirs are one of the most interesting ballet books I've ever read.

When the book first came out, I recall reading that a second volume was planned, but nothing has ever been published. Does anyone know anything about that?

Some others, not recent though:

During a performance of Chaconne at NYCB, the ribbons of Stacy Caddell's right pointe shoe came unglued and trailed on the stage as she danced. Given the choreography -- she was leading the five "cygnets" -- this led to considerable mirth, although the audience sympathized with her and tried to contain their giggles. They almost lost it, though, when she did some frappes. It was almost like she was saying, "Look at me, I lost my ribbons!" Of course, she got a big hand at the end.

Royal Ballet at the Met, 1981, opening night. In The Sleeping Beauty, Merle Park danced Princess Florine, and came out for a second bow. She had almost reached center stage when she realized . . . no one was applauding. Park, who was by then quite an experienced ballerina, clapped both hands to her mouth in a giant "Yikes!" gesture and ran offstage.

Union Jack, 1977. At the beginning of the opening section, someone's sporran (the pouch worn in front of the kilts) fell to the floor, dead center, and just sat there. The stage was filled with dancers, none of whom had the presence of mind to get rid of it. Finally, during the closing recessional, a girl in Karin von Aroldingen's regiment kicked it upstage repeatedly until it was out of harm's way.

Maryinski Ballet at the Met, summer of 2002, Don Q.  The donkey that Don Q rode on decided to conduct its own business on stage, one of the corp members scooped up the debris with a broom, while still in character.

This used to happen all the time in Union Jack when it was new. In the performances I've seen in the last decade, however, the donkey has been very well behaved.

I remember a performance of Dances at a Gathering at NYCB when the curtain went up for the bows on what was supposed to be an empty stage. Instead, there was a stagehand, bending over and doing something to the floor, so that his rear end was facing the audience. He must have heard something to alert him to the fact that the curtain was up, because he straightened up, cast a startled glance at the audience, and scuttled off into the wings.

A performance of Tchaik. Piano Concerto #2 in about 1980, second movement. The girls are arranged in two vertical lines on either side of the stage with the danseur in the center. They bouree towards him, with the girl at the head of each line travelling all the way over to the man's side and each subsequent girl boureeing just enough to place her on the previous girl's side. Toni Bentley, at the rear of the stage right line, boureed almost all the way over to the man before realizing her mistake and swanning back. It was a moment straight out of The Concert. (I noticed later that at another point in this movement, the girls do the same thing except that that the first girl out of the line is the one at the rear, so Bentley had confused the two moments.) (carbro will remember this. We were sitting together when it happened.)

Dark Red Roses will be shown twice in London this month, at the National Film Theatre.

I'd like to see Picnic at Tintagel, a version of the Tristram and Iseult story, which was made for NYCB in the fifties.

Two misses, two hits. After an absolutely ghastly production of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, watchable only for a mesmerizing performance by the great George Grizzard (what a splendid actor he is, and how versatile . . . if he were British he'd be Sir George ), the Kennedy Center came through with a well-nigh perfect production of The Glass Menagerie. This is a play that is often performed (the small cast and unit set no doubt appeal to cash-strapped theaters) but is actually quite difficult to do well. Director Gregory Mosher guided his excellent cast around the play's traps and produced a pitch-perfect, emotionally resonant performance.

Sally Field is much less fluttery than most Amandas, sharper and tougher. Steel magnolia, indeed. For all her self-deception, she sees her family's plight and does her best to set things right. I was reminded of Mrs. Bennet in Pride and Prejudice: her methods may be crude, but she understands as the man of the family does not the importance of marrying off her daughters in order to ensure their future. Field focused on blending in with the ensemble; so understated was her performance that the special bow for her at the end seemed out of place. She was first-rate, but so was everyone else.

Laura is a role that's easy to sentimentalize, so I was grateful to Jennifer Dundas for her unflinchingly painful interpretation. She wasn't afraid to look plain, awkward, and slow. The Gentleman Caller is another tricky role: it's easy to turn him into something of a buffoon or a comment on the kind of mainstream American optimism that so clearly bypasses the Wingfields. But Corey Brill played the part straight, a decent guy whose lack of introspection makes his life seem enviably simple and clear. Played this way, with his treatment of Laura the result of a kind, open nature and not of a politician's attempt at handling a challenge, the revelation that he is engaged to be married comes as a real blow. Jason Butler Harner, as Tom, was also very good but seemed a tad below the others; still, his final speech had me in tears.

Anyone who can get to the Kennedy Center before the run ends on August 8 should try to do so. This is as good a production of this lovely play as you are ever going to see.

My take on Teachout is that he aspires to be a general cultural critic, not a specialist in any one form. His blog, the reports on the New York cultural scene he writes for the Washington Post, and his reviews in the Wall Street Journal all embrace many art forms -- theater, music, and literature as well as dance. At one time such generalist critics were more prevalent than they are today, and I think that that's something we're missing in the cultural dialog now -- critics whose interests are broad and who are reasonably well informed on many subjects.

Of course, any good critic, no matter how specialized, should be well enough versed in the other arts to give scope to his writing, but as Kathleen said there are many people who simply don't read specialist critics if they're not specially interested in the art form. Teachout's reports on the New York cultural scene for the Washington Post are designed, I think, to appeal to the sort of person who is, or wants to be, generally culturally literate, abreast of the latest things. They may never go to a ballet or a jazz club, but that doesn't mean they're not interested in knowing what's going on. In our over-specialized time, I think that's a healthy thing.

werlkj, welcome to Ballet Alert, and the Cinderella discussion! Don't be nervous about participating, all are welcome here, regardless of our experience in watching ballet. The more varied our participants, the more interesting the discussion! B)

Am I understanding you correctly that Stevenson also uses men as the stepsisters? It's interesting to see how other choreographers approach this. In the only other Cinderella I've seen, the recording of the Konstantin Sergeyev version, for the Kirov (not the Bolshoi, as the DVD and video incorrectly state), they are danced by women, on pointe, and have quite a lot of dancing to do. It does takes away from Cinderellas's specialness.

I moved Paul Parish's post from this thread to the one where we discuss the performances.

Actually, he did write about it earlier this summer:

You heard it here first

When the world's leading companies are spoken of, I've always heard them referred to as the Top Seven -- the ones you mentioned, Ostrich. There are others which would dearly like to be considered internationally ranked (San Francisco, for one), but I've never heard them called that by anyone other than themselves.

The Summer 2004 issue of Ballet Review is out.

Contents:

ABT’s City Center Season, David Vaughn

Roland Petit’s Pique Dame by the Bolshoi, Olga Rosanova

Rotterdam Gergiev Festival, Ali Mahbouba

Cranko’s Onegin by the National Ballet of Canada, Leigh Witchel

Martha Graham Dance Company in London, Thea Nerissa Barnes

New Jersey’s Dances From the Garden, Barbara Palfy

Balanchine’s Nutcracker at Oregon Ballet Theater, Martha Ullman West

Eliot Feld’s Mr. XYZ for Baryshnikov, Nina Alovert

Washington Ballet’s Balanchine Program, George Jackson

Ballet Frankfurt’s Last Season, Senta Driver

Peter Schabel on Jerome Robbins, Deborah Quilter

American Dancers in Moscow, Natalia Shadrina

Cooking With Balanchine Pt. 4, Karin von Aroldingen

Balanchine at the POB, Don Daniels

A Conversation with Amanda McKerrow, Mary Cargill

Igor Stravinsky and Ida Rubinstein, Lynn Garafola

Music on Disc, George Dorris

Check it Out

According to David Vaughn, Ashton hated the English pantomimes and never went to one. But he seems to have picked up on them by osmosis, because I agree that the Sisters are in that tradition.

I agree that the Sisters don't overwhelm the rest of the ballet in this performance, and it doesn't bother me that they're so much older than Cinderella -- actually, I hadn't noticed it till Alexandra mentioned it. If we're to take the characters that literally, we might ask why they're men. I'm willing to suspend my disbelief for a couple of hours. I think you have to do that to some extent in any narrative ballet -- or opera or musical. People don't just naturally start to dance, or burst into song.

Has everyone had a chance now to watch the 1969 recording of Ashton's Cinderella?

I thought I'd get the ball rolling with some suggested discussion topics. Of course, anyone is free to chime in on any aspect of the video, but maybe these questions can serve as a jump start.

First, here are some links to information about Cinderella that you might find interesting:

Productions of Cinderella — a listing

Productions of Ashton's Cinderella

Cinderella on Stage — Ballets and Operas

The Original Production, in Moscow

Quotes on Cinderella

Perrault's Tale

Now, let the discussion begin!

(1) Ashton's Cinderella was the first full-length ballet made for a British company. To what extent is this ballet a statement of what British ballet is (or should be)?

(2) Can you see the influence of older ballets, such as The Sleeping Beauty, in this one?

(3) Prokofiev's music is often acerbic and sour. Do you think that Ashton captures this in his choreography and staging?

(4) Some critics have argued that the antics of the Ugly Sisters overwhelm the story of Cinderella and the prince and the classical dancing. Do you agree?

(5) In another thread, a couple of posters said they found the ballet narratively deficient. Yes or no?

(6) What is the role of the Four Seasons in the ballet? Do they express a theme, aid the narrative, or are they just an excuse for more classical dancing?

(7) For those who have seen other versions of Cinderella, compare them to Ashton's.

(8) The jester seems to play a rather different role here than in other ballets. How is he different, and why? What is his role in the ballet?

(9) Discuss the performances.

(10) For those who have seen the Royal's current staging, how does it differ, if at all, from the one we see here? Choreographically, theatrically, scenically, stylistically? Compare the dancing in 1969 and 2004. Has the company's style changed? Are the dancers as good?

That should get us started!

Miami City Ballet already has Patineurs in its rep and does it very nicely. I think they could also take on The Two Pigeons, A Wedding Bouquet (I'm guessing here, since I've never seen the ballet), and Cinderella.

Although ABT is always on the lookout for full-length ballets, I don't think Cinderella would be a good fit for them. Its charms are of the gentle, quiet variety, and ABT's style is big and brassy.

I wish some company would add Ashton's Romeo & Juliet to its rep, if only to keep the ballet alive. I don't think the English National Ballet, which has revived it in the past, has done it for many years. You'd think there would be lots of companies eager to snap this up, as R&J is box office gold, but perhaps it's hard to get someone to stage it. (?) How about the Royal Danish Ballet, for whom the ballet was made? They could give Neumeier's version (which isn't bad, actually) a rest for a while.

Apparently she didn't do it. In her review in The Saratogian, Mae G. Banner mentions Miranda Weese as dancing the part.

Odette, I think you will have to wait a bit longer for the UK DVD release, as the film just opened in theaters there a month or two ago.

Just a reminder that we will soon be discussing this video. I was thinking of starting the "Virtual View" next Monday, the 19th, when the Royal will have performed the ballet in New York. Not that that's a requirement for participating -- not at all! I just think it will be interesting to hear the opinions of those who have seen the ballet live in 2004. But it's the 1968 video we'll be discussing.

Is next Monday good for everyone?

I loved The Two Pigeons and think it's amazing it's taken the ballet so long to get here (it was made in 1961). The story is simple, even archtypical: good boy loves good girl, is tempted by siren and lured away, learns lesson, and goes back to sweetheart. It's dramatized in a very innocent way; life in the artist's studio is a well-scrubbed, sanitized version of la vie de boheme (the British equivalent of all-American? ), and even the sexual allure of the Gypsies is strictly G-rated. Hard to imagine a greater contrast with the ballets of Kenneth MacMillan, whose lurid, violent sensibility is, unfortunately, much more representative of contemporary tastes. But to judge from the warm reception the ballet received on Saturday, I think there's an audience for this style as well. (Incidentally, Susan, I didn't think the Met was empty. The back of the orchestra was vacant, but the balcony and Family Circle seemed pretty well populated, and the side boxes were occupied.)

It was interesting to watch this ballet immediately after having seen a videotape of Ninette de Valois's ballet The Rake's Progress. Although that ballet was made in the 30s, it was still being performed when Ashton made The Two Pigeons (the tape I saw was made in 1960) and can, I suppose, be said to represent the prevailing approach to story ballets at the time. The Rake's Progress is really a pantomime with some wholly extraneous ballet steps thrown in. Watching it, I kept wondering why they bothered with the steps, since they added nothing to the story and looked odd in that context. T2P is an enormous contrast to this type of story ballet. Ashton didn't take on more of a story than he was capable of telling in dance, and it was fluidly told through the dancing -- there was no sense of stopping the show in order to get some dancing in. I think a lot of choreographers go in for complicated plots and Significant Themes to cover up their lack of choreographic ability. T2P shows what can be done when the choreographer trusts choreography enough to let it shine through. Of course, the choreographer has to be, you know, talented in order to let that happen.

One thing I always marvel about in Ashton is the way he can use motifs that in other hands would come across as crude gimmicks and make them meltingly sweet and heartwarming. The way the girl struts around on pointe with her arms akimbo and flapping like a pigeon, or the use of the real pigeons to end the ballet -- can you imagine how some other choreographers would have handled that? :speechless:

I very much liked Ambra Vallo as the girl, she was a charming ingenue without being coy or cute. Everyone was good, in fact. I got a much more positive impression of the Birmingham Royal than I did the last time they were here, in 1986. Too bad I won't get to see more of them.

This whole episode highlights a problem that has always existed in the performing arts, at least in America: the extent to which criticism is perceived, and used, as a consumer guide. It's not supposed to serve this function, of course, but inevitably it does. And the problem these days is mainly in the high arts, because popular culture is increasingly critic-proof: audiences seem to make their choices of films, music, and the like based on their own criteria and not those of professional watchers and thinkers. But the critic-as-consumer guide phenomenon has usually been limited to those who write for daily papers, especially where the paper is the only one in town, or the only "serious" one. What's unusual about the Chesbrough situation is that he has made use of criticism published in a weekly magazine, and a "highbrow" one at that. I'd hate to see the thumbs up/thumbs down mentality extended to criticism published in less frequently issued periodicals, which traditionally has been spared the pressure of instantaneous opinionating and enjoyed the luxury of a measured, distanced analysis.

Of course, what is really going on here is that Chesbrough is simply co-opting a review to use for his own purposes. He doesn't give a hoot about the artistic quality of NYCB, and I don't think that anyone, least of all NYCB's Board of Directors, believes that his desire to end the company's SPAC residency is in any way related to Martins's policies and conduct.

My last performance in Saratoga was the best yet: Divertimento #15, The Four Temperaments, and The Four Seasons. A well put together program, very well danced for the most part, to an enthusiastic crowd that ended the evening with a standing O.

After all I had read about the New York performances of Divert, I didn't know what to expect, but tonight's performance was beautifully rehearsed and danced. Only Yvonne Borree, in the second variation, was subpar. Both here and in Apollo and Stravinsky Violin Concerto she delivered a shrunken version of what should be a rich, multilayered role. I also don't think she was appropriately cast in this part, which calls for more of an adagio dancer. I kept seeing the lovely ghost of Maria Calegari, especially in the adagio.

The Four Temperaments looked very good, and Sofiane Sylve and Robert Tewsley gave a fine, idiomatic reading of Sanguinic. Teresa Reichlen was Choleric and continued the fine impression she has made all week. When I saw her in Washington in March I thought that, while she was obviously gifted, she was rather stiff and unsure of herself in solo roles. She has made great strides in just four months, and has loosened up and dances more freely and with more confidence. I'd been looking forward to seeing Faye Arthurs in the First Theme, but she was replaced by Dana Hanson.

The Four Seasons is a ballet I haven't seen in years, and while it's never been a favorite of mine, tonight I was able to sit back and enjoy it more than I have in the past. It's hard to hear that music and not wonder what Balanchine would have done with it, and it's impossible to banish the memory of Kyra Nichols in Spring. But Ashley Bouder, Edwaard Liang, Carla Korbes, James Fayette, Miranda Weese, Benjamin Millepied, and Daniel Ulbricht made the most of what they had to do and ended the evening on a high note.

A few random observations. Nilas Martins has danced unusually well this week. In both Apollo last night and Divertimento tonight, he was alert, responsive to his partners, and committed to his dancing. Carrie Lee Riggins has come a long way from the gawky kid I remember; she is now a poised, elegant young woman. And it's wonderful to see young American boys like Jared Angle and Stephen Hanna developing into classical danseurs.