Ari

How about the Grand Défilé as POB's signature piece? It's not really a ballet, but no other company has anything like it. Dirac, Balanchine said many times that he didn't care what happened to his ballets after he died.

How about the Grand Défilé as POB's signature piece? It's not really a ballet, but no other company has anything like it. Dirac, Balanchine said many times that he didn't care what happened to his ballets after he died.

I don't know how long new directors spend watching and testing the dancers, Mme. Hermine, so you have me there.

I like Alexandra's definition--"the work that encapsulates the company's style and personality." It doesn't have to have been made for the company--Symphony in C was, of course, first made for POB--and infringement depends on which other company is dancing it. Bizet is danced by many companies (I remember the Pennsylvania Ballet having a sparkling production of it, many moons ago), but my objection to ABT's doing it lies in the fact that they are the other "national" company and traditionally a (friendly) rival to NYCB. They ought to have a separate, distinctive profile. (Okay, they've never had a true profile of their own, unless it was eclecticism and certain commercial leanings. The Tudor style never had a big impact on them. Of all their ballets, I'd say Fancy Free comes the closest to defining them, and therefore NYCB should not be dancing it, except that it was the choreographer himself who decided to bring it there.) Bizet is different from the other Balanchine ABT has in its repertory, even Stravinsky Violin Concerto, which comes close to being another NYCB calling card. It's one ballet, like Serenade, that has been in City Ballet's repertory from the beginning and has seen legions of the company's great dancers make their marks in it. I myself have seen Allegra Kent and Suzanne Farrell, two of the company's greatest lyrical ballerinas, dance the adagio. And how I envy those who saw Tanaquil Le Clerq, Mimi Paul, and Gelsey Kirkland. And Edward Villella in the third movement, and Paul Mejia who reportedly was terrific (I did see Baryshnikov, but he wasn't particularly memorable.) In that respect the ballet is similar to Napoli and Konservatoriet in the Danes' repertoire, and Sleeping Beauty in the Kirov's, and Ashton's Fille Mal Gardee in the Royal's. The trouble (or good thing, depending on how you look at it) today is that the ballet repertory is becoming increasingly homogenized. NYCB never used to do the standard full-length works except Nutcracker; now it has Coppelia, Swan Lake, and Sleeping Beauty in its rep. The big Russian companies would never dream of doing Balanchine; now they both have several of his ballets in their repertories. Bournonville used to be seen as an eccentric specialty of the Danes only; now every major ballet company (or wannabe) does some Bournonville. The Joffrey doing Tudor? Ten years ago, people would have laughed. And this is even truer with lesser, more contemporary choreographers. The problem is that there are more ballet companies and fewer choreographers than there were, say, 50 years ago.

I like Alexandra's definition--"the work that encapsulates the company's style and personality." It doesn't have to have been made for the company--Symphony in C was, of course, first made for POB--and infringement depends on which other company is dancing it. Bizet is danced by many companies (I remember the Pennsylvania Ballet having a sparkling production of it, many moons ago), but my objection to ABT's doing it lies in the fact that they are the other "national" company and traditionally a (friendly) rival to NYCB. They ought to have a separate, distinctive profile. (Okay, they've never had a true profile of their own, unless it was eclecticism and certain commercial leanings. The Tudor style never had a big impact on them. Of all their ballets, I'd say Fancy Free comes the closest to defining them, and therefore NYCB should not be dancing it, except that it was the choreographer himself who decided to bring it there.) Bizet is different from the other Balanchine ABT has in its repertory, even Stravinsky Violin Concerto, which comes close to being another NYCB calling card. It's one ballet, like Serenade, that has been in City Ballet's repertory from the beginning and has seen legions of the company's great dancers make their marks in it. I myself have seen Allegra Kent and Suzanne Farrell, two of the company's greatest lyrical ballerinas, dance the adagio. And how I envy those who saw Tanaquil Le Clerq, Mimi Paul, and Gelsey Kirkland. And Edward Villella in the third movement, and Paul Mejia who reportedly was terrific (I did see Baryshnikov, but he wasn't particularly memorable.) In that respect the ballet is similar to Napoli and Konservatoriet in the Danes' repertoire, and Sleeping Beauty in the Kirov's, and Ashton's Fille Mal Gardee in the Royal's. The trouble (or good thing, depending on how you look at it) today is that the ballet repertory is becoming increasingly homogenized. NYCB never used to do the standard full-length works except Nutcracker; now it has Coppelia, Swan Lake, and Sleeping Beauty in its rep. The big Russian companies would never dream of doing Balanchine; now they both have several of his ballets in their repertories. Bournonville used to be seen as an eccentric specialty of the Danes only; now every major ballet company (or wannabe) does some Bournonville. The Joffrey doing Tudor? Ten years ago, people would have laughed. And this is even truer with lesser, more contemporary choreographers. The problem is that there are more ballet companies and fewer choreographers than there were, say, 50 years ago.

If the new AD is making a major change in the company's repertory and/or style, replacing dancers could be justified. If, for instance, the company previously emphasized straight dance ballets and the new director wanted to move more in the direction of dramatic works, and s/he knew that the existing dancers had no talent for acting, that could be a reason (though it would be politic to try them out first). Or if the company had previously had more of a modern dance outlook and the new director wanted to make it more classical, that would certainly be a valid reason.

I enjoyed the evening, too, although like Alexandra and samba38 I had problems with certain aspects of it. My reaction to Gong was pretty much the same as theirs: a finely crafted work as far as musical response went, but empty of content. I got the feeling that Morris was fulfilling a commission rather than creating a ballet. I liked Dim Lustre, perhaps because after the Morris piece my mind was on structure. I kept thinking that today's choreographers could never match Tudor's solid craftsmanship, to say nothing of his emotional maturity. These days, choreographers think that if they throw a bunch of dancers onstage and swirl them around chaotically, they've got a ballet. Tudor could teach them otherwise, if they'd bother to watch. The ballet looks old-fashioned in its ballroom-and-formal-dress setting and in the way that other dancers are used to dramatize the main couple's inner lives, but if people (audiences as well as choreographers) could view it in historical perspective, I think they would get more out of it than the flashy junk that gets them so excited at most performances. My response to Symphony in C is tempered by the fact that I believe that ABT should not, not, not be dancing it. Bizet is as much an NYCB signature piece as Serenade or The Nutcracker, and taking it from them seems like thievery. Of course, the City Ballet had no say in the matter since John Taras is, as the program conspicuously reminds us, "the owner of this ballet," but I do think that Kevin MacKenzie could at least have asked Peter Martins's permission. And maybe he did, but ABT should still not be dancing it. That said, I thought it was quite a good performance. I didn't think the dancers looked confused as to how to present themselves, as a couple of reviews of the City Center season said (although a few of the dancers did grin too hard). No, they're not at home in the Balanchine style--they had some trouble letting the long enchainments flow smoothly without stopping or adding more preparations--but they did very well on the whole. I'd like to see them abandon their contained dancing style and go for bigness in their movement, but that may come in time. The audience reaction to the first two ballets seemed tepid to me, but they really did like Bizet. Always nice to see good taste.

Catlady, when I called the Joffrey "a troupe of kids," I didn't mean to be literal. Heck, I remember Deborah Dawn from the old days at City Center, when we were both New Yorkers. I was referring more to the company's profile--its repertory, its advertising, its--as Alexandra says--method of presentation. Yes, that has its pluses and minuses. There are probably a lot of people who saw their first ballet performance due to the Joffrey's image as a fresh young upstart troupe that danced to rock music and did other unconventional things. But the downside of that is that there were no more mature roles for the dancers to grow into. I remember Kevin MacKenzie, Rebecca Wright and Starr Danias all citing this reason for leaving the company. Adding ballets like Lilac Garden is an encouraging sign that they are beginning to realize that they need to broaden their repertory. They may not be able to dance the ballet well now (and this is probably not all their fault, if it wasn't staged properly), but at least it provides something for them to grow into.

I guess I'm the second FP Alexandra mentioned, so I'll add my two cents. I've never liked the Joffrey in its classical mode; its style just isn't refined enough for my taste. So I had problems with the dancing in Kettentanz and Lilac Garden. Many of the men in Kettentanz weren't up to the demands of the choreography, though the audience loved their energetic attempts. The problems with LG went much further, though: it looked like the dancers hadn't a clue as to what they were doing (though Suzanne Lopez as the Episode in His Past had a strong passionate moment at the end). Poor Maia Wilkins as Caroline looked utterly lost, a waif who had never been in love or who had any capacity for tragedy. It took me a long time to warm up to Tudor, and I still don't like many of his ballets, but I've come to like LG (this could come under the "Changing Tastes" thread, too). But in order for his work to be effective, the dancers have to understand the lyrical impulse behind all the movement, and the Joffrey didn't get this at all. There was no tension in either the dancing or the drama. Who is Donald Mahler, who is listed in the program as having staged the ballet? Does he have solid Tudor credentials? I don't want to offend any Joffrey lovers, but I always think of this company as being a troupe of kids, enthusiastic but raw young people whose mission is to bring teens and twentysomethings into the ballet fold. LG is a grownups' ballet, and the Joffrey just isn't old enough for it.

When I first started going to the ballet, I thought that Ted Kivitt was the greatest male dancer in the world and wondered why he didn't get more attention. It took me a couple of years to learn what a premier danseur was supposed to be, and to realize that Ted, as good a technician and as appealing a performer as he was, did not fill the bill. I also hated Violette Verdy when I first saw her. I don't remember exactly why, but I think it was the fact that her style was so different from all the other dancers in the City Ballet that put me off. After seeing her more often, I came to appreciate and later to love her.

quote: The most interesting point of the ballet was the metaphore it had for their relationship.Actually, I think it was this aspect of the ballet that made people so uncomfortable. I think it embarrassed them to see so naked and unashamed a declaration of a passion that at that time was only gossiped about. The depiction of Balanchine as a visionary, misunderstood artist was also seen as self-indulgent, much as The Crucible was seen at its premiere as a self-pitying attempt to mythologize Arthur Miller's struggle with Joe McCarthy. Years later, we can watch The Crucible unencumbered by such historical baggage, but I'm not sure if Don Quixote would enjoy a similar success. I saw the ballet's final performances in 1978, and I don't really know how I'd respond to it today. Back then, my main feeling was gratitude that a gap in my experience of the Balanchine oeuvre was now filled in. Balanchine was still alive, of course (it was he who permanently retired the ballet), and Farrell still danced it. But his obsession with her was by then over. The main problem with the ballet was that the emphasis on the repeated cruelties inflicted on the Don made the ballet difficult to watch, and with such a downbeat storyline it was hard to add secondary incidents or scenes that were complementary. It was also disconcerting to see so little dancing, although some of it was very good. The deliciously sinuous Pas de deux Mauresque was superlatively danced by the very young Nichol Hlinka (a friend who had seen Gelsey Kirkland do it said that Hlinka was better), and the dance of the maidens in Act III(?) was danced strongly by Susan Hendl but more subtly and appropriately by Stephanie Saland. Adam Luders, with his odd appearance and air of not fitting in, was good casting for the Don. And Farrell was Farrell. One surprising thing about the ballet was the unusually (for this company) handsome scenery and costumes by Esteban Francés. A ballroom scene done in black and gold was particularly striking, but left plenty of room for dancing. I remember thinking that this was the sort of decor that should be a model for all ballet designers. Assuming that the ballet could be revived today--that is, if there are enough people around who remember the steps and blocking well enough to stage it faithfully--there is the question of who could coach the dancers well enough to infuse them with the proper spirit. Farrell could do it in part, but she'd need help. Perhaps, if Luders worked closely enough with Balanchine for him to have absorbed enough of the essence of what Balanchine was trying to do, he could provide the crucial male perspective.

Okay, I was there. It was interesting to see the reconstructions, all of which were new to me. I found the first two (Jeux and Faun) fascinating, as I've only known them from the few surviving photos. They looked mostly convincing to me, but what do I know? I have nothing to judge them against. I did like Deborah Dawn in the Karsavina role in Jeux; she brought an earthy, sophisticated quality to her part that contrasted well with Maia Wilkins's bright little ingenue. But I had a hard time seeing this trio as "a cipher for the population ratio that would result from World War I," as Millicent Hodson's program note says. How would Nijinsky have known this in 1913, and even if he could have, would he have cared? It was also interesting to see Faun lifted out of the old photos and brought into motion, if not exactly life. This production had a textbook feel to it, unlike Jeux which really seemed like a living ballet. As for Sacre du Printemps (all the titles were in the original French), this was the only disappointment. The lighting was kept so low that it was hard to see all the activity on stage (there was lots) and the colors of the costumes were muted. Worst of all, the orchestra slept through the glorious score, making one wonder what the riot was all about. These three ballets made for a very short evening. Maybe the company could have retitled the program "Diaghilev Evening" and added one of their other Ballets Russes ballets.

I seem to recall that the 1976 expansion of Emeralds did include a new pas de deux for Verdy (in addition to the one that was already there). Supposedly this was done as a sort of consolation prize for her being left out of Union Jack.

It's possible there's more to this than meets the funnybone. A few years ago another super fell off a set at the Met, landed on the stage, and died--also during a performance. The Met, and the Times which usually supports it, may be trying to distance itself from liability by leveling accusations at the super (the Met) and making light of the whole incident (the Times). I've read allegations on other boards that the Met regularly uses sets that are dangerous to sing and move around on. Do the opera buffs here have anything to say on this?

From an NYCB standpoint, it's true that when I first started going, around 1974, most ballets had only one cast of soloists. I think this was because Balanchine's interest was always focused on what he was going to do next, and he was satisfied to let one cast do all performances of his old works. He would use whatever dancers were under-employed in his (or other choreographers') new works. Nowadays, there is a finite number of Balanchine ballets, and I think the company's thinking is that they have to expose their soloists to as many of these ballets as possible, so they double- or triple-cast them. This is just a guess, of course. When it comes to rehearsing the corps, it gets tougher. The '70s-era NYCB corps was notorious for its sloppiness (things improved in the '80s), but at least Mr. B was around to straighten out the tone and feel of the ballets, which was something he could do with just a few words or gestures. Granting that no one can replace him, the issue becomes, who can convey the proper style to today's dancers? Which opens up a can of worms.

What's odd about omitting the "you must marry" mime is that while the speech is cut, the music isn't. So it's not as though they saved any time. As another king once said, "Is a puzzlement." As for the Carabosse/Bluebird doubling, I think your first suggestion is probably how they managed it, Alexandra. Even if Cecchetti put a black cloak over his blue feathers, there would still be the matter of the heavy facial makeup both characters wear. I suppose he could have worn a mask, but would they bother to make one for one or two performances?

Just a few scattered impressions: On the whole, not as good a performance as on opening night. The new soloists did not do as well as those on Tuesday. But the production is still gorgeous. Zakharova danced all the steps beautifully and has a stunning body (except for her paper-thin upper arms), but didn't build her dances into something, let alone create a character. She danced everything--Rose Adagio, Vision scene, Wedding pas de deux--the same. And her glassy expression never varied. Daria Pavlenko danced Lilac better than Part, but lacked Part's warmth, a very important part (ha, ha) of this role. The Carabosse, Islom Baimuradow, was a big disappointment. He looked good--quite a bit like the actor Alan Cumming (who, come to think of it, would make a terrific Carabosse, if he could dance ), but showed no anger and looked utterly harmless. How can you have a Beauty without a villain? And Sofia Gumerova, a big girl who danced the Pat Neary role in Thursday's Rubies, was an odd choice for Princess Florine. This role is made for a more compact dancer, and Gumerova's long legs had trouble with the phrasing. Another unannouced cast change: the servant who discovers the knitting needles in Act I was the same guy as on Tuesday (Alexey Semenov, I guess, from the program), not Igor Petrov, Tuesday's Carabosse, who was listed. A couple of questions: in a production so rich in mime, why is the king's speech to Aurora before the Rose Adagio, in which he tells her she must choose a husband, omitted? And if Carabosse shows up in Act III, how did Cecchetti dance both this and Bluebird at the same performance?

The confusion between the two Patricia McBrides becomes worse when you consider that the second, famous PM liked to be called "Pat" rather than the more commonly used "Patty," and it was the mark of an insider (or wannabee) to refer to her as Pat. Lincoln Kirstein, in one of his books, refers to Tanny's friend as "the first Pat McBride." I'm not sure about the use of I, II, III to differentiate dancers. (Incidentally, the Internet Movie Database uses roman numerals to distinguish actors and other movie people with the same name.) I remember reading an early Russian review (written for an American audience) of Nadezhda Pavlova that referred to her as Pavlova II. That struck me as coy, since the two have different first names and the legendary Pavlova was a Maryinsky, not a Bolshoi, dancer. And what about Darcey Bussell's real name--Marnie Crittle. Wouldn't look too good up there, would it? To be fair, she comes by her stage name honestly: Darcey is her middle name, and she was adopted by her stepfather, Dr. Bussell.

I managed to get a ticket to Jewels last night (Thursday) (thanks Jeannie for recommending calling the box office—I tried four times throughout the day and was successful at last). It was too close—row J orchestra—but I was just glad to be there. This is the fourth company I’ve seen dance this ballet, and of course I wanted to see how they would cope with a foreign style (in more ways than one) in the first two ballets and dance an updated version of their own style in the last. I really don’t have that much to add to what others have said here. The company looked very unhappy in Emeralds and Rubies; I could just hear them thinking, “Why are you making us do this?” Their inability to loosen their hips, relax their épaulment, and smooth their transitions from step to step made for stiff, rather prissy dancing. In Rubies, second ballerina Sofia Gumerova, leading man Viatcheslav Samodurov, and the four boys tried to compensate with forced animation and “acting” (sexiness on her part, street-tough hipness on theirs). At least in Rubies the dancers seemed to understand what they were supposed to be doing, even if they couldn’t do it, but in Emeralds it looked like they hadn’t a clue—and weren’t interested in learning. As a fan of Ayupova’s since I first saw her nearly 13 years ago, I was disappointed in her performance of the Verdy role. Doggedly bright and charming, she missed the sophisticated glamour and mystery that Verdy and other NYCB ballerinas have brought to the role. The distinction between the two ballerinas—one mature, sensual, “comfortable in her own skin,” and the other a jeune fille—seems to have been lost here, as it has in the POB production. Which leads me to wonder how well this ballet is being taught. One of those credited in the program with staging the ballet is Karin von Aroldingen, who certainly understood the Verdy role when she danced it (not that she danced it well, but she understood it). Similarly, Veronika Part in the Mimi Paul role was no ingenue; she looked more mature than Ayupova. At least the girls in the pas de trois (Yana Selina and, especially, Ksenia Ostreikovskaya) were good. The boy was Vasily Scherbakov, Tuesday night’s Bluebird, who was considerably more earthbound here. The corps looked much more comfortable in Diamonds than in the previous ballets, but the principals did not. Daria Pavlenko was ice-cold, which is a total misreading of the ballerina role. Farrell was aloof—removed from her partner and the audience—but you could clearly see the depths of passion and character underneath. The ballerina has to be desirable, otherwise why bother? Danila Korsuntsev didn’t bother—he was off in another universe somewhere, and hardly looked at his partner twice. By the way, it’s a pity that the four demisolo girls were not identified in the program. I recognized Selina and Ostreikovskaya, but would have liked to know who the others were. For that matter, the whole corps should have been named for each ballet. Balanchine’s ensembles are collections of individuals, not a faceless mass. I think I saw Scherbakov and Gumerova in the Diamonds corps, but I would like to know for sure (or as sure as you can be with a preprinted program). It’s funny—I’ve now seen this ballet danced by each of the companies to which it should be “home:” POB (Emeralds), NYCB (Rubies) and the Kirov (Diamonds), but the greatest overall performance came from Miami City Ballet. (The best soloists, however, have all been NYCB people, both the original cast members and their successors.)

I’m delurking after a long time because I’m so excited about Tuesday night’s performance. I’ve seen this production once before, at the Met in 1999, when I didn’t like it. Maybe it was having to stand for four hours that made me grumpy, but Tuesday (when I was seated, and close up in the orchestra), I mostly loved it. The best thing, overall, for me was the truly grand scale of the production. This is what writers have always said about this ballet, but the productions I’ve seen—with the slight exception of NYCB’s—have all been trim, compact affairs, built to move from city to city. I don’t know where the Kirov found the money to pay for this production, but thank heavens it did. The costumes struck me as ugly in 1999, but on second view I like them better. They are certainly not in the current style: the colors and patterns clash, and when the stage was crowded (which was most of the time), I felt blinded by the glare. But I liked the cut of the tutus, which were big but more softly draped than the ones that are the norm today. They moved gently with the dancers rather than sticking out awkwardly the way today’s umbrella-like skirts do. And the sets were gorgeous, the best I’ve seen since Makarova’s Bayadere. Unlike the costumes, they looked as though they’d been designed yesterday. One thing I especially liked was their use of children. They were all over the ballet, in every scene, but there was nothing at all cute about them. Rather, they came across as fresh, charming, and poignant. It was interesting to see the human frieze of cupids and cherubs looking down at the newlyweds in the Wedding scene: this must have been where Balanchine made his stage debut (he said he was a cupid in Beauty, and I’ve always wondered how they fit that into the ballet). Okay, the dancing. Generally very good. Vishneva looked great, especially in the Wedding pas de deux. The other classical variations were handled well; I liked the Sapphire and Gold fairies, though Sapphire showed a marked sluggishness in allegro. The Canary variation was danced, thank heaven, in strict classical style, without all the cutesiness that most companies go in for. (The Kirov has not always danced it this way; in 1989 the dancer—same one in every performance—hammed it up dreadfully.) I was a bit disappointed in Maya Dumchenko, who had jumped out at me in 1999 as a beautiful exemplar of pure Kirov style. She wasn’t bad on Tuesday, just not any better than the other first act fairies. Above all, it was a great pleasure to see the richness and depth of the Kirov’s dancing. The beauty goes beyond épaulement, but I don’t know what it is—this is where my ignorance of technique lets me down. Non-Russian dancers tend to dispatch their variations with brisk efficiency, concentrating on momentum rather than luxuriating in the many-faceted beauties of each movement. Best of all was Igor Petrov, the Carabosse. Unlike the other male Carabosses I’ve seen, Petrov played the role absolutely straight, without any camp or even humor. He was one cold, bitter fairy, and really scary. The success of his performance was proven, I think, by the good-natured boos that accompanied his final bow. He really got the audience into the spirit. Now, as to Mr. Kolb. I have no idea why the company chose to dress him up in the second act the way they did. Those long, curly blond locks and big mustache made him look like a ridiculous fop. When he first came out, to the Prince’s music, I thought, “Surely not.” Like Jeannie and Alexandra, I kept waiting for the Prince to come out, and only realized, reluctantly, when all the dancers were onstage, that this Groucho Marx-type was really supposed to be Desiré. He looked like a joke! In the Awakening scene, when he scurried off to a corner after kissing Aurora, and she woke up alone and ran around waking up members of the court, I started to laugh to myself, thinking, “Just wait till she gets a look at her prince! She’ll wish it were Shrek!” Fortunately, he shed the false hair for the Wedding scene and looked quite normal. He danced very well, too, except for some perilous turns. But I don’t see him as a danseur noble, either, Jeannie. Another great thing about this production is that the character divertissements in the Wedding scene are so much fun and so plentiful. I think those of us outside Russia have lost the innocence necessary to make them work. I’m eagerly looking forward to seeing the production again on Friday, but I’m devastated that I don’t have a ticket to Jewels. (The KC usually schedules things so that you get different bills on Tuesday and Friday nights, but not with this engagement.) I’ll be trying for a return tonight, but I don’t have much hope.

Alexandra: Sometimes there does seem to be a political tinge to the reviews, but on the pro as well as anti sides. The NYTimes has become almost an NYCB apologist, and that's no more fair or believable than someone who says, "Aha! Another bad thing Peter Martins has done." This was precisely my point, Alexandra. The debate has become polarized--you're either for him or agin' him, with nothing in between. Few people will admit to being biased--everyone claims to be virtuously neutral--but when the same people come out time after time on the same side of the fence, it does make you wonder. And I'm not just talking about professional critics here, I'm talking about ordinary fans, such as me and others on this board.

Ann, Jerry, Jeff, Alexandra and others-- I do think there is a great deal of hostility expressed towards Peter Martins, at this site and elsewhere. I agree that he's being blamed for not being Balanchine, and that anyone who took over his job when he did would be criticized harshly, no matter what his policies. But what bothers me most about the “debate” (such as it is) is its polarized and emotional nature. The “antis” jump at every chance of criticizing Martins, and twist every observation of the company to make him responsible for whatever it is they dislike. I remember when, in the mid-nineties, Tobi Tobias, a leading “anti,” criticized Martins in New York Mag for not casting the company’s talented young dancers in the Balanchine repertory. When he cast Monique Meunier (one of Tobias’s favorites) in Farrell’s role in Brahms-Schoenberg Quartet, she was on him immediately, reviling him for taking chances with a young dancer in a demanding role. The trouble I have with this kind of criticism is that it decides in advance to hate someone and then feels obliged to carp at everything he does, no matter what. People who argue like this make it difficult to discuss the very real issues at stake—the way the Balanchine heritage is being preserved, the choice of new choreographers, the nature of the new ballets to be encouraged (i.e. plotless, practice-clothed and edgy, with no other approaches permitted), the enforced retirements of older dancers, the addition of Sleeping Beauty and Swan Lake into the repertory, etc. Issues are difficult and many-layered, and it’s a lot easier to slam someone’s personality. As for the “pros,” I don’t know of any, other than Kisselgoff and Wendy Wasserstein (and maybe Leigh Witchel ). [This message has been edited by Ari (edited August 17, 2000).]

The key to that statement, Yvonne, is "the way she hoped they would." After she defected, Makarova made some half-hearted attempts to dance the repertoire that was denied her in Russia, but she never gave herself over to a new style or choreographer. I remember her saying once that she was "sick of experiments" and that real ballets were three-act works centered around a heroine and her problems, and she wanted to be a heroine. MacMillan was once supposed to be making a full-length story ballet for her, but it never came off. Given her free and easy ways with the standard repertoire, I suspect that Makarova was difficult to work with and was unwilling to submit herself to a choreographer's authority.

On the issue of changing ballets to suit different dancers, I think the nub of it is that it depends on how you do it and how far you go. It should be okay to alter some steps if the person doing the altering maintains a clear vision of what the ballet is and how to keep it that way. But when someone changes the choreography so drastically that the ballet is deformed and is no longer recognizable as the ballet it was, that's when you've gone too far. That's why it's easier to change around the full-length story ballets, because changing the choreography of certain variations doesn't have that much of an effect on the total ballet, which is made up of a variety of things--classical dance, character dance, mime, stage effects, etc. In later ballets like Balanchine's, which are completely dance-driven, you risk killing the ballet if you tinker inexpertly with the choreography. Balanchine, of course, knew exactly how far he could go in changing the choreography because they were his own ballets, but anyone else who tries that has got to be very, very careful. Ballet is so fragile, so hard to get a grip on. I think that's why so many people bridle at the notion of a ballet company as a museum. Paintings and sculpture are physical things that remain constant through the ages, but ballets are much more delicate creatures. We've all seen bad performances where we come away shaking our heads and saying, "That wasn't [Les Sylphides/Episodes/Pillar of Fire/whatever]." And that's why we worry so much about preserving great choreography and authentic styles of performance.

One of my favorite type of bows--when it's appropriate--is the choreographed bow, to music. The only balletic example I can think of at the moment is Ashton's Fille Mal Gardée, in which the ensemble transitions gracefully from a Maypole dance to a circle of dancers surrounding each soloist who, one by one, is hoisted to the shoulders of two other dancers in the center. I was reminded of this tonight, when I saw Contact, Susan Stroman's wonderful "dance play." After the obligatory full-cast bows, the dancers went into a choreographed series of bows in which the soloists from each of the three parts of the show took their leave of the audience in a fashion appropriate to their playlet. They weren't in character, exactly; they were their characters and themselves at the same time, and the audience loved it. [This message has been edited by Ari (edited March 08, 2000).]