Farrell Fan

Ob, you're a riot.

Among other things, Bigonzetti has choreographed a one-act "Midsummer Night's Dream" to music of Elvis Costello. (He's also choreographed a work to Jimi Hendrix.) The Bigonzetti "Coppelia" retains the Delibes score -- but the plot is described as "the story of a poet called Nathanel who is urged by mystical and obsessive love that disappears at the moment he is about to grasp it." Sounds Balanchinean to me. As for "Vespro," the only ballet of his I've actually seen, I rather enjoyed it. Without being aerobic, there's not a dull moment in it, and the music, by Bruno Moretti, a frequent collaborator, is gorgeous -- particularly the long soprano sax solo near the end. If I had to choose between seeing another work by Bigonzetti and one by Angelin Preljocaj, that other member of the European "avant-garde" with an NYCB imprimatur, I'd take Bigonzetti.

Bentley made the connection explicit in her introduction to Sisters of Salome: "Partial, simulated, decorated, and disguised nudity is part of the appeal of a ballerina," she wrote, going on to explain that after a hip injury forced her to stop dancing for NYCB, "My desire to strip was surely due in part to the loss of a theatrical outlet and the daily physical challenge, though it is certainly not the aim of every ballerina who has been grounded."

Having recently finished Deborah Jowitt's biography, it occurs to me that Jerome Robbins is a natural for the Eifman treatment -- "Dances at a Garrotting."

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.

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.

Another one from Jowitt's Robbins biography, about the making of Brahms/Handel by Twyla Tharp and Robbins: "She worked swiftly. Robbins exercised his usual need to revise and rethink. 'He basically made me crazy,' recalls Tharp good-humoredly, 'because it would be like, you know, I plan what I'm going to do, I do it, I'm ready to move on; he plans what he's going to do, he does it, he's ready to go back.'"

Very funny, Oberon. Thanks.

From Robert Johnson in The Star-Ledger: Because of a funding shortfall, the Suzanne Farrell Ballet has called off its upcoming tour dates. According to a spokesman for the Kennedy Center, the financial viability of the tour depended upon an engagement in Mexico City, which was canceled by the presenter.

I think in her letter Bentley chose to emphasize Robbins as "tortured artist," to contrast him with Balanchine, who, Boris Eifman to the contrary notwithstanding, was untortured and "made his ballets with kindness and an open hand." I'm not sure what you mean about "Holding on to the Air." Can you elucidate? Thanks, Herman.

Toni Bentley's one-column letter to the New York Times Book Review is one the most cogent and beautiful things I've ever read about the relationship and difference between Balanchine and Robbins. (And Martins). It's posted on the links for Sunday, August 22. (Sorry I don't know how to link it here.) "No one understood Balanchine's depth better than Jerome Robbins," she writes. It made me think again of when Balanchine died, and my wife and I went to the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Sign to pay our respects. Robbins was a little ahead of us in the line filing past Mr. B's open casket. He gazed at Balanchine for a long time, with a look of such devotion and grief on his face that it still haunts me.

Well, if Peter Boal is the successor, then there's a chance that Farrell would be put in charge of the Balanchine repertory, as Perky suggests. It's nice to think about. But I agree with Carbro who said on the PNB thread that Martins regards his as a lifetime job. If the slings and arrows of his critics haven't gotten to him and his board yet, they never will.

I dug out a program from the ABT spring season and note that every principal dancer has a sponsor. The text next to each photo lists name, birthplace, date joined the company, and sponsor. In some cases the sponsor is a financial institution. Some people sponsor more than one dancer. The total effect is weird -- as though this is a group of money-grubbing free-lancers rather than an established ballet company. I'm waiting for the day when some dancer will be sponsored by "Anonymous." Are there any self-effacing rich people left?

In her recently-published biography of Jerome Robbins, Deborah Jowitt writes that Balanchine was very fond of "The Concert' and often watched from the wings. One night in 1956, when Todd Bolender, who originated the part of the cigar-chomping henpecked husband was ill with the flu, Balanchine went on in his place.

In Deborah Jowitt's excellent biography of Jerome Robbins, there's this quote from Bob Fosse: "I think Balanchine and Robbins talk to God and when I call he's out to lunch."

In case anyone is led to expect photos of Ethan Stiefel, Jose Manuel Carreno, Marcelo Gomes, et. al. in their undies, it should be pointed out that, apart from Angel Corella, "the men of ABT" are five corps members -- Buck Collins, Kenneth Easter, Jared Matthews, Patrick Ogle (aptly named for this purpose), and Danny Tidwell, and soloist Jesus Pastor.

I've always found going to the ballet a great comfort in times of grief. This was especially true after my wife, who'd introduced me to ballet in the first place, died in 1995. In October of that year I went to Washington for "Suzanne Farrell Stages Balanchine," and because Alice had never been shy, I summoned all my courage and went backstage. Suzanne, who probably had never seen me without Alice to hold my hand and push me forward, spotted me immediately. She came over, hugged me, and said "Your girl is with Mr. B now." Then she asked if I'd like to walk her home. We walked hand in hand (it turned out "home" was across the street from my hotel) while she talked about Balanchine, Washington, the performance, and her hopes for the future. She told me she spoke to Mr. B often and suggested I do the same with Alice. I've followed her advice many times since and think of "my girl" with Mr B -- and with Lincoln, Danilova, Jerry, Tanny, Zorina, John Taras, and so many others as well.

Alexandra, I haven't heard the like of your "Italian" accent since "Life with Luigi."

Thank you for the wonderful links, Estelle. Personally, I felt the distortion of the photograph for the Balanchine 100 logo was disrespectful of both Mr. B and Cartier-Bresson, two of the great artistic geniuses of the 20th century. Fortunately, a blowup of the actual photo was lowered on opening night, on Balanchine's birthday, and at the SAB workshop, to the cheers and applause of dancers and audience.

For the best group hair, there's nothing better than Balanchine's Walpurgisnacht Ballet, in which 24 women let their hair down. But as a member in good standing of the Joan Acocella fan club, I must point out that NYCB hair ain't what it used to be.

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.

Darci Kistler used to reign supreme in this regard. When she danced Robbins' Afternoon of a Faun, her hair turned it into a pas de trois.

There's a brief excerpt from Dark Red Roses in the Balanchine video that was part of the PBS American Masters Series.

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."

The only video I know of is "Suzanne Farrell: Elusive Muse." which is commercially available and has a couple of excerpts. They are extremely brief but manage to convey what the Balanchine artistic relationship with Farrell was all about.