Farrell Fan

I don't like anything about the season as announced -- the arbitrary classifications, the precedence that Martins takes over Balanchine in the first part of the year, the fact that, except for Harlequinade and a one-night-only Orpheus, there are no major Balanchine revivals scheduled. Did I miss them? It's all packaging without appropriate content. The press release as flim-flam job. I was eager to read what the New York Times made of it but there was nothing in today's paper. I suppose we have to wait till next week. That makes me even angrier. The Balanchine Centennial is a once-in-a-lifetime event and NYCB appears not only to have muffed it, but to have desecrated it. Suzanne Farrell should be in charge of NYCB.

Well, this is welcome news at any rate, on both counts. But it doesn't make up for the mess NYCB seems to have made of what was supposed to be the Balanchine Centennial celebration.

Cutting through all the excess verbiage of the press release, I'm left with a feeling of great disappointment. Despite the PR spin, it sounds like business as usual plus Susan Stroman and Boris Eifman. I'm having trouble believing this.

But isn't it the case that in recent times we've bemoaned the blurring of national styles, and the rise of a homogenized international style? In that sense, this article seems like an anachronism.

Too bad that Jacques d'Amboise, Edward Villella, and Arthur Mitchell just wasted their lives.

The character is called "Titania's Page," and was portrayed on Tuesday night by Sarah Oberman.

For me, the most unusual part of the Acocella piece was what she describes as her "theory" about the Martins-Wheeldon relationship. "Balanchine, the great abstractionist, selected the Broadway-bred Jerome Robbins to be his company's second choreographer, partly, it seems, because Robbins was so different from him, because he made story ballets--pieces, in other words, that would give the audience some relief from the platonic beams of his own work. Martins may see Wheeldon as his Robbins." Or maybe not.

The other butterflies (and I can't say I recognized them), were Alina Dronova, Jessica Flynn, Sterling Hylton, and Stephanie Zungre, along with Ojela Burkhard, Kristina Castaldo, Kelly Delaney, Ellie Dembo, Alice Kenney, Beatriz Stix, and Isabella Tobias. Enjoy your out-of-town sojourn, Michael.

I don't know how I could do this, but I forgot to mention Wendy Whelan and Jock Soto in the Act II divertissement. They were so good they brought tears to my eyes.

June 24 -- Outside the State Theater, the bandstand and dance floor for Midsummer Night's Swing were in place, and inside everything was magical for Dream. There were some insignificant glitches. For one thing, James Fayette's donkey head came flying off and disappeared instead of being removed by Albert Evans's Puck. It might even have worked better that way. I'm not sure of this, but the lighting seemed darker than usual. It could be my eyesight is fading. There were horn problems in the orchestra, under Andrea Quinn, and it seemed unusually subdued. But the principals were all wonderful, in particular Peter Boal, whose Oberon is simply incomparable. And his performance was enthusiastically appreciated, which it sometimes isn't. He was loudly applauded at every exit and during his variations. I hadn't heard anything comparable since Villella's Oberon. Darci Kistler made you forget that her powers are waning, and Albert Evans was his usual exciting Puck. If only he'd be allowed to grow beyond this role... The lovers were Ansanelli, Rutherford, Angle and Marcovici. Rutherford's solo as Hermia was more poignant and less frenetic than is sometimes the case; I liked Marcovici's Demetrius very much. Jennie Somogy was spectacular as Hippolyta. Amanda Edge's Butterfly was lovely. My only problem was with Charles Askegard as Titania's Cavalier -- and not really with him as with his costume, which made him resemble the Jolly Green Giant.

Thanks, Carbro. I didn't notice the Ringer in the combo on Friday night. Could it be you witnessed her debut on drums? Wish I'd seen it.

On this subject, I think beauty may be in the ear of the beholder.

It must be said: Peter Martins's ballet is an audience favorite. Friday night's performance was greeted with long and loud applause, cheers, and even the shrieks one sometimes hears from young dancers. I saw the ballet on opening night of the Fall season and thought that NYCB had a hit. I liked it. So I was quite startled when it turned out other people didn't. Just about everything was panned: the shoes, the costumes, the set, the singers, the expense, and of course, Peter Martins's choreography. The only, grudging, praise was for Bernadette Peters, who made a surprise one-time-only appearance at the end. Robert Gottlieb's review in the New York Observer appeared under the headline, "Thou Stink." Being easily influenced, on Friday night I was ready to view the ballet with a more jaundiced eye. The cast was the same as on opening night, except that Janie Taylor was in the Yvonne Borree part. So the cast was Darci Kistler and Jock Soto, Maria Kowroski and Charles Askegard, Jenifer Ringer and James Fayette, Taylor and Nilas Martins. The singers were the same, too: Debbie Gravitte and Jonathan Dokuchitz. Gravitte, in particular, was superb. The conductor was Paul Gemignani, who, as noted is also conducting West Side Story Suite. True, the choreography doesn't break any new ground -- but the cast was adorable and romantic; even Nilas was quite likable, despite his pointless cameo at the onstage piano to deliver a nondescript riff. The big tilted mirror still steals the show. And the amalgam of Rodgers and Hart with Rodgers and Hammerstein is both fascinating and irresistible. Prepared to see the error of my ways, I still liked "Thou Swell." The audience's happy mood carried over into "Western Symphony," which also got cheers, well deserved. It was a special treat to see Albert Evans in the adagio with Alexandra Ansanelli. The program began with Wendy Whelan and Robert Tewsley in "Ballade," a marvelous bit of Balanchine.

Franco Corelli was the complete opposite of the stereotypical short, fat Italian tenor. He was was tall, handsome, and sang gloriously. Beverly Sills was beautiful. So was Renata Tebaldi, despite what Rudolf Bing called her "dimples of steel."

To address this subject I'd say that name-dropping is not only tolerated, it's necessary.

In recent years Nutcracker tickets have been more expensive than those for the regular rep. But I hadn't looked lately, so was surprised at the $93 price. What is definitely new is the "Sweet Seat VIP package." Also, there seem to be fewer "non-peak" dates -- only 5, as opposed to 19 "peak' dates. (The "priority" offer does not include all performances.)

Every year the "priority offer" of Nutcracker tickets arrives earlier, it seems. I got two in today's mail. As has been the case in recent years, "Subscriber and Guild Priority Dates" are divided into "Peak" and "Off-Peak Dates." Orchestra and First Ring tickets for peak dates cost $93; off-peak $82. Think that's bad? How about a "Sweet Seat VIP Package?" I quote: "Enjoy the very best seats in the house and more with this special holiday package! Each admission includes a premium center Orchestra seat, a keepsake photo with a character from George Balanchine's The Nutcracker, complimentary souvenir book and 10% off at our Gift Shop." That will set you back $175 per admisssion. But the less affluent have not been forgotten. On an off-peak date, $20 will get you into rows L-O of the Fourth Ring, the four topmost rows in the house. Merry Christmas.

In his marvelous reminiscences of ballet and NYC in the fifties in the Ballet History forum, Kurvenal recalls a party at which Tanaquil Le Clercq was present and he was "so in awe of her that I couldn't put a sentence together without sounding totally stupid." On the other hand, Leigh Witchel did put a sentence together, too closely, when he encountered Merrill Ashley on Broadway. He was so nervous, all the words ran breathlessly together. What was it like for you meeting a beloved dancer for the first time?

"I do not understand," sexy symbologist Robert Langdon whispered to curvy French cryptologist Sophie Neveau. "Why did Ballet Alert choose the numero un, number one bestseller The Da Vinci Code as its book of the month?" "Are you familiar with the initials SAB?" Sophie cooed impatiently. "Symbology Academy Baccalaureate? Mine is from Harvard." "School of American Ballet. It is located in the Rose Building." "Mon Dieu! My God! The Name of the Rose!" "Why do you say things first in French and then in English?" "Have you forgotten, mon cheri, dear heart, we are characters in a 454-page novel. It takes every trick in the book to pad a puzzle to such length." Sophie produced a piece of School of American Ballet stationery from her dance bag and illuminated it with a click of the special fountain pen she always carried. The circle of light shone eerily on the school's logo. "Sacre bleu! Holy ...! The Vetruvian Man!" "Exactement. Now do you see? Lincoln Kirstein was my grandfather!"

"Ballet is the one form of theater where nobody speaks a foolish word all evening -- nobody on the stage at least." -- Edwin Denby

I seldom "watch" television, although I frequently have it on. It's "company," as Grace says. When my wife was alive, there were a couple of programs we did watch -- Mary Tyler Moore and All in the Family. We also watched tennis matches and baseball games. But usually, when we weren't at the ballet, she'd be reading her book and I'd be reading mine. Now I turn on the TV just to have some soothing background sounds. (The choices are quite limited in this respect. But music on radio or CDs doesn't fill the same function, since I tend to concentrate on music.) I still go to the ballet, two or more times a week and still read, but the background noise provided by TV is increasingly essential.

I'm in the same boat as Carbro -- ordered the Leonardo Code (heh heh) from Amazon with another book, to be sent in one shipment. So I'm waiting with bated breath -- whatever that is.

Since I suspect I am of the same generation as the mothers mentioned here, he was also my favorite actor. (Just call me Uncle Lou.) I think "Roman Holiday" is one of the best romantic movies ever made -- and his co-star, Audrey Hepburn, was just as great a citizen of the world as he.

I haven't heard anything yet.

I suppose people who booed Watermill had expected to see the Villella of Dances at a Gathering. Instead they got a Noh-inspired theater piece without recognizable ballet steps and very little action, over an hour long, which seemed even longer because everything was in super-slo-mo. I loved Watermill, but its detractors were not limited to the ranks of the unsophisticated. Arlene Croce, for one, dismissed it as "tedious hokum." In contrast, Patricia Barnes called it a landmark in ballet history. Clive liked it very much too. The images in Watermill were things of beauty -- Villella and the stalks of wheat, the gently falling snow, the Japanese lanterns and kites, the girl's long golden hair, Villella, rousing himself at last and trying to join the young men. It still gives me chills to think about. I saw it several times, and there were a few boos at the end every time. It became as unpopular with subscribers as Mr. B's Don Quixote a few years earlier. I saw it again in later years, when Villella reprised the role and was met with nothing but cheers. I also saw Jean Guizerix do it as a guest with NYCB. He was quite poignant and got an ovation. Incidentally, many's the time I saw Robbins on East 81st Street and he always avoided making eye contact until one New Year's Day, when my wife and I saw him taking out the garbage. She wished him a happy new year and he reciprocated. We felt warm and fuzzy all day.