Farrell Fan

Dancing snowmen can't be far behind.

Another quote attributed to Balanchine is "Family relations are impossible to dance." I got this from a 32-page pamphlet published in 1984 by San Marco Press called "By George Balanchine," which was available for a time at the gift shop of NYCB on the State Theater Promenade. The cover has a caricature of Balanchine by G. B. himself.

Manhattnik had a post recently about how he used to think that a ballet requiring a plot synopsis in the program was a failure. This was an opinion I shared, although, like him, I'm willing to make exceptions now. I still hate reading them, though. And I'm even less fond of reading opera synopses, especially now that English supertitles, surtitles, or seatback titles make it easy to follow the action as it unfolds. Why is it necessary to know in advance what's going to happen? If one is a regular operagoer, one knows what's coming, but it shouldn't be necessary for a first-time viewer to know. I'm reminded of what Toots Shor (an early-American historical figure) supposedly said when someone took him to Hamlet, "I'll bet I'm the only one here who doesn't know how this thing comes out." In my opinion, that's an enviable position to be in. To the best of my knowledge, Broadway and off-Broadway theaters still don't print plot synopses of their shows -- not even of Shakespeare or the Greeks. In this connection, I'm curious about the current Metropolitan Opera production of "A View from the Bridge." I'm sure there was no plot synopsis in the Playbill for the original Arthur Miller play -- but I'm willing to bet the Met program for the William Bolcom opera has one. I'm also curious whether Baz Luhrmann's "La Boheme" has a plot summary in the Playbill. I don't mind printed background notes on an opera or ballet, and I usually look forward to reading them after I get home. But when I'm at the theater, I'm eager to go on with the show.

I'm glad you asked that question, SABgurlie, because it made me think about it. I've decided I liked it better before, when Kramerevsky was more over-the-top.

Although there was much about Matthew Bourne's Swan Lake that I liked, the thought of his Nutcracker makes me cringe. I hadn't been to a performance of NYCB's Nutcracker in 3 or 4 years, but this year I returned, courtesy of a house seat from SAB. It was in the center of the 5th row of the orchestra. From that distance much of the stage magic was lost for me, but not for the many children seated in the rows in front of me. Vagansmom is absolutely correct about watching them. They were delighted by what was going on, and I was entranced looking at them. I did look at the stage too. The performance I saw was at 6 p.m. on December 3rd, and I loved everything about it. Wendy Whelan was Sugarplum; Philip Neal, her cavalier; and Jennie Somogyi, Dewdrop. Andre Kramarevsky seemed to have toned down the eccentricities of his Drosselmeyer since the last time I'd seen it. At any rate, I think I stayed away too long from (to give it its full, formal title) George Balanchine's The Nutcracker.

Among the aforementioned other goodies in this issue is Leigh Witchel's review of Balanchine's Midsummer Night's Dream, including some interesting comparisons to Ashton's Dream. Reading about this magical ballet banished the snow right out of my mind.

The biggest snowfall in a couple of years has heralded the arrival of the Summer 2002 issue. Ballet Review always arrives in my mailbox unexpectedly, but it's always welcome. Among other goodies, this issue has a fascinating iinterview with Kyra Nichols, as well as many photographs of her, including a beautiful one on the cover.

Pardon this aside in response to dirac's aside. In recent times, my favorite reviews in NYRB have been by Russell Baker. They usually comprise a group of books, sometimes as many as a half dozen, on a related subject. He always gives every book its due and the result is a graceful essay that is unmistakably the work of Russell Baker. I'm grateful to NYRB for giving him this forum. Because as much as I relish reading Maureen Dowd in the Times, she is no Russell Baker.

That's good, Grace. Thanks.

The piece by Jennifer Homans, while purporting to be a review of Charles M. Joseph's book, gives it short shrift. "Joseph is good on the music," she allows. "When he turns to the dances, however, Joseph seems lost." So, in the next nine-and-a-half columns, Homans strives to illuminate the Stravinsky-Balanchine collaboration, whose roots she traces back to 1890 and the premiere of Tchaikovsky and Petipa's The Sleeping Beauty. She has unusual insights. In Apollon Musagete, "in effect, Balanchine shifted the axis of classical technique. In a Petipa variation, the body is divided horizontally, tutu style, between 'cut and slice' legs and lyrical arms and torso. What matters is the contrast between the two. But Balanchine created movement that made dancers split the body vertically, down the spine, the right side moving with or against the left." In her analysis of Agon, she briefly returns to the book (remember the book?) to mention Joseph's "detailed and stimulating discussion" of the seventeenth-century dance treatise employed by Stravinsky. It doesn't appear to me that he "seems lost' when it comes to the dances. At any rate, this is an excellent article, although it fails as a book review. Nevertheless, I think Clive Barnes and others who have denigrated Ms. Homans' qualifications in the past will now have to grant her a certain degree of respect.

Thanks, everybody, for these reviews. Since nobody mentioned my all-time favorite Girl in Green, I feel in necessary to do so: Delia Peters.

Just want to point out that we're talking about the Dec. 9 issue of The New Yorker. On the cover it shows cars flying over EZPass toll booths.

The article has to do with the Gaynor Minden shoe, "pink satin on the outside, but with Nike-style high-tech innards designed to protect the feet. The shoes are quiet. They save companies money: a pair costs twenty dollars more than the traditional shoes but lasts five times longer. They have thin inner and outer linings made of shock-absorbent foam, to ease discomfort and cut down on injuries. And they don't need to be broken in." Gillian Murphy of ABT wears them. But she says that Suki Schorer approached her once in class and asked, "Why do you wear those space-age shoes?" Regarding the supposed reduction in injuries, Suki is quoted, "Ballet isn't about health. It's an art form." Melissa Hayden, Murphy's mentor, at the North Carolina School of the Arts, did not take kindly to Schorer's comments. There's a photo of the shoes on the feet of ABT's Maria Ricetto. They almost look like regular pointe shoes -- but not quite. Kevin Conley feels the shoe will eventually gain wide acceptance. His article should be read by anyone interested in Pointe Shoe Topics.

I see that next week NYCB is casting Stephen Hanna, Jonathan Stafford, and Amar Ramasar as Mother Ginger. I'm wondering what qualities these dancers displayed that caused them to be chosen for this part. And once cast as Mother Ginger, can a dancer still aspire to become Sugar Plum's Cavalier some day?

The printed program for the Gala was inside a gray and black piece of cardboard folded in thirds, on the cover of which were NYCB's Sweethearts in Residence, Jenifer Ringer and James Fayette. The rest of the piece was devoted to listing, all in lower case, honorary chairmen, chairmen, centennial benefactors, silver benefactors, benefactors, etc. I'm going into all this uncessary detail because that cardboard is all I have left. When I got home, the program that had been inside, wasn't. I've reached the stage in life where I must make lists and write notes to myself in order to function, so not having the program to consult is an insurmountable handicap in trying to reconstruct last night. Some things that haven't been mentioned: The songs in the Peter Martins ballet, mostly by Rodgers and Hart, with a few Rodgers and Hammerstein ones interspersed, were well-sung (I wish I could tell you by whom) and well-played by an onstage trio and the NYCB orchestra led by Paul Gemignani. At one point, that other well-known composer, Nilas Martins, seated himself at the onstage piano and delivered himself of a few riffs. The set looked like the 1930's Hollywood idea of a night club, and the huge tilted mirror at the back of the stage provided interesting angles for the audience to look at. It seemed to cry out for Busby Berkeley or the June Taylor Dancers. And it added poignancy to the exit of the dancers and Bernadette Peters. Martins's choreography reminded me of the "glamour-girl" pas de deux he did for Suzanne Farrell and himself, "Sophisticated Lady." Not much depth, but enjoyable. I can't say I cared for the first two pieces. Mayor Bloomberg made some inoffensive introductory remarks. One gets the impression that, unlike his predecessors, he actually knows something about NYCB.

Thanks for that lovely essay, Jack. I have a book called "Ballet Chronicle," published in 1970, which is evenly divided between Haggin's "reports," as he called them, and performance photographs. You've inspired me to reread it. In the Foreword, Haggin recalls meeting Balanchine: "I said to Balanchine I wasn't sure I had any business writing on a subject about which I had no technical knowledge; and he replied: 'Oh no: you look; you see; you write about what you see; and that's good.'"

From the NY Times, November 24, 2002: "After 16 years as a principal dancer with the New York City Ballet, and a dancer with American Ballet Theatre for nine years before that, Robert La Fosse is retiring. This event is something of a milestone for the New York dance community. Mr. La Fosse has performed here with, and for, most of the great ballet names for a quarter century, and he was one of the last of a handful of dancers still onstage who were central figures in the dance boom of the 70's and early 80's." True enough, but Robert La Fosse wrote his autobiography, "Nothing to Hide," fifteen years ago. Perhaps nothing was hidden, but much lay necessarily unrevealed. Similarly, Peter Martins' "Far from Denmark," was published in 1982, when Balanchine was still alive and Peter was still dancing. Although he'd already choreographed several ballets, his elevation to NYCB Ballet Master in Chief was far from reality. The state of ballet and publishing being what they are, I can't imagine any great clamor to bring out updated versions of these books and others like them, let alone sequels. So a lot of first-person dance history will probably go unrecorded.

Amen to everything Giannina said. It's a wonderful book.

Perhaps Peter Martins is Dennis Day.

In their biography of Balanchine, Richard Buckle and John Taras quote from what Herbert Saal wrote in Newsweek after Balanchine died: "George Balanchine deplored inflated reputations. 'Why must everything be great?' he used to say. 'Isn't "good" good enough? Everyone's overrated. Picasso's overrated. I'm overrated, even Jack Benny's overrated.' But then Saal went on: "By liberating dance from story, by restlessly experimenting, by combining old and new, Balanchine stands beside Picasso and Stravinsky. But while they worked in accepted and respected mediums, Balanchine practiced what was still a second-class art. His most awesome achievement was that he elevated ballet almost single-handedly from a place below the salt to a seat at the head of the table."

Does anyone know if this NYCB dancer is related to Madonna? Just idle curiosity on my part.

I'll be in the Third Ring on Opening Night and will be at Nutcracker December 3 with other members of SAB's Founders Society.

We are still waiting for a definitive biography of Balanchine, which would address such issues as how he felt about women, independent and otherwise. The best of the published lot, by Bernard Taper, grew from a New Yorker profile. It is basically a piece of journalism -- superior journalism -- but not the in-depth biography we require. That said, not all the muses have written adoringly of Mr. B. Isn't it so that that Gelsey Kirkland was, however briefly, regarded as a muse? And there is at least one very good book by a former wife, his first: "Split Seconds," by Tamara Geva. The recollections edited by Francis Mason under the title "I Remember Balanchine," mentioned by dirac, also contain many of the "he picked out perfume" sort of pieces. But the book includes nine pages by William Weslow which amount to the most stinging rebuke of Balanchine I've ever read. Okay, now I can go curl up and get all teary-eyed again with the paperback of "Holding on to the Air." ;)

We are still waiting for a definitive biography of Balanchine, which would address such issues as how he felt about women, independent and otherwise. The best of the published lot, by Bernard Taper, grew from a New Yorker profile. It is basically a piece of journalism -- superior journalism -- but not the in-depth biography we require. That said, not all the muses have written adoringly of Mr. B. Isn't it so that that Gelsey Kirkland was, however briefly, regarded as a muse? And there is at least one very good book by a former wife, his first: "Split Seconds," by Tamara Geva. The recollections edited by Francis Mason under the title "I Remember Balanchine," mentioned by dirac, also contain many of the "he picked out perfume" sort of pieces. But the book includes nine pages by William Weslow which amount to the most stinging rebuke of Balanchine I've ever read. Okay, now I can go curl up and get all teary-eyed again with the paperback of "Holding on to the Air." ;)

Thanks, BalletFlaMom, the link worked. That is one strange review! How the end of "Slaughter on Tenth Avenue" could deflate like a souffle is beyond me. Despite her enthusiastic opening, the reviewer seems only to have liked "Bugaku." Weird.