Farrell Fan

Thanks for this clear and comprehensive review, Michael. Although I've been to every NYCB opening night gala in the last thirty or forty years, I've never been to a Spring Gala. I'm not sure I know why, but I guess I've always felt that galas are more about socializing, as you say, than about ballet. But this year's sounds like it was different. I was impressed by Bigonzetti and Moretti, his composer, at the NYCB seminar last Monday and I'm glad to hear their ballet was a winner. I was also taken by your description of Janie Taylor as Martins's muse. I hadn't thought of it that way but I'm sure you're right. Thanks again, Michael.

I talked to my friend Morris Neighbor about this and he reminded me that another part of the Sketchbook later found its way into the spring section of Robbins' Four Seasons -- the part where the boys act like Mexican jumping beans, as Clive Barnes put it at the time. That accounts for the Verdi in the list of composers I got from the excellent Robbins website cited by Alexandra and Leigh.

Bobbi may be thinking of "A Sketchbook," from 1978, which was a mix of works-in-progress by Robbins and Peter Martins. Various composers were used -- Handel, Rossini, Telemann, Biber, Verdi. There was a Robbins section called "The Arts of a Gentleman" (or perhaps that was the subtitle for the entire work), which featured a terrific pas de deux for two men with foils or epees or whatever they were. I was always sorry "The Arts of a Gentleman" was never developed into a full-scale ballet.

There was a wonderful Paul Kolnik photo of the opening night Serenade. showing Ringer, Fayette, and, most strikingly, Kathleen Tracey as the Dark Angel. It captured not just that performance but the essence of the ballet. A couple of days later, there was another beautiful shot of an airborne Ashley Bouder in Raymonda. As much as I admire Kolnik's photos, and many of them approach the level of art, they don't take the place of a written review. As for the Times reviewers, each of them has a distinct print personality, but that's another subject.

Like Bobbi, I was seeing Reunions for the first time, and thoroughly enjoyed it. For me, this David Allen piece from the Diamond Project of 1992 justified this year's policy of reprising past Project ballets. It makes a wonderful showcase for young dancers. I wouldn't mind seeing it become part of the regular repertory. The Ernest Bloch music is as engaging as the choreography. Amanda's comment of having a nearly religious experience seeing Kistler's Second Movement Bizet reminded me of a gentleman I used to talk to years ago at NYCB intermissions. A diplomat, he'd lived a long, eventful life. He said seeing Symphony in C was the closest he'd ever come to having had a religious experience. I was pleased the audience for it last night was so enthusiastic, because its reaction to Raymonda had been tepid.

Back before the Joffrey moved to Chicago, I used to see Gerald Arpino bravoing and applauding enthusiastically for his company at City Center in New York. I remember always marveling at the sight, because I was used to the New York City Ballet at the New York State Theater, where my wife and I had subscription seats across the aisle from Lincoln Kirstein, co-founder of that company. Mr. Kirstein never bravoed and seldom smiled. To the best of my recollection I saw him applaud only once, for a matter of seconds. I wish I could remember the occasion -- I think it must have been for a guest artist.

Back before the Joffrey moved to Chicago, I used to see Gerald Arpino bravoing and applauding enthusiastically for his company at City Center in New York. I remember always marveling at the sight, because I was used to the New York City Ballet at the New York State Theater, where my wife and I had subscription seats across the aisle from Lincoln Kirstein, co-founder of that company. Mr. Kirstein never bravoed and seldom smiled. To the best of my recollection I saw him applaud only once, for a matter of seconds. I wish I could remember the occasion -- I think it must have been for a guest artist.

It was a grand and glorious evening, and I really can't add much to the perceptive and thorough accounts previously posted. Kowroski, Ansanelli, and Bouder were the stars of the night, and I also want to put in a good word for Kathleen Tracey. This says more about me than about her, but I never used to notice her when her sister was around and now I do. There's a regal beauty about her and her dancing. It was also a great night in the audience. There were many former and future dancers in attendance. The applause was enthusiastic but never inappropriate. Before the performance, a couple of people came up to me and said they enjoyed my balletalert postings. And Allegra Kent was sitting in the seat in front of me. What a night!

Holy smokes, Alexandra, now I'm worried. Almost every time I've seen the object of my fandom after one of her company's performances, I've told her "Thank you for tonight," or some variation thereof. I didn't realize I was telling her I didn't like it. Please advise.

A lot of booing is caused by thwarted expectations. Some of the people who expected to see the customary pyrotechnical display by Edward Villella in Watermill were probably the booers Manhattnik heard. Similarly, the Met audience was expecting a polonaise during the Onegin polonaise and booed when they didn't get it. This kind of booing is completely unjustified, the product of closed minds. However, sometimes I feel like booing when most of the audience is cheering. Some years ago, there was a production of Cavalleria Rusticana at the New York City Opera directed by Vera Zorina. During the justly famous Intermezzo, when nothing is supposed to happen onstage, the better to contemplate the mysteries of Sicilian honor, Easter, and Mascagni's music, Zorina staged a ballet for little girls in communion dresses. The audience loved it. Cav and Pag seem to bring out the worst in directors. A few years after the Zorina production, they were transferred from their original locales in Sicily and Southern Italy to New York's Little Italy, under an elevated train station. I admit it was striking concept. There even was simulated sexual intercourse ender the el, between Turiddu and Lola. Once again the audience cheered loudly. But I thought the music was ill-served. Nobody booed. Most people cheered. And I just sat there.

A lot of booing is caused by thwarted expectations. Some of the people who expected to see the customary pyrotechnical display by Edward Villella in Watermill were probably the booers Manhattnik heard. Similarly, the Met audience was expecting a polonaise during the Onegin polonaise and booed when they didn't get it. This kind of booing is completely unjustified, the product of closed minds. However, sometimes I feel like booing when most of the audience is cheering. Some years ago, there was a production of Cavalleria Rusticana at the New York City Opera directed by Vera Zorina. During the justly famous Intermezzo, when nothing is supposed to happen onstage, the better to contemplate the mysteries of Sicilian honor, Easter, and Mascagni's music, Zorina staged a ballet for little girls in communion dresses. The audience loved it. Cav and Pag seem to bring out the worst in directors. A few years after the Zorina production, they were transferred from their original locales in Sicily and Southern Italy to New York's Little Italy, under an elevated train station. I admit it was striking concept. There even was simulated sexual intercourse ender the el, between Turiddu and Lola. Once again the audience cheered loudly. But I thought the music was ill-served. Nobody booed. Most people cheered. And I just sat there.

Is there a dancer, past or present, you'd particularly like to meet? What would you say to her or him?

Thanks for those two very fine answers. From the current company I'd pick Darci Kistler as Melpomene and Maria Kowroski as Thalia. But I'd bring back Heather Watts for a guest appearance as Urania, Muse of astronomy.

Didn't Kirstein and Balanchine once talk of founding the New York Kitty Ballet?

I'd hate for the Diamond Project to disappear. Hope springs eternal.

According to Stravinsky, the three Muses in the ballet Apollo were chosen for their suitability to choreography. "Calliope personified poetry and its rhythm; Polyhymnia represents mime; Terpsichore, combining in herself both the rhythm and the eloquence of gesture, reveals dancing to the world and thus among the Muses takes the place of honor beside Apollo." Calliope is actually the muse of epic poetry and eloquence, as she consistently demonstrates on this board. Polyhymnia is the Muse of oratory and sacred poetry. Terpsichore, of choral song and dance. There are six other Muses: Euterpe, of music or lyric poetry; Erato, of love poetry (and crossword puzzles); Clio, history; Melpomene, tragedy; Urania, astronomy; Thalia, comedy. Suppose that, in the immortal words of NYCB program inserts, "due to illness and injury" Calliope, Polyhymnia, and Terpsichore, were unable to perform. Which of the remaining Muses do you think would make suitable partners for Apollo? Feel free to change Balanchine's choreography as appropriate.

When Patricia McBride and Edward Villella danced Balanchine's Tarantella it always ended much too soon.

I've never booed a performer at the ballet, but I felt like booing the choreographer Angelin Preljocaj at the NYCB premiere of La Stravaganza a few years ago. Now I'm sorry I restrained myself --they're bringing it back! The booing of Heather Watts was led in print by Arlene Croce. It shouldn't have happened. The worst booing I ever heard at NYCB was when the curtain came down on Balanchine's Don Quixote and Robbins' Watermill during their first seasons. But the booing stopped when the dancers came out. I confess I once booed the great Franco Corelli at the opera. It was a performance of Turandot with the even greater Birgit Nillson. Corelli had good looks and the greatest tenor voice since Jussi Bjorling, but his stage deportment was atrocious. In the final scene of Turandot, while Nillson descended a long staircase, he waited for her at the bottom, with his arms folded and looking bored out of his skull. When she arrived, he kicked the train of her dress out of his way and began the love duet, facing the audience and holding her at arm's length. After the performance, when he took a solo call, I booed. It seemed the right thing to do at the time, but I've been sorry ever since. He was a magnificent singer and reportedly suffered from terrible stage fright.

I've never booed a performer at the ballet, but I felt like booing the choreographer Angelin Preljocaj at the NYCB premiere of La Stravaganza a few years ago. Now I'm sorry I restrained myself --they're bringing it back! The booing of Heather Watts was led in print by Arlene Croce. It shouldn't have happened. The worst booing I ever heard at NYCB was when the curtain came down on Balanchine's Don Quixote and Robbins' Watermill during their first seasons. But the booing stopped when the dancers came out. I confess I once booed the great Franco Corelli at the opera. It was a performance of Turandot with the even greater Birgit Nillson. Corelli had good looks and the greatest tenor voice since Jussi Bjorling, but his stage deportment was atrocious. In the final scene of Turandot, while Nillson descended a long staircase, he waited for her at the bottom, with his arms folded and looking bored out of his skull. When she arrived, he kicked the train of her dress out of his way and began the love duet, facing the audience and holding her at arm's length. After the performance, when he took a solo call, I booed. It seemed the right thing to do at the time, but I've been sorry ever since. He was a magnificent singer and reportedly suffered from terrible stage fright.

Long before I attempted to read "Remembrance of Things Past" (the first of several failed attempts, as it turned out), I thought the title one of the most perfect in literature. But some years ago, a new translation was published which rendered "A la recherche du temps perdu" literally. as "In Search of Lost Time." To me that sounded like a report by a team of what used to be called efficiency experts. Sometimes a literal translation just won't do, as is clearly the case with "La Fille Mal Gardee." Every attempt to translate this title into English is extremely awkward -- The Badly-Watched Young Woman, The Ill-Guarded Girl, The Unchaperoned Daughter. I've read that in Russia it's known as "Vain Precautions." That's much more satisfactory, IMO. Although the best solution is to keep the French title, in preparation for the return of Ashton's wonderful Fille to ABT, does anyone have any thoughts on a suitable English title?

Thanks, Shesno and Cargill. Sounds like a lot more fun than an actual flight.

Dear Shesno... Please try to overcome your shyness and tell about this. As someone who saw PAMTGG, Mr. B's extraordinary flop, I have a real need to know. Thanks.

Another thought: To my mind, the cultural institution NYCB became in the 60s was dealt a blow by the terms of Balanchine's will. Instead of bequeathing his ballets to the company, he left them to individuals. Whether he was thereby demonstrating a lack of faith in NYCB's future, nobody can say. The blow was not fatal. NYCB has evolved into more of an institution than ever, but perhaps a very different institution than it otherwise might have been. As Calliope points out, after the Balanchine Celebration, NYCB has been less active in perpetuating the Balanchine legacy. That task has fallen to others, under the aegis of the Balanchine Trust.

The Ford Foundation grant to SAB in 1963 and the move from City Center to Lincoln Center in 1964 were, as Leigh indicates, the key events in transforming NYCB into an institution. As Lincoln Kirstein recalled, the Ford grant "provoked a storm of waspish protest, presupposing that Balanchine had been granted hegemony over world dance." The furor eventually died down. Those were the years when I really fell in love with the company and with the dancers Leigh mentions. I'd hear people grumbling that they missed City Center, or as Kirstein always called it, Mecca Temple. I don't know what they missed. The ambiance was shabby and the sight lines dreadful. (Both were later improved and I enjoy going there now to see dance, notably ABT and Paul Taylor.) The apex of NYCB as an international artistic institution was the Stravinsky Festival of 1972. Nevertheless, my wife and I always thought of NYCB not as an institution but as a family. We continued to feel that way until Balanchine's death on April 30, 1983. I'll never forget how before the SAB Workshop that night, Kirstein, Robbins, Martins, and John Taras came in front of the curtain and Kirstein announced that Mr. B had gone to join Mozart, Tchaikovsky, and Stravinsky. We'd never met Balanchine, but felt such a sense of loss that we went to the funeral. So did many other NYCB fans. I don't think that feeling exists any more. "Apres moi, le board," Balanchine is supposed to have said. Not just the board. In the old days, the only people on the administrative side of the company besides Kirstein that one ever heard of were Betty Cage, Barbara Horgan, and Eddie Bigelow. An NYCB program from the last season lists, for starters, a General Manager who has an Executive Assistant, a Chief Financial Officer with four assistants, a Company Manager, a Director of External Affairs with an Administrative Assistant, a Manager of External Affairs, and two Campaign Managers. The list goes on and on. Now that's an institution. I found Calliope's post surprising. It seems to corroborate what the Martins detractors have been saying for years.

Aubri's knowledge of Italian grammar is impressive, and in print brave would certainly be the way to cheer for a group of women or girls, whichever you prefer. But Michael said something a while back about the sound of the o in bravo providing a more satisfying bellow than ah or ee in brava and bravi. In the case of brave, unlike the other three, shouted in an audience it wouldn't sound like an exclamation of approval at all: bravOH! bravAH! bravEE! BravEH?