Farrell Fan

I'm very lucky to live in Manhattan and be able to get to Lincoln Center easily by bus or taxi. As a result I have three subscriptions to NYCB and one to ABT, and I've had them for many years. My late wife and I had a Joffrey subscription too, but they deserted us. Although I applaud the option of exchanging subscription tickets for other performances, I don't do it. I do sometimes buy single tickets to additional performances. If I don't see a ballet several times over many seasons, I don't consider that I've really seen it. Other than rent, ballet tickets are my greatest expense.

I'm looking forward to all the Diamond Project ballets, especially by Barak, Mahdaviani and Albert Evans. I'm also curious about Mauro Bigonzetti. High time an Italian choreographer was represented at NYCB! I hope he won't take revenge for "Viva Verdi!"

I'm at a loss about these technicalities and unable to oblige in any case, but the thought occurred to me for those who may be interested: when you say "NYCB Swan Lake," do you mean the one-act Balanchine version or Peter Martins' full-evening one? I can't resist adding that why anyone would want a copy of the latter is beyond me. Good luck.

It's an easy and awfully tired argument to blame the architecture, the stage, the acoustics, or the seating plans of Lincoln Center for inspiring alleged mediocrity in its constituent companies. But the architecture was the same thirty years ago during the NYCB Stravinsky Festival. "Each night of the week, the State Theater was packed with knowledgeable and wildly excited balletomaniacs, hopeful gatecrashers panted in the plaza...The week was full of surprises, unexpected beauties, dance jokes, and a kind of camaraderie between the audience and the company that the grandeur of Lincoln Center doesn't usually encourage." Deborah Jowitt wrote that in the Village Voice, in the days when the Voice was considered an "alternative" paper. A "downtown" person, she was nevertheless able to find her way to Lincoln Center! Similarly, the New York City Opera led by Julius Rudel, with Sills, Domingo, and Treigle, inspired superlatives from critics and audiences alike. The lack of a center aisle in the orchestra did not prevent happy opera fans from heading for the Promenade to sing the praises of Bubbles, et al. Incidentally, I remember when the orchestra seating at the State Theater was winning praise in the press. I could go on but won't. My point is that moving NYCO downtown will not insure great performances or automatically attract the geographically-correct audiences Alex Ross holds in such esteem. And the "faintly spiritless air" he ascribes to all Lincoln Center companies except the mighty VilarMet, will not be cured by having Frank Gehry enclose them in a giant plastic bag. All it takes is creativity and talent. The excitement will follow

The only critic I read who liked this show was Clive Barnes in the NY Post. I liked it too, possibly because I'd never seen the movie with Burt Lancaster and Tony Curtis. In his NY Times review, Ben Brantley said those were the people most like to enjoy the musical. Be that as it may, what made the evening for me were two sensational performances -- by John Lithgow and Brian d'Arcy James. Lithgow is terrifically despicable as J. J. Hunsecker, the tyrannical but spineless columnist modeled on Walter Winchell, and James manages to be sleazy while retaining a certain innocence as his acolyte, Sidney Falco. The score by Marvin Hamlisch is loud and jazzy and sounds too much the same throughout. Lyrics by Craig Cornelia aren't as clever as they should be. I can't tell what John Guare's book adds to or detracts from the original movie. Director Nicholas Hytner uses Greek choruses to pester, warn, and generally nag Falco. The set by Bob Crowley is a marvelously brooding sylization of Manhattan. A particular reason I saw the show was Christopher Wheeldon. By choreographing a Broadway show, he was following the tradition of NYCB choreographers, from Balanchine and Robbins to Martins. What he's come up with looks like generic Broadway razzmatazz, slick but unremarkable. There is also a song-and-dance routine performed by Hunsecker at a telethon, meant to contrast his public persona with his capacity for doing evil. It doesn't quite come off. To add period atmosphere to the fifties setting, a lot of cigarette smoking is done by Hunsecker and various other characters. But I didn't see any of them inhale.

I would have voted for "Adequate" except for the "Who else is there?" I think many of us know very well who else there is! So I went down a notch in my vote.

I would have voted for "Adequate" except for the "Who else is there?" I think many of us know very well who else there is! So I went down a notch in my vote.

What a day yesterday! Both the Academy Awards and BalletAlert had completely new looks. The new theater for the Oscars certainly looked good on television. Why it should result in the longest Oscar program in history is another question. BalletAlert's new look is extremely pleasing, too, although it's taking me a while to figure out how things work on it. My problem is that whenever anyone tries to explain computer things to me, even the estimable Alexandra (or "at" as she is apparently known now), my eyes glaze over (mego in computer talk). Be that as it may, I'm very happy this website exists and look forward someday to a lifetime achievement award.

This was the 12th annual showcase put on by an organization called New Choreographers on Point. There were 8 short works. The most successful, I thought, was the first, Blue Bulb Sweep, choreographed by Ryan Kelly to Benjamin Britten's Young Apollo, a work I'd never heard. Kelly is a member of NYCB's corps, as were his six dancers. In familiar NYCB fashion, two dancers were replaced by others. The lone male among them was Amar Ramassar, a striking-looking dancer who commands attention even standing still. There was an interesting piece, Neruda, performed to spoken poems, featuring three women including Gabriela Poler, the choreographer. One of the women, Kitty Lunn, scooted about in her wheelchair. The two others got her out of it and supported her variously. The program said that Lunn "has founded Infinity Dance Theater, a non-traditional dance company for dancers with disabilities." It was a good performance and there was nothing freakish about it. There were three pas de deux. One, Desire, looked like an ad for Calvin Klein underwear. There was a fine solo, Impatient, by Colleen Cavanaugh for Maria Riccetto, an ABT corps member. I was disappointed in a three-person work, Cut on the Bias, by Penelope Freeh, whose dances I've seen and liked in the past. The last piece, Pangea, was as ambitious as the first, with a cast of seven. I didn't like it. The choreographer is named Salim Gauwloos (Slam) and works with Madonna. His bio in the program noted: "Slam has been interviewed by Joan Rivers and Robin Leach."

Suzanne was fired from NYCB at the direction of Peter Martins at the end of July, 1993. There had been an article in the New Yorker by David Daniel in May which made clear her frustrations with her role at NYCB where she was ostensibly a coach. Like most dancers who'd been close to Mr. B, she'd had very little to do in the 8-week NYCB Balanchine Celebration that Spring. Although she did not directly criticize Martins, the New Yorker piece must have annoyed the Ballet Master in Chief. In the story of her dismissal, the New York Times quoted her: "I was surprised and deeply hurt to receive a telephone call from the company manager informing me that I had been fired from New York City Ballet, although she didn't use the word 'fired.' She said it was because the company was currently operating with a deficit and I was doing little or no work for them. This is true, and it has been a source of unspeakable grief to me for the past three years that I have not been allowed to serve ballet, which is my love, in the company that has been my home for nearly 25 years. I never dreamed I would live to see the day when I didn't work for New York City Ballet." Sort of deja vu all over again. At any rate, in April, 1996, the New York Times Magazine ran an article about Peter Martins' stewardship of NYCB in which he was quoted as saying that Farrell had asked to be his associate artistic director and he told her something to the effect that one cannot be an "associate" artistic director. In response, I wrote this letter to the Times magazine, which they published: "As a fan of New York City Ballet for 35 years, I think that Peter Martins has done a good job leading the company in the post-Balanchine era. I am distressed, though, that he failed to appreciate Suzanne Farrell. According to your article, he spurned her reported bid to become 'associate artistic director' apparently for semantic reasons. Never mind that for eight years, the City Ballet was led by a grammatical impossibility: co-ballet masters in chief. "Farrell's artistic raison d'etre is to keep alive the choreographic legacy of the genius for whom she served as inspiration and sublime interpreter. I went to four performances of 'Suzanne Farrell Stages Balanchine,' at the Kennedy Center in Washington last October and was thrilled by what I saw. It is sad that New York is deprived of her unique abilities." I wrote the letter under my name, Lou D'Angelo, but it apparently established my identity as Farrell Fan. The next year the producers of Suzanne Farrell, Elusive Muse, invited me to an advance screening. [ March 21, 2002, 05:26 PM: Message edited by: Farrell Fan ]

The pre-Bejart Farrell didn't smile even at curtain calls. This used to bother my wife who would mutter under her breath, "Smile, Suzanne!" while we continued to applaud. After Farrell's return to NYCB she was an even better dancer and became more of an audience favorite. Although she never had a goofy grin on her face, she did smile at curtain calls and even during certain ballets. I remember how much whe seemed to enjoy leading the WRENS in Union Jack. Her performance in Slaughter on Tenth Avenue also got sexier and she made a more convincing stripper. The two parts of Farrell's NYCB career coincided with two extraordinary partnerships, first with Jacques d'Amboise and then Peter Martins. In both halves, she also had other partners, notably Arthur Mitchell in the first half and Adam Luders in the second. While with the Bejart company her partner was Jorge Donn, who served again in that capacity when he was guest artist with NYCB in 1977. The video mentioned by Paul Parish is a documentary movie called Suzanne Farrell: Elusive Muse, and contains scenes from Bejart's Romeo and Juliet with Farrell and Donn. Most poignantly, in 1980 she was partnered again, and for the last time, by d'Amboise in Davidsbundlertanze. Their performance together will live forever in the memories of those who saw it. Fortunately, this too is available on video, a glorious relic of the short-lived CBS Cable. Farrell's unpredictability on stage, her penchant for surprising the audience and her partner, noted here by Dale, was one of her hallmarks. But what was always predictable was that, no matter what, she would deliver a superb performance. [ March 20, 2002, 03:26 PM: Message edited by: Farrell Fan ]

I'd avoided reading the Zeffirelli article because I'm somewhat irrational on the subject. I can't stand the man's bloated, overpopulated opera productions and consider him one of the most overrated "talents" of our time. His grandiose vision of Barber's Antony and Cleopatra caused the Met's turntable to break down, contributed hugely to the failure of the opera, and crippled Met stagings for months after opening night. The first act of Boheme, amid the rooftops of Paris turns a charming, funny, and romantic scene into a distant spectacle viewed through the wrong end of a telescope. I suppose Turandot is Zeffirelli at his Zenith -- a three-ring circus where you don't have to pay any attention at all to the singers. His Otello was okay, but that was due in no small measure to Placido Domingo, one of the supreme singers in opera history, who was able to pull off the almost impossible feat of standing out in a Zeffirelli production. I was not a fan of Cecil B. De Mille either.

As far as I can tell, it's a distinction without a difference. The dictionary definition refers back to the roots of the word philharmonic -- the Greek philo and the Latin harmonicus -- a lover of harmony or music. Orchestras that play symphonic music are known by a variety of names --the Philadelphia Orchestra, the London Symphony, the Vienna Philharmonic -- but the names have no bearing on the music they play.

I very much liked the work Hal refers to as perhaps a precursor to Organon. It was called Mending and had music by Michael Gordon, most of which sounded like sirens going off. Damian Woetzel, attired only in his dance belt, very slowly worked his way down the rungs inside a plastic box. It seemed he was trying to exit. But when he got to the opening at the bottom, under which Patricia Tuthill was waiting, he couldn't get out. He ultimately had to settle for lifting her up toward his vicinity with his feet. I found the piece quite moving. The person I saw it with regarded Woetzel as a Christ figure. To me he seemed more like Everyman with Superman's body. Woetzel's performance was an extraordinary example of muscular control, on a par with Edward Villella's in Watermill. After seeing Organon, I thought back on Mending as a prime example of "less is more." In Organon, Feld had Woetzel taking his pants off while negotiating the elevated jungle gym, which made it seem more of a stunt than anything else. And I didn't think all those other elements in Organon jelled into a satisfactory whole.

I received a brochure for the BalletTech season at the Joyce Theater (April 2 to May 3) illustrated with photos of phosphorescent dancers who seem to have emerged from a pool of radioactive pyrite. Extraordinary as these pictures are, they seem tame compared to the copy: Jennifer Dunning of the New York Times called Eliot Feld's Ballet Tech a post-classical ballet company. What's that mean? It's a rethinking of ballet that's uniquely American and very New York -- fast, sassy, multi-racial, and exuberant. This season is your chance to sample Feld's long and prolific career -- from 1967 'til now. This season's repertory will include a long-awaited revival of his second ballet, At Midnight, not seen in New York in a decade, and four premieres -- the most recent of which is his 112th ballet. The new ballets are: Skandia danced to the haunting Swedish Nyckelharpa Orchestra, Behold the Man starring Nickemil Concepcion to the music of David Lang and Brian Eno, Pianola danced by four independent 21st century women to Conlon Nancarrow's revolutionary Studies for Player Piano, and Lincoln Portrait, whose cast of 57 includes Speaker SAM WATERSTON (4/2 and 4/6), CARMEN DE LAVALLADE (4/9, 4/19, 4/24, 5/3), 13 dancers and, as the American populace, 43 performers of every description. Programs include the sexy, concupiscent new Pacific Dances for eleven long-legged unleied ladies, to luscious Hawaiian slack key guitar music, the dazzling male duet Yo Johann, and revivals of Feld Classics Theatre, Ah Scarlatti, and Jukebox to rock and roll classics by the Coasters. Swans? Sylphs? Princes? Forget about it. Ballet Tech is ballet for nowadays. Any comments? Myself, I'm speechless. [ March 12, 2002, 05:52 PM: Message edited by: Farrell Fan ]

Lisa Viola did indeed do the Big Bad Wolf number; Sylvia Nevjinsky did Sittin' on a Rubbish Can; Annmaria Mazzini, the Boulevard of Broken Dreams; and Patrick Corbin, Brother Can You Spare a Dime? Which brings up the question of why the recordings used are not identified in the program. This was also true at ABT. I recognized Connie Boswell and Bing Crosby, but was that Bessie Smith on the Rubbish Can? It's a disservice to the audience and to the memory of the artists involved not to provide identification.

I had seen ABT dance Paul Taylor's marvelous Black Tuesday, and last night saw the Taylor company do it. I much preferred the latter -- it was grittier and more poignant somehow. SOMEHOW --there's the rub. It's on occasions like this that I bemoan my lack of technical expertise. Is there anyone else who's seen both and can compare them? I know someone once said "comparisons are odious," but that was in the 14th Century, before the invention of ballet.

Oops, I see you were talking about Bizet. Sorry for the careless reading Ari.

Oops, I see you were talking about Bizet. Sorry for the careless reading Ari.

It's interesting that so many NYCB "signature pieces" predate NYCB as such: Serenade, Apollo, Orpheus, Ballet Imperial, Concerto Barocco, Four Temperaments, Symphony in C. It's also curious that when the company moved to the New York State Theater, Balanchine asked Tudor to revive Dim Lustre to celebrate the new house -- the opposite of a signature piece for NYCB. Ari: I'm confused about what ballet you mean -- surely not Stravinsky Violin Concerto. Please elucidate. Thanks. Calliope: Don Quixote was a three-act ballet with two intermissions.

It's interesting that so many NYCB "signature pieces" predate NYCB as such: Serenade, Apollo, Orpheus, Ballet Imperial, Concerto Barocco, Four Temperaments, Symphony in C. It's also curious that when the company moved to the New York State Theater, Balanchine asked Tudor to revive Dim Lustre to celebrate the new house -- the opposite of a signature piece for NYCB. Ari: I'm confused about what ballet you mean -- surely not Stravinsky Violin Concerto. Please elucidate. Thanks. Calliope: Don Quixote was a three-act ballet with two intermissions.

When I was about ten, my parents took me to Randall's Island for an open-air performance of Aida by the Salmaggi Opera Company. Randall's Island is in New York's East River, convenient to East Harlem, where we lived. We got there via a short walk on the recently-completed Triborough Bridge. This was during World War II, and the Salmaggi Company, never exactly top-drawer, probably was even worse in those years. Nevertheless, I remember enjoying the performance, particularly the Aida. I still remember the notes of her "Numi, Pieta" floating in the summer night. The sound system must have been ahead of its time. The first indoor opera I remember seeing, also with my parents, was Traviata at the New York City Opera at City Center. My father liked opera and had recordings by Caruso, Poselle, and Titta Ruffo. I listened to them and to the Saturday Met broadcasts, but didn't get to the Met for a long time. Nobody asked, but the most memorable Met performance I attended with was with Sutherland and the young Pavarotti in La Fille du Regiment. But I think even better was the New York City Opera production of Puccini's Trittico in the early 60s, with Sills, Domingo, and the great Norman Treigle. I used to wonder what the best opera would be to introduce someone to the art, Boheme, perhaps, or Carmen. But nobody can possibly predict what will provoke a favorable response. It might even be Siegfried!

At the Paul Taylor performance last night I was seated next to a couple, no longer young, studying their programs prior to the start. I overheard the following dialogue: She: "Newsweek calls him the world's greatest living choreographer." He: "What about Merce Cunningham?" She: "I can't STAND Merce Cunningham." He: "What about Mark Morris? And that woman who does the Broadway shows?" She: (reading again) "The dance world regards him as a living legend." He: "THAT I agree with." Just thought I'd mention it.

At the Paul Taylor performance last night I was seated next to a couple, no longer young, studying their programs prior to the start. I overheard the following dialogue: She: "Newsweek calls him the world's greatest living choreographer." He: "What about Merce Cunningham?" She: "I can't STAND Merce Cunningham." He: "What about Mark Morris? And that woman who does the Broadway shows?" She: (reading again) "The dance world regards him as a living legend." He: "THAT I agree with." Just thought I'd mention it.

The first few times I saw Balanchine's "Episodes" (I never saw the Graham part), I couldn't wait for Webern's fragmentary noises to be over and the more ear-friendly Ricercata to begin. It meant that no more ballerinas would be upturned into antlers, and the dancing would proceed with dignity toward a satisfying conclusion. In later years I grew extremely fond of the entire work. I just wish the Paul Taylor variation would be restored one more time. I was too young to appreciate Jane Austen's "Pride and Prejudice" in school, and had no idea the novel was supposed to be funny. It took a while, but eventually I realized that Austen's works were not genteel Regency romances, but wicked satires. No apology is necessary, IMO, for liking Ted Kivett. He and Eleanor D'Antuono were among the glories of ABT in the 60s and 70s.