katharine kanter

 Carlos Paolillo (dance critic): “Vicente Nebrada throughout his life, always managed to keep aloft the rule that never eluded him, and that he had always striven for, that of an active protagonist. He belonged to the first generation of professional dancers in Venezuela, which emerged in between the 1940s and 50s. He was a founding member of fundamental projects like the Ballet Nena Coronil and the Ballet Nacional de Venezuela. He was a pioneer here, by successfully taking up the challenging of an international artistic career, in the dance world. He led the most ambitious project for Venezuelan ballet, the Ballet Internacional de Caracas, a true paradigm for the history of dance in this country. For almost twenty years, he was artistic director of Ballet del Teatro Teresa Carreño, bringing to that troupe a true rigour, and personality. He was the author of about sixty works, a huge choreographic legacy to the Venezuelan ballet, a Latin American, but universal one. When one speaks of the ballet in Latin America, the name and influence of Vicente Nebrada is fundamental, being one of its leading spokesmen, and having left his stamp on what is known as Latin American neo-classicisim”.

 Belén Lobo (former dancer): “The most significant thing one can say of Vicente Nebrada is that he was a universal Venezuelan choreographer. His work has been performed on all five continents. It's a terrible loss for the dance, as he was a great choreographer, and I do not believe there has been another like him in the neo-classical area. Amongst his major works, there was Géminis in 1970, Percusión para seis hombres in 1969, Nuestros valses... His choreographic heritage is vast, and includes as well, stagings of universal works. By good luck, this heritage, his entire work, remains with the Ballet Nacional de Caracas Teresa Carreño. There is a Vicente Nebrada foundation, that will now have to take charge of perpetuating his work. But this is not only the death of a great choreographer, it is the loss of a friend, a compansion since my adolescence. He began his career in the Escuela Nacional de Ballet de la Nena Coronil. That is where we met, and since that time, between us there has been the bond that Isaac Chocrón calls "an acquired family”.

Me; translated for you the first two paragraphs of one of the articles. Excuse poor style, am in a rush.  Rodríguez (dancer, head of the Ballet Nuevo Mundo de Caracas): “Vicente Nebrada and I worked together on a project that was to be the launch, and the development, of the Venezuelan school of choreography, insofar as neo-classical and contemporary ballet is concerned, including modern dance. That school and style is immortal and will remain forever, amongzst ourselves, and amongst the institutions, teachers, directors, dancers. It is our responsibility to do everything possible to support, defend and ensure that the range, repertory and style of Nebrada, drawing upon the knowledge and experience of Zane Wilson and his closest collaborators, and for whom the Ballet Nuevo Mundo de Caracas and myself personally, express our highest feelings of respect and solidarity.  Isaac Chocrón (writer, playwright): “Since Nebrada returned to our country, invited by María Cristina Anzola and Elías Pérez Borjas to set up the Ballet Internacional de Caracas, he lent his "name and surname" to Venezuelan dance. From the days we were fellow students in the Escuela Experimental Venezuela, he always wanted to dance and create works at the year's end recitals. Year in year out, they asked him to return to dance the character of Guaicaipuro. I believe that that emphasis, oddly enough, was what made him into the leader of ballet in our country”.

The answer to our problem is staring us in the face. Classical ballet does not, at the present, cut the mustard. It is not good enough. This is Atylnai Assylmuratova speaking: "When you watch a video tape of dancers of the old generations, for instance Galina Ulanova, Marina Semyonova, or a bit later Natalia Dudinskaya, you can see a certain coordination of body and arms, a musicality - you might call it ‘singing with the body’ - and above all an emotional depth to the dancing which no longer seem to exist today. The technique was present alright, but it was never there just for the sake of technique. The accent was first and foremost on emotion. However, now it’s all about high legs. I consider that a serious problem. All we seem to think about today is how high the legs can go, but there is hardly any concern anymore about form, plastique, harmony, and about what’s coming from inside, about soul." The problem with a lot of these Artistic Director people, apart, I s'pose, from Monica Mason who really was, and is, a TERRIFIC dancer and mime, is that most were middling sorts of dancers when they danced, and they are now, essentially, businessmen. Neither singly, nor collectively, are they the Oracle of Delphi. If I had my d'ruthers, I'd rather incline to the view of Atylnai. What that boils down to, is that the weight is now on the shoulders of professors, and people who are less involved with PR than Artistic Directors, to get us out of this rut. One goes to the theatre, and one is never, ever moved, not for a moment. And we are people who have been involved in this our entire lives ! How can one expect a casual punter, who pays 50 pound or dollars for a ticket to sit through an ice-cold performance, to go out and fight for an art form that is not delivering the goods ! There are budget cuts in every town, city and State at the present time, all over the world. We may not be able to do without pointe shoes, but the splendid costumes, the "chiffon" as Reid would say, the scenery, the unwieldy staging - if we've got to forget all that, fine, all that's not hard-core. When Bournonville first took over, he was using old curtains to cut the costumes. The heart of the issue, is the quality of the dancing we are putting out. May I be allowed to suggest that everyone take a look at the ballet.co thread on the demise of Frankfurt Ballett ? The discussion is important, in terms of the precise issue being discusssed on this thread.

There can be no creativity without technique, technique, technique. Before Margaret Thatcher and her ilk wrecked the country, there was a thing called repertory theatre in England. That is where people learnt technique. The backbone of technique, is the repertory based on Shakespeare. To play Shakespeare, one needs technique, technique, technique. That is, inter alia, voice projection, diction, metric/rhetoric, dialects, singing, fencing, dancing, blocking. It also means a deep knowledge of the period, and of the ideas behind the plays. The precise opposite of Method Acting. If you can play Shakespeare - as Hans Brenaa would say about Bournonville - you can play anything. By choking off the subsidy to all those "two-bit" repertory houses out in the provinces, the Old Crone choked off the stream that had been supplying theatres all over the English-speaking world with outstanding actors for the past two or so hundred years. The standard of acting in England has collapsed. Go to any playhouse, and compare the standard of the over-sixty actors, with that of the younger, from a sheer technical standpoint. Scary. The level of acting at the Globe Theatre, for example, is risible. Anyone who has a vocation for acting, has now got to pay the rent six months a year by moonlighting for the television. One whispers or mumbles into the microphone, slumps, lurches, poses for close-ups...And one's technique breaks down. Whereas, a repertory theatre based around Sheakespeare is the equivalent of the POB or Vaganova School, for the ballet. The bad news, is that it no longer exists. The good news, is that one does know what the problem is. It can therefore be solved. How much stronger is the theatre, than any film ! Compare the brilliant play by Ronald Hartwood on Furtwaengler, "Taking Sides", which played to a full house every night at Paris for one full year, to the rather flabby film adaptation now being shewn in Europe. This Sunday at Paris, we saw a three-hour adaptation of the "Odyssey", purportedly for children, written by a fellow called Christian Stauff-Graf. The costumes and decors were made of things collected by the rag-and-bone man. The actors were mediocre (the French are always better at SILENT art forms !), but the text itself was excellent. The thing worked, as theatre, in fact, it was terrific, and the house was full of little children, none of whom squealed except at the bits they were supposed to. The theatre du Gymnase where it played, was built in 1820. It is a little Pandora's Box, shredding, collapsing, the velvet fraying, the plaster flaking, the floorboards creaking. Meanwhile, back at the ranch, namely Cannes, quite literally billions of euros were being spent to promote absolute rubbish, films like IRREVERSIBLE. Brain-dead rubbish. The question of film versus the theatre, is a little like the question of why Atylnai Assylmuratova did not leave Russia along with everyone else when she was at the height of her career ten years ago. She would have become a multi-millionnaire, and a household name. Even now, she would be paid perhaps ten or even twenty times her current wage as head of the Vaganova School, were she to teach in the United States or England. Why did she not leave ? Interesting question. Some people are just too committed to principles.

It makes me very angry - I bare my teeth and GRRRRRRRR - when I think about extremely able people, like Irina Zhelonkina, swept into the background by that trampling horde of 1980s tricksters. One has only to compare the careers of Sylvie Guillem, and her compatriot, classmate and contemporary Elisabeth Maurin, the latter being an incomparably finer artist - and technician.

Saturday May 18th - finally managed to get round to see the Stravinsky triple bill on at Garnier. For this writer, it was actually a double bill, because Pina Bausch and I do not mix. That woman is a plague on all opera houses, her choreography is a disgrace, and I refuse to see anyone, let alone some of the world's leading theatrical artists, rolling about starkers in the mud. She's got her own theatre and captive audience, at Wuppertal, in which to exhibit her peculiarly unhealthy self-indulgence, and I think that's more than enough public subsidy for anyone with so paltry a talent. Enough said. On to Dunn. Dear Brigitte Lefevre, PLEASE ! You've got the Rolls Royce of dancers at your beck and call. PLEASE stop turning the POB into an annex of the Bobigny Break Dance studio for delinquent minors. This particular piece of inconsequence was "choreographed" (again, why dignify it with that word ?) in the early 1980s, at the height of Thatcherism I suppose. It was a bad enough era. And cannot we be allowed to forget it ? Some first-class dancing though from Laetitia Pujol, who seemed absolutely liberated, and from a person whom I believe was Simone Valastro (fellow with a shock of very frizzy hair - could someone enlighten me ? ). Also noticed Lise-Marie Jourdain, the tiniest girl in the troupe, who is a very amusing, witty dancer one would like to see more of. Everyone else was wearing a sign, written in Invisible Ink, on the back of their heads: WHY ARE WE HERE ? On to Balanchine, my enemy. Cannot stand the stuff, but I have to say that Aurélie Dupont in Aria Two was, as always, marvellous, not to speak of Stéphane Phavorin who simply flew through the airs. Why he is not cast more is a complete mystery. Mlle. Dupont's turns are so stable, so perfectly centred on axis, that you could set a china cup on her head, and the tea would not spill. She is a great audience favourite, and one can see why: not only is she jaw-droppingly pretty, and the only female principal in the world today who is, shall we say, curvaceous, but her warm, friendly personality manages to make even Balanchine seem remotely human. It is interesting to see the intelligence with which she has developed her musculature and technique. Her full, strong arms are completely supported from powerful flank muscles, they "come up" from the sides, rather than dangling from the shoulder. The small muscles on the inside of the leg are fully developed, the leg is REALLY turned out "from inside and under" so the thrust in beats is effortless. Year by year, month by month, her technique IMPROVES, and the musicality as well. This woman is a worker, and it shows. And, may I add, she does NOT pick up the leg. The comparison with the étoile Mlle. Letestu, who danced Aria One, is always unfortunate and should not, perhaps, be dwelt upon. Suffice it to say that it is no doubt too late in her career for her to develop épaulement, but the upper back has now collapsed, it is both totally rigid, and slumped. The woman needs help, the more so, as she is almost six-foot tall and the attrition on so "centrifugal" a structure is enormous. Such is the bankruptcy of that particular approach to technique, much favoured at the POB school in the 1980s. If we are to judge by such amazing new graduates as Mlle. Ould Braham, the tide would appear to have turned.

To tell the truth, I have not seen Irina Zhelonkina since 1993 in Germany. She must have been about 19 at the time, and was a demi-soloist or soloist then, with an absolutely startling musical intensity. From what you say above, I fear that her dancing may have broken down. The fashion at the Maryinskii Theatre over the last decade, has been for people like Yulia Makhalina or the hypnotic Lopatkina - all variations on a Guillem theme. Severe damage has been done, the more so, as that lot are all principals now. Even the men, starting with Faruk Ruzimatov, and now Tsiskaridze - though he's at the Bolshoi of course - have gone right over to that hyper-lax mush. It's all very regrettable, and I'd like to point out, in that context, to anyone who has not yet read it, the interview with A. Assylmouratova by Marc Haegemann, dated November 2001.

Frightening thought that - Miss Vishneva has been unleashed upon the world as Juliet, or Giselle ? The idea did cross my mind last night that that might already have been the case, and now, Marc, you have confirmed it. Good grief.

Galina Ulanova, who died aged nearly ninety a year or two ago, was undoubtedly one of the greatest theatrical artists of the century. She was a direct pupil of Agrippina Vaganova, and represented that school as Vaganova herself taught it, whether one likes it or not. Personally, I do not, but that cannot blind one to the fact that Russia is a great nation, that Russians think big, and that people of the calibre of Ulanova burst the bonds of whatever system or scheme they may be thrust into. Although photographic techniques for the ballet have improved greatly in recent years, the truth is that Galina Ulanova actually had ideal harmonic proportions. Her only real physical "flaw" was that her neck was noticeably too short; otherwise, her body, and notably her legs, were extremely beautiful. As for her face, though perhaps not pretty, it was a poem, her eyes, a book. Disagree as one might with the purely "stylistic" aspects of her dancing, and as much as one might initially be put off by some of the peculiar choreography she graced, Galina Ulanova was totally committed to classical ballet and very open to other schools. Indeed, she wrote to the Danish professor Hans Brenaa, after having seen the RDB at Moscow, something to the effect: "I have never seen such pas de deux. So clean ! The man and the woman both dance ! We must see more of this ! Can you come here to teach this to us ?" Had Ulanova not existed, and had she not been the noble human being, and great artist, that she was, classical ballet might have been exterminated in Russia, in the wake of the Revolution. Many in the Universal Fascist movement, of which the Bolsheviks, at the time, considered themselves to be an expression - take a look at the fascii imprinted on the original cover page of the First Russian Revolutionary Constitution - had been committed to doing away with classical art, across the board. Ulanova didn't talk about art, she was art.

I've never seen Miss Ould Braham close up, and as for the Bastille, close up means about 17 kilometres away, even if you've got 600-franc tickets. That beng said, since the "Jeune Danseur" programme a couple of years ago, I have sought out every opportunity to catch another distant glimpse and can only endorse your remarks. Her demeanour is modest and reserved, though it seems almost to glow with light. But what is truly outstanding, is her quality of movement - a cloud, floating on the music. Her feather-like jumps are absolutely soundless. Her dancing is also tasteful. To see a girl barely five feet tall, who makes no attempt to dance outwith her own ambitus of articulation, is so unusual these days, that it deserves comment. As I love jumps and beats - and was a mad jumper myself when still young enough to move those twinkle-toes - I must admit to being more interested, as a rule, in the dancing of men. What can one expect, from a Bournonville freak ? But Mlle. Ould Braham has really got my attention focussed. I would not like to say anything discourteous about the equally tiny Miss Cojocaru, as I have not seen her dance. Study of still photographs however, does indicate that her teachers in the Ukraine pushed her extensions to the utmost - I've seen one photo of her attitude devant (in the role of Nikiya) virtually NOSE high ! She appears to be dancing on a truly sublime quality of movement, which means that the moment she begins to move, certain placement and rotation problems that do strike one in photographs, appear to vanish. One can only hope that her delicate frame has not been harmed by this nonsense, as everything one reads about her indicates that she is a person of great musicality and insight.

Yup, the girl is a real shocker. The question is, why did the audience go bezerkers ? Leaving to one side for a moment, her dancing, which is - well - as Marc has just described it - the one thing the Russians have always got on straight, is that this is a PEFORMANCE. There is an audience out there. Miss Vishneva is not dancing for Hugues Gall, Brigitte Lefefvre, the répétiteurs, her instructor, or the person giving class tomorrow morning. She is dancing for the public. She is not worried about mistakes, because she considers, rightly of course, that absolutely no-one except us dried-out old prunes wearing thick specs and flat gum shoes, is going to notice. She rode the thing hell for leather, and certainly put a fire under her fellow dancers whatchumacallit. Even woke Martinez up with a start. Hence, an audience in heaven. Compare that to the ultra-cautious, academic approach we have got used to, in her French counterparts in the same role. Metaphorically, one senses many of the POB girls glancing anxiously out into the rows of professors, wondering what Awful Sanction might fall down upon their head if they flub a step...Everything fastidiously executed down to the last hair-splitting detail. Now if the French could stop worrying about Dread Punishment, and go out there and have a hell of a time DANCING to MUSIC, we would have the best of both worlds. Or should I say, the best of all possible worlds ? Miss Vishneva seems to ride easily on the music. Why ? Well, if she sees that she'll have to blow a step to make it LOOK musical, she'll sacrifice the step, half-finish it, or whatever, and go for the music. A French dancer will SACRIFICE the music, and go for the step. Unless one is lucky enough to be a Phavorin or a Thibault - there you get the step, and the music ! Now, back to the actual contents of what Miss Vishneva was doing. BEURK as the French would say. Doesn't like a position in mid-lift ? Correct it ! Finds the arabesque drooping a little ? Yank it up ! Purpose of arms on human body ? To create ramrod straight lines, you fools ! Incoherency between developpé à la seconde at 180 degrees, devant at 95 degrees and derrière at 120 degrees ? Who cares ? All goes into the same hopper, don't it ? Purpose of épaulement ? To expose one's chin to the world, while folding the upper back into a Japanese paper thinggie. If that is what the Vaganova school is now turning out, I say, thank Heavens Miss Assylmouratova has just taken over. One might have hoped that the delicate Irina Zhelonkina would have been invited to Paris, but I sp'ose she has not yet learnt to turn her leg into a baseball bat. Jose Martinez surpassed himself, seemed even to enjoy dancing (?!). Like his wife Mlle. Letestu, M. Martinez is a strictly épaulement-free zone, and his plié is always a little shallow, but he is nonetheless a formidable and extremely technical dancer who pulled out all the stops last night. Myriam Ould Braham exquisite in the trio. Dancing of E. Thibault as beautiful as always. I found the gypsy scene rather better than last week, with M. Bélingard giving it his all, despite a hideously unflattering costume. A note to costume people: can we not somehow all agree that costumes MUST be changed if their cut or length do not suit the person who has got to wear it ? Mlle. Hurel, who did the Cupid last night, is a slightly stockier woman than the other "inhabitants" of the costume, and the full plateau tutu slumped down and looked just awul on her. As the dancer has got 2000 people staring at him, the least costumers can be expected to do, is to make sure that he doesn't feel tricked out in circus gear. Unlike several critics, I found the Russian set designs, by Beliaev, very fine. Great impression of height and space.

Leigh wrote "Good classical ballet chorography is not an option, therefore what brand of mediocrity bothers you the least? Would you prefer modern dance which runs against the dancer's training or hypertheatrical ballet that ignores its form? Our options for classical ballet are technically advanced productions with no sense of dramatic logic or dramatically sound productions with no sense of classical style." You've hit N'other nail on n'other head Leigh. The question is, how do we get out of this awful rut ? I cannot resist quoting ol' Nureyev himself (interview to the daily Libération in 1986): "we've got to bring Bournonville back to the Schools, with his peculiar step combinations, if we want there to be new work of note". That is a paraphrase, but he actually said something very like that.

I have picked up, more or less by osmosis, that the main reason that POB dancers cling to Nureyev's choreography like a barnacle on a rock, is that everyone, absolutely everyone, who cares about classical dance fears that if this nonsense is scrapped, what comes in will be far, far worse. Although one must respect Brigitte Lefevre's hard work and self-discipline, nevertheless she is, at the end of the day, as she has herself said, a "Pope" of Modern Dance. The repertory is roughly two-thirds cluttered up with Pina Bausch, Blanca Li, and sundry flotsam and jetsam. While the "classical" productions quite evidently do not bear the stamp of an AD who is passionate about this particular area of human endeavour ! Similarly, people have clung to Claude Bessy, fearing that if a woman of that energy were ever allowed to retire, a Gnome at the Culture Ministry would parachute in Mats Ek, or an Ek Clone, as head of the Opera School. Moreover, and assuming one were to cast about Europe for classical choreography worthy of the POB's admittedly high level, one has got to see that the general feeling out and about town has been: LIFAR - nixed, as of dubious allegiance during WWII, ASHTON - nixed, as "too English", "twee" and "insufficiently technical to be exciting" BOURNONVILLE - nixed, both as too "naive" and too technical: would show up technical shortcomings, viz., zero épaulement amongst the ladies. So Pierre Lacotte, poor man, has been rolled in with his truly awful, Russified pastiches of Bournonville. His "Sylphide" has got'em rollin' in the aisles - and not from delight. The only thing going for his "Paquita", were the beautifully simple, but lovely sets and costumes. Otherwise, vacant. Roland Petit and Béjart are buffoons who cannot choreograph for beans. So where does that leave us ? It leaves us with the fact that there are some intelligent people coming up, such as M. Legris, who will, I imagine, shortly retire. It is not pie-in-the-sky to imagine that these people might take over the ballet, and perhaps take decisions about the repertoire agreeable both to the world, and to those dancers who see themselves as truly classical. Anyone who has observed the quite astonishing authority and maturity of a girl like Aurélie Dupont (her dancing ain't my cup of tea, but that's neither here nor there), and her bold outspokeness, cannot but think that here, too, one has got a future AD.

I hadn't in fact meant it as a proper "review", because I felt that Mlle. Pujol and M. Pech had been thrust into the roles a fortnight in advance, their interpretation was not yet "cooked" but had to be served ! My purpose in writing , initially, was the question of coaching, with respect to the music. All I mean to say about Mlle. Fiat, who is manifestly not only a lovely-looking young woman, but simply bursting with every sort of gift, is that she has a slight tendency to say "look at me !". On the May 2nd, Mlle. Fiat had been paired up with Véronique Doisneau as a démoiselle d'honneur. I've got a lot of time for Mlle. Doisneau, who is simply the daintiest little thing on the stage, and quite a good dancer really. She can't be much over five foot tall, and if I'm not mistaken, she's also a good ten years older than Mlle. Fiat. When one is paired up with a tiny fragile doll like Mlle. Doisneau, there has got to be a feeling that "we're in this together", one has almost got to rein in one's exuberance, or Mlle. Doisneau is going to look like a pale wee ornament lost at the outer edge of the Christmas tree. I could not help but notice that same tendency in Mlle. Fiat as one of Swanhilda's friends in "Coppelia". When one is THAT damn good, and Mlle. Fiat IS that damn good, the less one indicates one's own awareness of the fact, the better ! As Hans Brenaa was wont to say: always stay in the picture. Never allow yourself to come out of the picture.

With apologies to Alexandra for posting this review that is also up on ballet.co WHERE WAS BEAUTY, IN ALL THAT ? On May 2nd, lightning struck at the performance of Don Quixote, following which Laetitia Pujol was appointed étoile. I was watching the conductor attempting to follow events on stage, and was just about to pump myself up into my usual "why isn't he watching the stage ?" frenzy, when it happened. I suddenly realised that here was a decent conductor, with a fair amount of experience in this particular mine-field, and he was going nowhere - pedalling through thick sauerkraut, as the French put it. There is no way, absolutely no way, that any conductor, even Wilhelm Furtwaengler, could make the events on the Bastille stage that night, tally with the music. And why ? There are, I think, three reasons. One, the choreography. Two, the way the choreography is now being taught. Three, the fact that the dancers have simply given up on listening to the music. A long way behind, comes rotten conducting. The choreography How Nureyev, who was an able musician himself, and a very musical dancer, ever got round to choreographing the rubbish he did, is a mystery. We would all agree that Nureyev had a lot going for him, but not that ! He was fussy, he was obssessive, he did stuff that no-one in their right mind would ever do to the music –an obstacle course. Anyone who does not come out on the other end maimed or blind, wins, or becomes premier danseur, or whatever. The point about music for dancing, is that any composer who knows what he is doing, always writes in less events per square millimetre – I mean per bar line – than in purely instrumental music. The reason is simple: the bod' simply cannot move as fast as the human voice, or one's fingers on a stringed instrument, for example. Ballet music resembles operatic music, with the dance line replacing the vocal line, except that in terms of musical events, it is still less dense. That is a fact of life, like it or not. The dancers, and the audience, can then concentrate on what they are supposed to be doing, rather than rushing about like madmen unleashed by Pina Bausch. 19th Century ballet music is, as a rule, cleverly written with all that in mind. Even Minkus can be listened to, without being sick, provided the choreographer has left his little ego in the cloakroom. In fact, even a Minkus ballet can look like a work of art, if the dancers are tippie-top, and Other Things are not allowed to get in their way. Is that asking too much ? Ask a silly question, get a sillier answer ! Nureyev, to name only one pathological case, wanted every member of the the audience to know what an absolute genius he was. So he took Petipa's steps – and I'm not the first to have remarked that Petipa was perhaps not the world's greatest mind – and twiddled and piddled about with them. The result: chaos. Two, the way the choreography is now being taught As Mlle. Pujol came out, shaking with nerves – she had to take on the role of Kitri a fortnight in advance owing to an injury to Mlle. Osta – and somehow survived that bone-breaking first variation, something else struck me. What was terribly, awfully wrong, was not Mlle. Pujol, who, after all, was doing what her teacher had told her to do, but the chain-reaction of rotten choreography, the instructor working with a rehearsal pianist, then transferring the whole thing to a full orchestra, and sending the girl out with a muddled concept. Over the past thirty years, Kitri's dances in Don Q have undergone the same shift that has often been discussed on this Website: bigger, louder, faster, more extreme. Maia Plitseskaya has a lot to answer for, as it was she who started the trend towards Dancing to Impress. Those dances were probably, originally, meant to be light, lilting, graceful, with gypsy buzz round the edges, but, withal, PERFECTLY in synch with the music. Instead, what do we see ? A tiny little woman, Mlle. Pujol, about five foot three, dancing the steps in a way suited to a six and a half foot giant – everything big, everything exaggerated, everything for effect on the cavernous Bastille stage. Net result: a conductor tearing his hair out, reining in the orchestra as though manoeuvring a teetering diligence. One half expected to hear him bellow WHOA BOYS!!!!!!! Now, could Mlle. Pujol have known this ? No. Could her experienced, much older instructors, who had led the piano rehearsals, not have known - that a tiny woman must always dance WITHIN her own size, within her own ambitus of articulation, or she is going to be way off the music, - that the rehearsal pianist is going to be far more flexible, one foot away from the girl, than a one-hundred man orchestra buried in the pit, and the pianist is going to cheat like mad to make HIS playing fit the variations, rather than the other way round, - that none of the above is going to work, once you get out on stage with a hulking great orchestra, - and, that Kitri's variations cannot be danced that way, if we are to remain within the area of classical ballet ? In ballet, there is a world of a difference between bravura dancing, tremendous brio, virtuosity, that you have got to be able to turn on and off like a spigot, as needed, and dancing for EFFECT. The latter, is circus. To get the jetés as huge as possible, here we had Mlle. Pujol rushing for them with arms flailing as though we were heading for a rugby scrum. No, no, and no ! Her instructor must have seen it, he undoubtedly did see it, and let her get away with it. That is slipshod teaching indeed, because, with this particular Kitri, we have got a first-rate technician, who does not need to pull on rugby shorts and spiked shoes to succeed. Three, the fact that the dancers have simply given up on listening to the music Most of them have. They feel that the music is completely out of their control. With this sort of choreography, they are simply trying to start, or finish, their steps on time. Rotten conducting There is, of course, rotten conducting. But what is a conductor to do, when he's got a choreographer, an instructor, an orchestra – bored out of its collective skull – and half the dancers acting as though the music were just there to provide counts ? The net result of this sort of experience, is that Beauty did not make it to the appointment. Beauty, moreover, appears to have a marked aversion to dancers - unless they be in character roles - wearing wigs or hats, especially mock-torero hats. As an aside, one cannot help but be a little concerned by Mr. Paquette's peculiar lack of affinity, in the role of Espada, with props and accoutrements of any kind, be they capes, shawls, swords or bits of stage furniture. And, if I may be allowed to make one small remark, in relation to Mlle. Fiat: unjustly, in the eyes of many, the beautiful redhead was passed over, in the 2002 Concours, for promotion to première danseuse. Although Mlle. Fiat has the face and figure of a dainty porcelain doll, she is a very strong dancer, indeed so strong, that most of the ladies simply fade away alongside her. Her beats are a full foot off the ground, her feather-light jetés the height of a man, without a shadow of apparent effort. No matter how irritated one might be at being "stuck" for another year in demi-soloist roles, care has got to be taken not to "disrupt the picture", not to give the impression, albeit unconsciously, that one is elbowing the weak out of one's way, because, at the end of the day, art suffers. As in all things, there were exceptions. Myriam Ould Braham and Emmanuel Thibault (ninety-seventh from the left in the seventeenth row, as usual), had strapped Hermes' wings to their sandals and somehow lent a few instants of Dancing with a capital D. Despite a fall, that I would tend to attribute to perplexity generated by the fiddly hand movements Nureyev has given to Cupid, Mlle. Ould Brahm was a positive enchantment.

Putting aside my own marked personal prejudice against tall dancers, to be fair I must say that Silja Schandorff has never got the exposure her excellent dancing would otherwise have deserved. To me, an excellent dancer is someone who has never stopped improving, and that is most definitely the case here. She has not wilted, but grown. As an eighteen-year old, she was so beautiful that panic would break out in the house as soon as she stepped out on stage. She could have relied upon her lovely face, but rather chose to work. As a tall, strongly-built woman, with a solid technique, she nevertheless eschwed the athletic and sensationalist, and took a more difficult path. She has become a sensitive and very touching dancer, one who can even convince in Bournonville, a thing I never would have said ten years ago. Her intelligence is keen, and her musicality quite exceptional - she can "dialogue" with the conductor, playing with the music without ever distorting it, riding gracefully on its wave. At Paris three or four years ago, in front of a cool, even hostile audience, Miss Schandorff, equally cool in her determination, was the only dancer, apart from Thomas Lund, who brought the house down with her variation in "Napoli".

What a relief to hear that about the ballet - but poor opera singers, who are going to have to deal with some monstrous great thing like Bastille.

A spunky, fair-haired little spitfire, Laetitia Pujol was appointed étoile last night, following the performance of "Don Quixote". Mlle Pujol took on the role for the first time last night a fortnight in advance, owing to an injury to Mlle. Osta. My personal belief is that this is a well-deserved appointment. Mlle. Pujol is about 26, and it is no indiscretion on my part, as she has already told this to the press, to say that she is the daughter of a Toulouse taxi driver, who had to work like a madman to put his child through dancing school. There is something chin-up, something indomitable about her, which may perhaps come from that. She is already one of the most outstanding technicians, among the ladies, that the Opera has seen in decades, tossing off double and triple fouettés "invisibly" - that is, without a seam shewing, on her steely little legs. Her Gamzatti, in January, was very remarkable, given her small stature, and her own personality, as unlike that of the femme fatale as one could imagine. The little hitches and flaws in her interpretation of Kitri last night, can, I believe be attributed a/ to the truly appalling, unmusical choreography - when, oh when, will these Nureyev pieces be scrapped ? b/ to sloppy instruction on her variations. I would rather return to this on another thread. Mlle Pujol is a meat-and-potatoes dancer. She is not an especially pretty woman, she cannot trick the audience into googgle-eyed submission by gorgeous legs, sex appeal, or charm. The quality, the hard work, the dedication, the "no cheating", they are all there, and force one's respect. She is not extraordinarily musical, but then, at the Opera, with two or three notable exceptions, who is ? She may develop it, as an étoile has more time to mull things over. I think it is a good appointment, a mark of respect to a woman with guts and very high standards. Allow me to raise my hat and cheer !

In response to Terry's post as well: Matthieu Ganio is a tall, thin gangling lad, with the energy, brio, ballon and clean batterie that one would expect from someone ten centimetres shorter. He also has terrific presence and authority, for such a young fellow - reminds me somewhat of Flemming Ryberg when he ws a youth. Matthieu Ganio is the son of Denis Ganio, professor, and Dominque Khalfouni, a former étoile. Huge potential. But only time will tell. Don't know who Gaida et al. will be replacing. On the Vaganova front, the major news is of course that Atylnai Assylmouratova took over last October. Alexandra posted up here on Links, an interview with her by Marc Haegemann, where, inter alia, she casts aspersion upon the leg-thwackers. More power to her, I say ! There may be major improvements at the Vaganova School shortly. On Ballet.co, there was a Thread recently on the Royal Ballet School. I'd invite people to read it, and then compare with what graduates of the PO School say about the atmosphere there. Night and day. The étoile Aurelie Dupont, incidentally, has on several occasions, and in public, been scathing about the PO School. Other children have been interviewed saying things like: "we can't have friends here, only school mates, because we've got to learn to compete!" I think that Aurélie Dupont, speaking from a privileged position where she has no grounds to be bitter or jealous , could probably be described as a rather reliable source. That is where the "personality" problem that Terry refers to, comes from. Discipline and technique, is one thing. Drumming the stuffing out of people, is quite another. The problem is acute with the ladies, because girls, unfortunately, always tend to be so depressingly obedient.

Anna Pavlova was trained at the Maryinski school by Christian Johansson, a direct pupil of Auguste Bournonville, and then by the great Italian professor Enrico Cecchetti, with whom she continued to take lessons for the rest of her life. She was a schoolmate of great technicians like Olga Preobajenskaya, and Olga Spessivtseva. It is currently the fashion to say that Pavlova was not technical. Although she is said to have been of a delicate constitution, and to have had a somewhat impure turnout, which affected her batterie, coming from that sort of schooling, I cannot see how she could ever have been "untechnical". I think you are probably right that in many respects, she was MORE, not less, technical than Fonteyn. She was certainly unique in her ability to create what Bournonville calls "plastique", i.e., were you able to freeze a movement in mid-air, it should look like a drawing by Raphael or Leonardo. That is the highest level of psycho-physical coordination, Pavolova had it, and few others do. I believe that she surpassed most dancers, also, in her deep love, that made her able to inspire countless others to dance. Hundreds, perhaps thousands - including Ashton - decided to enter the ballet as a profession because of her. Everywhere she went, schools and conservatories sprang up - and she actively encouraged Governments to subsidise them. The film footage available is of appalling quality, and gives no idea whatsoever of how she danced. You might want to read the book by her husband, Baron Victor Dandré, which gives an insight into her mind, and her many activities. Fonteyn was of a more reserved temperament - she acknowledges this herself, in speaking of her great admiration for Galina Ulanova - and therefore, perhaps, did not affect her audiences quite as deeply. Again, my own view is that in many respects, Fonetyn's technique was SUPERIOR to what we have got on stage today, despite the fact that she never attempted to pick up the leg ! Also, one should not confuse a pretty foot, with a well-trained foot. An artist's foot is made, not born. Fonteyn's feet were not pretty, compared with, say, Alessandra Ferri - although I've never liked that banana look myself - nor were they especially strong, but she got round the problem by admirable placement, alignment and musical intelligence (a perfect sense of timing can often get one in at the goal post, where one lacks in strength!). This enabled her to do things that constitutionally, she might otherwise have stumbled over.

We are now heading into a new era with Mlles. Platel, Arbo, Gaida and Maurin in the school, so any remarks that I've made elsewhere on the Board - and that I shall not be imprudent enough to repeat here today - will, I hope, soon become otiose. I will not repeat them, but as Galileo would say - "eppur si muove".

Yes, mind-boggling virtuosity. The men's variations, notably the so-called "Dark Variation", at the end of Le Conservatoire, are considered to be something very near the limit of what the human mind can order the little ol' bod to do. What we call virtuosity today, is jumping high and loud, and picking up the leg. What Gaetano Vestris called virtuosity, is of quite a different order. If you can beg, borrow or steal the set of six films broadcast in 1967, made by the Royal Ballet at Copenhagen, that contain significant extracts from the Bournonville Schools, you will get an idea of what "mind-boggling" virtuosity is. There are copies of those films circulating here and there on cassette. If you put out a search call for them, you may be lucky !

"Amor and the Ballet Master's Whims", or something like that, I believe. It is a piece by Galeotti, dating from the 1780s, and has been continuously performed since that date by the Royal Ballet in Denmark. That is what makes the difference: we no longer have the steps, unfortunately, of La Fille Mal Gardée. Although the current production at the Royal Theatre in Copenhagen may not be IDENTICAL in all respects to Galeotti's, it probably comes pretty close, as it has never been out of repertoire. It is a pretty thing, and well worth seeing. The production now on the boards has been staged by Flemming Ryberg, one of the last artists who actually knows something about the period. Another piece which gives you a precise idea of what was danced 180 years ago, is Bournonville's "Le Conservatoire". It is his recollection of the class he took with Gaetano Vestris, Professor at the Paris Opera School in 1820. The steps, 90% of which are no longer danced today, because they are so goddam tricky, are of mind-boggling virtuosity. It is unbelievably beautiful, and, IMO, the quintessence of the classical ballet.

I meant Vincent Chaillet as Colas !