Jack Reed

On Friday I attended the MCB premieres of two Balanchine ballets, "Ballo della Regina", staged by its original ballerina, Merrill Ashley, and "Stravinsky Violin Concerto", staged by Bart Cook. As soon as the curtain went up on "Ballo", the audience clapped enthusiastically, and justifiably, for the beautiful sight: The four solo girls in lavender and the twelve corps girls in aqua-marine were all in lovely poses, and the sensuously luminous mother-of-pearl backdrop and golden lighting of the original production were all well reproduced before us. Not to mention the rising opening chords of Verdi's happy music. Catoya performed this reputedly taxing role with an even smoothness, but I wanted something more, some modulation. Then I reflected that this was her debut in "Ballo", and for her to raise this role to this level right off the bat was cause more for cheering than for grumbling. And by Sunday afternoon, what I wanted was starting to happen. And she still danced "as though effort were not involved," said one of my guests, a former singer and dancer with professional experience. (Catoya's partner was Mikhail Ilyin, whose dancing was also effortless; neat, clear, polished, superb.) Saturday evening saw Katia Carranza in the role, also an inflected performance, if not equally strong. So what had happened? I don't want to take away from what dancers can do on their own, but Merrill Ashley and Bart Cook, who had been in the studio during the week to stage "Ballo" and "Stravinsky Violin Concerto", turned up Saturday evening to give the pre-performance talk in Edward Villella's absence (he went to the Ann Arbor symposium on Balanchine), so Ashley may have worked with the dancers some more on Saturday. My guest was enthusiastic. After explaining that she saw several groups of Russian dancers on tour in her upstate New York town, she said, "We expect good ballet from Russia, but not from Miami! The Russians are technicians, but this is beautiful!" This kind of thing happens over and over in my experience: I introduce people to good performances of Balanchine, and they're amazed and delighted. While they are not a representative sample of the general population, I still get the feeling there would be much benefit on both sides if only more people knew what was going on here! "Stravinsky Violin Concerto" was led by Deanna Seay and Kenta Shimizu as the Aria I couple and Jennifer Kronenberg and Carlos Guerra in Aria II. The tights-and-leotard costuming of this ballet makes it obvious that Seay doesn't have the stereotypical long-legged Balanchine dancer's body; with shorter legs and longer torso, she's, well, more like Karin von Aroldingen, long one of Balanchine's principals, actually, and the originator of this role. So much for that stereotype. And Seay dances it her own way, clearly and subtly articulated, not slurred, within the flow. She makes it all work. No, better: She makes it all live. And her partner, Kenta Shimizu, was excellent, large and clear, just right for the role. Kronenberg was at least as effective as Kay Mazzo, her role's originator, had been, as far as I was concerned, and her fine partner seemed touched at the end of Aria II by what had happened in that movement. What does happen? At the end, he stands behind her and extends an arm over her shoulder with palm open, as though to show her the world, to which they bow as one; then he brings that hand over her eyes and bends her backward, as though to blind her? So some suggest. In his pre-performance remarks, Villella suggested he blinds her to his anguish; Iliana Lopez, who danced an effectively nuanced performance with Yann Trividic Saturday and Sunday, ventured Sunday that "he covers my eyes not to see the cruelty of the world." My own view is that it's more important to notice things like this and to be struck by them and to wonder a little than it is to get a definite answer, which may not actually be provable. Hints expand in our minds. Less is more. "Stars and Stripes" Saturday evening was most memorable for Catoya's Fourth Campaign. Watching her strut downstage toward us, swinging her shoulders and grinning, I wondered who was having more fun, her doing it or me watching? Friday and Sunday, with Catoya in "Ballo", Katia Carranza took over, with Luis Serrano; she gave it an excellent, peppy performance, but it was not the grand fun Catoya had with it.

The worst night I've spent in a very long time I spent a few years ago in a high rise hotel overlooking a highway where heavy truck traffic by day gave way to motorcycles overnight, so I've been wary ever since about tall hotels within sight of a busy road. All the same, I'll check out the Fontainbleau, Holiday Inn, Palms, Roney, and Townhouse, all on busy Collins Avenue, in due course, though. Thanks, Karen, PK, and Vicarmac for your suggestions. Meanwhile, in Miami Beach, I stayed in the Crest, on James Avenue, which is about two blocks east of the Jackie Gleason Theatre, between Washington and Collins. I think it's attractive and reasonable, and the front-desk clerks seem pretty candid about which locations in the two adjacent buildings are quiet. The rooms actually look like what you can see on their website, at http://www.cresthotel.com. (The same people run the South Beach, just east of the Abbey, on 21st Street, also attractive and reasonable, but the suites there are exposed to squealing tires from the parking garage immediately south.) As for Naples, thanks, leibling, for your suggestion, but it turned out to be pricey and, well, awesome, to my taste, at over 100 acres! And mostly, the buildings are midrise. But you're right, they do have kitchenettes. The time being short, I decided to forgo the kitchenette, and I wound up four miles north of the Naples Philharmonic Center in the Vanderbilt Inn, a two-story hotel surrounded by Gulf beach, state park, high-rise condos on a large site, and a lightly-traveled street. There's tolerable food on the premises, but I want to recommend nearby Randy's Fishmarket Restaurant at 10395 US 41 N. for good food and nice folks.

Thank you both. (With that kind of encouragement, I may yet write about Program II.) And, speaking of others, do check out nysusan's account of Program III ("Giselle") if you haven't already. I got a lot out of it myself.

I'm glad to read of your enjoyment of the weekend, nysusan. What you say about Seay might be your response to what strikes me as some deliberateness. We're all different, and so, we respond differently to the same things, but one of the things that pleases me about talking with people and reading their posts, etc., is that I can usually recognise what I saw in what they say and get a little different slant on it and get more out of it than I would on my own. That's one of the great things about these forums! Seeing them in Ft. Lauderdale may have some advantages, BTW: They perform four times over the weekend, instead of three times, as in Miami Beach, and maybe their Ft. Lauderdale performances show the benefit of their experience in Miami, where everything premieres. I've yet to travel north with them, so this is mostly just a theory, although my overall experience does include seeing performances come into better focus after the first few. Maybe yours does too. Just a thought. Extending this thinking, West Palm Beach would be an even better place: Five performances, and more experience. Hmm...

Thanks for your take on MCB's "Giselle", nysusan, I got a lot out of reading your post! It brought it back again for more enjoyment. I'll take your word for it about Seay's tempos. Subjectively, I hadn't realized. Maybe I was absorbed by what she was doing in that extra time. I won't dispute what you say about Catoya. If I had to choose - I'd like to be able to choose among videos of the three performances I saw, how's that for a fantasy? But I might well choose Catoya's. But I don't have to choose, and as it happens, I was glad to see three such different ones, after thinking, when I ordered the tickets, This isn't Balanchine, am I going to get bored? But there are reasons "Giselle" has survived.

Actually, my notes for March 5 have him mentioning "Other Dances" as well. Of course, it's a long time yet, and the schedule has changed in the past, so I have taken the liberty of starting another topic for next season's repertory.

As far as I know, Villella speaks to the audience before every performance MCB produces in south Florida, in other words, in Miami Beach, Ft. Lauderdale, and West Palm Beach; but they are hired into Naples by the Naples Philharmonic Society. It would be a little sad to think they don't want him. Do you mean he used to speak there, too? Last fall, he was unavailable for a performance in Miami Beach because he was participating in a symposium on Balanchine in Ann Arbor, Michigan, and he was subbed for by - wait for it - Bart Cook and Merrill Ashley, who were in town to stage "Stravinsky Violin Concerto" and "Ballo della Regina". (One of the reasons we go repeatedly is that we never know for sure what's going to happen, right?)

I forgot to mention that a revival of MCB's "Coppelia," not the Balanchine one, is also on the agenda.

In some of his pre-performance remarks for Program IV, Edward Villella revealed some of his ideas about next season: Three Balanchine ballets, "La Sonnambula," "La Valse," and "Ballet Imperial" (he didn't say anything about the differences between this and "Concerto No. 2," the revised version); three Robbins ballets, "Aftrnoon of a Faun," "Fancy Free," and "Other Dances"; Paul Taylor's "Piazzola Caldera"; and a new ballet by Trey McIntyre. And there is reason to expect the whole season will have an orchestra in the pit.

Friday night, the first movement of "Symphony in C" with Deanna Seay and Mikhail Ilyin's clarity of nuance was a complete and satisfying little ballet in itself, while Jennifer Kronenberg's second movement, with Carlos Guerra's able partnering, seemed to me a little - inconsistent: Phrase ends sometimes looked snapped, arm movements sometimes looked whipped, for a little over-emphasis. But it was always clearly, neatly shown - I've seen much less "pure" second movements, and crystalline purity is what it needs. I always look forward to Kronenberg's dancing, but maybe this has come more from my experience of her in "leotard" ballets. This was her debut in the role, and the company's premiere, and I regretted that I would probably not see her do it again during my stay. But the Catoya phenom led the third movement, and she was so perfect for it, with her quick, light energy, that I quickly forgot my quibbles about Kronenberg. Catoya's excellent partner was Renato Penteado, about a perfect match, whose solo got a deserved hand. (Not that there's an instant for him to "take" applause or even to look at us; he goes immediately toward the back to partner her down the diagonal.) And Katia Carranza and Luis Serrano led the fourth movement so ably I only wished there were a little more of it. Saturday evening, Catoya and Penteado delicately energized the first movement, with luminous effect; Seay showed a fully realized, burnished performance of the second movement with Yann Trividic who looked, so help me, absent-minded, although I think he managed to be an adequate partner except in a couple of her turns. Still, it was a rich experience. Katia Carranza led a very satisfying third movement, with Ilyin, which suffered from following Catoya's by only a day; and Joan Latham, ranked with the soloists and corps in the full company list, led a fine fourth movement with Didier Bramaz. And Sunday, I got my wish, and saw Kronenberg's second movement again, and liked it better still. Part of this is that, while she doesn't seem to be unusually tall when she stands with the others, she is one of those who seems to grow when she moves, and even to affect the air around her, and so to have larger effect, and part of it was that familiarity helped me past what I had reservations about. Catoya did not dance all afternoon; Tricia Albertson, also ranked with the soloists and corps, was cast in the third movement, with Penteado, and "merely" showed why this movement belongs in this great ballet. Clotilde Otranto, conducting a group called the Florida Classical Orchestra according to the cast list if not the Miami Herald, had the score's inner voices singing out and generally imbued it with life. After intermission, Twyla Tharp's "Nine Sinatra Songs", which is already playful in the title, since there are eight songs used, "My Way" coming both fourth and ninth, if in different arrangements. I've had occasion to notice that, in contrast to some operatic tenors, who sweat to impress with voice power, Sinatra pleases with his evident love of just this song now, which he is delighted to sing for us, and the few buzzy notes, which could have been edited out, only add to the directness and authenticity of his performances. And I liked Oscar de la Renta's costumes, especially the dark-blue dress, with sequins or something above the waist and on the sash, which suited Deanna Seay so well, and the red one with winding ruffles on Charlene Cohen. Why am I talking about these aspects, and not the dancing? Okay, I'm procrastinating. The quality of it rose and fell, and never was it sufficiently reckless to look dangerous. (The famous ending to "That's Life" was demonstrated; no uproar.) A number of gaggy bits came off, but I thought Sinatra and de la Renta were the unusually prominent entertainers here. Villella frequently supplements or complements the Balanchine repertory that mainly draws me with tasteful choices from other choreographers. There's been Taylor (and there'll be more), then "Giselle", now Tharp, and next year, Robbins (this is another topic), and I like the idea and the choices, except that the performances may be a lot less effective than those of the companies the choreographers worked with. But his audience wouldn't be introduced to much of this otherwise, and some of them may like some change from the symphonic repertory too, so, who cares? Then "Diamonds," to conclude. All three performances were led by Ileana Lopez and Franklin Gamero, and they were in series with the masterful ones I saw in Naples. When they meet on the diagonal in the pas de deux, each is looking away from the other, but their raised hands join as surely as though they belonged to the same person; then they meet on the other diagonal, and it happens again. But it was not the same perfected performance all the time. Sometimes Lopez took a balance longer than at other times, sometimes she turned her head grandly at the end of the pas de deux in such a way as to acknowledge Gamero's kiss on her hand, sometimes suddenly as to express surprise, and other such fine detail changes, which showed these were not routine but fresh performances. One who had seen five in a week's time could only feel not bored but fortunate. In the Saturday evening and Sunday afternoon ones, Carlos Guerra substituted for Gamero in the second Scherzo (only), giving larger and more energetic performances than Gamero had but ones with somewhat less finesse. The two large-cast ballets were danced with corps of such vibrancy, it almost had me thinking these are corps ballets, but of course they are "everybody" ballets. What a corps, though! What a company! Wait a minute, the names of the corps dancers in the program don't match up exactly with those in the cast sheets: In "Symphony in C," there were six strangers out of fifteen, and in "Diamonds", nine out of twenty-four. I was told that by the end of the season, minor injuries had thinned the ranks of the corps and that they had been replaced by students from the company's school. They all danced together with just those small differences of form and timing - no waves going up and down the lines - that make us aware they are living individuals, not elements in an optical effect or a computer simulation. No cadets! Dancers! Otranto is right to have the winds sing forth in the Tchaikovsky, though maybe not to the point of bassoon obligato early in the first movement; but overall, it's great to have an orchestra here again. And then at the end, there were the curtain calls. As Lopez walked alone along the flower-strewn apron to thank the fans who had crowded to the front of the house, she began to lose her composure, but coming out yet again with her husband and partner Gamero at her side this time, she looked reassured and restored.

St. Petersburgh? But Balanchine was an American! I'm thinking of Taper's discussion in his biography of where to bury Balanchine's remains: "Stravinsky had been buried in Venice. So had Diaghilev. Some thought that was where Balanchine's body belonged. But he disliked Venice. Others thought of Monte Carlo, of which Balanchine had fond memories, or of Paris, or London, or Zurich. But no place in Europe contained the proper soil to hold the remains of the greatest master of movement in history. If his remains belonged anywhere, it was in the United States. He was, as he often proudly declared, with that aristocratic lift of his head and in that low, courteous, decisive voice that never lost its Russian accent, an American."

I suppose I'm the odd man out or something to bring this up here, but isn't the man himself on record as thinking that "Americans make too much of death"? I know that whenever I see his and Kirstein's heads in bronze or something on opposite sides of a doorway over at SAB, it gives me the creeps. I guess that's about my sense of loss at NYCB and all that, but Jane Simpson's quote comes closest to what I think is the most appropriate way to remember (or, better, to honor) artists - maintain their art. (I don't say "preserve"; the aroma of formaldehyde puts me off.) Wren built; Balanchine choreographed. Sorry if I'm raining on the parade...

(from Miami Beach, Florida) Program IV consists of company premiers of Balanchine's "Symphony in C" and of Twyla Tharp's "Nine Sinatra Songs" and a repeat of Balanchine's "Diamonds" from "Jewels". The first and last ballets, big-cast, white-costume, 19th-Century style ballets, are being performed with the Florida Classical Orchestra, conducted by Clotilde Otranto. Before the performance, Edward Villella gave us a collage of what he got from Twyla Tharp the day before - she had come down from New York Wednesday for the last two days of rehearsals, conducted by Elaine Kudo - in response to his question, What do you want me to say about your ballet, if anything? Here's my version: It's about love, American love, people who don't know each other very well, people who do know each other very well, uncertainty, awareness, accumulation results in a fiftieth anniversary dance, the duets are dialogue,we feel the vocalist's breathing and phrasing, almost incestuous intimacy, innocence and seduction, splitting and coming back, leaving to find, "My Way" younger first time, comfort, stability, committment and trust, the exhibition couple, about competition, immediacy, about not minding a good fight, a faux fight, give as well as you take, "My Way" not egocentric, looking at one's entire life, same circumstances in every period, in every relationship, it's not a period piece, beyond. Got that, everybody? You do? You're smarter than I am... I hope to post more later. Meanwhile, anyone else who was there, feel free to join in, as always.

(from Miami Beach, Florida) Indeed she has, bingham. Haiyan Wu, as she is listed, alternated for Catoya in "Sylvia pas de deux" Wednesday evening, and was most impressive in this virtuoso show piece in a cool, somewhat disinterested (but by no means uncaring) way, though, in contrast to Catoya, who is rather warmer, even eager. And she danced the first number, "Softly", in the company premiere of "Nine Sinatra Songs" last night, but that's another topic. (The rest of Wednesday's cast was the same as Tuesday's.)

(from Naples, Florida) MCB is calling this program "Diamonds" to highlight the fact that Ileana Lopez and Franklin Gamero are giving their farewell performances in this Balanchine ballet, and it reminded me that I didn't understand at first why Balanchine made it to conclude "Jewels": There was symphonic Tchaikovsky, white costumes, a large cast, but it always seemed anticlimactic after "Rubies". There are those here on this board who argue, with some truth, that "Diamonds" is not such a strong ballet. I think it depends a lot on who's in it. I was seeing "Rubies" with Patricia McBride and Edward Villella, and then "Diamonds" with Kay Mazzo, and it had never seemed like the grand finale it was suposed to be. (Mazzo was superb in a numbe of other roles.) Then Suzanne Farrell returned to Balanchine's company. "Diamonds" was the first ballet I saw Farrell dance in, and she showed me how very grand "Diamonds" could be. And last night, Lopez and Gamero showed us what a grand ballet "Diamonds" is, almost as seamlessly as they had danced "Giselle" on the weekend (there appeared to be a little cut in the last movement), if not quite on the level of Farrell and d'Amboise or Martins. But the grandness was there, right through. The program opened with a splendid performance of "Symphony in Three Movements" led by Jennifer Kronenberg and Renato Penteado; the solo couples were Mary Carmen Catoya and Jeremy Cox, and Andrea Spiridonakos and Yann Trividic. This "747 of a ballet", as Croce called it, is one of my top favorites, and I enjoyed this performance straight through. After intermission, Deanna Seay, with Carlos Guerra, showed us "Allegro Brilliante" with everything spun out and beautifully finished, just as Tchaikovsky deserves. And after a pause, Catoya and Mikhail Ilyin showed "Sylvia Pas de Deux", one of the spectacular showoff pieces people sometimes forget Balanchine knew well how to do. Catoya made the impossible look easy and beautiful, skimming the stage, holding balances with time-stopping security, and making the unlikely seem natural enough. I had a sense of great reserves of technique behind her dancing, but something else more important, the intelligence not just to show herself off, but instead to show off her dance. This way she gives us yet more. And Ilyin did his share of gravity-defying feats in smooth, stage-covering flow.

(From Naples, Florida) Thanks, Justdoit. I wish I had been there Saturday afternoon. To update the old saying, "Plan ahead (but not too far ahead)." Saturday evening: As soon as Mary Carmen Catoya came out and danced her first circle at the beginning of Act I, we knew her Giselle was going to be very different from Deanna Seay's: The circle alternates traveling and jumping, and Seay had made them distinct from each other; while Catoya, letting them flow into and out of one another, just skimmed the stage, as though it were not necessary for support but merely a point of reference, just something she touched now and then at her own whim, and as though gravity were merely something she could acknowledge or disregard at will, too. And this phenomenal quality of dancing would continue through the evening with a delicacy that showed us a girl who lived to dance yet whose nature was delicate and fragile. Early in the mad scene, Seay had gone upstage and stood with her arms around her head, palms outward, just as Berthe had done when she told the story of the Wilis, giving the drama a "Greek" resonance: What was foretold dreadfully, would now happen horribly. But Catoya's scene, while intense, proceded along more conventional lines - she stood upstage and held her head - so that Catoya's tragedy was not so heavy, not so dark, but finally, as this fragile, aerial creature lay broken and lifeless on the ground, as moving in its own way, as a descent from such amazing lightness. In Act II, some of Catoya's tempos seemed very slow, for example, the violin solo when she danced around Albrecht, who is on one knee, but here as everywhere, she danced with complete security. And the slow tempos were only possible because MCB performed this program to music played by the Florida Classical Orchestra, ably conducted by Clotilde Otranto, who generally enlivened the score, and not to recorded music as in many recent programs. (Program IV will also be performed with an orchestra, we're told.) Catoya's partner was the superb Mikhail Ilyin, who focused the role of Albrecht a little better than Carlos Guerra had, and Bruce Thornton's Hilarion was a continuous, cumulative portrayal, at times even sinister. Andrea Spiridonakos repeated her performance as Myrtha, never going dead; even if she's not moving, she has presence without upstaging anyone. In the Peasant pas de deux, Tricia Albertson gave a large, clear performance although without equalling Catoya's, with Renato Penteado again, who seemed even better this time. I was told MCB has three more casts for this ballet. When Villella said he waited until he had the resources to present Giselle, he refered to the costs of production but also to dancers. He certainly has the dancers now.

Sunday Matinee: If we remember that this is their last season, what we learn early in Act I from Iliana Lopez and Franklin Gamero as Giselle and Albrecht is that it takes years of experience to show us the exuberance of youth; if we don't remember, we watch their flirtatious circling the stage and counting the flower petals, and so on, and we think, Oh to be young again! They continue through the act to bring their characters vividly to life, Gamero bringing an unaffected royal elegance to his gestures I hadn't seen earlier this weekend, and Lopez bringing her continuously convincing portrayal to its plot climax in the mad scene with some effective novel details, for example by executing some sequences as though she were crippled, making her crippled state of mind all the more pitiable. Carlos Guerra, as Hilarion, was even more convincing than Bruce Thornton last night, and either Nancy Raffa's Berthe was more clear, especially where she tells the Wilis legend, than previously, or, in a better seat, I tuned into it better. And in the Peasant pas de deux, Katia Carranza was more than equal to the role's demands, dancing with bouyant charm and complemented by Mikhail Ilyin's sharp and clear variations, but she had the disadvantage, for me, of performing the role only a couple of days after Catoya did. Callie Manning, as Myrtha, exerted her authority over Act II more gradually than Andrea Spiridonakos had, but aside from that, her dancing was also a pleasure to watch. And Lopez and Gamero continued their realisations of their roles through showing the subtle truths you see in photographic portraits, with details lit and shaded the better to be seen, and nothing blank, smeared, or retouched. The previous two performances had their Albrechts on their knees, sobbing into their bouquets of lillies, at the final curtain, and I thought this all too human for the scale of the tragedy; I wanted something more. This afternoon, after just a bit of this, Gamero let his lillies cascade down his chest as he raised his face and his arms to the heavens in supplication, and I felt satisfied that the drama had ended on the appropriate scale.

(from Ft. Lauderdale) Friday evening at the Broward Center for Performing Arts: I've sometimes seen in Deanna Seay's dancing more deliberateness and carefulness than I think is best in Balanchine, but as Giselle these qualities lead us right into her characterisation of a girl with a delicate constitution - in contrast to her more robust friends - who nevertheless would rather dance than anything in this world. And so we believe in her character from the beginning, and as Act I continues she develops Giselle's innocence through clear gesture and expression. They also set me up for the series of turns she did at the end of the waltz scene, which were beautifully finished and full - the more impressive for being less expected - and which turned out to point to an impressive, brilliant but brief solo later in Act One. Nothing predictable or routine here! And I've seen some wild "mad scenes", but wildness is not Seay's way; her way is to show telling detail after telling detail, and this somewhat understated characterisation - recalling how we may sometimes be led in "real life" to realize someone's mind is leaving this world and there's nothing we can do to bring them back to us - was all the more moving for it. Superb. Mary Carmen Catoya was delicately lovely in the Peasant pas de deux, with her fine partner, Renato Penteado. Is this the same Catoya who raised her reputed killer role in "Ballo della Regina" to the level of even smoothness, "as though effort weren't involved" as a friend put it, on her debut last Fall, and then began giving it some modulation and color in her second outing in it two days later, in between romping through the "Stars and Stripes" pas de deux, swinging her shoulders and smiling at us as she strutted downstage at one point? Nothing predictable here, either. Andrea Spiridonakos established early in her first solo that Myrtha is in charge of Act II through the commanding qualities of strength and power in her dancing, long before we see the facts of gesture and movement in her role that tell us of her dominance. Seay's characteristic soft clarity enhanced her role of an incorporeal spirit; her lighter-than-air jumps and lifts could only be those of something not quite entirely in this world. Her partner, Carlos Guerra, substituting for Isanusi Garcia-Rodriguez, deserves a lot of credit for the constancy of this illusion as well as for his own expressive dancing. Chief among my few quibbles with this performance was Yann Trividic's Hilarion, which seemed to me to be more often sketched than realised, and a few scenic effects, such as the bright little flashing lights high in the set at the beginning of Act II which said "lightning" instead of "supernatural" to me. But overall? "Very effective" I suggested to someone as we were leaving at the end. She shook her head. "Is that putting it too mildly?" She nodded, and smiled. In his introductory remarks, Villella had said they had waited until they had the resources to put on Giselle, until they were ready. I'd say they're more than ready.

Le Baiser de la Fee and Card Game have been on my want list for a long time, partly because of what I hear in their scores, partly because of what I read by those who saw them: "[Le Baiser de la Fee's] images of destiny, its tragic illuminations, are as convincing as any I know in literature; but the lightness, the grace with which these dramatic scenes develop is peculiarly Balanchinian. Baiser de la Fee is poetic theatre at its truest." So wrote Edwin Denby about the Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo's performances in 1940. And about their Poker Game, which he called a "minor masterpiece", he wrote, "Besides being easy to look at, what you see is amusing. The steps emphasize a kind of staccato and a lateralness that may remind you of playing-card figures; many of the steps you recognise as derived from musical comedy. But the variety, the elasticity of dance impetus, the intelligent grace are qualities you never get in musical comedy routines. Nor does the musical comedy routine allow everyone onstage to project intelligent and personal good spirits. Poker Game, by allowing the dancers just this, makes you feel as if you were for a while in the best of company, with everybody natural and everybody interesting." (There's a subtext here about what's right and wrong about Balanchine performance which puts the stagings we see today into perspective, and says, for me, why Farrell's are the best of them, but that's another story.) I never saw these, of course, but to pass something like from the sublime to the ridiculous, I am with those who say we don't need to see PAMTGG again. I looked at it a couple of times, and can even remember some irrelevant bits, like the clear plastic luggage piled up left and right on stage and the rising and falling passage of horizontal dancers across the stage on the hands of the corps, though not anything consequential like a pas de deux. But even the Joffrey's Cotillon was something to see, although it went a little blank right where it should develop powerful mystery, in the "Hand of Fate" pas de deux; Chabrier's music points the way, but the Joffery dancers didn't take us very far, and so it was encouraging to read here that a better one had been staged in Tulsa. Maybe they will get put together. And then again...

atm711's background on the Harkness Theatre reminds me of how I thought the place expensively overdone to the point of distracting, with, IIRC, a mural over the stage full of pink-cheeked cherubim or the like. (I must have had a balcony seat the one time I was in there.) The Maryinsky angle is news to me, so thanks, atm711. BTW, isn't there a Maryinsky blue? More somber and retiring than Harkness blue, I think? Like in the studios at SAB? Or is that a different color? Other memories of the block include a leisurely evening in the Empire Coffee Shop after a performance, with some people who knew NYCB's then - assistant concertmaster? - Leon Goldstein, listening to him reminisce. I think there was a story about Mr. B. coming into the pit with a moustache one evening and conducting some very lively tempos. The New York Times printed a full page of Goldstein's reminiscences around the time of his death. Later on, after Mr. B. was gone, I remember coming out of the New York State Theatre after an evening's program and looking across Columbus Avenue into the glassed-in sidewalk-cafe part of O'Neal's to see Peter Martins and some one I didn't recognise at a table as though they'd been there for some time. I suppose in fairness to Martins now I should say that I'd heard that Mr. B was not always on his stool in the second left wing when the company danced, sometimes he wasn't even in town, but at the time, I thought, "What the hell?" Now it seems like some kind of harbinger. The more things change, the more they change... P.S. Friends told me they liked the Mayflower Hotel, east of the Empire on Central Park West, but this was almost twenty years ago. At the time, the Mayflower's phone-message handling was so bad they steadfastly denied my friends were staying there. When I caught up with them in the theatre and told them why they hadn't heard from me, I suggested they see if they could check out while the hotel insisted they weren't staying there - they might save some money! (It didn't work.)

Naples, anyone? I'm looking for a simple, quiet mom-and-pop motel with kitchenettes at least a block from the highway and not too many blocks from a swimming beach in Naples or, maybe better yet, closer to the Naples Philharmonic Center, which, I've learned, is about five miles north of central Naples. Any recommendations? Or cautionary bad experiences? Anyone know the Vanderbilt Beach Motel?

Amy, I agree. Looking down on the stage from the disinterested point of view of a bird or God or something takes away a lot, although some altitude compensates me if I'm farther back than I like. At the other extreme, can't you be too low, too, so you can't see the stage floor and aren't so aware who's near or far in the space? So when I went to see Merce's programs in the Harris in November I bought a lower-balcony seat for the first night and an orchestra seat for the second. Overall, I have mixed feelings about the new theatre: In the third row of the center section of the balcony, I had a good view, but in the center section of the orchestra, right behind the cross aisle, of all places, I was partially blocked, as it happened, by someone sitting, not in one of the regular theatre seats, but in an office chair placed where a few seats in the last row of the front-center section had been omitted near the right-center aisle, presumably to accomodate wheel chairs. So I plan to avoid the vicinity of Orchestra S 116 in the future! But in general I think sight lines are adequate. All the sound was amplified but none of it was orchestral music, my favorite test of sound systems, but I can still report that the system in the Harris is pretty good, not getting congested when loud, and not having such a strong character of its own that you get tired of listening to it. There are speakers all around, in the contemporary manner, so the apparent source can move at the presenters' whim. What counts about a theatre is whether you can comfortably see and hear in the place, but otherwise the painted concrete everywhere struck me as stale and cheap-looking. I don't know whether it costs such a lot more to mix attractive materials into concrete and let it show, or just give it a clear coating, but to this unrepentant modernist, that can give a fresh, rich effect. I wish it had been done in the Harris Theatre. Of course I'll be back to the Harris and enjoy my times there, but when I think of some of the mid-size theatres Chicago has destroyed - the old Goodman Theatre, where Merce settled in for a week many years ago, and so did I - and the Garrick, the work of Adler & Sullivan, no less - I get a little disappointed; bitter, even. The Harris is little compensation, I'm afraid. (Will Easterners recognise Adler's name? Charles Tuthill, the architect of that marvelous auditorium which identifies itself as The Andrew Carnegie Music Hall and stands with some dignity at Seventh Avenue and 57th Street in New York, always credited Dankmar Adler as acoustical consultant. In Chicago, of course, Adler & Sullivan's theatres were his own work.)

FWIW, there's a tiny, 224K, five-second clip here: http://www2a.biglobe.ne.jp/~ballet/movieV2.html This Japanese site is almost entirely in Japanese, so I leave it to others to figure out exactly what and who this is.

For scoop, who forgot his (her?) notebook, for the poor New Yorkers who got snowed in, and anybody else curious, here's a taste, from my notes, of Farrell's remarks: People asked Balanchine, What do your ballets mean? They have no story. He said, You don't ask a rose to explain itself; you marvel at its color, texture, perfume, and beauty. Besides, if you put a man and a woman on stage, already it's a story. (audience laughter) The heart, the reason for the ballet is the pas de deux. It's the crystallization of the choreography that came before it, and what comes after is its solution. When we leave the theatre, how we see life is changed. Each ballet has a different view of life. You must know the rules, and you may break the laws - the ballet laws that is. (I'm not speaking for Mr. B.; these are my observations.) His pas de deux mostly don't follow the rule of the four-part pas de deux... There are three things we can think about, the visual technique - the structure of the choreography; the visual music - the audio architecture of the composer, which infuses the ballet with emotion and spirit; and the visual symbolism - the gesture and movement devised for the particular ballet... Apollo: ...Are these movements reserved for the deities, or are they so identifiable they should not be repeated? Balanchine said that Stravinsky's music taught him he could eliminate from among the many possibilities to find the one inevitable possibility. La Sonnambula: Set in a time when strict conventions pretended to be life... The partygoers leave the poet to suffer in poem [sic]... The separations of the Poet and the Sleepwalker are musically calibrated to keep us on edge... The pas de deux is daunting, absurd, and gripping in its pathos... Balanchine had an acute sense of timing, and knew when and how to end the pas de deux and keep us wondering... Ivesiana (The Unanswered Question): In class, Balanchine liked to ask us which came first, the chicken or the egg? When the discussion was over, we were no nearer the answer, and more confused than ever, especially about what it had to do with our dancing. (audience laughter)... The calculated ambiguity of the Unanswered Question is left to the viewer to unscramble. La Valse: Eliminating, he gives us more to see and to hear... Two people whose lives have become inextricably entwined by their fate. Agon is Balanchine at his most reduced... Balanchine decided to follow the usual pas de deux formula. Meditation: I was ineffective and awkward in one place, so I asked Balanchine if he would like to change the step. He said, No, it's all right, sometimes love is awkward... That night I did the step perfectly, and you know what? It didn't feel right. (audience laughter) (He taught us to live in the moment.) Don Quixote (pas de deux Mauresque): The man who taught the world to appreciate a ballet for itself broke his own rule... Don Quixote respects Cervantes book. ...charming, whimsical music... gem of a pas de deux.. [As her remarks became shorter and less frequent:] I hope you noticed that I too have been eliminating. (audience laughter) Chaconne: I asked him why so many important dances were on the diagonal, and he said, Because the distance is longer and we see you (are together) longer. Just as Albert Einstein discovered. Stars and Stripes: Balanchine arrived here in 1934 and became a citizen in 1939. He gave his country a ballet company and made a repertory that mirrored the melting-pot of people who live here... Stars and Stripes shows genuine pride. If you were there and think I made a mistake or left out something memorable, let's hear from you! Maybe we can make this a communal project.

Ari, that's an interesting observation about the chronological order of the ballet excerpts on Program II even if it's not quite strict (tsk, tsk!). Here are the premiere dates of the ballets in order of performance, from the program book: Apollo 1928 La Sonnambula 1946 Ivesiana 1954 La Valse 1951 Agon 1957 Meditation 1963 Don Quixote 1963 Chaconne 1976 Stars and Stripes 1958 But your observation does point to one of Farrell's themes in her remarks, Balanchine's development, and especially the idea of elimination.