Ray

Does anyone know if Robert G. reviewed Wheeldon's Swan Lake in the WSJ? And if so, is there a link? Thanks, Ray

In "Get Me Rewrite" in today's NYTimes Book Review (4/7/03), Judith Shulevitz argues that an author's revisiting of an older work may actually harm it: "Revising years later may be the riskiest thing a writer can do. At best it adds a sophisticated gloss to a youthful text; at worst, it interpolates anachronistic detail and violates the integrity of the original. Revision of this sort can even be seen as cannibalism, the devouring of the younger self by the older." Are there comparable examples among choreographers? I think we've discussed Apollo as a possible example; are there others? Are the two art forms insufficiently analagous? (i.e., the material conditions of dancing may be more influential on a work than those of writing). Any thoughts? Ray

Yes, once he said "Some like it hot; I like ice cream" it was all downhill (well, maybe...). I agree--although I am always afraid of saying "those were the good old days" since that's probably what someone was saying then about an earlier time. Anyway, what's really interesting about this is that so much of Balanchine's choreography is often cleverly structured so that the dancers *can* look at one another, if only to stay in line or keep a proper distance.

Absolutely, Leigh--and I admit I was generalizing. Of course, part of the current-day problem is that the heirs of Balanchine remember very specific things that he told them. And the higher up the food chain they were, the more idiosyncratic his advice was--advice that doesn't always translate into good training or coaching. And--just to be silly--I love that you put "epaulement" and "Pat Neary" in the same paragraph--she was the mistress of the cocky headtilt!

Thanks for all the replies. I think what I'm talking about is what people mean when they say that Balanchine "weaves through" the music, no? It's really a very sly way to use repetition--because the emphases of the steps fall on different beats through a given passage. Another instance came to me: the Sugar Plum Fairy's pas-de-chat/stacatto rond de jambe combination at the start of her variation (at least in some versions!).

I'm responding, in part, to Alexandra: Another telling passage of dancing to look at is the film of the corps in Square Dance (from one of those awful, cramped, made-for-TV things): The couples actually *look* at one another--which the epaulement of the steps allows one to do. I think it is interesting that as Balanchine embraced lyricism more overtly--think of all that hair let loose after Suzanne returned!--there was sometimes more of an impersonal quality in the dancing--at least in the interactions on stage. Perhaps it began with the move to the big austerity of the State Theater? There were some great exceptions, of course--recall for instance the frequent Agon pairing of Rene Estopinal and Wilhemina Frankfurt in the early 80s.

I'm not sure if this is the right forum for this, but here goes. In all the many imitations of Balanchine (and that's not necessarily pejoritive), there is something I almost never see. Balanchine often uses repeated phrases of movement that are set "against " the music--I'm not talking about against the beat, as in the "2 against 3" rhythm so characteristic of the music of Brahms, but against the musical *phrase*. For instance, dancers may repeat a movement phrase that takes 6 icounts in a musical phrase whose beats are grouped in units of eight; eventually the dancers "catch up" to the start of the musical phrase, move on to other movement, etc., etc. In a section of "Square Dance," he even uses phrases of 5s in music squarely in eights. Concerto Barrocco offers another famous instance (some women do phrases of 4 and others 3 within music that is in phrases of 6). Am I being clear here? Anyway, I can't say I've really ever seen other B-ites do this; am I wrong?

Alexandra, I want to take some more time--which I don't have right now--to reply to you about Phlegmatic. I think your other comment--that perhaps the hard punchiness is part of the original movement idea--is right on target. I mean, watch that old Agon footage from the 50s (or 60s?)--it's wonderful and full of energy, but there's also something so tight and short about the men's dancing. I guess that's what's so appealing about NYCB's 70s period: the emergence and cultivation of dancers who could combine precise attack with a luxuriant reach (think Merrill at her best). Or: dancers who discovered an inherent lyricism in movement once seen as harsh and brittle. Which "original" Balanchine is worth preserving? More later--it's nice out there, go outside!

Because my response was so quick and dirty, I didn't have time to elaborate on my views. And I did avoid raising comparisons to great 4T-ers of the past. I agree that Phlegmatic shouldn't merely be limp; my problems with Trividic's performance are actually on the level of how he performed particular steps: I guess I have trouble seeing his performance as "controlled" (actually, I am puzzled by that characterization). I did think the rough outlines of what he did were appealing. And I think Cox was very very promising (he's actually supple in a way that Bart Cook was not); I just think his phrasing was off in what is, admittedly, a very difficult-to-phrase variation. And what I didn't add to my previous message is that sometimes the MCB dancers punched too hard--the movement quality of the male partner in Sanguinic. for example, was unnecessarily harsh--at the expense of amplitude (I guess this was what those NYCB dancers of the 60s-80s were so good at--what a lot of us miss: hitting hard without foreshortening the movement).

Dear all, A quick message: I attended yesterday's matinee @ Kennedy Ctr., and I must respectfully disagree with some of your reactions. Most strongly, I felt that Trividic's performance in Phlegmatic was not great, despite the promise of his physical stature and bearing. It wasn't--well, *phlegmatic* enough; it needed more sangfroid. "Wild abandon" would be my 2-word description. And I'm puzzled by the comment that Cox was not pliable enough in Melancholic. I thought he was one of the most supple M's I've seen; what bothered me about his performance was the way he did the repeated falls--and this is a common problem, I think, in this variation: they don't feel like falls; something was askew in the execution. This, in turn, points to a larger problem in his performance and the 4T's performance as a whole: I felt it needed more experience, more maturity. Put another way: if I lived in Miami, I would have been happy with viewing the performance as a promising step; in a one-show context, I was less than satisfied, although I have seen much much worse. I'm very curious as to why Cooper would have chosen *this* MacMillian piece; I found it interesting from a dance history/biographicat P.O.V. but excruciating to sit through (the dancers' fine performances saved it [god how many times do we say that these days...]). Any insight? Ray

I'm all for readability; the Acocella piece certainly was that. But the New Yorker *used* to have a reputation of readable prose that also told us something new (weren't parts of Taper's Balanchine bio first printed there?). I really don't mean to fault JA--she's got a lot to do with very little space and, I imagine, time and resources.

Amen! I've seen so many more men (straigt and gay) throw tantrums than women in class, rehearsal, and even--yes it's true--in performance. Suzanne was a model of focus and concentration, even when being manhandled by a group of *very* inexperienced "partners" (I should know--I was one of them!) or neglected by an experienced one as he flirted, from center stage, with dancers in the wings.

And I'll clarify to support your clarification: I said the piece had shallow *areas* (and that's just my opinion). You're dead-on in identifying the register in which JA pitches the story.

Thanks, Alexandra, for questioning--more diplomatically than I would have--the level of depth in Acocella's piece. I think, though, one of the shallow areas concerns Suzanne's change of heart regarding running a company. For one, to put it bluntly, she wasn't good at transmitting her ideas to dancers. I watched one of her coaching sessions in the early 80s--at Chicago City Ballet where she was coaching Bugaku. To be sure, this was not one of her primary roles (although she did dance it, of course), but she had definite ideas about how it should be done and an uncanny mastery of the choreography. The problem was that when she became exasperated with the principal woman in the rehearsal, she just stopped talking and started dancing it herself, full steam ahead. Acocella's article *hints* at her growth in patience with dancers, but I wanted to know more. As ever, I also wanted to hear more about the reasons for the paucity of women in leadership positions in ballet. Suzanne's life story sheds really important light on this phenomenon.

While more money is the obvious answer, I think there also needs to be a recognition of the problem from the management from a development point of view beyond its effect on box office revenue. (I wonder too if board members have a "recital" model in mind, i.e., the company gears up all season or all year for a single weekend of perfs.) Sometimes I felt in my experience that it was actually cheaper for a company *not* to perform--a really discouraging and shortsighted way for a company to make up for losses.

Wow--talk about the law of *unintended* consequences...thanks Leigh for being diplomatic where I might not have. I'd like to keep coming back to the problem of not performing enough in relation to the development of ballet as an active performing art. I think it's a problem for choreographers too--every ballet becomes so important that there's no room for failure, for the *process* of developing a body of work. (Perhaps for some choreographers work in the studio is enough?) I can't help but think that Balanchine's work is as developed as it is in part because he had the opportunity to choreograph a lot on bodies that danced a lot. I suppose too there's a danger of performing too much; around this time of year, we dancers used to say "we're not in shape, we're doing the Nutcracker!"

Leigh and others raise another point--there is definitely a club mentality, espeically among presenters, about what's "hot" (how about what's good or what's interesting or what's good for a company, etc.?). And--my *own* personal observation--boards of directors in the provinces not only prefer to hire men but they really salivate over married men (notice that I didn't say straight, although more than a few have banked on that assumption) especially if they are married to a dancer. That PR story got real tiresome to hear after the 100th time!

Yes there certainly is bad modern dance out there! I meant to add, though, that in applying for grants, I know that modern dance choreographers and companies are generally held to a more rigorous standard of review in corporate and nonprofit giving. Presenters also seem to be hypnotized by big names over quality of work. Shouldn't this worry us?

I think anything that pulls directors out of the "I don't have time to even think about doing things differently" syndrome is a good thing. Would that there were time and cash enough, I think directors also need to get out and *see* more dance.

One of the most depressing things for me about being a dancer was that I didn't perform enough. Yet I was always in companies that were taught, coached, and directed by people who danced every night on multi-week seasons (and sometimes on long national and international tours). That was frustrating to them too, I think, although I don't know how many understood how damaging it was to company morale to spend so much time preparing for so few performances. Another bad thing was seeing multimillion dollar commisions go to hacks for ballets that would have been better on Broadway (where also, of course, dancers are paid better). I know many will disagree, but I believe the standards for choreographers in ballet companies is very weak right now compared to those for modern dance companies. And in terms of executive directors, in many cases it seems you have to submit to more rigorous testing to get a job at Wal-Mart than to run a company (I think this is true, alas, for all kinds of nonprofit orgs). Finally, as a male dancer, I became increasingly aware of how well men are treated, in general, over women; and the glass ceiling women face in a profession in which women are woefully underrepresented in the higher echelons. And it's frustrating to see how many smart, experienced women dancers are tethered to incompetent men who "run" and "choreograph" for companies (I won't name names...I'm sure I don't have to!). I didn't want to be part of that anymore; Stanley Williams aside, I learned more about ballet from women (teachers and dancers) than men, from my first class to my final performance.

I half agree with Sonora--I was happy to see the piece in the New Yorker, but it would have been better as an *addition* to regularly-appearing reviews. I think there should be more articles written about the business of dancing--an investigative piece on the unbelievably high rate of turnover among executive directors among dance companies, for instance, would be great--especially since extra-artistic personnel have so much more of a say these days, it seems, in matters of repertory and casting. (Perhaps there is a thread on this already? I'll shut up and look!)

I too just picked up Daly's collection. I think what's thoughtful and valuable about her writing is that she wrestles with questions of gender--for instance, she doesn't dismiss Balanchine because she thinks some of his choreographic images are misogynistic, but provides a thoughtful way to reconcile the beauty and value of a dancer's work with her deeply held feminist convictions about what that labor represents. I see her work as akin to film scholars who have redeemed the work of black tap dancers in the deeply racist films of the 30s-50s: we must recognize the racism but appreciate the artistry of the performers. The anthology is useful in that it provides a range of Daly's writings over time--I think her arguments about women in ballet become more nuanced in later pieces. I'm eager to get to her essays on dance criticism (i.e., the unpublished "Interested Act of Dance Crtiticism"). More to talk about later!

I'm all for Balanchine--or any other dance creators or performers--becoming part of larger cultural histories and discussions. (As the circle widens, it will interact with other circles--I find that interesting not depressing.) Historically, dance discussion has had a tendency to be restricted to conoisseurs; and it's often the case that when "outsiders" discuss it they either show ignorance, undue reverence, or both. In terms of Homans, the larger exposure she garners through the Times, TNR, etc., means that her claims can be scrutinized on grounds other than simply "Madame X danced NEVER danced ballet Y in 1946" (or, pace Barnes's ad feminem dismissal, "who does she think she is?"). So what Homans doesn't do, to my satisfaction, is take seriously arguments, claims, or opinions that counter her own. But, to be provocative, does a critic like Joan Acocella--or even saint Croce--do any better?

A sadly significant exception to the under-35 rule is Diane Solway's excellent biog. of the late Eddie Stierle, Dance Against Time. It's not an autobiography but certainly premature. R

I'm not going to comment on the review; salient points have been well covered by the responses. Homans's review, however, brings up the whole issue of standards for dance writers. Part of me wants to cheer her on; I always thought dance writing could--and should--be enriched by the perspective of practitioners. Contra Barnes, her experience as a dancer is a good thing, not something to be held against her. But another part of me wonders, along with Barnes, how she got so far so fast. Bracketing *that* question, I'm interested in sticking with exploring the status of practice in dance writing. Are former dancers looked down upon in the profession? Why? One gets a sense that the "outside" world values that experience, perhaps unquestioningly, while "insiders," such as Barnes, distrust it, perhaps for the wrong reasons. What qualifies those who do write about dance, aside from obvious academic credentials (or not so obvious--for instance, is it widely known that Joan Acocella has an advanced degree from Rutgers? Does *she* value that experience? Is academic experience seen negatively by the dance-critical profession?). It might be useful to consider critical professions other than dance writing: Film critics: normally they are not filmmakers, and filmmakers don't often write about film. How would Martin Scorsese (sp?) be greeted if he wrote about film on a regular basis? Have most film critics been to film school? Art critics: I guess this profession has the longest history of critics who are professional art writers and not practitioners; some artists do write--e.g., David Hockney. The profession seems hostile to artists writing, though--perhaps I am wrong on this? Literary Critics: perhaps the biggest contrast to dance. Working writers often review other writers; writing book reviews is not seen as "not practicing"--after all, you're always writing when you're writing! Music: Another contrast to dance writing. Most music critics are instrumentalists--they can at least pick their way through a musical score on the piano. Many noted musicians write about music, no? Theater critics: I notice playwrights in bylines often enough. This profession seems pretty flexible in their attitudes towards in/outsiders.