Drew

I once observed a composition class--slightly older students returning to school after some experience in the world outside of school. Over the course of the semester, the youngish teacher had asked two students each week to bring in an example of some writing that they particularly admired. The example was supposed to be a short passage that the class as a whole could read and discuss together. The week I observed, one student brought in a short article from Business Week or some such (clearly, business articles made up the only reading he did outside of class); the second student brought in a page from one of Rand's later novels--it was an argument of sorts about the evil effects of charity. The teacher, earnest and dedicated, kept up a good front, but I could feel that she was somewhat at a loss. She didn't want to put down the students' choices, but having managed to rush through the fine points of a journalist's paragraph on the Dow Jones--even the student who brought it in had nothing to say about its prose style--she was none too comfortable to find herself leading a long discussion on the fine points of Rand's prose and politics, which she clearly did not admire. (She did venture to ask the class if they didn't find the prose a little "purple.") I have to admit that as an observer of all this, I was very entertained though, not, I promise, unsympathetic. A shot of democracy can be good in the classroom, but I believe I may have discussed with her afterwards some of the benefits of giving assignments that have stricter guidelines.

Kirkland/Nureyev (they did dance together at least once, in a full-length Raymonda, and received a rave review from Barnes) or, in a different, cooler tone: Kirkland/Bruhn (two of ballet's all time perfectionists) or, in case anyone doubts how much I loved Kirkland: Kirkland/Nijinsky (in Les Sylphides: after all, De Valois is supposed to have described her as a young Pavlova) and, just so I don't seem obsessive, or, at least, just to express some alternative obsessions: Ringer/Nagy (two stunningly beautiful artists who both seem or seemed to enjoy connecting with their partners) Ringer/Babilee (can't come up with an explanation but something to do with charisma, sex, and modernity)

In the early years of their partnership Kirkland and Baryshnikov seemed to take a deep delight in each other on stage. As distant as it seems now, they showed a kind of tenderness towards each other as well. I remember in particular a Coppelia they danced in Washington during the first year after his defection in which every moment seemed to be freshly invented in relation to each other--as well as (to my eyes) technically spectacular. I also thought that despite their different training, they both danced with a complementary classical purity. In thinking about different training yet shared classical purity, I also want to put in a word for Mckerrow and Malakhov. I saw them dance in Bayadere and Giselle and thought they created an image of the utmost classical purity and beauty. In addition his greater temperament on stage was a good frame for her somewhat more introverted presence--it brought her out while somehow honoring and preserving her refusal of any showiness. In Act I of Giselle they were always moving, dancing, even standing in relation to each other. They created a deeply convincing image of two lovers who were in their own world even when they were surrounded by others. Unfortunately they did not dance together often enough to develop a public presence as a great partnership. I noticed that even when Mckerrow was still dancing, he increasingly danced with Kent instead. I can't know, but I assume that with more performances they would also have developed (even) more artistically, but certainly the few performances I saw were very much worthy of a genuine partnership--that is a partnership in which the two dancers together create something that transcends, without erasing, their individuality.

I missed this, and the one thing I really regretted was missing Weir--how much more so after reading hockeyfan228's post.

I saw Fonteyn at the end of her career and only rarely and barely glimpsed a bit of the qualities that caused people to love and even worship her as the standard in role after role--I've even posted on this website about tiring, as a child, of the constant invocations of Fonteyn's greatness, and perhaps even if I had seen her at her greatest I would not have become one of her fans--though I can't know. But, in my judgment, it would be a huge mistake to imagine that the qualities that made her a great artist decades ago would not make her a great artist today. Technique/training/culture--all may have been different--but Fonteyn was a ballerina; she put an individual and memorable stamp on some of the greatest roles in the repertory and created numerous others. Many in today's audiences still consider her Odette, her Aurora, and her Giselle to be incomparable--and they say so even when they are watching today's leading ballerinas. Even I, skeptical child as I was, felt the tingle of a certain emotional richness every time I saw her--vulnerability, sweetness, pathos, playfulness-that communicated itself out into the theater. People don't become myths entirely by accident. My guess is that even Taglioni or Ellsler might have something to "show" us today about the art of ballet. I do not just mean personality or charisma--I mean dancing or, if you like, how classical ballet steps are made expressive (or even simply beautiful). Invocations of the nineteenth-century may seem farfetched, but I would still insist on Fonteyn's greatness as one that was not merely time-bound.

I also strongly agree with Quiggin's remarks about the NYTimes's ambivalence regarding artists and intellectuals. (The Derrida obituary made me physically ill.)

nysusan--Four Temperaments (even on an off night) is one of the most thrilling works in the repertory, and the cast you will be seeing sounds wonderful. I've seen Boal as Melancholic--and wish I could see him in the role again (and again). Have a wonderful time!

I saw Borree dance the ballerina role in Square Dance several years ago--when she was already a principal. At that time, she was not, in my opinion, giving masterful or memorable performances in the ballet and, when I compared her in my mind to Margaret Tracy (not Merrill Ashley, because...well...what would be the point) didn't even think she was getting through all the steps. I know that's harsh--like others I have enjoyed her performances in several roles, Duo Concertante especially--but I continue to be baffled to the point of irritation by the way she is cast.

I saw very little ballet this year, but I think Ashley Bouder in La Source would count as a highlight any year.

It's been said already several times, but I can't help myself -- Karsavina, Karsavina, Karsavina. There are some photos in Kochno's book that are so unbelievably beautiful that when I look them...well, I can hardly believe it. The book is actually in storage right now, but one or two of those images remain very much with me.

I enjoyed this, too -- and reports are she was even better in Paris (Eric Bompard trophy)--which I think will be on ESPN next week.

Leigh...Alymer: you both may already have doubled checked by now...but in case not, it is Thomas Wyatt, "Whoso list to hunt..." with hunting as a metaphor for sexual pursuit. The transposition of "noli me tangere" (whose Christian reference Wyatt's original audience would have gotten) is, I suppose, deeply ironic. I can't quite decide if Bussell has struck me, in the past, as having a "noli me tangere" quality--she seems a little too sweet and approachable, even if the sexuality is under wraps, but I haven't seen her in all the same roles as Leigh. (Farrell did sometimes...and Balanchine seems, in certain roles, to have envisioned her that way.)

I remember being quite stunned by photos of him--but this was long before the internet, and I don't know what's available online. I did see him in person when he was older and still, obviously, a handsome man--but nothing like those photos which were sort of "wow"!

I think Nanatchka's last comment is very shrewd. I'll add (in response to Canbelto) that I don't believe "high art" or "subtle art" ever becomes "dull." DULL is dull. Dull art (if we allow that there is such a thing--which I don't think I do) is dull art "Inaccessible" is a little harder to assess--partly because the word admits of a number of different interpretations, but let's say a ballet danced to silence may seem less accessable to many because, in a manner of speaking, one road of access into the movement is not there. One might well find Robbins's Moves is less accessible than his Interplay or Tharp's Trio less accessible than Push Comes to Shove. Sometimes the less accessible work is actually more rewarding, once you "get" access. But if people feel somehow deliberately kept out, they register it as esoteric and other people's love for the esoteric they often regard as snobbery... I find it useful to remember what a computer expert told me years ago about "user friendly" software. Sometimes (not always, but sometimes), the software program that is harder to learn is actually easier to use once you learn it. Similarly, with art, sometimes once you gain access to the "inaccessible" you discover that what you thought was unnecessary esotericism is deeply compelling. (Though to stick with computer metaphors, one might respond that sometimes it's just the work of a hacker...or to leave that metaphor behind, a hack.)

Very tacky to reply to my own post I know--but it's too late to edit what I wrote above. I wanted to say that I very much doubt anyone ever said that Fonteyn was souless and would be willing to wager all my earthly belongings that no-one ever called her "just a technician," though it is possible that a few balletomanes might once have described Makarova as "cold"--so I can't help but think Canbelto's example of "put downs" of principal dancers are much rather put downs she has heard about today's stars and,at the risk of simply exemplifying the snobbery I describe in my previous post, that is often a very different matter (though not always).

I do think some ballerinas are harder to "get" than others, but I also think there are genuine differences of opinion and taste and/or judgment. I wouldn't myself assume that someone doesn't get Weese because there is something particularly subtle about her qualities as a dancer...a number of fans are unpersuaded by her as a ballerina let alone a ballerina in the class of Assylmuratova. I'll make a special plea for my own judgments and say I think there is tremendous snobbery among American fans about Guillem whom I have periodically defended on this board as a genuine and even a great dance artist--not a gymnast who happens to wear a tutu. (Though I don't think I have had much impact!) To take a very different example, most American fans were dubious about Bessmertnova who was a featured Bolshoi ballerina of the Grigorovich era (and his wife)--but whom I found quite lovely, at least in the roles Grigorovich created for her. But in neither case has it been a matter of fans preferring lesser known figures as a way of showing off that they are "in the know" about who is "really" great--Bolshoi fans of the 70's/80's wanted to see Pavlova and Semenyaka (as did I!!!), hardly unknowns, and those who dislike Guillem don't mention some less familiar ballerina of the same era as the one whom people "really" should have admired... It is possible I suppose--to go back to a very different ballet era--that fans of Bruhn felt a bit of "esoteric snobbery" when it came to Nureyev...And to fully appreciate Bruhn one probably did need to be able to respond to genuinely classical ballet values (which was not necessarily the case with Nureyev); perhaps a similar snobbery played into people's preference for Dowell over Baryshnikov. You can probably guess that I write this as someone who is a proud fan of the Bruhn/Dowell line of male dancing... Come to think of it, probably the biggest snobbery one runs into in ballet circles concerns the general superiority of the past to the present. (That, and the more specific snobbery of western fans concerning the superiority of Margot Fonteyn to all other ballerinas.) Not having seen enough of Fonteyn to have been captured by the mystique (or having seen her too late) I'm one of those --discussed in the past on this board-- who tire of "she's no Fonteyn" as a response to any and every ballerina, but I am not unsympathetic to the view that past eras had some qualities the present lacks and hasn't made up for... Indeed, if Canbelto was a little bored by Enigma Variations, I'm prepared to speculate that it may have been because the dancers weren't really up to the roles as originated in 1968 and though some fans may have seen "through" that problem, it's still a problem. (But I wasn't there, so that's definitely just speculation...)

Perhaps one problem for opera fans is that many opera companies perform a very limited repertory. And they certainly don't put on novelty premiers with the frequency ballet companies do. So, a regular opera goer in many cities might, even over the course of decades, have (more or less) regular opportunities to catch Tosca or Boheme but only one or two to see Dialogue of the Carmelites and none at all to be present at a "premier" however ghastly. (Also at the risk of sounding like one of the snobs I think there is a difference between putting down Puccini and putting down Mozart.) I do think one subset of American ballet fans can get pretty snobby about the superiority of Balanchine to many of the popular warhorses--which they view as just that, "warhorses," not classics. So, for example, they like Four Temperaments but not Macmillan's Romeo and Juliet, at least not unless it is being danced by Fonteyn/Nureyev/Sibley/Dowell and their like...Of course, they don't see their attitude as snobbery; they see it as taste. I belong to this subset myself. Some of the above subset might extend that attitude to not wanting to see "classics" like Swan Lake or Giselle, but in that case it's usually not exactly snobbery that's involved, but a distaste for nineteenth-century conventions. They aren't looking down on the "immediate appeal" of those works, because they sincerely find them aesthetically and intellectually uninteresting. I do not belong to this subset. The issue is also complicated (as it must be in opera) by the problem of specific "productions" of the warhorses. Someone might consider certain productions of even very great classics (Swan Lake or Giselle) not to be worth repeated viewing because they give so inadequate an account of what makes these ballets classic. (They may also feel that way about the way a company dances Balanchine.) I sometimes belong to this subset. You may wonder if it doesn't work the other way around...Given that in New York, at least, Balanchine is not a rare commodity, aren't those who love Romeo and Juliet and have no interest in the Four Temperaments snobs of a sort too? But I actually think their attitudes don't usually translate into snobbery so easily--at least not in the New York context where Balanchine has a very particular kind of cachet--reflected in the relation of poets and artists to the history of NYCB. When I read non New York balletomanes preening over the superiority of full length ballets I sometimes suspect some snobbery--but then again (to revert, if you will, to my own snobbery) I find those attitudes so hard to take seriously, I usually just consider them an example of poor taste. I meant the above ironically, so I hope it doesn't sound mean. After all, most of the world would consider being a balletomane of any kind at all makes one something of a snob...

Surely it's possible he had a conversation with Bush Sr. in which the latter (a reasonably cultured man) knew the names of the top dancers and choreographers and, having been a diplomat for many years himself, was very much able to enter into a brief conversation about dance in a way that gave Li Cunxin the impression he was a balletomane or, at the very least, knew a heck of a lot more about ballet than most politicians. (Bush Sr. must have attended a few galas in his day.) I have no idea if that's what happened but it seems at least as likely as that Li Cunxin was lying for the sake of a compliment. Now, if he had made the remark about Bush Jr., I might be more skeptical...

I saw the Vasiliev version for ABT in Chicago--but I'm afraid I remember very little about it except for Vasiliev taking a bow at the end. Wow! More stage "flair" than the rest of them put together and doubled. (And, just for clarification, I saw the opening night cast--and am a fan of ABT.) I know this is off topic, but just the mention of that production was like a madeleine to my memory--I can SEE him coming onto the stage.

Thanks for that link --

Hmm...I agree that sports fans are absolutely willing and able to absorb detailed and complex information, statistics etc., though the huge popularity of sports includes a crowd of people who watch more casually (though I guess fans of "high" arts also fall into different categories of enthusiasm and knowledge as well). However, most arts require from their spectators an element of concentration combined with imagination that makes demands on a person in a way that sports events usually don't. I won't bother with saying whether it's "more" demanding or "just different" but although an observant and knowledgeable baseball fan can certainly *see* things in a pitch that I can't, Agon or Swan Lake call for a sustained focus that, however, pleasurable, is not exactly easy. You can enjoy a baseball game even in a state of vague distraction--in fact, it's the rare "great" game that even die-hard fans watch in any other state. (Speaking for myself, when I just want to relax after work or stressful encounters, I dont' exactly turn to the most compelling books on my shelves--I'd much rather drift through a magazine.) I also think one big difference, in the U.S. anyway, is that sports are integrated into many people's lives from childhood. One can be introduced to ballet and other arts as adults but tastes become naturalized more easily when you are younger. I do not mean one Nutcracker a year--I mean regular attendance at performances, taking classes, hearing adults talk about it over dinner, etc. I mean having it be a given part of one's life...Sports usually is a given part of people's lives in the U.S, the arts aren't.

Oberon: I think your question would take us way off topic. (How many major dance critics were ever professional dancers or studied ballet or any other kind of dance to any great extent?) However, I don't think that too many people would question whether Croce was knowledgeable about ballet...that's different from agreeing with all of her judgments. Since I don't have the text available--my Croce books are in boxes and I don't know if this particular New Yorker piece was included in them in any case--I only brought it up, because I occasionally saw what she might have been talking about, was nonetheless very surprised by her tone, and was curious if someone else would either remember the piece or have a similar perspective. My love for Fracci as I remember her is very strong. She was one of the first major ballerinas I saw who had an impact on me...

I agree that to try to analyze what Croce had in mind one would need the whole text in front of one--but I would underline that I was not referring to a remark but an entire essay or a very large portion of one, and unless my memory has betrayed me completely, she did not put forward some minor scruples about Fracci as a dancer but gave an extended and, at times, harsh critique. (NB I do not view Croce as the final word--on Fracci or anything else--though, of course, she is a very interesting and influential dance critic.) The question of what counts as ballet technique does seem to allow of a surprising latitude of interpretation given that a dancer's technique seems as if it ought to be one of the more "objective" characteristics one can assess. To give an example: for me, the precision of Fracci's imagery was an accomplishment that required what I would consider technical strengths and specifically balletic ones (how she shaped and held her poses etc.)...though I could hardly parcel that imagery out from qualities I would be willing to concede were more dramatic and mimetic.

I saw her in Giselle when I was quite young and only remember the impression the performance made on me, and not really the performance. But I did see her dance an excerpt from Act II with Nureyev at a gala some years later, and in those few minutes she was the most eerily ghostly--most arisen-from-the-grave--Giselle I have ever seen. I was also enchanted by her Sylph, which I saw several times. Alexandra has written about Fracci not being an effective Bournonville Sylph (and the Bournonville version is the one she danced), and I believe it, but I was enchanted nonetheless and if I saw the performance tomorrow I probably still would be; she really seemed to channel, not Taglioni exactly, but a ballet fan's fantasy of Taglioni as she appears in nineteenth-century lithographs. Less predictably perhaps, I also enjoyed Fracci's Swanilda and remember her Act II as possibly the best I have ever seen at shifting "character" styles between the Spanish and Scottish dances Swanilda-as-Coppelia performs... Croce wrote a pretty devastating article about her saying that she had no ballet technique and at least implying that without any technique it was pointless to talk about her artistry--she wasn't dancing the ballets. (Of course I'm summarizing from memory, but it was very harsh.) I think that as I (and Fracci) got older I did start to see some of what Croce was describing--steps that weren't really filled out etc. but I never found her performances less than gripping--genuinely artistically gripping, not diva turns. And, indeed, I found her expressiveness to derive from her dancing--it was not just a dramatic ability on top of sketchy ballet steps. She had an ability to shape and shade movements and...anyway...my memories are dim, but I loved her dancing.

Karsavina's memoir, Theater Street, is something of a classic. I read it many years ago and loved it.