Drew

Lacotte's version of Pharoah's Daughter (or Paquita for that matter) may be wonderful and perhaps Kevin Mckenzie should aquire it -- I have no opinion on this -- but I don't see how it can be called a "revival" or a "classic" when the CHOREOGRAPHY is almost entirely new, albeit "in the manner of" Petipa etc. If ballet is in any respect a serious art form on its own account, the "steps" very much do matter. There was a recent thread discussing an article by Joan Accocella addressing "revivals" of Nijinsky's ballets and discussing this issue...To use Accoccella's example, what would it meant to "revive" Beethoven's Fifth Symphony on the basis of some written descriptions of the premier, some records of the composer's tempi and keys, and maybe some indications of the orchestration but gee...um...er...having almost none of the NOTES. Nineteenth-century choreography may not be as "autonomous" as music (a complex question), but choreography is the substance of balletic art if the art counts for anything substantive at all. Again, this is not an opinion on the artistic merits of Lacotte's productions -- I haven't seen them, though I remember Jeannie's glowing report on Paquita! -- but how can they be thought of as revivals? I admit, though, that I personally find it pretty questionable for a performing art to try to renew itself by doing pastiche versions of its older repertory. If the occasional production works (as Lacotte's do, in the eyes of many), of course that's great. On the other hand, if actual notation exists for some lost "classics" and if an artist with enough creativity and musicality to bring notation to life were to appear on the scene to stage those works (big ifs), the possibility for genuinely enriching ballet's heritage would be greater than some pseudo-revival. I don't mean a pious attempt to make everything exactly as it was (impossible anyway and, in my opinion, not even desirable) -- but stagings that would at least try to give one more of a genuine sense of ballet's choreographic heritage.

Lacotte's version of Pharoah's Daughter (or Paquita for that matter) may be wonderful and perhaps Kevin Mckenzie should aquire it -- I have no opinion on this -- but I don't see how it can be called a "revival" or a "classic" when the CHOREOGRAPHY is almost entirely new, albeit "in the manner of" Petipa etc. If ballet is in any respect a serious art form on its own account, the "steps" very much do matter. There was a recent thread discussing an article by Joan Accocella addressing "revivals" of Nijinsky's ballets and discussing this issue...To use Accoccella's example, what would it meant to "revive" Beethoven's Fifth Symphony on the basis of some written descriptions of the premier, some records of the composer's tempi and keys, and maybe some indications of the orchestration but gee...um...er...having almost none of the NOTES. Nineteenth-century choreography may not be as "autonomous" as music (a complex question), but choreography is the substance of balletic art if the art counts for anything substantive at all. Again, this is not an opinion on the artistic merits of Lacotte's productions -- I haven't seen them, though I remember Jeannie's glowing report on Paquita! -- but how can they be thought of as revivals? I admit, though, that I personally find it pretty questionable for a performing art to try to renew itself by doing pastiche versions of its older repertory. If the occasional production works (as Lacotte's do, in the eyes of many), of course that's great. On the other hand, if actual notation exists for some lost "classics" and if an artist with enough creativity and musicality to bring notation to life were to appear on the scene to stage those works (big ifs), the possibility for genuinely enriching ballet's heritage would be greater than some pseudo-revival. I don't mean a pious attempt to make everything exactly as it was (impossible anyway and, in my opinion, not even desirable) -- but stagings that would at least try to give one more of a genuine sense of ballet's choreographic heritage.

I don't know what kind of dancer she would be, but I've often thought that Isabel Adjani has the perfect face (and temperament) for Giselle...

I haven't seen ABT's production of Onegin, but I'm not surprized people admire the ballet more than I. Many people love this ballet and the first time I saw it I did too. But after seeing it several times with the Stuttgart, I came to feel that the quality of the movement and, if you will, the "translation" of the drama into balletic terms was trivial, and the dancing just taken abstractly (as choreography) dull. At this point, I don't remember a large number of specifics, but I do remember the acrobatic pas de deux that seemed very muddy and inarticulate to me...By muddy and inarticulate, I mean, for example, that it scarcely made any difference whether I was seeing Makarova (as I did once) or Haydee (as I did several times): the movement just blurred into so many dynamically unvaried tosses and throws. Of course, this was just my reaction. I should add that, as I haven't seen the ballet recently, I strongly suspect that if I saw a great performance I would enjoy it...but I doubt I would get much from sitting through it repeatedly. (I wouldn't want to sit through Merry Widow repeatedly either!!) I wasn't part of "Ballet Alert's" earlier discussions of this ballet, but I 'm not surprised that there is quite a bit of disagreement about it. I would reiterate one comment Alexandra made. I am not oppposed to story ballets -- I have admired Neumeier's Dame aux Camelias, to say nothing of Ashton's Month in the Country. (And I was fascinated about a year ago by the Lavrosky Romeo and Juliet.) Etc. etc. But I'm one of those who is not persuaded by Cranko as a great choreographer -- I don't think he puts together ballet steps in an interesting way. [ 06-04-2001: Message edited by: Drew ]

I also had a good time at this performance. As Colleen Boresta writes, The Merry Widow isn't a serious ballet, but I don't (in theory) mind ABT having some lightweight spectacles in their repertory. And I think Merry Widow, especially when performed as engagingly as it was Sat. afternoon, is certainly better than, say, Snow Maiden...My problem is that lightweight spectacles seem, in recent years, to dominate ABT's repertory. When that's a big proportion of what they are dancing, it starts to seem a waste of talent. (When I saw that Mckenzie had acquired Onegin I was really dismayed -- 'tragedy' it may be, but still, in my opinion, another lightweight ballet. I did think that at least it would be an excellent vehicle for Ferri, who has a limited range of principle ballerina roles she can dance, but now it turns out that Ferri probably won't be appearing in it! Still, Sat. afternoon's Merry Widow was very enjoyable. The principles were excellent, and the ballet does offer up some real dancing. I thought the big Act II pas de deux for the French lovers (Reyes and Belotserkovsky) was especially fetching, and, in addition to dancing very well, both Bocca and Dvorovenko brought a lot of charisma to their parts plus -- considering that they were not scheduled to dance this together -- handled all the tricky partnering quite nicely. [ 05-30-2001: Message edited by: Drew ]

Without a doubt the performances by the Kirov at Wolftrap and Kennedy Center in the eighties were by far and away the most beautiful of this ballet that I have ever seen. I vaguely remember that people who saw the Kirov do it in the sixties grumped that it wasn't as good as in "the old days" -- but I found the eighties performances ravishing. It is not, I think, a coincidence that one of my absolute favorite Baryshnikov performances was his performance as the poet in this ballet -- he seemed at one with the music and at one with the whole atmosphere of the ballet in a way that (in my opinion) only occasionally characterized his other interpretations. I have always felt that it was a role which he danced as if he was drawing with real love and dedication on the great Kirov tradition in this ballet, a tradition for which it had not become a languid chestnut, but remained a really compelling distillation -- in its way, a modern(ist) image -- of the "romantic" ballet. (Exactly as Mel Johson writes "neo-romantic.") What the ballet means to today's "Maryinsky" I don't know, and I'm not sure I want to...so it's my turn to bewail "the old days." In the Kirov peformances that I saw at Kennedy Center, I specifically remember admiring Zhana Ayupova in the Prelude...But everyone was wonderful. P.S. If I'm not mistaken, ABT traditionally did the ballet as Fokine last set it; the Kirov's version is a bit different and I think (??) that as director of ABT Baryshnikov had them dance the version he knew and took some criticism for it. What I loved about the Kirov version, however, was the way they danced it, not this or that detail in the setting. If ABT were to revive it now, I think it should stick with the version that belongs to its own history, and also gives Fokine's last thoughts. [ 05-30-2001: Message edited by: Drew ]

Thanks to everyone for reporting on this.

Did Makarova not participate in the gala? No-one has mentioned her. I know Dowell's partnership with Sibley must take pride of place in Royal Ballet Fan hearts, but after Sibley's (partial) retirement he and Makarova developed a quite remarkable partnership...Did Dowell (or anyone else) at least speak about that?

I saw Reyes for the first time this afternoon as the second female lead in The Merry Widow. (I've forgotten the character's name.) She was scheduled to do this later in the week, but was stepping in today for Dvorovenko who was, in turn, stepping in for Ferri as the first lead, Hannah...Anyway, I thought Reyes was excellent -- danced very well and with a certain charm. The big pas de deux in Act II (with Belotserkovsky) had an especially nice flowing quality. I look forward to seeing her dance in other roles. P.S. People purchasing tickets to see Ferri later in the season should probably double check casts, since word is that she will be out for the season.

I'm joining this chorus rather late, but I wanted to say...yes, yes, yes: Mcbride was truly a sensational Swanilda. Probably the best I've seen. It doesn't hurt, of course, that she danced the production I love best! I've been restraining myself, too, from the utter predictability of mentioning Gelsey Kirkland, but will restrain myself no longer! I saw her dance this twice, at two very different times in her career, and loved both performances. The first was during her very first week of performances with Baryshnikov at the Kennedy Center (Fall '74?). I saw a Friday night Coppelia, the second one they danced together. I am being that specific because it just seemed like one of those nights when everything on stage comes together perfectly. (Clive Barnes reviewed this performance and he said exactly that.) Even the rest of the company seemed, during the ballet, to be watching Baryshnikov and Kirkland with a kind of giddy pleasure. And the two of them were absolutely sparking off each other. Kirkland -- not in my memory a consistently great balancer -- stayed on pointe in arabesque seemingly forever in the Act III pas de deux, while Baryshnikov watched her with a kind of gleam in his eye. It was fabulous. And, I guess I should add, since we're supposed to be reflecting on the ballet Coppelia, that it perfectly embodied and even enhanced the gaiety and joy of the ballet. They were having so much fun. Years later I saw Kirkland dance the ballet with Charles Ward. As I recall this performance it had more pathos and delicacy, though less dazzle, than the earlier one -- this was an older and more waif-like Kirkland albeit at a time when her technique was completely and happily intact. Ward was very tall, handsome, fair, and boyish and I thought he partnered her quite well. They had two especially beautiful overhead lifts in (I think) Act III, where he lifted her way high over his head, holding her about the waist with her leg in retire, and as he let her down, the closer she came to the ground the more slowly he moved her through the air, so she just seemed to drift like a feather to the ground -- utterly weightless. I know Swanilda is not "about" overhead lifts and weightlessness, but it was beautiful -- and I do remember finding her a terrific Swanilda all round, her Act II (a bit like Fracci's) very effective in its shifting character tones... [ 05-26-2001: Message edited by: Drew ] [ 05-28-2001: Message edited by: Drew ]

When the Bolshoi came to the U.S. under Grigorivitch's (sp?) direction, Bessmertnova (as I remember) received reviews very much along the lines of ATM711's comments. But I really enjoyed and admired her lyricism, her dark, romantic looks, and liquid bourees in Grigorivitch's choreography. I think one of the roles I saw her do (in Ivan the Terrible), may actually have been created ON her, so I probably saw her at her best. I only saw Pavlova dance once, in the Legend of Love, and my memories are not terribly vivid, but people absolutely LOVED her. She had gorgeous hyperextended legs -- with extraordinary feet. Croce wrote (again, as best I recall) that her positions really did fulfill all the curves/diagonals of the old classical ballet handbooks. I can't express an opinion on that, but they were just stunning. She also had a rather fetching stage personality. One can see these qualities a bit in the photos. Maximova was another ballerina people just LOVED. I only saw her live very late in her career, but I was quite impressed. Although I am a video skeptic -- actually I'm often quite bored by dance on video -- I had become a bit of a fan watching her dance with Vasiliev in a video of Act I of Grigorivitch's Nutcracker. (In that video, Pavlova and Gordeyev take over in Act II.) Although this was also towards the end of Maximova's career, she really captured Clara, or so I thought. I saw her live, about ten years ago, with some Vasiliev directed pick-up troop. She must have been close to fifty (?) Both she and Vasiliev were extremely shrewd about how they presented themselves. They didn't try anything they couldn't still do rather strikingly, and they paced the whole evening, so that when they appeared and did their rather limited numbers, they still came across as the evening's big stars. I do not say this critically; on the contrary, I greatly admired the professionalism. In that regard, he deserves credit, since he was the choreographer. Anyway, at this performance Maximova did very little dancing that was unsupported by Vasiliev; he partnered her in a series of lifts and carries etc. All that said, and given the admitedly limited context, I thought she was marvelous. Not just a star, but still a great DANCER. Her movements were just beautiful -- youthful and spirited with everything taut, flowing, classical. She was being held in lifts the whole time and she looked fearless besides. (I guess she and Vasiliev had been dancing together long enough!) For this performance, I was with a friend who was not a particular ballet fan and was, therefore, without my pre-disposed respect and sympathy for older legends -- but my friend was dazzled too! To my mind, it was a great example of 'once a ballerina, always a ballerina.'

Tragedies having an "even" number of acts seems odd to me, because in French drama, (neoclassical and romantic) tragedies do have five acts -- i.e. an odd number -- as do Moliere comedies. Phedre has five acts and so does The Misanthrope. In the romantic era, Lorenzaccio has five acts etc. and this is all pretty much par for the course...The source Alexandra is remembering may have been referring to some particular context or rhetorical handbook (?) -- I don't know much about this.

I would agree that one of the problems with Dvorovenko's Act II is that it tends to fall into a series of gorgeous bits, though I find more to admire than Manhattnik. But I would defend the arabesque penche -- with the arm extended towards Albrecht -- at the ballet's end. It did not seem like a trick to me, but an image that suggested Giselle's divided being at that moment. She yearns earthward towards Albrecht and the pull of gravity, but is drawn skyward towards heaven and the world of spirit. (I did think that, as she's on a ramp and has to anchor herself on the cross while she performs the arabesque, she should work on disguising the dependence on the cross more completely. She almost had it, but not quite...)

Mussel -- what a great story! Though one has to admit (and perhaps gen-xers should be warned) that the rest of Bayadere is not much like the Shades scene! Still, they might like Act II of Swan Lake... P.S. Looks like I will have to take a pass on Pied Piper, but I can't say these reports are causing me much regret...other than Corella.

Cargill -- I don't know if you meant to imply this, but I've sometimes wondered if St. Leon didn't even intend the sheaf of wheat to be a distant echo of Giselle's daisy. Coppelia often seems like a comic replay of romantic ballet themes...

I saw Fracci when I was a little girl and remember loving her in it -- especially the Act II, in which (as I remember) she utterly transformed herself from dance to dance. I don't know if this would be my "grown up" opinion...and this is not one of the roles that people typically mention when they mention Fracci...but my memories of Act II are still sort of alive, so I'll stand by it!

I came to the Coppelia discussion a few days late and didn't read this thread until after writing about Coppelius and Croce's writing on the ballet under the 'do you take the ballet seriously' question. I won't repeat what I said there, but strongly agree with views that take a more complex,'dark' view of C's character. I don't think it has to be played that way in any and every production, but I think the story and the music totally support that interpretation. He is, after all, a kind of would be Pygmalion...I saw Niels Bjorn Larsen and thought he was very intense, very dark -- I didn't pick up the connotations Alexandra mentions, but from what I remember it seems very likely to have been part of his thinking if not literally his actual interpretation. (Larsen was effective and, to my eyes, not "offensive," but given what I've written elswhere at Ballet Alert! people may not be surprized if I say, it hardly seems to me an interpretation that needs to be developed or underlined in modern productions...)

I've always found the Balanchine Act III quite sensational...the Wagner parody all the richer when you consider the date (1870) and the finale just thrilling. I even like the little girls. I thought that (in most traditional productions) celebrating the bell IS mentioned in Act I. The mayor (or whoever) announces it and the gift for anyone who marries on that day and then asks Swanilda and Frants if they will marry; that leads Swanilda to dance with the sheaf of wheat etc. The production I'm probably remembering is Franklin's for the National Ballet (which I think is very close to what he did for ABT), but I don't think this is unusual; it may even be in NYCB's -- I just don't remember.

Presumably Frants falling in love with a doll is meant to be a parody (or comic demystification) of all those silly ballet heros who fall in love with sylphs and naiads and dryads -- i.e. the unreal and untouchable -- literally, the girl on point (i.e. with mechanical accoutrements) instead of the girl in soft slippers. (I know Swanilda is on point, but she does do character dancing, and plot-wise she's an Effie who fights back.) The Barbie doll is a kind of popular version of this type of (sometimes obsessive) idealization. Just listen to people who collect Barbie dolls!

I strongly agree that the score plays a role in Coppelia's being a major ballet -- but also the story, which is loosely (admitedly, very loosely) based on a Hoffman story that has generated volumes of interpretation including a very famous essay by Freud. Just the human/mechanical opposition gives the ballet a deeply resonant theme, and one it shares with other major art works; it's a theme that also allows for metaphors that reflect on ballet itself as an art -- e.g. anxiety about the mechanical, heartless quality of ballet technique. (The whole ballet plays character dancing off against classical pointe technique etc. -- presumably lots of bad nineteenth-century ballets did that, too, but in this case it gets thematized or reflected on in Swanilda's Act II transformations. It's a ballet 'about' forgiveness etc., but also a ballet about ballet. Maybe that's why Balanchine wanted to stage it.) Taking a somewhat different emphasis, and one that would relate Coppelia to earlier romantic ballets, Croce describes Swanilda as a Shavian heroine who has to bring the dreaming/fantasizing hero down to earth and back to real life -- with Coppelius a kind of failed artist who never did entirely return from his dreams back to the everyday. (I'm paraphrasing Croce based on memory and may be elaborating a bit.) In a sense Coppelius is a belated version of Pygmalion -- Pygmalion in the age of mechanical reproduction. Even the Wagner parodies that the Balanchine/Danilova version include partly underline the way this is a ballet about ballet (or theater more broadly), as well as a ballet about the undoing of romantic myth. No more unattainable dream women (Sylphs or Valkyries) -- or, rather, a robot instead. None of this would be able to take theatrical effect, if there weren't the choreography to sustain the sheer dance interest. That's why it's a ballet and not a Hoffman story! But the evidence of the various productions I've seen is that enough remains of the "original" -- steps/structure/atmosphere -- to say that there is a choreographic template and it works. I agree, too, with Luka's comment that the ballet's rich history counts for something in this discussion. It's an important work if for no other reason than that it has been the scene of important performances. That alone might not be reason enough to keep staging Coppelia, but it is a part of the larger picture. I guess it's clear by now how I would answer the question. Yes, indeed, I do take Coppelia seriously as a major ballet! [ 05-21-2001: Message edited by: Drew ]

I was actually quite dazzled by whole sections of Dvorovenko's Act II -- she has such an extraordinary jump. At moments she really looked (to me) as if she were flying and floating weightlessly. And at the most exciting moments, the dance seemed to compel her rather than the other way around. Like Manhattnik, though, I thought Act II was certainly the stronger Act.

I thought Gelsey Kirkland gave a more thrilling and really unforgetable performance in Baryshnikov's Nutcracker than Marianna Tcherkassky. (Tcherkassky was lovely though.) I never saw Makarova in Other Dances, but Kirkland also gave some performances of the ballet in D.C. that were absolutely remarkable. Bejart was once quoted as saying that when he created his Romeo and Juliet he never dreamed he would have a ballerina as wonderful as Farrell to dance it...

Jimmy Carter was a supporter of the arts -- he not only sponsored televised performances at the White House -- but often attended performances in Washington, not necessarily gala events either. I saw him myself at a performance of _Amadeus_. As for ballet specifically, I always understood that Kissinger liked ballet...I know I saw him at at least one performance (not a gala), and in an interview, Farrell mentioned meeting him after a performance, and commented that he seemed to really know something about dance. (Of course, she may have been being polite, and Kissinger's attendance at ballet performances would have had little or no bearing on arts policy!) But I remain pretty indifferent to the personal tastes of these figures, though -- up to a point -- I do appreciate public policy that supports the arts. However, I very strongly agree with Dirac's comments about the Kennedys. I have been quite appalled by the uncritical tone of many intellectuals and artists on the subject of the Kennedy administration. From a specifically "arts" perspective, one might invoke Salzberg's question -- are the arts better off? -- but actually I don't think it's always easy to know if the answer is a straightforward "yes." I also think that it does matter that the arts and intellectuals generally were supported during the Kennedy administration in large part because American artistic and intellectual institutions, including the New York City Ballet, were seen as weapons in the propaganda wing of the cold war. If you want references, a somewhat sloppy book recently came out about this: Frances Stonor Saunders _The Cultural Cold War_. It's full of silly mistakes, but the overarching argument and research that went into it remains worth attention. One might respond, "who cares" if public and even some private funding (Ford Foundation) that spurred the dance boom can ultimately be traced to the CIA? Didn't the arts benefit? (See Saunders book if you want references...) And I would add that ALL arts support is likely to be 'tainted' in some way or another, if not politically then commercially, socially etc. But in a larger perspective, I don't think the supporters of the arts should be indifferent to what is going on -- or WHY it's going on -- partly because there are situations where independence can be compromised, but also for more pragmatic reasons. It may, for example, account for patterns of public support AND their withdrawal. Today's arguments against public funding of the arts rarely mention, for example, the end of the cold war and, in the meanwhile, people look back (in my opinion over idealistically) to the Kennedy adminstration, as a time whe the arts were "understood." But if in fact federal support for the arts has often been motivated by other, seemingly alien issues, like foreign policy -- then a great deal of this debate, however sincere on all sides, simply misses what is really happening.

I saw the new Wheeldon at the Sat. matinee -- for those who don't know, it's a "backstage" ballet. When the curtain rises, it's as if we are watching from the wings while a company rehearses and then premiers some sort of romantic 'fairy' ballet. (The set, by Ian Falconer is very striking at creating the effect of watching 'from the side' -- and Wheeldon's choreography sort of plays with this odd perspective.) When the ballet opens, Ansanelli as the "young dancer" comes out and, thinking no-one is watching, peforms a solo facing the curtain-in-the-set -- as if she is imagining herself dancing the lead at a performance when that curtain will go up. I was really enchanted. (Remembering Ansanelli's solo in Polyphonia -- it seems she brings out something in Wheeldon and Wheeldon something in her that's quite wonderful.) Anyway, for a few minutes, I thought this was going to be a ballet about the magic of the theater -- perhaps comic, certainly naive, but a valentine. But actually, as it unfolds it's much more of a farce -- with some pretty and even some pretty dazzling dancing -- and lots of gags. For example, at the "premier," the male lead leaps about the fictional stage in his solo and as he enters the 'wings' he collapses in exhaustion; from the point of view of the real stage, our point of view, he collapses downstage. The plot, such as it is, is back stage kitch (though I kept thinking, All About Eve if Eve were the heroine): a self-involved and affected prima ballerina (Maria Kowroski) gets her comeuppance, an injury, during a partnering mishap with a member of the male corps, and the sweet and talented young dancer (Ansanelli) dances the premier in her place with an admiring and sympathetic premier danseur, (Damian Woetzel). It made me a little queasy to laugh at a dancer getting injured -- Kowroski lies on the floor sticking up a horribly turned in foot while Woetzel runs to get her an ice pack -- but the gags throughout were more or less amusing. I agree with Manhattnik that it's hard to know how they will age. The pastiche choreography of the ballet within the ballet and the other "backstage" choreography had some charming passages and the virtuoso choreography for the "premier danseur," in particular, was appropriately showy and fun. Ansanelli was lovely throughout and it turns out Kowroski can do low parody as well as high elegance. Still, the ballet never seemed to return to the delicacy of the opening solo. Perhaps if I had known what the genre was beforehand, I wouldn't have been disappointed. One of the later comic sections did hint at that earlier quality -- a dance for the backstage crew, mopping the floor while the stage manager (a girl in overalls) joins them, at one point actually standing on their linked mops and being swept across the stage with a beautific smile on her face. It seemed to me like a comic parallel to Ansanelli imagining herself as the ballerina. For a moment, the ballet seemed to say: everybody wants to dance, everybody dreams of being the ballerina. But the ballet as a whole settled for less. That said, I did enjoy it and I think it's a great addition to the repertory -- partly because it's like nothing else they have. [ 05-12-2001: Message edited by: Drew ]

I don't read that much ballet criticism so it's hard to comment, but I'm jumping in because one thing Alexandra wrote surprized me very much -- that anyone would say they are uninterested in writing about ballet because 'everything has been said.' For a major art form (even for an important 'type' within a larger art form -- dance) ballet has attracted comparatively little great writing. And the critics whose names are usually given out as great are decidedly quirky even eccentric both as observers and writers. That's not a knock on those writers, but if someone new is knowledgeable and passionate about ballet, there's plenty left to say...The other issues raised seemed somewhat more plausible to me... As a reader, I do make a big distinction between dance writing in newspapers and dance writing in weekly/monthly general interest magazines and another somewhat smaller distinction between the latter and specialized dance publications. The attempt to make the writing livelier for a newspaper audience when transferred to, say, the New Yorker or The New Republic or the Nation or National Review (I'm trying to be politically ecumenical) sometimes just makes it seem as if the critic in question scarcely takes the art seriously him or herself. I am also pretty skeptical about critical writing that sounds like fan gushing or, for that matter, internet chat. One example: I read what I considered was justified praise for Stepanenko's Shades Scene in Bayadere in a (highly thought of) general interest journal. The critic made the point that one hardly ever saw a ballerina who could handle every one of the ballet's challenges, but then went off into some excursus about this "girl" dancing "like a miracle" -- that was not (in my opinion) poetic or evocative, but just plain condescending and even undermined the excellent point that had just been made. Stepanenko is not a "girl" she's a senior ballerina (in her thirties surely) with a major ballet company, and her dancing isn't a miracle -- she's an extremely well-trained, well-coached, and accomplished ballet dancer. I myself have been known to gush here at ballet alert! but I'm not a professional critic writing for publication in a prestigious magazine. One doesn't have to be puritanical -- genuine wit is fine -- but ballet fans must often lament the fact that somehow their favorite art form isn't taken as seriously as, say, symphonic music or dramatic literature; well, part of a critic's job should be to show people that it is. The same critic writing about a particularly good season Wendy Whelan was having (several seasons back) speculated that a new boyfriend might be making the difference. I later saw, elsewhere that Whelan herself commented publically on her personal life that season, but the critic didn't cite Whelan, but just threw the remark out there (wink! wink!); well, if the top critics don't take ballet dancing seriously as a craft and an art, who will? It's not a Herbert Ross movie in which love affairs and miracles are the real points of interest...and in relatively serious journals/magazines I don't think that's a productive way to develop a ballet audience. (I would cut a lot more slack to newspaper writers who have huge editorial limitations and a much more amorphous audience to face.) P.S. I thought it was quite gracious of Rachel Howard to respond to the comments she saw posted here... [ 05-08-2001: Message edited by: Drew ]