chauffeur

Thanks, all! These are very helpful comments, especially for prepping the student dancers who will be with us. I'll be sure to report back, though it will be several days -- I'll be away from a computer til the following weekend, but I will report in, I promise.

Hello, all, from the boondocks. ABT is coming to town next Tuesday. Here's the bill: Theme and Variations featuring (according to the ABT site) Murphy and Corella; Kylian's "Sinfonietta"; and Forsythe's "workwithinwork." What can we expect? What do we look for?

I can't believe I missed this, because I listen to "Adventures in Good Music" just about every weeknight, but I must have missed the announcement. Karl Haas, the host of this wonderful radio show and music educator extraordinaire, passed away earlier this month. According to the station in Detroit which produced his show, he was 91! That we should all live so long and well! He'll be missed in this house.

Yes, we were thinking of the kids. I knew Barker is still dancing but assumed the other adults had mostly retired. We were mostly wondering about the young Clara, as she seemed to have some talent. Fritz was definitely destined for a long and productive career in regional musical theater. But I'm not surprised to hear that none of the kids seem to have gone onto pro careers. And back to topic, yes, the PNB Drosselmeyer is probably the creepiest of any filmed or live version we've ever seen. Even my 6-year-old picked up on the undercurrent of something unsavory. Of course, it was also a little weird to realize that the film-version Drosselmeyer bears an unsettling resemblance to Queer Eye's Carson. We kept waiting for him to start flinging open closets and tossing clothes offstage!

yeah! What's up with that? Sunday mornings used to be an often rewarding dance-viewing experience, what with A&E, Bravo and CBS Sunday Morning. Now it's just go buy the NY Times and hope for an interesting article.

Hope this isn't regarded as :offtopic: but we were watching the PNB Nutcracker movie over the holidays and got to wondering if any of the young dancers in it made professional careers of it. Any PNBophiles know the answer to this?

"integrity" -- yes, that's the perfect word for it. Implies both intellectual and moral rigor, and you just don't see enough of that these days.

Speaking (typing?) as a journalist here, I must add that I sometimes find myself having to gently remind story subjects that there's a difference between journalism and public relations. But, through no fault of their own, many of these subjects and readers don't see the difference, thanks to so many so-called journalists who have blurred the distinction between reporting and advocating. And in these readers' minds, a critical review is no different from a press release or a Fox News rant. I deeply admire critics who can articulate negative opinions in a non-sensationalistic manner. It can be done constructively and help affect change that just might save a company. It can also educate the public. On the flip side, though, I've seen situations where a public that just might be inclined to become ballet fans read a rave review, then go see a show that's an absolute mess, and come away thinking, "I guess it's just me because I don't get it," and then they never go back. Honesty and objectivity are always the best policy, but that takes a well-educated critic, something that many markets in this country don't have. And that's a whole other topic for discussion!

I hope it's not too late to add my two cents to this thread. I was just wandering through the section and noticed it. As a Jane Austen Society of North America member, too, I was a little apprehensive about this one. YOu just so hate to be disappointed when people tamper with the great Jane, yet you can't help hoping that someone will revive something of her genius. But I must admit I was underwhelmed by the book. It just didn't grab me and keep me grabbed. I was amused in many places but the fact that I was easily able to put the book and walk away from it many times tells me the characters just weren't fully realized enough to engage me. (and -- putting my persnickety JASNA hat on here -- the author's insistence on calling JA "Miss Austen" was most unfortunate and incorrect. As the second daughter, she would have been called "Miss Jane," hence the term "Janeites." Her older sister Cassandra was "Miss Austen" in the nomenclature of the time. A most egregious error on Fowler's part!) But, in contrast, I must call attention to a 2003 Clare Boylan novel, "Emma Brown," which completes an unfinished Charlotte Bronte fragment (sniff, sniff, RIP Austen's "Sanditon"). This reworking of a master's theme/material/whatever is very well done and I had a very hard time putting this one down. I even made a perfect tear-leaking fool of myself, reading it on the sidelines of my son's soccer game.

Since my young daughter just finished a production with a small company that is populated by "old" pros who spent the major portion of their careers in bigger companies, I am fresh with the impression that it must be truly wrenching for dancers to feel like they *have* to retire just because their audiences can't bear to compare their current selves with their young selves. These people still love to perform, still crave it, I'm sure. Granted, there is nothing sadder than watching an old pro attempt the same leaps and barely clear the stage, but I'm a big fan of old pros who know how and when to ramp down their repertoire yet still perform. I've learned so much from meeting and watching old pros like Baryshnikov, Bill Evans, Steven Heathcote, and the ones in my daughter's company. And so do the young dancers. (small off-topic anecdote: in one of the shows, the volume dropped out on the soundtrack while nine young dancers, including my daughter, were out on stage. An old pro immediately went to the wing closest to them, began snapping his fingers to give them a count, and when the sound went back on 30 seconds later, they were still exactly in time with the music. You could never replicate a learning moment like this without an old pro to lead you.)

ah, perky, "Jewels" is exactly the kind of program we do spend our money on, and we saw it last year, too. And I'm sure you could appreciate the difference between how the BalletMet dancers executed those exquisite steps and how much better most of the Cincinnati Ballet dancers executed them. It was very obvious which company has stayed in greater touch with its classical roots and training -- though I agree, in a silver lining sort of way, that it was better for the BalletMet dancers to have had the opportunity to dance Balanchine than to endure another Nixon "masterpiece." I think because of attending that particular performance we are now on Cincinnati's mailing list and, I'll tell you, their season excites me far more than BalletMet's does. We may just make a couple trips down I-71 this year. I'll have to put my money where my e-mouth is!

Great topic! This is such a Catch-22 scenario for us in Ohio with BalletMet. They've been veering for many years towards a more pop-ballet (great term) lineup, and that makes it so hard for our family to want to spend our precious few entertainment dollars on them. They're also all over the physiological map with their hiring so you never see a really cohesive look to the company. The situation here is compounded by behind-the-scenes political turmoil, and I feel like, if we support everything they put on, that only helps bolster the case for the popsters currently in control. So I research carefully, figure out what's most likely to suit our tastes, and go only to those shows. But we take a bye on the Draculas and dumbed-down Cinderellas. Although I must say I DO appreciate the reasoning behind these pop ballets: They are trying to pull in much-needed new audiences, but it seems to me it's a strategy that is failing because it alienates the true ballet lovers. the other problem here, as in many markets I suspect, is they've got a board chosen more for their social connections than aesthetic sensibilities, and little apparent interest in educating themselves. Writing a letter or even talking directly to these people accomplishes nothing. Very frustrating, although things may finally be starting to change. We shall see.

Ouch on Baynes' behalf, but I love the succinct-ness of what you say. It's so true.

Southern Lights -- Australian Ballet, Canberra Theatre (Australia) -- May 22, 2004 This program featured three pieces by Australian Ballet resident choreographer Stephen Baynes, as performed by mostly senior artists from the company. Each piece was also a premiere of some sort, either Australian or world (I lost track) but the sense I got from the program notes was that each piece, even if it had appeared elsewhere in some other form, had been reworked enough that its performance here was its first ever. The results, like the program, were a bit mixed, though predominantly very enjoyable and thought-provoking. Baynes is well on his way to crafting an interesting and intelligent vocabulary of his own. I love it when he follows his sinuous instincts, but he also uses stillness and what I would call ?negative motion? (when muscles relax rather than contract) very, very well. Prior to the performance (which was the second in its run of five nights in Canberra), I attended an hour-long ?chat? with Baynes, lighting director Rachel Burke and costume/set designer Michael Pearce, as mediated by AB education manager Colin Peasley. It was an illuminating program, but I distinctly got the impression that Baynes wished he had had more rehearsal time with the company, and I would agree. It?s often hard to tell with new choreography whether its success or failure is the result of the choreography or the execution. I?m so used, in America, to seeing choreography that I suspect is quite good but I just don?t know for sure if it is because the execution is less than optimal. With this Southern Lights program, I came away feeling like I don?t yet know if the flaws are the choreographer?s or the performers? doing. But I am certain that more rehearsal would have clarified the issue. The ironic disadvantage in working with a company?s senior artists is that they?re all so good at what they do, and one of the hallmarks of a really good star dancer (I think) is that dancer?s (often inadvertent) ability to make his or her own mistake look like everyone else?s mistake. You know how a prima ballerina could be just a half-beat off the pace, yet it looks like everyone else on the stage is a half-beat off? Well, imagine a handful of stars like Lynette Wills, Kirsty Martin, Olivia Bell and Annabel Bronner Reid all being their own half-beats off, presumably from lack of sufficient rehearsal. Who, out of that crowd, do you blame, I ask you? It?s very frustrating All this need-for-more-rehearsal caveat aside, I should focus on what exactly was performed. The first piece was a one-act light bit of entertainment called ?Imaginary Masque.? Performed in six parts by a cast of eight, it was eye candy to the max. Lovely, light, ethereal stuff on gossamer wings (with stunningly beautiful set and light design) set to music by Ravel. In his pre-show talk, Baynes made it clear that he regarded the piece as beauty for its own sake, nothing more, nothing less. I was enchanted by what I saw, but toward the end, the music took a spin through an ever-so-slightly menacing minor key which unleashed an exciting thought in my head: was this Masque (which is a 17th-century ball) the same Masque that Edgar Allan Poe wrote about in his classic short story about Venetians voluntarily locking themselves in a palace and dancing until the Black Plague killed them all off? And Baynes, in the end movement of his Masque, had his dancers begin looking up and around at the stage and themselves as if they were suddenly seeing something new that they had never noticed before. Right now in Australia, everyone?s all atwitter about Graeme Murphy?s soon-to-be-unveiled new contemporary ballet for the Sydney Dance Company. It?s called ?Shades of Grey? and it?s based on the ?Portrait of Dorian Gray? novel but is also a metaphorical meditation, I?ve read, on the devastating effects of the AIDS epidemic on the dance world of the 1970s and 1980s. I hate to impose ugly seriousness on what Baynes is trying to create with his ?Imaginary Masque,? but I honestly got so excited to think at his piece?s end that he was going to shock and surprise us all as Poe did, that I was mildly disappointed when nothing more than ephemeral beauty developed out of his piece. I refuse to blame Baynes for my random reaction and expectation, but it still would have been a really kick-ass resolution to what was otherwise simply a gorgeous divertissement. But this reaction marked the beginning of my overall reaction to Baynes? choreography: He can do better and he can aim higher. That much is clear from the step-by-step originality of his choreography. What he needs are better-constructed ?books? for his ballets and, in particular, better, more balanced dramatic structure. Moving onto the second piece: ?Unspoken Dialogues,? which featured Steven Heathcote and the resurrected-from-retirement Justine Summers. This piece was clearly well-rehearsed (as Baynes acknowledged, pre-show, that it had been). And it was much better constructed and fleshed out than the other two pieces in the program. Basically it?s the story of an estranged couple who are still trying to make it work, yet in the end they find themselves no further along than they were at the beginning. The music was a very stark violin and piano arrangement of an Alfred Schnittke sonata: poundingly good Germanic stuff with a modern edge. The dancing in this one was muscular and tense without being stiff. I really loved what Baynes, Heathcote and Summers created here. It also had the emotional depth and resonance that I noticed and admired in AB?s Swan Lake a few weeks earlier. And the lighting design was especially powerful. At one point, in the middle section of the piece, the house lights came up a bit. At first, I was very uncomfortable with this and wondered if it was a mistake, but then I realized that the audience was being identified as viewers of this domestic drama and, at the same time, being forced to acknowledge our voyeuristic role in that drama. It was one of those ?a-ha!? moments that makes live theater so damn cool. My one-word verdict on the final piece, ?El Tango,? came precisely as the final curtain fell: problematic. And I think, but I don?t know for sure, that the problems came in two forms: structure and casting. The score followed along to an eight-part piece that explored small dramas and romances played out in a South American dance club. The atmosphere, as evoked by the Gidon Kremer and Yo Yo Ma compositions, as well as by the set and costuming, were all spot-on. And the first five parts of the piece, which bookended full-cast (of ten dancers) numbers around a sextet, a duet and a trio, worked very well (and seem to have been decently though not rigorously rehearsed). The last three parts of the piece, though, stranded Lynette Wills and Christopher White on the stage. It was just them, all alone, playing out their little drama of dysfunctional love, and it ended with just them, even though the music picked up and fleshed out to a degree that screamed for a full-cast finale. As a result, this whole last part felt flimsy and anti-climatic, and as if it were a different ballet that had been appended onto the first part. And that was very dissatisfying. And I?m really struggling with the Wills-White casting. She?s attractive but in a very austere, almost untouchable way. And he?s attractive in a softer, more approachable way. They didn?t match each other well. When he stomped off at the very end, rejecting her, I felt like, ?yeah, so what?? They didn?t engage my emotions as a couple ? not the way Heathcote and Summers did in their piece, even though they were playing an even more dysfunctional couple with an equally unhappy ending. A few final thoughts: I had the absolute pleasure of chatting after the show with Steven Heathcote who is, I must say, a genuinely nice and a genuinely genuine person. My 10-year-old daughter wanted to go autograph-hunting at the stage door after the show, and he was one of her lucky conquests. But he was also truly interested in wanting to know what we thought of the show. I told him that, as much as I love the sinuous qualities of Baynes? choreography, I was truly impressed with how he uses stillness and how well the AB dancers can execute it. They really can, and I told Heathcote I think they do it better than any major company I?ve ever seen before. I think he liked hearing that, and he also shared how much he enjoys the thinking that Baynes? choreography requires. And it makes me wonder, as Heathcote at 40 years old must undoubtedly be contemplating his next career steps, if Baynes wouldn?t benefit from more input from thinking dancers like Heathcote. I feel like Baynes needs a creative collaborator the way Graeme Murphy has his partnership with Janet Vernon ? someone who can see his work from the outside yet also knows what makes the inside tick. Baynes may grow, as an artist, and eventually be able to see the ?forest? for his dancing trees, but right now I don?t get the sense that he does. And I wish the AB would give him more time with his dancers. He deserves it.

I can't say as that I agree with you, Ari and Floss. In this day and age of declining arts revenues, I honestly don't mind the use of the same title, especially if it helps bring people in. The advertising made it very clear that it was a modernized interpretation of the original. I was under no illusions that this Swan Lake was the same as the classic, traditional version. And I think Murphy did a marvelous job of clarifying the narrative flow in a way that deserves its own place in the classical canon. We don't have enough new classical story ballets, and this Swan Lake, I think, is a great addition. Let's not discourage the creation of more by quibbling over titles!

Hi, Katharyn (how many handles do you have? )! I only get to log onto Ballet Alert when I'm at the Belconnen library and it's pretty rare at that. I just posted my very long thoughts on Swan Lake - LOVED it -- and we most definitely have tickets to Southern Lights. In fact my daughter and I were there at the Canberra Ticketing office at 9 am the morning they went on sale. I'm sure the nice folks there thought "what an anal couple of Americans!" Anyway, was it the Bloch shop in Canberra Centre? We will definitely try to pop by this week! cheers, no worries, erm and all those other expressions they use here!

Australian Ballet -- Swan Lake, May 1, 2004 - Sydney Opera House The Swan Lake that the Australian Ballet performs now is probably the most absorbing full-length story ballet I’ve ever seen. With a lot of these oldie but goodie story ballets, you really have to voluntarily suspend your 21st-century need for a smooth storyline and plausible characters, and you have to agree to enjoy the classical genre for what it is: beautifully stylized with some fairly artificial rules for presentation. But not with this one. This Graeme Murphy version of Swan Lake (or, more correctly, as the program notes indicate -- this choreographer Murphy/creative associate Janet Vernon/designer Kristian Fredrikson version) first debuted in 2002 and I think it’s a very successful reworking of the traditional classic. The story is transported to some kind of Edwardian-era court of indistinguishable nationality. The triangle in this version is Odette the innocent bride, Prince Siegfried (the royal dinkhead, if you ask me), and Baroness von Rothbart, who is Siegfried’s lover. Siegie and the Baroness are more than happy to marry him off to Odette and continue their romping on the sly, but Odette goes nuts from her shock/outrage/jealousy at the arrangement. Major overtones of the whole Chuck-Di-Camilla triangle. All we needed was a little binging and purging, and the parallel would have been complete. Fortunately we were spared that, and Odette was instead shipped off to a sanitorium, complete with winged-habit nuns, where, when not hunched in a windowsill and rocking pensively, Odette escapes to a dream world where she frolics with - you guessed it -- a flock of lovely white swans. This whole dream-world conceit works, even when Siegfried shows up in her dreams and behaves himself. And then it’s back to reality where Odette recovers and attempts to rejoin the “sane” world. She crashes a party that the Baroness is hosting with Siegfried. The big jerk falls in love with his wife when she impresses everyone (except the Baroness) with her elegantly restrained new personality. But, just as Odette and Siegfried are really enjoying their turns around the ballroom floor together, the Baroness summons the nuns in white coats and they attempt to haul Odette off again. But she escapes to the woods and her flock of swans, where Siegfried finds her, professes his love for her in terpsichorean terms, and then she drowns herself. And until the last, crashing measures of the score, I fervently would have preferred that Siegfried drowned instead, but, as I’ll explain later, the Murphy/Vernon/Fredrikson staging ended with an image that made Odette’s death “work” so quickly and so powerfully that just about everyone around me gasped and then went rifling through their handbags and pockets for tissues as the curtain fell. So, back to the beginning. (A note of explanation: our family, ordinarily American in residence, has been living in Australia the last few months while my husband works during his university sabbatical with the Australian Institute of Sport. We return home at the end of May.) My two children (ages 10 and 5) and I saw Swan Lake on its first Saturday-afternoon matinee after it opened at the Sydney Opera House two evenings earlier, so imagine my surprise when we were handed our programs and found we were getting the A-team cast of Madeline Eastoe as Odette and Steven Heathcote as Siegfried. I think we got the B-team Baroness with Lucinda Dunn, no slouch clearly, but more on her later. I consider this Swan Lake to be fully engaging and successful because it passed the all-critical “attention span of a 5-year-old boy” test. My son made it through all three hours and four acts of the ballet with minimal fidgeting because, I think, the storyline was clear and strong enough to give him a heroine to cheer for (the “crazy girl” as he called Odette) and a villain to cheer against (the Baroness who was the “bad girl”). Siegfried frankly puzzled him, but he took my word for it that Siegfried was weak and wishy-washy and being very stupid to have a girlfriend when he already had a perfectly good wife. The storyline clarity is, I think, a large part of why this Swan Lake works. Gone is the traditional pas de deux with its four-part format that you really have to be a decently educated ballet spectator to know and accept. Gone also is the endless parade of wedding reception entertainers, reduced only to one stomping Hungarian mazurka number. The emphasis is placed on good storytelling and that made it the shortest three hours I’ve ever spent watching ballet. Eastoe (Odette) brings very strong acting abilities to her interpretation (Simone Goldsmith originated the role in 2002, and Eastoe was one of the backups then, but judging from the reviews I’ve read, her current interpretation is wowing one and all, and making Goldsmith a fading memory). She’s lithe and athletic, but she pulls off hairpin turns in Odette’s emotions that a lesser actress could have never managed. Heathcote, whom I believe is 40 now and whom I could tell is a huge favorite with Australian audiences, is a truly gifted partner to his ballerinas: I don’t think I’ve ever seen better in a live performance. With most male dancers, the goal seems to be “if you don’t notice me supporting the woman, then I’ve done a good job,” but Heathcote seems to make his partnering part of his characterization. With most male dancers, the face goes blank with concentration as he helps his gal complete as many turns as possible or slither around his body in intricate ways, but with Heathcote, he continued to facially and physically react to the woman. I do feel compelled to note, though, that from the shoulders to the waist, Heathcote has gotten a bit solid and I’m surprised the costuming wasn’t modified to hide that better. The slight chunkiness did not seem to hinder his mobility and exquisite flexibility at all, but it was a little distracting. Other quibbles: with all the impressive acting and intricately enjoyable choreography going on, I found the Baroness’s third act breakdown surprisingly unconvincing. In Acts I (wedding and Odette’s breakdown) and II (sanitorium and first trip to Swan Lake), there was no slimier a snake to be found on that stage than the Baroness. Dunn was utterly convincing as the beautiful, imperious and utterly-in-control bitch, but for the Act III eruption of jealousy and insecurity to work (when Odette wins back Siegfried), I felt like I should have seen some chinks in the armor earlier on. I don’t know if this is the fault of the choreography, the direction or the dancer: Perhaps it’s a combination, but the Baroness needed to be more three-dimensional in the first half if I was going to buy it in the second half. Similarly, since good acting was meant to be such a major part of this Swan Lake, for me to totally believe that an Odette who won back Siegfried would still off herself, then I needed her reaction to the Baroness’s Act III breakdown to be less emotionless. For me to believe that Odette would sacrifice herself in the end, she needed to show signs of sympathy and even concern for the woman who had tried to destroy her. And that’s what the ending is clearly meant to be -- self-sacrifice and not self-pity. The program synopsis and other reviews seem to regard Odette’s drowning as a desperate last act to quell the troubled waters of her mind, but the way Eastoe mostly played her and the way the drowning was staged, to me it more strongly suggested an almost Christ-like/Resurrection scenario. Spoiler warning: The Ending. Swan Lake is represented by a large tilted ellipse that dominates the upper half of the stage. In Act II, it’s covered with a white, velvety cloth with wave-like patches of sparkles. The swans started and ended in supine positions on the ellipse. In Act IV, it’s covered with a black, sparkling velvet cloth. As the ballet draws to a close, the lights dim and when they rise again Odette is positioned at the top of the ellipse with the black cloth drawn up around her legs. She very decisively gestures to the skies with her right hand, then sinks below the ellipse (through a trap door obviously). BUT the most telling and powerful action comes as she disappears: The black cloth is drawn swiftly into the hole, following her and leaving behind a blindingly white ellipse from which Siegfried has to shield his eyes. The interpretation that immediately sprang to my mind was that Odette had conquered evil by willfully dying and taking the darkness with her. She left behind the light and the goodness that will inure Siegfried to the evil enticements of the Baroness. Not bloody likely in the real world, I feel compelled to add, but in the theatrical world, totally plausible. Without that ending, I would have given the show 3.5 stars out of 4. With it, it got the 4 stars. A few other thoughts: this was my first time seeing the AB or any other RAD-dominant dance company perform live. And the only other live Swan Lake I had seen was performed by the Grigorivich Ballet, a third-tier touring company of Soviet and Asian dancers. The Grigorivich version was very traditional, and I remember finding the corps the most impressive element of it. Their precision was a sight to behold. But the principals, other than the Jester if I remember correctly, were less than impressive. They didn’t bring the intensity and dramatic commitment to their dancing that the AB performers did. The AB corps was not something to write home about, although when doing Murphy’s large-scale, complicated, weaving-around choreography, they exuded youth and enthusiasm (in a good way). I suspect that the training here (and nearly everyone in the company comes from the Australian Ballet School, the Royal New Zealand Ballet School, or the Western Australian Ballet School) emphasizes individual and dramatic development more than the Vaganova method does. Something about the arms with these RAD-trained dancers was also less precise, but their legs and feet consistently were to die for. Eastoe struck me as having extraordinarily languid feet: Even when performing rapid movements on pointe, she could still flex and do things with her feet within a margin of milliseconds. The very evident individuality of the AB dancers also seems to give rise to some diva-esque showboating by a few of the minor dancers. There were a few men and women within groups of two and six who were clearly bucking for promotions, giving their leaps and arabesques extra-noticeable oomph. Interestingly, the group of Four Little Swans had the egotism in check, but then again, when you’re locked into each other like that, there is no room for stars or you all end up flat on your bony white asses. Which reminds me of one last point: I’m not knowledgeable enough about ballet to write in detail about the choreography itself. But it seems to me that Murphy kept certain segments intact from the traditional original. Four Little Swans in particular seemed very much like the original with the most evident changes coming in some very clever arm work. He’d have the dancers bend over and rotate their joined arms up and over from that position. And, though best known probably for his work with the contemporary Sydney Dance Company, Murphy kept the modern impulses well in check and mingled nicely with the classical. Most of the contemporary vocabulary came out in Odette’s mad dances, and there was only one part, in Act III when Siegfried and the Baroness are fighting their respective evil impulses that Murphy reverts to contemporary-style choreography that seemed too ungainly -- a lot of squatting second-position stuff that was just too vulgar even for the point he was trying to make. Otherwise, though, it was consistently intelligent and interesting stuff. And, like I said, it kept a 5-year-old’s attention, so, on the balance, I have absolutely no complaints.

While I will absolutely agree with you, clara 76, that my employer's dance critic has a distressing lack of training in and knowledge of ballet, I think the record shows that she has been exceptionally kind to your employer's company! Although that does seem to be changing this season.

The thought occurs to me in reading everyone passionately defending their positions here with this art vs. athleticism debate, that I don’t think the two sides define athleticism the same way. I think for those of us who move comfortably between the worlds of sports and the arts, athleticism isn’t the dirty word that the pure aesthetes claim it to be. I don’t believe that art and athleticism are mutually exclusive. What audiences respond to and want more of, in both ballet and sport, is an elegant efficiency of form. What sets apart a dancer as one of the greats is purity of movement, power, focus and passion. There is nothing wasted, physically or emotionally. It’s a perfect fusion of form and substance. Exactly the same thing is true of athletes who are also the most successful in their sports. The difference, though, is that athletes have finish lines or clocks or score cards by which they must first measure success. If you look at athletes like Michael Jordan, Tiger Woods, Ted Williams, Wilma Rudolph or Wayne Gretzky, who became the gold standard in their sports, what set them apart from the vast majority of other athletes is an elegant efficiency of form. What makes that elegant efficiency possible is consummate physical fitness which, in turn, makes it possible for the athlete to completely relax in the competitive moment and just flow. The dancer needs fitness and the same kind of skill-mastery that athletes need in order to relax and reach that sublime experience of “flow.” With ballet, flow is the primary goal. With sport, it’s a by-product. But it happens with both activities, and that’s why I think a lot of us don’t view them as mutually exclusive. And I personally believe that there is much that dance could learn from sport in achieving fitness (without distorting form) which in turn makes it easier to achieve the artistic flow.

I can't hear the music without thinking of the Trocks, earnestly muscling their way through that number. And when I think of that, I feel happy. And when I feel happy, the world's a better place for a little while! God bless the Trocks (even if they can't marry each other in most states of the union)!

Intriguing idea, but I think unless the dancers had learned and continued to participate in sports from a young age, they would be at a significant disadvantge to other athletes, especially if there were skill activities involved in the competition. There was a fascinating book published several years ago called "Why Michael Can't Hit" and it focused in large part on basketball star Michael Jordan's unsuccessful bid to play professional baseball. Research has proven that there's a "window of opportunity" for learning and mastering particular physical and even mental skills. That window usually closes by 14 for any activity. In other words, you can still learn new skills all your life, but if you want to become truly excellent at something, the overwhelming odds are you'll have to start learning it young. But most dancers (and athletes) eventually have to make the choice to specialize, and I think the pressure to make that decision is coming earlier and earlier in our society, so these kids are missing out on the opportunities to master other skills. Swimming is just about the only competitive activity I've found to be compatible with dancing, and I often notice swimming is listed as a pre-dance-life activity for some dancers. Makes sense -- it builds stamina without pounding. We're encouraging our daughter to keep doing both as long as possible. The only dancer I've ever heard of who attempted to compete at sports while performing professionally was Jacques D'Amboise who ran the NYC Marathon -- in the midst of his dance season, no less! But I get the impression he is one rare bird, and more power to him for that! D'Amboise, I would bet, could have defeated (and perhaps still could!) many of these juiced-up-on-steroids, sad-excuses-for-athlete baseball players in contests of stamina and agility. :grinning:

How about the organizations (arts and otherwise) that use your past record of contribution to calculate precisely for you what your next big contribution should be? Those are my absolute favorites!

Over time, as I get to know a dance (or music, film or art) critic's opinions, I find that I can use his or her opinions to develop a pretty accurate gauge of whether or not I'll like the work -- and sometimes that's because I find I consistently disagree with the critic! Where I live right now, I've found that I can reliably "use" the local dance critic because our opinions tend to be polar opposites, so if she hates it, I know I'll probably enjoy it (eg - she totally didn't get the Baryshnikov solo show, I totally did; she thinks the big local dance company's corps is on a par with a touring Russian company's that came through town once, and, um, it isn't, IMO). The only time she's "failed" me was when she agreed that the local company's attempt at Balanchine choreography was not as successful as the visiting company with whom it shared the stage. But that's OK -- I know I'll still disagree with her most of the time!

I just whipped through "Kate Remembered," the biography of Katharine Hepburn by Scott Berg. It's brain candy but brain candy of a better sort, kind of like the difference between bon-bons from the homemade candy shop in town and the chocolate bar you grab out on the checkout line at the supermarket. Very genteel writing, remembrances and observations. She was a curious mix of brash and classy, and Berg seemed to capture that. I know there's supposed to be an unauthorized, dirt-digging biography of Hepburn due out soon, but, after a week of enduring Super Bowl halftime-show highlights on TV, this dose of gentility was most welcome.

thank you, both. I appreciate the input!