Helene

Thank you so much, Kazdncr! In any piece with corps, one or two dancers grab my eye. Hopefully, I'll learn who all of the dancers in the Company are, and learn to appreciate each one. (It just takes me a while, and since I'm from out-of-town, it has to happen over a couple of years.) Many times, a dancer I hadn't noticed will be cast in a different style ballet, and really shine. For example, in the Sunday afternoon performance of "Golden Section," every dancer and each role in the piece was equally vivid to me in his/her own way, whereas the first two times I saw it, my eye kept going back to the same dancers. The same thing with Rubies: all four men were equally impressive, each in his own way, and the female corps was spot on.

On my left facing the stage, in the front of the line.

Celebrate Seattle Festival Week 3 opened last night. The Festival opened with a piece by one of PNB's own, Kiyon Gaines. Originally performed in last year's Choreographer's Workshop, Schwa, to music of Astor Piazzolla. Some of the ballet was re-worked, with three fewer dancers than the original 18, and with only two substitutions of the remaining 15, Anton Pankevitch for Jonathan Poretta, and Leanne Duge for Chalnessa Eames. I remember thinking that this was a terrific work when I first saw it, and it is even better now. It's often not surprising when men choreograph well for other men, especially is parts for which they themselves would have been suitable casting. In this Gaines in no exception, particularly in the "La Calle" section for Benjamin Griffiths and James Moore, which is now the second section after the full cast opening. This part was filled with elegant virtuosity that is a hallmark of Gaines's dancing. What is even more auspicious is how well Gaines choreographs for women. He's given Brittany Reid break out in "La Muerte de Angel" in a solo with energy and sweep. But the highlight of the ballet was the new "El Sol Sueno" solo for Mara Vinson: it was evocative of tango yet intrinsically classical. The pas de deux for Vinson and Karel Cruz was strong, and although the man's role was primarily partnering, it emphasized Cruz's long line. The one criticism I would have of the ballet is that in the "Encuentro/Olivido" section with two couples, the promise of the beginning wasn't realized, and the section faded, although it was an opportunity to see Maria Chapman and Lesley Rausch dance side by side. These two women are two of the best upper body dancers in the company, and there was a gentle qualify and lovely bloom to their work that complemented each other. After the performance in the Q&A, Gaines discussed the logistics: with 15 dancers, to have two casts and the necessary understudies would use most of the Company, and that for his next work, he expects to use a cast of ten. This is a shame, because he also knows how to use and move a corps. He will be choreographing a work for this year's Choreography Workshop, which Boal said would be performed by Professional Division students on 16 June in the evening, after the daytime school performances. Schwa alone makes it worth attending Program A. The second section consisted of two works. The first is Robert Joffrey's Remembrances, set to music by Richard Wagner. It has a story: a woman, here Lindsi Dec, dressed in a long gown, remembers a distant romance. Jane Eaglen, also dressed in a long gown sang "Traume" onstage, as Jeffrey Stanton and Kaori Nakamura danced "The Lovers." I find the ballet itself dull, but Nakamura's performance was incandescent. After a pause, PNB dancers performed Merce Cunningham's Inlets 2 to a conch shell quartet playing music of John Cage. For such a water-filled score, I found it rather dry: it was like watching a stream with bushes and trees around. Every once in a while a big breeze would blow, and there's be a lot of activity, but most of the time, there were contained, rhythmic sways. Ariana Lallone was particularly appealing, but I can't quite describe why. The program ended with Val Caniparoli's Torque, which, in my opinion, was mostly a non-starter. The first movement was unusual for Torke: the droning, regular phrases in many of his scores was missing, and the clarion instrumentation almost lilted. However, Caniparoli choreographed it in choppy phrases, reminsicent of Peter Martins in Ecstatic Orange, et. al., and just as soon as the dancing couples could hit their stride, the phrase would End. Ten great dancers on stage and no place to go. Until the third part, in which Caniparoli choreographed an exquisite solo danced by Olivier Wevers, who invested it with detail and vividness throughout his entire body. It was the high point of the ballet. Tonight's Program B opened with Ballet British Columbia's performance of John Alleyne's Schubert, set to the composer's 2nd piano trio, whose second movement was made famous as the theme in the movie Barry Lyndon. In the first two movements, the recurring movement pattern was that a woman was lifted and then went to the floor. In the first, there were many playful and original poses and freizes; not that the dancers stopped still in freeze frame, but that top of the image was foremost. From the first movement, I would love to see what Alleyne would bring to the Nymphs and Satyrs sections of Sylvia and from the second movement, to the monsters in Firebird. What was frustrating was there wasn't that much movement or use of floor space. When in the middle of the first movement a man ran in a semi-circle from downstage to upstage, I felt a sense of relief. This changed in the last movement, where there was a fabulous section for the seven women in the ballet, with eye-catching, weaving patterns and a much more expansive sense of movement, paradoxically with less room on stage. The dance ended with a solo comprised entirely of ballet steps and turns, which were very sparsely sprinkled until then. The women in the Company are terrific. They would make a trip to Vancouver worth it to see them. After a pause, Batkhurel Bold, Carla Körbes, James Moore, and Kiyon Gaines danced Sonia Dawkins Ripple Mechanics, choreographed for the 2005 Choreographer's Workshop. Originally for two women and three men, only Bold was in the original cast. They dynamics have changed, with one central woman, and for the better. The opening, in which the four dancers sit on boxes, which are used throughout, was the strongest part of the dance, in my opinion, and the music was a big reason for this. It was an abstract soundscape, and at times, it almost looked as if the dancers were causing the score to progress just as much as they reacted to it. Once the music turned to songs (sung by Nina Simone and Jacqueline Fuentes), the dancing became more formulaic in structure, although the dancers themselves were clearly differentiated. (In the post-performance Q&A, Boal said that when Dawkins was re-casting, she said she wanted to work with "the Mopey Guy" [James Moore].) Any ballet that can bring Bold out of his generally cool persona like that and inspire him to show such a huge smile when it was over is worth seeing. Part 2 began with Two's Company, a ballet by Toni Pimble, choreographed for the 1992 Diamond Project for Stephanie Saland, Jeffrey Edwards, and Boal, who did the staging. The three dancers were Bold in Boal's part, Patricia Barker in Saland's, and Karel Cruz in Edwards's. It was set to the second movement of Dvorak's String Quartet in F Major, a deep, rich piece of music. As the music bends and folds and unfurls and coils, so did the choreography. In many ways the most conventional work on the program, it was also, in my opinion, the most successful, creating a simple narrative of a love triangle and mood through disciplined, structured choreography and dramatic restraint. The role is a gift to Patricia Barker at the end of her career, and a gift to the audience to be able to witness it. The program ended with Donald Byrd's Bhangra Fever, danced by his company, Spectrum Dance Theater. If the piece had ended after driving, hopping dance before the first curtain, I would have been a very satisfied camper: the section was tight, focused, and a vortex of bundled energy. After that, there were stretches of inventiveness, like the group simply walking, and the slow pas de deux for one of the side couples (she was in red and yellow) in the third section, and some terrific dancing, including one man with head of curls (or short dredlocks?) who exploded with energy and was mesmerizing. But on the whole, it lost my interest. Five minutes after the first (or only) intermission, a project called "One Tiny Dance" by Crispin Spaeth Dance Group, takes place on "the Tumble Creek at Suncadia Stage on the Kreielsheimer Promenade," or as Peter Boal described it in his pre-curtain speeches, "that table in the lobby that looks like it came from IKEA." Literally 4x4'ish, a dance takes place on it every night, and people crowd along the balconies to catch a look. I didn't get a very good spot last night and didn't see much, but tonight's dance, with two women impersonating chickens doing a mating dance -- they started on the walkway that is visible through the glass wall of the lobby -- and a requisite male (rooster?) in the mix at the beginning and end. It was a delight. Another part of the festival is that for each performance, there are a group of honorees in the Seattle dance world. Last night, the honorees were The Phelps Family, who were key in bringing Russell and Stowell to Seattle and helping to create The Phelps Center, PNB's classroom, office, costume shop, and studio building on the West Side; Pacific Northwest Ballet School; and Joffrey Ballet School teacher Francesca Corkle, for whom Remembrances was choreographed, and her mother Virginia Ryan, Corkle's teacher. Tonight's honorees were Kabby Mitchell III, who danced with a number of companies before he came to PNB, where he was a soloist in the late '70's through mid 80's, and where he taught at the PNB school until he left to earn a degree in Iowa; Seattle Theatre Group, which manages the Paramount and Moore Theatres, produces dance performances at those theaters, and runs education outreach throughout the Seattle community; and Virginia Anderson, who was the director of Seattle Center and spearheaded the campaign to renovate McCaw Hall. Boal has emphasized how he wants the dance audience in Seattle to embrace the entire dance community, and this festival is a giant step in that direction. The best way to enjoy this experience is to expect to see a dance festival.

amazon.com sent me a "ship" notification of the Kirstein bio on Monday. It should be delivered today or tomorrow.

Without Paul Parish sitting next to me, so that when I ask, "who was that amazing brunette who ended up downstage left and was the middle one in the third trio" he can tell me it was Erin McNulty, I'm afraid I'm stuck with "the blond woman who ended up downstage right."

Thank you for the info! Sometimes I can't read -- it was from the Tharp that I remember Dekkers' haircut from the matinee. By process of elimination, that haircut could only have belonged to Dekkers, but I still couldn't believe it. I also lost track of the number of blond women in the Tharp, trying to figure out who the blond woman I like so much in Konservatoriet was. I have another question: your legs look six feet long by themselves. How do you move and beat so fast?

Thank you so much for your reports, chiapuris!

Why do dancers allow themselves to be cast in Bournonville? It has to be the hardest, most unforgiving ballet discipline, requiring precision, musicality, proportion, balance, opposition, and the defining Feldenkrais characteristic of reversability. Slips and stumbles and going off balance can't be saved by a supporting partner. Most of the music doesn't support melodramatic excess. Large preparations and indulgent big effects distort the line. And there's that demanding quiet fifth position out of every possible weight shift to end the phrase. Every flaw is exposed. The music does not have the same extremes as the big Tchaikovsky scores, and the dancers must find a way to ride more subtle dynamic changes. And it requires taste. Ballet Arizona's Mixed Rep program begins with two Bournonville works: Flower Festival in Genzano Pas de Deux and Konservatoriet. Two dancers who joined Arizona Ballet this year, Michelle Mahowald and Ross Clarke, danced the Pas de Deux in today's matinee. Both are tall, or at least Mahowald's long legs make her look tall. Clarke, in particular, danced as if he were projecting on the stage of Symphony Hall, the Company's main venue, rather than the intimate Orpheum Theatre. Extension and long leg line that are ideal for classical and neoclassical works don't necessarily fit into the geometry and balance of the ballet, and they both had a tendency to phrase in discrete pieces, so that you could see the measure markings. Which isn't to say they danced it badly, but they did look like classical dancers in a new style. When Clarke lifted from the sternum, though, in en dedans pirouettes and was so straight up and well-centered he looked like he could have done a dozen clearly articulated turns, and when he did the same in beautifully prepared and rhythmic double tours, it was a joy to watch, even if the impetus was more classical. (And, he landed in perfect fifths.) There was a beautiful moment at the beginning of the pas de deux when he stepped forward and tendued back, opening his arms in second in welcome. A simple movement, but so generously done. Watching him, I thought what a wonderful Albrecht he would make. Astrit Zejnati has all of the qualities to shine in Bournonville, and he showed them as Alexis, the Ballet Master, in Konservatoriet, dancing with his usual elegance. The best example was during a series of jumps across the stage (maybe sissones?). While he lifted his working leg to the side above his waist, it looked like an effortless snap up, without distorting his upper body. But other dancers can do this. What was remarkable was that he had an equal snap down, and immediately replaced the leg as the supporting leg. It sounds basic, but to watch someone and realize that's the way it's supposed to be done is always, for me, such a wonderful jolt. As Eliza, Ginger Smith showed why she shines in so many roles, however minor: she dances from the center. Her arm movements start deep in her back, like the upward lift of a parabola, and when she raised one arm on a diagonal forward, it was in balanced opposition from just beneath her breastbone. She always looked like she could go in any direction from any place in movement. She also danced through the measures, in long phrases, and made the gentle modulations that made the phrases bloom. Paulli's music is not so intuitive to the 21st century ear, as it's rather sweet; to hear the peaks in it and understand where the life is in the music is a really fine achievement. Children are an applause machine -- and hopefully bring their own extended family and friends -- and today was no exception. There are eight children in Konservatoriet, and the young girl, front and center, understood the turning of the head and the epaulement, as well as the way that the arms are inherent in the logic of the whole in the ballet exercises. There was also a blond woman in the corps -- she ended the ballet downstage right -- who had an energy that made the dance more than an exercise. I couldn't recognize her from the program. Another dancer I didn't recognize was Robert Dekkers, whose hair looks nothing like his program picture, and it covered his face a bit. (I thought there might have been a substitution, but he didn't look like anyone else's picture, either.) He danced Flower Festival in Genzano Pas de Deux with Ginger Smith in the evening performance. His physical proportions -- not such long legs -- were more pleasing to my eyes in the role. Although he struggled a bit with the ending fifths and his tours were a little unwieldy, he had a verve and a snap in the role that was very appealing, and he and Ginger Smith had an ease together. Smith was superb in this role as well; only towards the very end did she lose a bit of crispness. Her ear stood her in good stead, as she showed the same sensitivity to phrasing and dramatic arc that she did in Konservatoriet. Vitaly Breusenko danced Alexis. Unlike Zejnati, who walked into the studio as a natural leader ("of course they will follow"), Breusenko was a bit more emphatic and charismatic. (They actually look quite a bit alike onstage.) Natalia Magnicaballi danced Eliza. In her solos, she didn't look a natural for the style, especially in proportion, but she and Breusenko had a surprising chemistry in their pas de deux. Not surprising that they had chemistry, but in Bournonville, particularly Konservatoriet isn't where I expect it. It isn't that they acted out romance, but particularly because Magnicaballi has an "it" aura -- it's hard to imagine that this wasn't recognized when she was young -- you could see why a Ballet Master would be drawn to her. It was a brief glimpse into how all of those relationships between Ballet Masters and their students could happen spontaneously out of the work in the studio. Kanako Imayoshi danced Victorine. It was she who did that wonderful slow develope to high second, and held it for an hour or so while she did a slow turn on flat without dropping her extended leg a millimeter. (And she had to compete for attention as Magnicaballi did something to the other side of Breusenko.) Her final solo, to a fast violin solo, was a splendid example of the reversability principle: she was so centered, she looked like she could have shifted in the opposite direction at any time. It was also a wondeful example of how a dancer can infuse Bournonville choreography with life without breaking balance or line. Of the four men in the corps, Joseph Cavanaugh was a standout. In his solo, he danced with a completely different energy than he brings to everything else he dances, and I can only think that he decided to creat a little mini-character in the piece, as the "correct" dancer, but didn't look like caricature, either. Rubies was the second ballet, staged by Sandra Jennings. The opening tableau brought a huge "oooo" from the audience in both performances. Kenna Draxton danced the "tall" girl as if the role were made on her. (She dances all performances.) She gained authority throughout the first movement, and when the four male demis manipulate her leg in all directions, she became more and more powerful. The lead couple was danced by Natalia Magnicaballi and Michael Cook. In 30 years, I've never seen a sexier performance of the female lead. Watching Magnicaballi, I started to think of Suzanne Farrell. Magnicaballi doesn't dance like Farrell, and her inherent glamour and appeal aren't the same kind as Farrell's, but they're just as potent. She didn't put on a single extra tada or glamour puss. She just was herself, which was intoxicating. Cook responded to her as if he were the Prodigal, an innocent who would follow her to the ends of the Earth, while she called the shots. His dance reaction was explosive. That she didn't outwardly ask for the power it made her all the more irresistable. Paola Hartley and Astrit Zejnati danced in the evening performance. I don't think I've ever seen a clearer or more articulate dancer than Hartley. Her approach couldn't have been any more different than Magnicaballi's, but every single step and movement was transparent, and this was a revelation. In the pas de deux, you could see the devil come over her, but Zejnati was her equal, not her follower. Joseph Cavanaugh and James Russell Toth were great in the male quartet. Both of them danced in all three sections of the program -- Hartley and Cook did back-to-back Rubies and "Golden Section", yikes -- and I don't know how they could stand by the end... Because the Tharp piece was pounding. It was the "Golden Section" of The Catherine Wheel, staged by Keith Roberts. As Paula Citron wrote in The Globe and Mail about Ballet British Columbia's mixed rep program (from today's Links), "Curiously, but predictably, the Vancouver audience saved its loudest applause for Twarp's clever but shallow, albeit eye-catching Baker's Dozen, set to the infectious music of the famous Harlem stride pianist Willie (The Lion) Smith, which is performed live by the excellent Terence Dawson." With a few substitutions, she could have been writing about "The Golden Section." I wasn't impressed by The Catherine Wheel when it was broadcast on PBS years ago, and I didn't like it any better now. (Although I did like "The Golden Section" more than Movin' Out, but probably because the music was by David Byrne, not Billy Joel, and it was about 1.5 hours shorter.) It received standing O's after both performances, which the dancers deserved, if the choreography didn't. Joseph Cavanaugh, Paola Hartley, and James Russell Toth were particularly outstanding, as was Lisbet Companioni in the matinee. (I think there was a blond dancer replacing her in the evening.) It was such a pleasure to see Konservatoriet, a ballet I like more and more each time I see it. It alone would have made the trip worth it. (So would Rubies, but that was a more predictable success from this company that does Balanchine so well.) It was fun to see that the front inside cover ad in the program is for a furniture store in Phoenix/Tempe/Scottsdale named "Copenhagen"; it almost felt like a bow to the origins of Bournonville ballet. In rather nice twist, the head of the arts agency in the City of Phoenix government made a pre-curtain speech. He mentioned that the operating budget was over $5 million, and said that ticket sales raised half that amount. Bracing myself for the "but we need you to help raise the other half," he, surprising to me, thanked the people in the audience for buying tickets and being there, providing that support.

Thank you, Jane! Congralations to Ms. Watson

You'll probably be interested in this thread on Darcey Bussell in the "Dancers" forum.

Ah, such a horrible fate????? Seems like your case for Siegfried primarily depends on him doing his kingly duty. So then he ought to grow up and get on with it! I don't think that's the essence of my "case" at all. There is pressure on him to fulfill his kingly duty. If he did this -- marry one of the princesses and have lots of Odettes on the side -- there wouldn't be a story. That he fights against this and is looking for something else -- something he can't quite put his finger on, reflected in the yearning of Tchaikovsky's music -- is the catalyst for the story. If everyone in the human race made rational decisions under pressure and emotional duress the majority of the time, I night put Siegfried in the "dolt" category, but I don't think many people would pass Navy Seal training, let alone live up to that standard.

It's not surprising that the roles and colors were interchanged: in Dance as a Contact Sport, Joseph Mazo describes how in the making of the ballet, Robbins taught the same dances to different ballerinas.

I forgot about the Sinatra I saw with PNB last year. It was fun. I'll see In the Upper Room for the first time this weekend.

I think there are several things that are important to consider, regardless of the dramatic framework of a given production: 1. Fatherless Siegfried has a mother who is calling the shots, regardless of whether he is a playboy or a poet 2. Any Siegfried, however clueless, would know that the obligation and expectation was that he'd marry, produce heirs, and rule the kingdom within the conventions of his time (i.e., with a lot of private leeway and public responsibility) 3. Siegfried's mother takes the buzz off his birthday by insisting that he fulfill his obligation immediately, and his only stalling mechanism is to run out into the woods before the birthday ball 4. Siegfried's mother puts him on the spot at that party, forcefully, in an about-to-be-explosive situation, when, at the very last minute, he's saved by the fanfare announcing the arrival of Odile and von Rothbart. As he's at the point of no return, he thinks he's escaped in the nick of time. 5. He doesn't get a chance to be engaged, go through formal teas, actually get to know his potential bride, etc. He's pressured by his mother to make a choice on the spot, and by von Rothbart to pledge now, now, now or lose Odile and have to fall back to one of the princesses. 6. People are different in public all dressed up than they are in private. If there's a discrepancy between the private Odette and the public Odile, which he is processing throughout their scenes together, he has incentive to conflate the two. From his point of view, his life is on the line, however he misunderstands and underestimates how (except in the Soviet happy ending). 7. Almost forgot: If Odette had shown up at a ball as herself, without a powerful/charismatic protector like von Rothbart, what is the likelihood that Siegfried's mother would have accepted her in lieu of the princesses? Odile is somehow an acceptable bride, in which the Queen also makes a personal decision: she accepts a daughter-in-law although she has no idea who Odile/von Rothbart really are or where they come from, and she doesn't step aside and say, "fine, they can be guests while I do the background checks." (In a non-tragedy, Sleeping Beauty, tempered power and temper is a theme, with consequences: Lilac Fairy mitigates Carabosse's curse; the Queen convinces the King not to kill the spinster, allowing Aurora to prick herself on the spindle.) Whether she accepts Odile because she's relieved Siegfried has found someone and/or she's been seduced by Odile/von Rothbart, the decision is not a cool-headed one. People make huge mistakes under pressure and when they first fall in love. I don't think Siegfried is a dolt at all, just human.

Limon, Nureyev, Robbins, and Tudor are no longer alive, so it's difficult to call them "Master Choreographers of Today" without a certain cynicism about the state of choreography today. I love Tharp's Waterbaby Bagatelles, the only ballet or modern piece I've ever seen of hers in which she hasn't come across, in my opinion, as a giant brat or an aerobics instructor, although I did enjoy the brattiness in Push Comes to Shove as a vehicle for Baryshnikov when he first came to the US. I seem to remember liking her work in Hair, but Movin' Out is several hours of my life I won't get back, although, on the bright side, it was an opportunity to see Benjamin Bowman dance in Act I. I love Morris' Sylvia and found Maelstrom (to Beethoven's "Ghost" Trio) quite moving. I don't think either is a master choreographer of ballet on the basis of these works, though, but I would call Mark Morris a modern master if he had choreographed nothing but Dido and Aeneas and L'Allegro. I might actually toy with feeling guilty about liking Duato's Jardi Tancat if it weren't a great opportunity to hear Maria del Mar Bonet's songs through a great sound system; however, neoclassical ballet, it's not. As a modern/contemporary choreographer over the course of his works, I find his vocabulary limited and his musical response repetitive. Usually Kylian is mentioned in the same breath as Duato, and although I have the same criticism of his work as Duato's, I might not have gotten to know Martinu's Mass (Soldier's Mass), Janacek's Sinfonietta, and Stravinsky's Symphony of Psalms if I hadn't seen a week of his company's performances in NYC in the early 80's. If I've seen Welch, I haven't seen anything memorable, let alone masterful, yet. I've never seen McIntyre's work.

Here's the photo that Paul has so kindly sent:

That would be wonderful, Paul.

That's not complaining -- calling Balanchine's response to the music "superficial" ("obvious idiosynchracies...") is a direct attack to the core critical assessment that Balanchine's choreography is the physical embodiment of the music and its structure, an assessment shared by Stravinsky about two of his thorniest pieces: Movements for Orchestra and Agon. I'm not sure what the point is of being testy about a choreographer who doesn't share the idea of the primacy of Cecchetti technique.

Thank you for the review, vissi d'arte! I hope to see the company in person some day.

April 7 Gia Kourlas review RumbaTap Jennifer Dunning reviews Odyssey Dance Theater The Globe and Mail previews Matthew Bourne's Edward Scissorhands.

The original question of the thread is "Who are the "master" choreographers of today?" That is why no one mentioned Robbins, until later in the thread, or Ashton. I'm afraid for this one, both are "off-topic."

Thank you so much, sidwich I have to say that the vamping in these routines is my least favorite part, even more than the acrobatics. I feel the same way about figure skating ice dancing: I'd rather see deep edges, flow, and close hips than dance theater that has been very popular with judges for several decades. (I'm happy to see the closeness and solid technique of the best just-out-of-junior teams.) I have to admit to having knocked over a coffee table or two trying to follow Melanie LePatin and Tony Meredith in their "how-to" program on PBS :blush: (No other humans were injured in this experiment.)

I don't know much about ballroom dancing and Latin from a technical standpoint. (And back when PBS broadcast yearly competitions, I never liked who the judges liked, so I knew I was missing a lot.) Would you explain what required closed partnering in Tango means? Is there fixed pattern that Tango must follow?

The Balanchine to which you refer was "The Figure in the Carpet" ... I think that only a few short musical numbers from this work survive in either kinescope or early tape technology. There's a short clip to the Handel section danced by Diana Adams in the PBS Balanchine bio.

I've seen dancers clap for their peers, usually for a farewell performance, and sometimes for premieres. At PNB, dancers always clap for musicians who appear onstage; I seem to remember this for Gordon Boelzner and Jerry Zimmerman at NYCB as well. (Mark Morris and his dancers have acknowledged live musicians who play for them in every performance of MMDG I've seen. He loves that "ta-da" gesture to the musicians.) Opera singers clap for each other all the time during curtain calls when they come out sequentially, and for the conductor and orchestra, and every once in a while, the chorus. I've seen this around the world.