Helene

I think there may be other explanations besides fear.

Thank you kfw and Farrell Fan. Have 17 years gone by that quickly? I wonder how many choreographers have gone from the Choregrapher's Workshop to produce works for the Company. (I can't seem to find a link on the NYCB site.) I think the reason I blocked that Sophisticated Lady was on the program is that I prefer to remember Farrell's stage performances of the work. After the first viewing, I stopped watching it on tape.

That is a great question. I sure don't remember reading much about other companies staging Martins ballets, or non-Martins Diamond Project works. Two Martins that have been performed by other companies are The Waltz Project and Fearful Symmetries. I'm surprised that The Magic Flute wasn't used by a company and/or company school. I believe this was televised, which would have given it greater exposure than many works.Of all of Martins' works, Peter Boal has chosen Valse Triste for November's "All Premiere" program. Could be that it was chosen for someone. Another possibility, not mutually exclusive, is that with three other new works, a short two-person ballet worked best in the schedule. I think an underrated piece was the Nichols/Luders Beethoven violin/piano work that was televised with Barber Violin Concerto, Ecstatic Orange, and Valse Triste. (There may have been a fifth ballet that I'm forgetting.)

I don't think this is surprising from the choreographer who concluded at the end of his version of Sleeping Beauty that Desire and Aurora should crown themselves.

Veering off topic for a second, I once saw a fluff piece on soap opera actors, I think on one of the local NYC news stations. There's a particular look of concern that soap opera actors get when they are told important, and usually disturbing news. Once actress said that the motivating thought to get that look is, "Did I leave the oven on?" The producers then showed a series of these scenes, with the motivating voiceover as in (examples only): Man in love with woman: "But I saw your husband at the so-and-so restaurant tonight." Woman (voiceover)" "Did I leave the oven on?" Doctor to relatives of woman in hospital bed: "She doesn't seem to remember anything before the accident." Woman in hospital bed (voiceover): "Did I leave the oven on?"

A correction: there are actually five dots of light in each section. (I can't count anymore.) Also, I was told today that the theater isn't actually finished, and that the two doors on Ring 5 theater right may eventually be an additional set of rest rooms. The theater is very close to a number of restaurants. About four blocks west of the theater on Queen Street are a series of Indian restaurants. I tried two lunch buffets: Little India, where the selection was a little greater, and the food sweeter and more savory, and Trimurti, where the food was spicier. I stuck to the veggie entrees, and found the food at both very, very good. There's also a restaurant called Korean BBQ Restaurant, where you can cook meat and fish at your own table on the built in grills, or order pre-made food. I chose an non-performance day to go there, because my clothes smelled like cooked meat when I was through :blush: About a 10-minute walk north on University is Dundas Street, which is parallel to Queen Street. I took a left (west), walked a few blocks, and found a creperie in an art gallery. (I think it was called "Illy.") I had a lovely chicken breast with bittersweet chocolate crepe, with a slice of eggplant with some wonderful sauce on it and a green salad. A few more blocks west looked like the beginning of a section of Chinatown, but I was already cutting it a bit close timewise. And of course there is the ubiquitous Tim Horton's. There is one about two blocks east of the theater on Queen, where thirty or so of my fellow Ring attendees retreated after Das Rheingold to munch on bagel sandwiches and doughnuts. The young woman behind the counter, who clearly HATED her job, didn't quite know what to make of us, but she better get used to it in that location.

Several articles on Glazunov note Richard Wagner and Franz Liszt as the composer's musical influences. This afternoon, in the Act III scene in Die Götterdämmerung in which the Rhine Daughters attempt to charm and then scare the ring from Siegfried, there is a theme that is repeated at least once which sounds very much like the languid, perfumed Entr'acte from Raymonda. Is there any reason to think that this was an intentional quote?

Mme. Hermine posted an article from today's The New York Times about the Balanchine Foundation's Balanchine Rescue Project, whose purpose is to find dancers and archival tapes to reconstruct as much of the lost ballets as possible. Francia Russell and Kent Stowell are heading this project! http://www.nytimes.com/2006/10/01/arts/dan...nce&oref=slogin Since the project focuses on works from the 50's through 70's, I can't imagine a more inspired choice: Russell has been staging the Balanchine versions she knew from that time, both as dancer and Ballet Mistress for Balanchine, and Stowell was an active dancer in the company as well.

I've been attending the Ring of the Nibelungen at the new Four Seasons Centre, and these are my impressions from the hall: I'm sitting in the first row of the Ring 5 Centre. My row begins with seat 558; I'm 11 seats in, seat 548. Since the house is horseshoe shaped, if the tines are facing the stage, I'm sitting at the top right corner facing the stage, or with upstage center being 12 o'clock, I'm between 4 and 5 o'clock. There is a silver railing in front of me, but like on all of the rings, about 8" to a foot below, there is a second silver railing, on which lights are hung. The first railing cut off the stage left front and corner. I'm not sure how much ballet in performed that far downstage, but there were extended scenes in the Ring so far where I hunched a bit and squinted between the two railings to see the performers. To fit in 2000 people, the hall was built straight up. I'm not fond of heights, and the railing isn't very tall, so I've avoided looking straight down as much as possible. I'm 5'5", and I'm not so sure the first row would be completely comfortable for a tall and/or long-legged person. Every noise in the theatre is amplified -- the acoustics are unbelievable -- and if you have long legs and have to shift your feet and you tap (or kick) the wall in front of you, it will resound. (If you wear rubber soles, and you move them against the wooden floor, they will squeeeeeeak.) In front of each end of the horseshoe, close to the stage, there are vertical light banks. There is a short section of the horseshoe on all tiers but the fifth tier, in which there are boxes with six chairs. Then there is another floor-to-ceiling light bank, "covered" by open horizontal metal bars, just like the catwalk above the proscenium. The sides of the tiers, except for Ring 5, have moveable chairs. The first tier has boxes also with moveable chairs, with taller chairs, each of which has a stair/foot platform, in the back of the boxes. In the orchestra and all other tiers, the seating is fixed forward. Around the front of each tier is a series of taupe stucco-looking sections, where the inner (facing center) end is less wide and thick than the outer end, and fits against the outer end of the adjacent section. The thicker outer end has three vertical "dots" and a curved edge; underneath is a white light source, which shines through the dots, and towards thinner end of the adjacent piece. With the blond wood of the floors, the matte silver railings, and the brownish apolstery, the effect is like soft sand dunes. While all designs eventually look dated, I think this hall will date gracefully, like Deco, compared to the High Kennedy style of the Met. As one of six women in the Ladies room who was trying to balance a purse and a coat against the lovely stone-like long communal sink while washing her hands said, "A man designed this building." There are not enough Ladies room stalls per floor, and while the sink is aethetically pleasing, it is hopelessly impractical to anyone standing in the middle. (One woman told me that when the building opened, one was installed at the wrong angle, and the water splashed off the sloped walls and sprayed upwards. This was fixed.) On some floors, there were hooks on the stall doors that would barely hold a dish towel, let alone a purse or coat. (There are no separate purse shelves.) On the Ring 5 floor, the washrooms are on the left side facing the stage; to get to them from the right side, across the rather narrow passage between sides, and find the end of the line with a crowd storming towards you is impractical. Down the right side stairs to Ring 4 is the way to go. (Right to the washrooms, left to the bar.) The box office is by the Queen Street entrance. There are three elevators, one on the Queen Street side, and two on the Richmond Street side. There is a long bar off the lobby, and side bars on the Ring 3 and Ring 4 tiers. The gift shop is toward the Richmond Street side, under the main staircase, also made of blond wood, with walnut slats at the end of each stair. The next staircase is made of a clear plastic-like material with a blue sheen and anti-slip textured dots, which is quite nice on the knees. The Amphiteater between the two bar floors is a great place to take one's coffee and tea box and nosh between acts; a narrow wooden staircase leads to the stair-seats in the Amphitheater and between Rings 3 and 4. Side staircases on either side connect Rings 4 and 5. Unlike McCaw Hall in Seattle, where there's a beautiful, curved glass wall on one side -- where all the money went -- and the rest of the building looks like a dark blue/gray corrugated aluminum airplane hangar, the dark brick and glass Four Seasons Centre is a handsome building in itself, but at the same time, blends into the urban landscape. (Unfortunately, there's still sidewalk and street construction on two sides of the building, which prevents people from walking up to the front and looking in.) But from the Richard Bradshaw Auditorium, which is a series of triple-wide wooden steps between the third and fourth floors and whose outer wall is the glass front of the building, you can see the street, and the people on the street can see you, and when the midday (Tues/Thurs) and after-work (Wed) series begin, passersby will be able to see that there is life in the building, and after the construction is completed, I assume there will be signs inviting people in. There is transparency in the building, which hopefully will allow some people to overcome the fear of entering a cultural landmark.

I'm attending the third cycle of The Ring of the Nibelungen in Toronto, which has opened the new Four Seasons Centre, and I just saw a remarkable staging of Siegfried, which culminated in a pure use of bodies. All four Ring operas were designed by Michael Levine, but each opera has a different director. The last three operas were performed one per year over the last three years at the Hummingbird. Das Rheingold, directed by Levine, was performed for the first time three Tuesdays ago as the first opera performed in the new house. Das Rheingold opened in a white silk box, with silk fabric on the stage and on three walls, and stark, blue-green lighting. It was a very Canadian north opening, resembling the photographs of Antarctica a friend showed me from his trip last year. The Canadian Opera Company Ring begins with global warming, as the snow/ice thaws to create the Rhine. But in the second scene, the silk is pulled from the stage, with civilization in place of nature, represented in part by rows and rows of lights in the wings, and eventually, with an architectural model of Valhalla. The set design has been incremental since that second scene of Das Rheingold, with the cranes, lights, and pieces of Valhalla appearing in more and more disarray, as the story unfolds and the universe degenerates in the underworld, on Earth, and in the heavens. Siegfried opened with Siegfried sitting on the stump of an enormous tree, and all of the "debris," now including the bodies of his mother and father (played by actor/mimes, flown in), overhead, as if they were in the upper foliage and branches of that tree. (The theory is that this is all in Siegfried's dream world.) The rest of the stage was an 8 foot padded rake -- described by the COC's Technical Director during yesterday's mini-tour -- covered by a black cloth, with a small, sunk in area downstage left for Mime's forge space. The flames were represented by a group of arms that moved slowly, bathed in orange-red light. In the second act, there was a cave with a number of supers in the Siegfried uniform -- white hospital pajamas -- with the mismash set back on the stage. The magic of this act was that five or six of the supers were flown in to make a pyramid representing the dragon. Since they were flown, they only had to be connected loosely, like sky-divers holding hands, and their somewhat floaty motions embodied a slow-moving dragon. The pyramid collapsed slowly, with the death of the dragon at Siegfried's hands. The last act opened with a circle of interlocked bodies in fetal-like position, all in white, simply on the black-covered raked stage. When Siegfried was called by the Woodbird, he rose from the mass. Wotan entered, in the standard costume, but with a white eye patch, and called on Erda to rise. Erda was covered in a black cloth or robe, and she rose from the black floor. Wotan and Siegfried then had their confrontation scene. During this scene, the supers rolled slowly outward to create a circle that represented the cloud-covered mountain, then rose to their knees from the prone position, and gradually stood. As Wotan and Siegfried discussed the fire surrounding Brunnhilde, the supers raised their arms slowly, and were bathed in amber-red light. It was the simplest theatrical conceit -- Okay, children, let's pretend we're fire! -- and it worked like a charm. In standard productions of Siegfried, there's a rock, Brunnhilde is on it, and Siegfried tries to kill a lot of music pretending that there are obstacles between him and Brunnhilde, who's clearly in plain sight. In this production, directed by Francois Girard, with choreography by Donna Feore, as Siegfried broke through the flames, two of the supers at the front created a portal in the circle for him, and then all 20-24 of them gradually walked backwards, creating a multiple-layered semicircle, with some standing, some kneeling, and all in slightly different directions, and Siegfried walked through them slowly in search of Brunnhilde. A very slow motion version of Siegfried searching for Odette among the swans. Brunnhilde, still dressed in the black, Victorian-era-like dress in which she was put to sleep, covered by Wotan's dark gray overcoat, was also covered by a black cloth, upstage right in front of the semicircle of supers. To expose her, Siegfried lifted the cloth from the top, and carried it on a diagonal to downstage left. It was lined in white, and looked like an upside-down white teardrop on the black stage, with Brunnhilde as the black dot in wide part of the tear. (Almost yin-yang.) With Siegfried standing upstage center, among the figures in the semi-circle, Brunnhilde's awakening was ecstatic, but private; since Siegfried was out of her sightline, instead of hovering next to her, her gradual recognition that someone must have awakened her, and that she was no longer an immortal, was that much more potent. As their long conversation unfolded, the supers created a solid line across upstage, and as the conversation headed toward the love duet, they slowly peeled out of the line, fragmenting it, and walked offstage, leaving Siegfried and Brunnhilde alone. It wasn't dancing, but the use of human bodies to create a landscape, physical and psychological, was, in my opinion, an instance of directorial inspiration.

No one else has bitten, so I'll give my impressions of three performances I saw last weekend. I'm not in Seattle for Weekend two; I'm watching the world fall apart in Siegfried and Die Götterdämmerung. Sadly, this means I'll miss a complete performance by Barker in Theme and Variations; when I bought advance tickets to this program I guessed wrongly that she'd dance the role in the Gala two weekends ago. (The role was split between Barker/Milov and Imler/Bold in that performance.) Peter Boal has mentioned in Q&A's and the program that the three choreographers on this program -- Robbins, Forsythe, and Balanchine -- are the same three in his opening Director's Choice program last year. This year, though, the first two pieces on the program, Robbins' Fancy Free and Forsythe's in the middle, somewhat elevated, are linked by a common MO -- competition -- which, ironically, was clearer in less flamboyant cast of Fancy Free. The Opening Night cast, which I saw on Saturday Night, with Jonathan Porretta in the first solo, Rasta Thomas in the second and the pas de deux, and Casey Herd in the rhumba, shot out of a canon and was high energy from beginning to end. It was a "standard" performance, one in which the All-American boys on leave are lovable, and no matter how badly they behave, they are forgiven. Rasta Thomas, in the post-performance Q&A, said that Judith Fugate, who staged the work for PNB, told them that the first sailor was a bulldog, the second was a farm boy, and the third was a guy from Chicago, who thought he knew what a city was, until he got to Manhattan. Each of the dancers embodied his role, with fireworks from Porretta, aw-shucks charm from Rasta Thomas, particularly in the pas de deux with Chalnessa Eames, and, once in the bar, Casey Herd's city boy sailor was right in his element. The first performance I saw with the second cast -- Kiyon Gaines in the first solo, Josh Spell in the second, and Jeffrey Stanton in the rhumba and the pas de deux with Carla Körbes -- was subdued. In the post-performance Q&A, Boal noted that they had only one orchestral rehearsal, but it was the orchestra that let them down through lethargic tempi. I was reminded of the cartoons where a character would run off a cliff, and hang suspended in the air, with nothing underfoot to support him. The second performance with this cast, less than 24 hours later, had much more energy and support from the orchestra, and the mime was sharper. The first, though, did have the advantage of a more dramatically true pas de deux, as the occasional awkwardness reflected the reality of two strangers in forced intimacy. In contrast to the first cast, the second cast, particularly in the tighter, second performance, was much more tense. After seeing the d'Amboise/LeClerq performance of Afternoon of a Faun last week, the highly sexual Robbins in the Jowitt biography came to life. (LeClerq just sizzled; by comparison, she makes Garbo look like a nun.) After seeing Gaines/Spell/Stanton dance Fancy Free, the darkness of wartime America came to life as the work of the astute observer that Jowitt also describes: take a short, intense period of shore leave, add alcohol and hormones, and stir. It's not a pretty picture, and the underlying tension and competitiveness could be cut with a knife, all done subtlely and mostly through very clear mime, and paradoxically, great humor. Jeffrey Stanton was unexpectedly great as a comic mime (not his characteristic stage persona), particularly in the scene where he steals the pocketbook, and later in the Rhumba, and Spell's comic timing was perfect. How much more tense was the dark side beneath the surface when the three men aren't the archtypical Alpha males, but three of the more elegant dancers. Which brings me to in the middle, somewhat elevated. I had always thought that this was a big metaphor of competitiveness, but Peter Boal said in the post-performance Q&A that it was inspired by a moment in the studio that Forsythe observed when working with Paris Opera Ballet: a dancer in the corner trying to show that she was more flexible, better, and more appropriate to the role than the dancer with whom he was working. I didn't realize it had to be any deeper than an observation of Ballet World. Chalnessa Eames, in a different post-performance Q&A, explained that while the vocabulary was set, the dancers were expected to improvize within that vocabulary, which adds a extra layer of pressure and competitiveness. Again, there were two very different casts: Lallone/Barker/Stanton, Nakamura/Maraval, Imler/Porretta, Lowenberg/Johnston in the first cast, and Körbes/Herd/Chapman, Foster/Bold, Eames/Griffiths, Dec/Zimmerman in the second. What I most like and appreciate about this work is two-fold: it gives the opportunity to shine to younger dancers, in this case Griffiths (not enough of him), Eames, Dec, Zimmerman, and Johnston -- Foster was a bit too pretty and subdued, in my opinion -- and the dancers often take the vortex of energy they produce in the work and transfer it into the classical repertoire. Bold's upper body in Theme, for example, was particularly expansive. The breakout performance in this ballet, in my opinion, was Maria Chapman's. Who knew she could dance with such speed and explosiveness, from nowhere? I can't think of any other of her roles that demanded this of her in such quantity and intensity. Theme and Variations has come to be one of my favorite ballets, particularly when freed from the fetters of the first three movements of Tchaikovsky Suite No. 3; these three performances cemented its place. In Friday night's performance, Noelani Pantastico and Casey Herd gave a particularly fluid performance, especially of the pas de deux through the finale. Six of the eight demis danced all three performances -- it's nice to see Kylee Kitchens back this year -- with Herd and Postlewaite sharing the last male demi spot, and Chalnessa Eames and Stacy Lowenberg sharing the woman's. Two students joined the corps, Briannna Meyer and Eric Hipolito. I think he's one of the dancers who caught my eye in Stanko Milov's piece at the student performance last year; he's certainly one to keep an eye on. We've talked about the "crisis in epaulement" elsewhere on the board. For a respite, one dancer to watch is Lesley Rausch. After dancing the best Red Pocketbook Girl I've seen since Delia Peters' great performances, she danced one of the demis in Theme, and I couldn't take my eyes off the way she used her shoulders, neck, arms, and eyes. Paired with her was Rebecca Johnston, who is happy presence on stage, moving brightly and expansively. Boal continues to surprise with pairings, and Saturday matinee was no exception: the leads were danced by Kaori Nakamura and Lucien Postlewaite. Nakamura gave an exceptionally gratifying performance, so different in pace and emphasis than either Pantastico or Imler. With an imperial grace, and without rushing a single beat, she completed each phrase and then finished it, with an added breath and expansion. She was simply mesmerizing. Postlewaite is a beautifully proportioned young dancer of great elegance, style, polish and presence. (For NYCB fans, I'd compare him to a young Sean Lavery.) There was also a connection in this pairing that suggests that they could really push each other; this was exemplified in a little catch they did in the pas de deux. It wasn't big or flashy, but it provided that little frisson. There could be stage sparks between these two. Imler and Bold danced the ballet in the Saturday evening performance, and the fluency and virtuosity that their gala performance anticipated came to fruition, particularly in the pas de deux. I feel like I'm in "Back in the Day" mode, but I remember seeing three or four dancers performing a role at NYCB, and loving each different approach. I think that PNB is at that point right now.

If there is an official news source with Ms. Lane's status, we'll be sure to cite it and publish it to the site.

In a university the title usually means an artist or writer who is on campus for the duration, gives a lecture or seminar or two, and who consults with students, other faculty, and sometimes community members. I wonder if the coaching part will be more of an "on request" role.

Did Kirstein's Filene's money, which financed Balanchine, come from a time before or after Filene's Basement?

What you should expect from Eifman Ballet is a troupe of classically trained dancers, many of whom come from the top dance academies. But you shouldn't expect traditional, classical ballet. (That you'd get from Moscow Ballet.) From Eifman you should expect high dance drama, which you may find grabs you in the gut, and you may find a bit over the top. Has your wife explained what about ballet she doesn't like? If she finds tutus and tiaras and Princes dull, and she doesn't mind a bit of melodrama (okay, a lot of melodrama), she might take a shine to Eifman. Luckily for you, there are several versions of Romeo and Juliet available on DVD, including an older Russian version with Galina Ulanova, who wowed London quite late in her career as a convincing 15-year-old Juliet, and another with Alessandra Ferri, whom many on this board adore -- she has danced with American Ballet Theatre for many years -- and consider the greatest contemporary Juliet (MacMillan version). There are a number of reviews of many versions of Romeo and Juliet on the stage and film on this site. You can use the "Search" link at the top right of each page to find them.

I think that even if companies worldwide were interested in centralization, it would be very dangerous to consolidate power that way. If anything, centralization would lead to more stylistic homogeneity than there is now. Where would Bournonville style be if Vaganova, for example, were to be chosen as the training and style to preserve?

Not to mention Kyra Nichols in the third act of La Traviata.

Was this Classic Arts showcase, where they show revolving clips of ballets, operas, classical music, movies, recitals, etc.? If so, as far as I know, they only show clips from commercially released (or about to be released) DVD's or tapes. For Roland Petit, the only things I'm finding on release DVD's are: Notre Dame de Paris Die Fledermaus "Zizi Jeanmarie Performs Roland Petit," with Le Jeune Homme Et La Mort and The Gold Digger Blue Angel Carmen Clavigo is available for pre-order on the German amazon site. I also found a reference to a re-working of Pique Dame on DVD, but I can't find it for sale. However, if it was a different arts channel, like Bravo, they may have contracted to show a performance that was broadcast originally on TV in Europe or Russia, and that is not available commercially.

I missed the first show, but I have the same impression. I think it's two things: the quality of the season-enders in Season Two was much higher than the quality of the season-enders in Season One, In figure skating terms, it was like watching the final six at the Olympics, and then, five months later, watching US Regional qualifiers, or as you put is, "The Big Blah Middle." There's some terrific talent there, but there are also a number of participants who are doing what they were taught, and haven't really differentiated themselves. Last year, even in the beginning and among the middle contestants, I would think "this one has great turns" or "that one has great posture," or "he's more of a Latin than Standard kind of guy," but this year, I mostly think, "which one was that?" and "didn't they already dance?"The second is that there aren't many stories, at least yet, and not very many characters. The first crew went in not knowing what to expect or what the backstage footage would look like or how it would be edited into the show. By now, I think the participants are a lot more seriously competitive and focused as well as self-protecting and lacking surprise, leading to more tension (you hit it on the head). One of the fun things last year was seeing the competition between Lisa Rinna and Louis van Amstel to see who could wear the most outrageous outfit to practice. The worst part is that the celebrity dancers are starting to look alike. I, personally, think the god-awful music arrangements and selections are an underlying cause. When Nick Kosovich starts lookling like Maksim Chmerkovsky starts looking like Tony Dovolani, it's trouble. It's Muzak Syndrome. I have to agree. Enough to make the top two if his posture and hold hadn't improved (at least comparing him from last week's clips). I couldn't even come up with a bottom three. I agree that Jerry Springer is at the bottom, but at least he has a good attitude. He looks like the guy who would be good-natured about dancing with his wife at a wedding, even knowing he can't really dance. And while he doesn't have a hundredth of the talent of John O'Hurley, at least he's not mugging his way through the routines.I know that Master P did everything possible to be a stumbling block last season, but I also thought that Ashly DelGrosso was whiny and unprofessional in the way she dealt with him. I think that match-up was a mistake: she doesn't have the established reputation or the personality to take on anyone that difficult, at least under pressure, and she's not a natural teacher or leader, juding from the backstage clips. (I would have paired him with Jerry Rice's partner, Ms. "Your coach give you cookies?" Master P would have lasted five minutes with his attitude.) I supposed a matchup with Hamlin was the producers' way of apologizing, but I wouldn't have cast her again. In my opinion, she is by far the weakest dancer among the professionals.