Helene

According to and article in today's Links section, Patricia Barker is applying for the AD position. Wow. That surprises me because she seems to be rather shy in public, with rather flat expressions, and the AD position is a very public role. There's a big difference between receiving praise and/or criticism -- especially when any remark could be considered a criticism of the boss(es) -- and asking for money, articulating a vision and rallying people behind it. (Russell may be intellectual and logical, but there's visible passion and drive in her single-minded committment to her standards.) But maybe Barker's had more direct contact with Board Members and major donors, and that still waters run deep. After listening to Russell at the second Balanchine on Film Q&A, one thing struck me: even though she seemed exhausted, she never once stammered, lost her train of thought, or said "um," "er," or any of the filler syllables that nearly every one puts in, when not entirely on script. Russell has such verbal discipline, and her answers have substance and weight. So maybe I'm comparing Barker to Russell unfairly.

(Counting to 10 million before responding directly to this )

The Newsweek mini web interview with Morris in today's links section is timely. In part of his answer to the last question he says I saw him about a decade ago in a White Oak piece, in which he danced with Baryshnikov and the striking 6'6"-ish Rob Besserer, and it was Morris I couldn't take my eyes off of. This past January he performed Serenade, and I will be very sad when he stops dancing, regardless of his age or weight. I'm glad he's the boss, though!

It's wonderful to hear these descriptions of Lorna Feijoo as a technical virtuoso. It certainly speaks volumes about her versatility, because the only time I've seen her dance when she was still with Alicia Alonso's company: she was a superb, gentle Giselle.

Even though I knew I was coming to the end and started rationing the pages to keep Kronstam alive that much longer, I forgot that most of the remaining pages were index and bibliography. In about three paragraphs, he was gone! I had to reread that part several times before I actually believed it.

I saw "Masters & Moderns" this afternoon. It was depressing to see how few people were in the theater. I don't think the orchestra of the small, jewel-box Newmark Theater was half full, and there were only about two dozen people in the 1st Balcony (middle level). I was horribly jealous that this program wasn't presented by PNB, so that I could see it another handful of times. I wonder if it was friends and family day, or if Company and school members were in the audience making a lot of noise, to distract from the empty theater. Before the performance, Christopher Stowell came onstage, looking appropriately Pacific Northwest rumpled. He explained that he had chosen the Newmark Theatre over Keller Auditorium for this program because of the "intimate nature" of the ballets and the theater, and because there were "meaty, dramatic roles in the ballets." He announced that the Company has started to list casting a week in advance -- casting is on the OBT "News" page on their website (requires Adobe reader) -- and that showing proof of purchase to any performance, tickets to additional performances are 50% off for the rest of the run. (Ugh, why is Seattle hours away?) He suggested that audience members use the offer to see a different cast. He also mentioned the school performance -- this Tuesday and Wednesday -- and the choreographers on the program: Balanchine (Concerto Barocco), Robbins (Circus Polka), Mosley (When I Close My Eyes), himself (Rose City Waltz), and Lew Christensen (Con Amore). Quite an ambitious program. Stowell has definitely jumped straight into the deep end. I've never seen a Christopher Wheeldon ballet, so I don't know if There Where She Loved was a repeat of his other ballets or an original response to the music, but in all but the second dance, Weill's "Surabaya-Johnny," it felt like the latter. My dislike of the movement was two-fold: the soprano soloist sang it like an opera singer; she sounded shrill and fake to me when she tried for the occasional Lotte Lenya affect, and the tone of the music and dance was unlike any of the other pieces, which were more or less in the same universe. To me, it stuck out like a sore thumb, compared to the three Chopin pieces, Weill's "Nana's Lied," which was sung and choreographed like a Schumann art song, and his "Je Ne T'Aime Pas," which sounded as if Edith Piaf was singing a French art song and looked like the great piano ballet role that Robbins never choreographed for Stephanie Saland. It was a nice stroke of casting, though, to bypass the obvious choice and to have the Chopin pieces sung by rich-voiced mezzo soprano Milagro Vargas, and the Weill pieces sung by bright-voiced soprano Brenda Baker. The first dance, to Chopin's "The Wish," had a women suspended overhead among four men who came and went, which she remained aloft in various shapes for most of the movement. It had an occasional partnering glitch, as did the third dance, Chopin's "Spring." In the first Karl Vakili, a short dancer, was cast with three tall men, and height differential led to a couple of bobbles, as groups of three men passed Tracy Taylor among them. In "Spring" Vakili didn't seem to be quite where Hasstedt was expecting him. I don't think it's a matter of strength; forget about a "V;" Vakili is shaped like a "W." For a shorter man, he has neither fallen nor been pushed into the jester trap. While he has lightness, he also has gravity through the groundedness of his plie. It's nice that he was given "real" partnering roles, even if they weren't a complete success, because he dances with a wonderful balance of drama and lyricism. I think OTB would do well to find him a shorter partner (and not a soubrette). I mention Robbins not because I think Wheeldon is copying Robbins, but because I felt like this ballet inhabits the same world. I found more resonance, inevitability, and satisfaction in There Where She Loved than in Robbins' Chopin piano ballets, from which I've always walked away thinking that there was something missing and/or contrived. I think Wheeldon's ballet built as it went along, and Gavin Larsen's performance in "Je Ne T'Aime Pas" may have been the most dramatic tour de force I've ever seen and for the very quality of stillness that Watermill described so beautifully. She was riveting. Poor Arthur Sultanov looked out of his league as her romantic partner, and he's a dancer whom I've seen have a lot of presence and character. Julia Adam's il nodo was set to Renaissance dances (taped) by various composers, and the tone of the dancing was rather light and mostly social. I wish I could read more of the notes I scribbed in the dark about the ballet. I can't give a movement by movement description, but I'll try to describe those parts I can remember or decypher. The ballet opened with a eight dancers that were in faux "Commedia" costumes -- period-ish and updated -- holding small ropes. (If I remember correctly, mostly in black, white, and grey.) While the first piece didn't quite grab me -- a little too much in unison, maybe -- the second did. After the dancers toss their individual ropes into the orchestra pit, they then picked up a single, long piece of rope from upstage, which they, as a group, tied to form a giant loop. What was striking was how as each dancer in turn danced in and out of the circle they created with the loop, the movement was very controlled, with no fancy rope tricks. They then went from a circle into a square, and while keeping the integrity of the square, the dancers picked up the inventiveness of movement, yet did not become intertwined in the rope. They then repeated the pattern by making what I first expected: a series of complex cat's cradle type configurations, eventually paring down the partipants so that the entire rope was wrapped around one of the women. This is where the only noticeable glitch was; the man in the white Commedia outfit stood downstage center and, blocking the woman, bent over with his butt to the audience and made some awkward adjustments to the rope. I got the impression that this was the intention, but it looked sloppy to me. One part -- I can't remember which, but it was towards the beginning -- ended with an audience nightmare moment: one dancer was pushed off the stage apron! (onto a mattress in the orchestra pit). That the invisible border of the stage was trespassed took me by surprise. On Thursday night I saw 33 Fainting Spells perform a piece called Our Little Sunbeam, so the theme of relationships and the glue that binds them or is missing was still spinning around in my thoughts. In one part of il nodo, there is a pas de deux in which the man's and woman's torsos are tied together with a mangled mess of rope or ribbon. The dance moved fluidly to actual holds and body contact between the dancers, and other times, the woman was held up by the ribbon attached to them both. Maybe because the theme was foremost in my mind it looked to me like a picture of how at any given moment a couple can be together because they are actively engaged with and intensely focused on one another, and a moment later, how they can separate a bit, yet be tied to one another by more delicate, but still binding, attachments. One part had four long scarf-like ties coming from the flys to the stage. The male Commedia figure began as a marionette, but as he was freed from the ties --which were flown up offstage -- he went back and forth between the habitual movements he had done as a marionette to new, freer movement, all the while staying in a relatively confined space, despite no visible barriers to the rest of the stage. The last section had a series of similar hanging scarves and all of the dancers on stage, but I really don't remember much else about it. I attended a seminar this past week in which Seattle Symphony conductor Gerard Schwarz described basic conducting technique to a lay audience. After demonstrating hand movements, he then held a baton in an attentive about-to-start position, and he pointed out how he had to hold the "free" end of the baton with his other hand; otherwise, there would be a perceptible shake, which the orchestra would interpret as a signal to start. Anne Mueller, who danced Duo Concertante had a similar type of extraneous movement; there was a bit of "noise" around the movements in her legs as she went from position to position and shape to shape. I found this distracting. Her arms, too, are rather spiky, and this detracted from the last movement, when the spotlight is on her arms and face. It wasn't a bad or distorted intepretation, but I don't think she showed a lot of strength in this program. (I want PNB to get this ballet for Kaori Nakamura.) This was a wonderful role for Karl Vakili, her partner, who caught the rhythms and shapes beautifully, and who used his lovely arms to great effect, especially in the last movement. His height was a factor here only because I'm use to tall men being cast in the role. Violinist Margaret Bichteler played terrifically, although, to my dismay, she was miked. (When she turned the page, there was a big "crackle" sound.) Carol Rich was a fine partner on piano, as she was in Wheeldon's piece. Facade closed the program. In "Scotch Rhapsody" Anne Mueller looked flawed dancing the same steps as Erika Cole; she had the same "buzz" around her limbs as in Duo Concertante, and she seemed rather sunk in at the waist. [Edited to add: (None of this was noticeable when she danced "There Where She Loves," in a long contemporary dress; she was fluid and lovely in that piece, which may be her core rep. I only realized that it was Mueller when I was logging the cast in my performance list.)] By comparison, Cole's movements were simple and pure, her turnout was lovely, she was beautifully lifted from the waist, and her upper body was soft, free, and here upper and lower body movements were perfectly in proportion to each other. (She struck me as a dancer who could dance Bournonville as well as Ashton.) I was so taken by her that I ignored Kester Cotton in his only role of the afternoon. "Swiss Jodelling Song" was clever and very funny, and Kathi Martuza was crisp, engaging, and generally marvellous in the "Polka" movement. I think the "Foxtrot" was where Facade kind of lost me; I didn't find any of the movement from then on compelling, nor the characters remotely interesting, with the exception of Artur Sultanov's amusingly oily gigolo in "Tango-Pasodouble." Even he couldn't bring me back in entirely, except to be glad it was over. I think I may be sense-of-humor impaired. [Edited to add:] Doug Fullington wrote an article called "Frederic Ashton and Facade" for the program. But the program on the whole was well worth eight hours of train ride to see it, and if I didn't have a day job, I'd gladly do it again. If anyone saw/will see any of Gavin Larsen's performances of Duo Concertante (with Artur Sultanov), I'd appreciate it if you'd post your impressions of it.

I regret the same. Castillo's performances of Eros sound amazing, a high point. I'm afraid that in hoarding vacation days, I was being penny wise and pound foolish, and I missed the Saturday matinee in which he danced

Hockeyfan, firedog, anyone! Is this your sense, too, or no? (Of course, please feel free to disagree.) Balanchine always said that he didn't invent; instead he assembled what G-d had already created. To me it was the choice of movement that Morris assembled that was original, an inspiration, and breathed life into the characters. Sylvia wasn't ballet reinvented in the sense of being ground-breaking or creating a new form, like Four Temperaments did. It was more as if an old form was lovingly reinterpreted.

The casting must have been switched around a bit, because in Dance as a Contact Sport, Joseph Mazo writes that, because of injuries, (Page 237). On p. 238 he quotes the program insert for the performance: Five years after the premiere, Blum was dancing mauve and Maiorano was dancing blue. (And "mustard" was replaced by "brick"?)

Does anyone remember the spread that Antonia Franceschi, Lourdes Lopez, and Carole Divet did sometime in the '80's, in which they wore vintage Fortuny dresses? I can't remember if it was in Elle, or a different magazine. The "action" shots were more like Martha Swope photos. The dancers looked gorgeous in the dresses.

Hmmm, interesting bit from the article about Steven Libman's resignation from Pittsburgh Ballet Theater on post-gazette.com in today's links section: I wonder if the PNB Board is wooing him for Russell's/Stowell's position. He's got a great deal of fundraising experience, eliminated the PBT's deficit, and worked to create an endowment for the company, as well as getting a grant to produce modern works (according to the other link from Pittsburg live.com.) Although his track record with labor negotiations sounds mixed, it sounds like the kind of credentials they'd be looking for. Hopefully, he came to visit during the spate of beautiful spring weather we recently had...

sdj3, Thank you so much for the link! Re: the Donna Karan dress, I must paraphrase Joan Cusack in Working Girl: "Eight thousand dollahs? It isn't even leh-thuh!"

I totally agree!!! They were so incisive and beautifully written. I read them after I had posted and realized that I didn't have to say anything -- they had said it all!

I was so enchanted by Sylvia, I want it to start all over again, right now! This is long, because no one else has described all of the dances and action, and since it's rarely seen if not new, I didn't quite know what to expect from it. In Sylvia Morris starts with a canvas of a youthful near-utopia, where mortal and demi-god creatures are free to be themselves, be that dryad, satyr, naiad, nymph, or village youth, and they are satisfied with who they are, living in the moment. While there is a sweetness that pervades throughout, there's nothing innocent or precious about them, and they are portrayed alternately with sensuality and power and languidness. The fly in the ointment is that Sylvia, gleefully interested only in her battalion of Diana's hunting nymphs, is pursued by two males: the young, heartsick Aminta and the gruff, lustful Orion. The god Eros decided to get involved, and by making her fall in love with Aminta, makes her vulnerable to Orion's abduction. That is a lot of characterization and action to happen in Act I. The ballet begins with the dryads and satyrs, dancing separately and then together, each of four pairs with a characteristic lift. The Naiads enter next, with a gait on pointe that looks like they've come out of the ocean onto the burning sand. When the music repeats, the dryads and satyrs do a variation on their original choreography, while the naiads repeat their entrance, and then they split into trios of one of each character. Each trio does its own lifts and choreography simultaneously, until they drop to the floor. Each satyr goes back and forth between his dryad and naiad, eliciting various responses from the females. The extended opening ends with all of them nesting and falling asleep. The mortal Aminta arrives and after a declamatory solo in which he declares his love for Sylvia using vocabulary he will repeat in his big Act III variation, pledges his loyalty to Eros, asks for the god's help, and hides behind Eros' statue. Sylvia's pack of eight nymphs make a grand and joyous entrance on a slightly tilting upstage ramp, one after another striking a "ready to shoot" pose with their bows. They then come downstage and do a powerful dance -- they are cast as the "big" girls -- and then there is a fabulous entrance for Sylvia on the top of the ramp, striking the pose in the posters: fifth position on pointe, arms in a big overhead "V," one hand holding a bow. Down the ramp she bounds, and she jumps through the swirling group of (eight) nymphs on a diagonal that she repeats briefly in Act II and again in the Act III pas de deux, and leads the rest of the dance. A restful, pastoral scene follows, in which Sylvia's Friend retrieves a swing for Sylvia from stage left and leads a dance of three of the nymphs in the center of the stage, while the other four loosen their hair and bathe it downstage right in the water (metal) on the stage apron, as Sylvia swings back and forth. It's a sensuous, intimate scene among the women, until they realize that someone's been there. When the nymphs find Aminta and haul him into downstage center, Sylvia, upstage center, pretends to shoot him with her bow, and then laughs it off. (That she's not a true Diana/Myrtha convert yet is foreshadowed by letting Aminta off with a scare; in Act III, Diana hestitates not one second before killing Orion in the same fashion and the same stage positions.) After he declares his love for her, she shoots towards Eros' statue. Aminta throws himself in front of the arrow to protect Eros, and is killed. Eros, in turn, shoots Sylvia with an arrow of love, which she picks up and puts in her sheath. She knows something's just happened, but she can't quite put her finger on what. Orion is in wait, hoping to find Sylvia alone, and quickly portrays "I want, I want, I want," which reminded me a little of Lysander's gesture, after Puck has mistakenly made him fall in love with Helena, who is happily united with Demetrius: "Me. Owns. Her." Enter the village youth, after Orion goes off to lie in wait. If there was any part of Act I that was a little slow, it was probably this dance, which could have been part of just about any story ballet, or possibly any story ballet score. After they leave temporarily, Sylvia returns, drawn to Aminta, but Orion seizes the moment and kidnaps her. When the villagers return and find Aminta's body, Eros, dressed as a sorcerer, brings Aminta to life, after a solo that had Morris' name written all over it, full of South Asian imagery, some reminiscent of Serenade, his recent solo to Lou Harrison's gamelan-inspired music. Act II opens with a powerful solo for Orion around an altar-like flat rock on which Sylvia's unconscious body lay. Bypassing the obvious, Morris choreographed a solo in which nearly all of the big movement was done from the waist up. (Later Orion gets a mini-solo with some double tours, but his character is mostly grounded.) When he first touches the still-sleeping Sylvia, she flicks him off and turns on her side, like someone who is not used to sharing her bed. Dreaming, presumably of Aminta, she then does a magical little gesture in which she does a slow port de bras into fifth, and by doing so, wraps her arm around Orion's hovering neck, and he slowly lifts her to sitting position. Then she wakes, and shows her dismay at Orion being there. He chases around her, as she realizes that she's stuck in the cave. Enter Orion's band of goofs, who act as if they've been watching football and drinking beer for the last two decades and have never been on a date (or had a sister). Morris gives them a lumbering line dance and lots of hunched over, grounded movement. By contrast, Orion shows his supremacy to them by his open chest. Sylvia teaches them to make wine from grapes -- slamming her toe shoe tips into the rock -- and gets them all drunk, and then starts a dance in which she jumps up on and leaps off the rock into the waiting arms of Orion's band. As they get drunker and drunker, there is a frenetic, spontaneous-looking though carefully choreographed free-for-all, as Orion's goofballs start emulate Sylvia's dancing, jumping off of the rocks into each other's arms and dancing with each other, until they all pass out. Sylvia is still stuck in the cave, and she prays to Eros and makes him an offering of her bow and sheath of arrows on the rock, Eros appears, frees her, and once the stone on which Eros was standing moved into the wings, reveals an exhausted Aminta, sleeping in a swing. The transformation takes place out of the cave when the asymmetrical drapes forming the walls of the cave lower to the ground, covering Orion and his boys, and revealing Eros atop the giant stone that closed the mouth of the cave. From the Dress Circle, this didn't have much of an effect, but from the Balcony Circle, it was magic to see Eros revealed up above as the back curtain lowered. (Very Ring of the Nibulungen like.) For all of the lack of traditional set dance pieces in Act II, Orion's world, and Sylvia's many reactions to it, were characterized through wonderfully inventive and invocative movement, alternating between humor and danger and pathos. Act III opens on a blinding white set with three stairs on both sides and upstage, in back of which are pedestals and statues of Vesta, Diana, Bacchus, and a fourth god, and begins with a juicy, bounding dance for two men called "heralds" in the cast list; these are the meatiest male roles after the three leads. They are joined by the male "celebrants," who also have a buoyant dance, joined by the woman, who get to dance a bit with the men. As Bacchanales go, this is one is upbeat, without any hint of debauchery. Aminta enters, a bit brooding, until a pirate ship comes by, bearing seven "slaves" in harem attire and veiled with wide scarves, which gives some oomph to the patterns they create. Finally, Sylvia in pink performs a wonderful variation in a more formal mode than her earlier warlike choreography, while Aminta is veiled. She's joined by Aminta in a moving pas de deux, in which Sylvia finally reveals herself to the amazement of Aminta, and they are joined. The veil is used beautifully throughout. I believe that it is after a group dance that Aminta unleashes a wonderful solo, which contains the core of his first solo, but expands with the joy of someone who is loved and has been accepted. Not only are the steps and the line difficult, but it would look ridiculous if performed like a prince, and it takes the commitment of the dancer not to fall into a habitual portrayal. (I don't think his solo comes after Diana is in the picture, but I could be remembering this wrong.) Orion shows up and claims Sylvia for himself, ready to take on Aminta. Sylvia tries to prevent a fight, when Diana shows up, like a lightning bolt. After a powerful entrance solo, she stands upstage, shoots Orion through the heart, and then rejects Sylvia's plea for mercy. Diana's fury felt more dangerous than the potential rape of Sylvia by Orion -- partly because Orion's goons were humorous, but also because there was some inherent bone of decency in Orion, despite himself, while Diana takes no prisoners -- but, again, Eros in the guise of the Pirate comes to fix what he broke, by revealing Diana's seduction of a very beautiful mortal boy. Diana relents, and Sylvia and Aminta are united through two lovely gestures: a repeat of the touching of index fingers from the pas de deux -- like in Apollo, but facing each other -- and jointly holding high the arrow of Eros. In the background are Eros and Diana, upstage center, holding their bows in shooting position, portraying opposites and, in Maffre's rendition, mortal enemies. The two casts I saw gave starkly different portrayals. On Saturday night, Liz Miner portrayed a Golden Girl Sylvia, and not just literally: the tall, lean, blond, smart, athletic, charismatic leader, who is very much one of her pack, but is the girl all the others follow, if only to be in her orbit. Pascal Molat's Aminta was a gentle man, the type to whom the high-spirited Sylvia would have given the "let's be friends" speech, had she been interested in men. By her third act solo, Miner had bloomed into a calmer version of her earlier self. During the pas de deux, it's as if she delays unveiling herself to hold on to the moment a while longer; Molat can't quite believe at first that she really loves him. In this pairing Molat's Aminta gains more presence and confidence to match his gentleness and Miner's Sylvia gains more softness to go with her strength. While Diana and Eros behind them will continue their battle, in this cast Sylvia and Aminta meld into perfect complements of each other. In the wedding reception betting pool, I would give great odds for these two to stay together. By contrast, on Sunday afternoon, Megan Low's Sylvia was the prodigy, or the small girl with gymnastics ability on the cheerleading squad who always ends up in the center of the formation or the top of the pyramid, but masterminding and leading in every prank. She's the leader of the nymphs by merit, but she doesn't really mesh into the sisterhood. Guennadi Nedviguine's Aminta is the boyfriend that every girl, including Sylvia, would want, if she were interested in a boyfriend. (When Sylvia keeps Molat's Aminta from fighting, it's to keep him from being beaten to a pulp, because he's not a fighter by nature. Nedviguine's Aminta needs help because he's mortal.) After she is hit by Eros' arrow, she remains the same Sylvia, only this time turning her formidable energy into bringing him along to her world. When she hesitates during the unveiling in the pas de deux, she is teasing him, and teaching him that she's the one still calling the shots. Nedviguine's performance of the Act III solo was the finest male variation I've seen danced this season in any company. I don't think that the sailing will be completely smooth for this match, though, even if that's supposed to be the moral. Garrett Anderson's Eros/Sorcerer/Pirate in the first cast was danced in a light, Puck-like style, as if he were really having a grand time fooling all of these mortals with his disguises. By contrast James Sofranko had a more earthbound style, emphasizing the plie more than the jump, as if Peter Boal had taken the role of Puck. His was more of a battle to the death with Diana for each soul than Anderson's. Lorena Feijoo's Diana was cyclone strong, but when her tryst with Endymion was revealed, she cut her losses fairly quickly, almost giving Eros his due. Not Muriel Maffre's Diana, who stormed in like the Queen of the Night to blast Pamina for betraying her. When her tryst was revealed, she really wanted to know how this pirate person knew about this, and when Eros revealed himself, she looked like she wanted to kill him on the spot for showing that she had any vulnerability. Her final pose with Sofranko's Eros was like a nuclear stand-off. Pierre-Francois Vilanoba was the multi-faceted Orion in both performances. The strings and woodwinds sounded wonderful in both performances. The horns and brass blended much better on Sunday afternoon, but that could have been the difference between sitting lower in house and in the Balcony Circle; the sound was better up higher in general. Andrew Mogrelia conducted both performances. After Sunday's performance, three of the slave girls took an extended bow to cheers from the company and orchestra; I assume that was their last performance with the Company. I think I figured out which of the heralds was apprentice Garen Scribner; he continued to applaud the principals as they came out for bows, until the girl next to him grabbed his hand and made him stop I think the strength of the ballet is that Morris clearly believes in the score and because he paints what he hears and not a drop more, he chooses movement that brings out the innateness of the characters. While there is plenty of humor in the ballet, I didn't see a single wink.

In the June 2004 issue of Blades on Ice is an item announcing that World Figure Skating Men's champion Evgeny Plushenko and Anastasia Volochkova are collaborating on a music video that "will be a love story featuring Plushenko and Volochkova." Volochkova is described as "a multi-talented Prima Donna. She is also a fashion and makeup model, a show business personality and an actress who is very popular with Russian mass media." Most interesting is the assertion that At nearly six feet tall, I think he would have made quite the partner.

ITA! Thank you so much. I loved him in the role for the same reason. He wasn't just an aristocratic pretty boy in a fancy uniform. I always had the impression that part of the danger and attraction was that he had seen battle and had shed blood, and I've never seen any other man in this role imbue it with the same power or effortless waltzing.

To me, for critics there is only one definition of "get it," and that is the first -- does the critic understand what the context is and what the choreographer was attempting to do? Once established the critic can determine whether it worked or not, whether s/he liked/appreciated/bought into/liked it (or parts of it) or not, and/or whether the music was appropriate or not and why, etc.

From where did the excerpts from the Balanchine documentary with Tanaquil LeClerq and Diana Adams come?

Because Nichols is concrete, and this is a porous role? She was so THERE. Farrell wasn't a dream or a sylph, but there was something unwordly about her, as though this were her dream. I think that's exactly it. Nichols was an up-front participant in this world, not in her own, self-absorbed world.

I got an email today from the NY Philharmonic, describing a test for a "Concert Companion": They have online sign-up (online sign-up to test the 75 PDA's available during the Ives/Stravinsky concerts.. Deadline for the Ives/Stravinsky concert is 12 May, with notification on 19 May. This wouldn't work for ballet during the performance, but it would be an interesting option not only for concerts, but for opera venues that don't have supertitles or for the hearing impaired in theaters and movies. Of course, this assumes that they will disable all of the audio on the devices!

I was out late last night, and I was pretty tired when I watched the TiVo'd version, but did I doze during the part where Sarah Jessica Parker talked about her SAB experience? Did she play a bug or a scaramouche or a candy cane, and, if so, what was it like? Did she ever meet Balanchine while at the school? Did the experience form her in any way? Because otherwise, in my eyes, she's a ballet-loving celebrity hosting what was touted as an important celebration, and given her fame, a marketing coup. She seemed pretty excited and rather privileged to be hosting it, and it was annoying when Martins pushed her to center stage when she was clearly trying to stay on the sidelines, just as he pushed vodka-toting Baryshnikov to center stage during the 1993 Celebration. It would have been nice if more of her narrative pointed out the collaboration between Balanchine/NYCB and the other Lincoln Center resident companies and/or disciplines during his career. The lack of tie-in reminded me a bit of hearing Yehudi Menuhin introduce his selection during a tribute to Szigeti, in which he said, in essence, "I don't know why I've been asked to take part in this, but I'm going to play..." But this was really a gala, not a celebration/tribute, and I don't think the attempt to make a hybrid of it worked very well. I also don't think the connection between Parker, Bushnell, and Askegaard is gossip or irrelevant. Parker would not have been asked to host but for her fame in Sex and the City, which was based on Bushnell's book. Askegaard is Bushnell's husband, and they all know each other. My question is whether it was Askegaard who "minded" her during the curtain call (in which she seemed a bit uncomfortable at center stage among the dancers, as many non-dancers are, regardless of their stage experience). I think it was very kind of whoever did. I may have misheard, but I thought that Kline was rattled because he first pronounced the last syllable of Balanchine's name as "shine" instead of "sheen," and then tried to make a joke of it by saying "Bern-stine"/"Bern-steen" (Potato, Potahto). Kline looked pretty uncomfortable on the whole. I agree with those who said that the camera work was awful. It was so frustrating to cut from the dancers in "The Man I Love" to Marsalis, especially when his riffs had nothing to do with the dance phrases. Luckily, dancers count, or they could have been very thrown. I thought Ansanelli gave a lovely performance, and let the dancing show the passion, instead of a lot of acting and emoting. Martins was a fine partner. The cut ins and outs during Brahms-Schoenberg were also disconcerting; I found it difficult to follow the soloists. I think the director violated the KISS principle. The first role that Yvonne Bourree impressed me in at the beginning of her career was Duo Concertante, and I really liked seeing her in it again. I'd never seen Boal in the ballet before, and it was great to have another of his performances recorded. I also agree with those who pointed out that the gala was ten minutes short, so would it have really ruined anyone's dinner to see the ballet in its entirety? But I'm still glad to have even that piece and the excerpts of Liebeslieder on home media at last. I found Kowrowski's phrasing in Concerto Barocco a bit odd, as if there was a slight disconnect between the audio and video tracks, and that might have been the difference between live and recorded performance. I thought Shaham's and Anthony's playing was wonderful and miked very well; I don't think the singers were as well miked from downstage right. I prefer Saland's version of the "Rosenkavalier" waltzes to Nichols', and I'm still trying to figure out why Nichols' performance didn't really grab me.

Interesting that on 18 May, Noguchi gets a series of fives stamps depicting his sculpture "on the 100th anniversary of his birth," but Balanchine has to share. (link) And one of the sculptures is not the lyre he created for Orpheus. :angry:

I heard on the radio that the stamps were presented today at the New Jersey Performing Arts Center. Did anyone attend?

Casting is now up on the San Francisco Ballet website for the rest of the run. 5 May, Evening - 7:30 pm Conductor: Andrew Mogrelia Sylvia: Liz Miner Aminta: Pascal Molat Orion: Pierre-Francois Vilanoba Diana: Lorena Feijoo Eros/Sorcerer: Garrett Anderson 6 May, Evening - 8:00 pm Conductor: Gary Sheldon Sylvia: Yuan Yuan Tan Aminta: Gonzalo Garcia Orion: Yuri Possokhov Diana: Muriel Maffre Eros: Jaime Garcia Castilla 7 May, Evening - 8:00 pm Conductor: Gary Sheldon Sylvia: Megan Low Aminta: Guennadi Nedviguine Orion: Pierre-Francois Vilanoba Diana: Muriel Maffre Eros: James Sofranko 8 May, Matinee - 2:00 pm Conductor: Gary Sheldon Sylvia: Vanessa Zahorian Aminta: Joan Boada Orion: Peter Brandenhoff Diana: Lorena Feijoo Eros: Pablo Piantino 8 May, Evening - 8:00 pm Conductor: Andrew Mogrelia Sylvia: Liz Miner Aminta: Pascal Molat Orion: Pierre-Francois Vilanoba Diana: Lorena Feijoo Eros: Garrett Anderson 9 May, Matinee - 2:00 pm Conductor: Andrew Mogrelia Sylvia: Megan Low Aminta : Guennadi Nedviguine Orion: Pierre-Francois Vilanoba Diana: Muriel Maffre Eros: James Sofranko Knowing that things change, I'm doing a low-key happy dance right now to see Miner and Feijoo on Saturday (eve) and Low and Maffree on Sunday. Nedviguine didn't dance any of the Balanchine program ballets that I saw, and I'm looking forward to seeing him for the first time. My only disappointment is missing Possokhov's Orion.