dirac

Actually, I think JFK's stock is rising again, but I did not intend my remarks to be taken as Kennedy-bashing. If the Democrats exhumed his corpse and nominated him in 2004 he'd have my vote against almost any of his prospective living opponents. I meant my comments only as a caution against taking image and reputation as fact, and I think it's particularly important in Kennedy's case because an interest in the arts became an important part of his political persona. ( I confess that I don't regard this resurgence of Jackie-worship as a entirely a Good Thing; it's almost as if people were wishing to return to a time when First Ladies were ladies first and focused on matters such as accessorizing, interior decoration, and the Arts and kept their noses out of, for instance, public health policy.) It is also true that she was not a "political wife" in the contemporary or even midcentury sense of the phrase, but that's another story. Returning to the topic at hand: if you delve into the literature of the Kennedy administration even slightly, you'll find considerable evidence that backs me up. Anyone who wants to e-mail me for some book titles should feel free to do so. I'd rather not go into it here because it's just getting too far afield. I can't resist, however, one minor anecdote. A delegation of Girl Scouts paid a visit to the White House and required an official welcome. The President had other ideas and dispatched Pierre Salinger to Mrs. Kennedy to suggest that she do the welcoming. Salinger returned in short order with the message that Jackie viewed the Girl Scouts as her husband's problem. JFK accepted his fate and went to have a talk with his wife. Mission accomplished, he so informed Salinger, who said something like, "How'd you do it?" The President made a face and said, "Two symphonies." Leigh, the Balanchine quote is a striking one. "Your husband is necessarily busy with serious international problems and cannot be expected to worry too much about the nation's art and culture," nicely sums up the feminization of culture that has played a part in promoting the arts in this country but has also held them back. Sigh.

I am of two minds about the Kennedy administration's use of the arts, and I employ the word "use" deliberately. Mrs. Kennedy's husband appears to have regarded culture chiefly as window dressing to attract academics and other egghead types to the Kennedy banner; he was patronizing the arts in more than one sense. (I don't mean to deprecate him,I've tried repeatedly to dislike the guy and failed.) Jacqueline Kennedy's interest was quite genuine, but I was struck by an observation made by Sarah Bradford in her biography "America's Queen"-- which is, incidentally, a very good book on a topic that generally attracts mercenaries and airheads: namely, that Mrs. Kennedy refused to sit on committees or do the scut work involved in working for community arts projects, preferring instead to focus on unique high-profile events, such as Pablo Casals' appearance at the White House. Very canny lady. The Johnsons, as Mel notes, made similar gestures toward the arts, but somehow those haven't registered; the Johnsons were redneck vulgarians, lacking in Style. I'm all in favor of the President taking notice of the arts, and sponsoring them; don't get me wrong. And I think it's great that Mrs. K. invited Balanchine to the White House for a chat. I'm sure it lifted his spirits, if nothing else, and thus served a good purpose. (Imagine Laura Bush sitting down with Mark Morris!) But I also think it's worth pointing out that, in exchange for tolerating a few evenings of ballet, symphonies, and such like, President Kennedy received the undying fealty of distinguished intellectuals who have proved to be loyal tribunes of the glories of the Kennedy years in the face of some damning historical evidence. Who profited more, the Kennedys or the arts? The former, I'm inclined to think. Also, I think those stiff shantung frocks and Kenneth bouffants look like hell, to be honest. It's a tribute to Mrs. Kennedy's personal flair that she brought such stuff off.

I remember reading somewhere that "Wonder Woman" was one of Balanchine's favorite shows. Doubrovska didn't really fit in because of her height, I think, and those super-long legs. Flappers were slim, athletic, and flat-chested -- bazooms were out and didn't really come back till the forties -- but not especially tall (think Louise Brooks or Colleen Moore). As for today, it's kind of hard to tell. The fashion magazines say things like "curves are back" but by "curves" they seem to mean chiefly breast implants on the same skinny girls. The Fifties may not have been the most enlightened era for women, but at least A. Hepburn was not expected to have a big bust and be a rail everywhere else, while girls who did have a big bosom, like Marilyn, were allowed to be expansive elsewhere as well. Pardon the editorial.

Thanks for the tip. I did find this to be of some interest. The piece focuses on Le Clercq as friend and inspiration to Jerome Robbins; Balanchine is mentioned, of course, but peripherally. The photographs are very striking, as one would expect, and there's a touching little picture of Robbins (mistakenly identified as Balanchine in the caption, but correctly in the text) with Le Clercq on the roof of Lenox Hill Hospital during her recovery. The article is by Amanda Vaill, who is working on a biography of Robbins.

Yes, it was the 19th century, but these are the peasant classes we're talking about. "Droit du seigneur" was still very much around, for one thing, not that Albrecht is the type who'd exercise it, and also virginity wasn't quite the big deal among the lower orders that it was for the middle and upper classes. In England, for example, it was considered a good idea for a country couple to have a bun in the oven by the time the wedding day rolled around -- you were going to need kids, after all, to help around the farm. Mueller is certainly correct that pregnancy or merely a fate worse than death is superior as a motive, but I don't think we need it. In 19th century opera, heroines went mad on much flimsier pretexts. Parenthetically, with all due respect to John Mueller, I think Arlene Croce holds pride of place in Fred-and-Ginger studies. As a student of Astaire's career in toto, however, Mueller gets the prize, and I'd like to take the opportunity to plug his great book, "Astaire Dancing."

It's an old saw that standards of beauty, especially for women, are culturally driven. It is probably true that Thin (or let's say Lean, if that's less pejorative) is Better for things like clarity of line, and so forth. I certainly prefer it. However, I don't feel quite confident enough to assert -- we are all creatures of our time, after all, and influenced by cultural assumptions in many ways of which we are only partially aware -- that this is some kind of eternal, inviolable standard. Around the turn of the century, women were a lot curvier; and they were not supposed to be too thin or too tall. (Pavlova was accused of excessive thinness in her time. I don't think she looks too thin today. To take another example from an earlier generation, Sarah Bernhardt, who also doesn't seem especially scrawny to the modern eye, was constantly lampooned by cartoonists for the same reason.) I should imagine that the dancers of that time, who seem so chunky to us today, looked like the epitome of lissome grace back then. A lot depends on what the eye is accustomed to seeing.

In the current issue of Vanity Fair, the one with Jennifer Aniston on the cover, there is an excerpt from a forthcoming new biography of Robbins by Greg Lawrence (Gelsey Kirkland's husband). The piece focuses on Robbins' testimony as a friendly witness in front of HUAC and his Broadway career afterward.

"The Great American Ballerina"? I don't know how it was while she was dancing, but I would think in retrospect the title, if we have to award it, belongs to Maria Tallchief.

I am inclined to agree with Cliff. It would be nice if the most effective advertising were invariably the most intelligent advertising, but such is not the case. Those of us of a certain age will recall the "Please don't squeeze the Charmin" TV campaign, which involved someone named Mr. Whipple trying to prevent shoppers from lustfully massaging the toilet paper, and drove a sizable number of TV viewers half insane with irritation. Everyone jeered at those ads, and Charmin's sales skyrocketed. In defense of SFB, it must be allowed that parts of the Bible are chock full of good old fashioned sex and violence.... [This message has been edited by dirac (edited February 24, 2001).]

I think Giuliani is just doing the politician thing. It's not a party matter -- it's easy to imagine Schumer, for example, doing the same number. I doubt that NYCB or any other ballet company is in any danger, as they're not going to put on anything for the Mayor to object to. Re "Olympia": I didn't put the same construction on the male divers. The glorification of masculine strength was a cornerstone of Third Reich propaganda -- think of the mass calisthenics showcased in "Triumph of the Will" -- and I can see a straight man shooting the same sequence. But it's not as if Riefenstahl is suggesting that these men are the sum total of their physical attributes; she's saying, Look at what they can do; look how beautiful they are, isn't it awesome, what the human body is capable of. They're not the water bimbos in an Esther Williams opus, grinning vacuously in the chlorine.

I'm not sure that a Ballerina Barbie that was anatomically accurate would sell too well -- can't see much of a market for Flatchested Barbie with Bunions. I remember a few years ago that a couple of Barbies called Trailer Trash Barbie and Hooker Barbie were circulating. Mattel sued, I think.

I never had the good fortune to see Kirkland, but I did read her books, and while I admired her intensity I could see how her partners might have become a wee bit impatient. Dancing on My Grave had one especially striking passage on one ballet, I forget which, where Kirkland had to dance with a scarf. Apparently Kirkland had trouble finding a dramatic justification for the scarf, and expends several paragraphs on how she cast about for possible motivations, consulted with her coach, etc. It did seem like an awful amount of mental anguish to expend upon what would seem to be a pretty run-of-the-mill prop.

I'm wondering if anyone has any general remarks to make about the category of dancer usually characterized as a "dancer-actress" or "actor-dancer." (I often see Nora Kaye, Lynn Seymour, and Melissa Hayden characterized as such, to name three.) I never saw any of the above, and I'd be interested to know: what people think distinguishes the great d/a from merely a good one? I've heard it said that in many such dancers their technical abilities as dancers are less distinguished than their dramatic gift. Is this true? does one quality have to suffer at the expense of the other? I offer a couple of quotes: Gore Vidal on Nora Kaye: "Onstage, Nora was like no one else. As a classical dancer, she was barely in the second rank. As a dancer-actress, there has never been, and perhaps never will be, another like her." Anna Akhmatova on Galina Ulanova: "As a ballerina, she is no one. She is merely a mime of genius."

Well, I can't help hoping that, for the sake of the historical record, she did talk in more detail to someone and perhaps eventually we will know more. There is so much in both the private and professional arenas that only she could tell us. Balanchine made such special roles for her unique qualities, and it would be fascinating to hear more about them. On the personal plane, is striking how uniformly protective of Balanchine's memory the ex-wives and lovers have been. Admirable, of course, but the historian (and gossip) in me can't help wondering how it really was. One doesn't want any Gennifer Flowers revelations, needless to say, but it would have been interesting if one of the exes had produced something like Francoise Gilot's memoir of Picasso.

She was before my time also, but I always loved those wonderfully evocative photographs of her in "La Valse" and "Illuminations" by George Platt Lynes. While respecting her wish for privacy, I regret that she didn't give more interviews; she gave a very illuminating one to Barbara Newman in "Striking a Balance" that left one hungry for more.

Although I haven't seen it yet, I think the Conrad book is more of a pictures-with-text coffee table kind of volume, and so it wouldn't be intruding on Jowitt's territory or vice versa.

Yup, if it's the same Greg Lawrence. This is unfortunate, if the Robbins book is written in the same turgid prose as the Kirkland opuses. As for the gossipy part, if even half of what one hears about Robbins', uh, management style is true, there should be plenty of dish to dish.

Do keep spilling, Drew.

There were a few odd things in the article. I don't see anything wrong with airing the fact that Tudor could be nasty in the rehearsal hall. (In biographies of prominent generals, for example, it is customary to note how they conducted themselves in their relations with their subordinates.) Re: the emigrants to America. I found this more troubling (and pardon the length of the following, I don't mean to pontificate, but I have a point, honest). It is true that Auden and Isherwood came under fire for leaving when they did, mainly because they made it clear upon departure that they expected their expatriation to be lengthy if not permanent and that their leaving was directly connected to the coming war. It was quite a scandal and they were pilloried and parodied: readers of Evelyn Waugh will remember Parsnip and Pimpernell. The two men were not lovers at this time but friends, incidentally. Isherwood's reputation in Britain was permanently affected, Auden's less so. Britten and Pears left England a little after A&I in 1939, not for any reasons related to the threat of war but because there was work for Britten in North America and Pears came along for the ride. They went to Canada first and after a brief stay, to Michigan, and only then to New York. Pears initially expected to return to England in a few months; Britten did contemplate staying on indefinitely, but only if war did not come, among other considerations. (B&P also left England as Just Friends, although this was to change in America, and they were not yet linked as artistic allies and collaborators in the public mind as the other two were.) They left for England in 1942 -- they applied for passage much earlier than their actual departure date, but the war made arrangements difficult -- and upon their return both received exemptions from military service as conscientous objectors. As far as I know they didn't receive the public beatings Auden and Isherwood did. Even allowing that space considerations wouldn't permit Brown to go into all this stuff, it's hard to escape the conclusion that these two very different couples in very different circumstances were lumped together along with Tudor and Laing for the frail reason that they were all gay men, perhaps not the wisest line to take. I have nothing but respect for Ismene Brown, and I certainly think it's all right to explore the private lives of artists no longer with us, but she is treading on dangerous ground when she compares Tudor's "monogamy" favorably with Ashton's "promiscuity", strongly implying that sexual relationships that mimic the marital norm are more significant than those that do not. (Also, Ashton hardly qualifies as promiscuous, IMO.) Finally, it's okay to talk about what the two said to and about each other, even if it got a little catty. They were rivals. Rivalries get personal.

I'm not surprised. The Disney people are notorious trademark fascists. I guess they have to be, but still. BalletNut's suggestion made me think of an even more unadaptable Roald Dahl book: "James and the Giant Peach, the Ballet". cargill, I wouldn't be surprised if Matthew Bourne takes on the "Rebel Without a Cause" idea. Already I see Will Kemp sulking fetchingly in a red windbreaker.

I think Sylvie Guillem would make a splendid She. Also, with all due respect to the spectacular charms of Ms. Andress and Ms. Bergman, the definitive cinema She is Helen Gahagan (later Mrs. Melvyn Douglas and political opponent of Richard Nixon), in the version made in 1935, with Randolph Scott and Nigel Bruce in support. And H. Rider Haggard rules.

Cliff, I'm not sure we should even get started on movies. What about "The Poseidon Adventure"? An actual storm at sea wouldn't be reproducible, but maybe we could have buckets of water hurled at the dancers from the wings.

For our most rarefied intellectuals only: "Death Kit: The Ballet."

I was of the same opinion, which doubtless explains why Cameron Mackintosh is worth a fortune and I am, well, not. Actually, Flemming Flindt did adapt Ionesco's "The Lesson". Haven't seen it but I understand it wasn't bad. [This message has been edited by dirac (edited October 13, 2000).]

Wouldn't Agnes de Mille be a little...steely for Aunt Pitty? (Too thin, too.)