dirac

I had a similar dream some years ago, Ed, only it involved some poems by T.S. Eliot and large singing cats. Also, I realized I made an unforgivable error in an earlier post. I paired Richard Burton with the wrong blonde. It was Angie Dickinson in Bramble Bush, another turkey, and Martha Hyer in Ice Palace. My apologies to fans of lousy movies everywhere.

Richard Armour has written several little books on American history, literature, etc., that carry on in much the same vein.

Leigh is right. GWTW is a period piece in every sense. If you update it and cut out all the racial stereotyping, not to mention the glorification of the Ku Klux Klan, the decidedly outdated view of the Reconstruction era, etc., etc., then you won't have much of the book left and fans will be unhappy, because it won't be close enough in spirit to the original property. If you don't alter it -- radically -- they'll get picket lines and probably worse (deservedly so, I should note). Like it or not, the story doesn't make much sense without Mitchell's perspective intact. Recall that one of the crucial events in the story is an assault on Scarlett by Uppity Black Men -- the book uses other terms -- and the subsequent bloody retribution exacted by the gallant KKK. I remain fond of the book and the movie, but in later years you see things that I'm ashamed to admit were not immediately apparent to me at thirteen. [This message has been edited by dirac (edited October 11, 2000).]

It was Burton in Ice Palace, co-starring with Angie Dickinson, a pairing that did not set the screen aflame.

In earlier threads we've discussed novels that we would like to see translated to ballet. The "Gone with the Wind" threads have me pondering novels (or films, or whatever) that you think would be LEAST adaptable. Then, adapt it, cast it, do what you will. (Pretend you are a dotty impresario along the lines of Corky St. Clair in the movie" Waiting for Guffman", who adapted the fireman epic "Backdraft" for the stage, with unhappy consequences.) I'll go first. I am thinking about a ballet version of "The Thorn Birds". As some of you may know, most of the novel takes place on an Australian sheep station, but I figure I can get around this by setting most of the outdoor scenes in the barn. There will be an impressive Act One group dance built around the sheep shearing contest, with shirtless corps boys brandishing shears and sheepskins, (although actual animals onstage would probably not be prudent). The central love story concerns a priest stoutly resisting his passion for the belle of the sheep station, Meggie Cleary, so there will be at least one pas de deux in which Father Ralph explains in dance that while he loves Meggie, he loves the Vatican more. In Act Two, we introduce Meggie's ambitious suitor, winner of the contest, with a pas de trois showing Meggie Torn Between Two Lovers. There's also a big fire around this time, which I can't do anything with, but the death of one of Meggie's brothers after a confrontation with a wild boar can be dealt with by means of a character dancer in a boar suit. When Father Ralph departs for Rome, the scene moves to the Vatican, complete with dancing cardinals. It's time for another pas de deux for Meggie and Ralph when they are briefly reunited and their passion is fulfilled. As for the third part of the book, I'm kind of stumped. I think I'll eliminate the next generation a la the 1939 movie version of Wuthering Heights, and end the ballet with Meggie revealing her pregnancy to Father Ralph in the manner of Gelsey Kirkland announcing her expectations to Patrick Bissell at the end of The Tiller in the Fields. Excuse the length of this introduction. Any other suggestions? [This message has been edited by dirac (edited October 10, 2000).]

I pity the unfortunate choreographer who has to explain to Kschessinska that in the postwar scenes she cannot wear her jewelry to pick cotton. [This message has been edited by dirac (edited October 10, 2000).]

I have the same video, and I agree that Farrell doesn't inflect the movement that way at all. I think Agon is sexy, but the eroticism is only effective if the dancers refrain from emphasizing that fact unduly. Once they start telegraphing Sex to the audience, it becomes crude and obvious.

Arlene Croce has used "seemliness" in relation to classicism also, in one of the pieces collected in "Afterimages", I think.

I just saw Alexandra's post and comments re Leslie Howard. Excuse the repetition.

Estelle, I must say a few words in defense of Leslie Howard. I think he did his best under the circumstances -- he didn't like the role of Ashley, felt he was too old, and was basically forced into the movie at gunpoint. (Little did he know that The Petrified Forest, The Scarlet Pimpernel, and Pygmalion would fade in memory while GWTW went on and on and on.) Probably some of these roles should be just straight mime roles -- Scarlett's mother Ellen, who has a small but crucial role, should not dance, for example. She's too dignified to dance. If Frederick Ashton were still with us he would be perfect casting for Aunt Pittypat. (I can just see him calling for his smelling salts!)

Leigh, I'm not sure that you have that much, if anything, to apologize for. You didn't say anything that wasn't true, nor were you especially intemperate, IMO. I could say more, but this topic has already gotten a little unwieldy. This is an awfully complex topic to handle in a bulletin board post, as I just said, so I'm not really going to try but just make a point or two. It seems to me that in classical ballet what we see onstage are not men and women so much as stylized abstractions of same, even in a ballet as nominally explicit as Bugaku, (where at one point Balanchine has the colossal nerve to make the ballerina's extended leg into a big boner). A foot is one thing; a foot on pointe becomes a symbol, a sign that can represent a variety of things other than itself. In a grand pas de deux, the man responds to the woman not as a sexual being but rather does homage to Woman, in the abstract, and the two become the ideal Leigh is talking about, if I'm interpreting him correctly. He also mentions courtly love. The same principle applies there; the whole point of the troubador's lyric was that the object of his love was unattainable, an ideal of love and not the thing itself. In other kinds of ballet, as in the work of MacMillan, for example, the above does not necessarily apply, but I'll leave that for another post. Hope this makes sense....

Steiner was like that. He had a few themes, recycled incessantly. I once heard a story about Bette Davis during the filming of "Dark Victory". She was so rattled by Steiner's score that she stopped in the middle of one take and demanded, "Just who is going up these stairs to die? Me or Max Steiner?"

Actually, Mammy had a terrible time trying to keep Scarlett from stuffing her face at the Wilkes' barbecue, as loyal readers (and viewers) will recall. Scarlett was also quite proud of what Gelsey Kirkland would call her "fulsome breasts"; it was her seventeen-inch waistline which she was determined not to see expand. (As you might deduce, in early adolescence I studied this book with a fervor that only be described as Talmudic.) Can't wait to see girls trying to dance in those Walter Plunkett crinolines.

Just adding a general comment on the subject of "bad taste". Ann has a point when she says that accusations of bad taste can sometimes be a cover for prudishness or squeamishness generally. People don't want to own up to such reactions and so they say, "Oh, that's in such bad taste." (I AM NOT implying that anyone on this board would ever be guilty of this! kip's reminder of the difference between saying something is in bad taste and accusing someone of possessing bad taste is important to bear in mind. Of course, a ballerina simulating orgasm in "The Dream" is tasteless, just like the orgasmic yelp that Rysanek used to produce as Sieglinde when Siegmund pulled out that sword in Die Walkure. But I don't think that Rudolf's wedding night pas de deux with Stephanie in "Mayerling" is, even though the lady does get hauled about like a bag of mule feed, because there's a legitimate dramatic point being made. I think there's a distinction that sometimes gets lost in the shuffle between MacMillan's merits as a choreographer and the unfortunate influence he exerted over the Royal's classical style. Ed, forgive me for worrying this point like a terrier, but while I concede that MacMillan's characterization of Manon does not have the depth it might have, and the ballet is weakest in its final act, I still think that there is sufficient dramatic justification within the ballet for Manon's resistance to the brutish gaoler. Yes, she's a whore, and no, we haven't seen her object to anyone else's advances in the course of the ballet. Does that mean she couldn't experience terror and revulsion in her dealings with him? IMO, she could.

While I would agree that "Manon" is far from MacMillan at his best, I can't go quite as far as Ed. No, it's not great. It's not awful, either. It's a good undemanding vehicle for a star ballerina, with lots of dance at the expense of the story, as seems to be preferred these days. Perhaps it seems worse than it is because we know MacMillan could have done better; we know Sibley or Penney could have taken the role further, done more with the character. I would also say that some of MacMillan's dances -- the pas de trois that Ed mentions above, and the section at the brothel where Manon is passed from man to man -- are well done. Not great art, but skillful craft. As for Manon's pas de deux with the gaoler -- isn't it possible that a courtesan could draw the line somewhere, even one as lightly characterized as Manon is here?

Here's Clive Barnes in the Post on the BRB -- loves the company, not the ballet. He also mentions an interesting detail about Edward's pas de deux with his executioner that I had not heard before. Had no idea the late king was into water sports..... http://www.nypostonline.com/entertainment/11610.htm

Easy enough. Just get into George Balanchine's company, catch his eye, get him to fall in love with you, and the rest is cake.

Farrell suffered a knee injury early in her career that put a crimp in her jumping ability and she had chronic knee problems thereafter. Several dancers, including Melissa Hayden, complained that Balanchine stopped giving jumps in class because of her problem, and some steps were changed in some ballets to accommodate it, in Apollo and Concerto Barocco, for example.

Michael1, you may wind up broiled, but not by me. All this vivid reporting makes me wish I was in Edinburgh.

In "Conversations with the Muses" Melissa Hayden says approvingly of Balanchine that she respected his ability to get the job done. "He didn't sit around waiting for Terpsichore to inspire him," she said, or something like that. I've read several comments to the effect that, during festival time, he'd allow all the other choreographers to take first pick of the available dancers. Then he'd take whoever was left and come up with the best ballet. (I bet he probably enjoyed showing he could do it, too.)

Kent and Kistler were two of the dancers interviewed in Anne Belle's film, "Dancing for Mr. B: Six Balanchine Ballerinas" and it contains footage of Kent coaching Kistler in the role. Kent has some interesting things to say about dancing La Sonnambula in her autobiography, "Once a Dancer..." also. The book alexandra mentions is by Robert Tracy, and I think the complete title is "Balanchine's Ballerinas: Conversations with the Muses". Obviously the alliteration has a powerful appeal.

I don't think we have "variety" in the Ed Sullivan sense any more. The idea seemed to be that you could show Joan Sutherland one week,The Beatles another, on the same program. Nowadays it's assumed that the audiences for opera and pop are mutually exclusive. I wonder if the advent of public television might also have played a role. The networks said, Well,they can do the culture stuff, we don't have to. Leonard Bernstein once explained symphonic structure in prime time, but when documentaries on his life appear, they're on PBS. The arts got cordoned off. All of which is off topic, of course. I really enjoyed the review, Manhattnik, must go buy that video.

I wonder if opera might not have been an influence also? In the nineteenth century mad scenes were almost de rigueur, especially in bel canto (perhaps on the rationale that you'd have to be crazy to try all that coloratura stuntwork).

I should have figured that, but I always assume it's someone I ought to have heard of but haven't.

I'm sure this is a dumb question, but who was Ted Bissell? I remember Ted Kivitt, and Patrick Bissell, and Ted Bessell of That Girl.... I just noticed that Yvonne duplicated my inquiry, so never mind. [This message has been edited by dirac (edited July 25, 2000).]