dirac

As an aside, it seems to me that a couple of reviewers have made too big a deal about Lawrence's not being permitted access to Robbins' papers and having the nerve to produce an unauthorized biography. I don't doubt that Robbins' papers have a lot of useful information, but after all we're not dealing with Thomas Jefferson here. And quite a few valuable biographies would never have appeared if the authors had folded their tents and stolen away after being denied "authorization." (Whether Lawrence's book is among these is another matter, of course.)

Something I used to do when I was in your position was go to the library and browse through the books at random. Often I would come across interesting stuff I never would have thought of on my own.

You might look at Diaghilev and the Ballets Russes. There's tons of information out there and lots of colorful anecdotes and personalities associated with the era.

There was Hilary Hahn in the "Classical Musician" category, I think it was called, and there was a novelist, architect, artist, and so forth. I certainly wouldn't expect a dancer to make the cover of an issue such as this one, but I hope at least an effort was made to find somebody.

Wrestlers made the issue, incidentally, under "Odd Jobs."

TIME has produced yet another Special Issue, the first in a series called "America's Best." This one has Julia Roberts on the cover, and profiles "the artists and entertainers who rise above the rest." I scanned the list, and couldn't help noticing that there was no "Dancer" or "Choreographer." (Susan Stroman makes the cut, but in her capacity as "Broadway Director.") Desperate, I went to the section called "Odd Jobs." No luck. Apparently, TIME had room to showcase "Rappers," "Talk-Show Host," "Fashion Designer (Tom Ford, rakishly showcasing his chest hair)," and "DJ" but not Tharp, or Baryshnikov, or any rising young star. (No opera singers, either.) I actually became a little peeved, especially when I read Managing Editor James Kelly's explanation for the selection of the beauteous Ms. Roberts as "Best Movie Star": "....audiences feel they know her intimately, in all her vulnerable charm....these feelings in turn invest her screen performances with a special immediacy and resonance." I take this as Managing Editorspeak for "We wanted to put her picture on the cover."

I don't mean to pick on TIME -- newsmagazines are in a tough spot these days -- but this did strike me as a significant omission. "I welcome your thoughts on our selections," Kelly concludes. I suggest we share our thoughts with him and his arts editor, Jan Simpson.

Benno is Ralph Bellamy.

My understanding is that Balanchine thought of this piece primarily as a technical showcase for his stars. (I think the music was a rewrite forced on Tchaikovsky by a temperamental ballerina who wanted different counts, so maybe he was considering the source.) After all, when you're building a repertory you need all kinds of ballets, and I wouldn't be surprised if he thought of this as a crowd-pleasing bonbon for galas and whatnot, although it's a cut above, say, "Tarantella."

Dance Fan, you bring back happy memories. Walken's strip in "Pennies from Heaven" is totally awesome. I think he's a little too strange for Drosselmeier, though. Maybe Madge?

This is all from memory and a particular or two might be off base, but "Slaughter" originated from the 1936 Broadway musical "On Your Toes" by Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart and produced by George Abbott, which starred Ray Bolger and Mrs. Balanchine #1, Tamara Geva. (It was originally intended to be a movie property for Fred Astaire, who nixed it.) "Slaughter " was the Act II ballet, and it was one of the first (and may in fact have been the first, but I'd have to check) Broadway musical ballets to forward the musical's story line as well as provide a dance divertissement. It was revived twice on Broadway, once with Makarova, and Balanchine brought it back himself for Arthur Mitchell and Suzanne Farrell in 1968, I think it was. The choreography may have been altered somewhat -- Ray Bolger came in to coach Mitchell, but his idiosyncratic style didn't translate and Mitchell apparently adapted freely.

There's a nice anecdote in "I Remember Balanchine" about it. Rodgers asked Balanchine what kind of music he wanted for the dance, and Balanchine said, "No, you write. I do," much to Rodgers' surprise and pleasure. So Rodgers wrote and Balanchine did.

[ 06-18-2001: Message edited by: dirac ]

Rozhdestvensky quits the Bolshoi. Report from Reuters:

http://www.nytimes.com/2001/06/14/arts/15B...LSHOI-WIRE.html

I was browsing in Tower Books and noticed a new fiction title, "Flight of the Swan," by Rosario Ferré, with whose work I am unfamiliar. It concerns a Russian ballerina who finds herself stranded, because of political complications, in the Puerto Rico of 1917. I am knee deep in unread titles at home and didn't purchase it, but I'd be interested to know if anyone has read it. (I also thought that a new addition to the not exactly extensive list of novels dealing with ballet should be noted for its own sake.)

I think declining support for the arts is a bipartisan thing. No one on either side of the aisle wants to vote more money to an arts program only to have some opponent discover that one of the artists spit on a crucifix in 1978 or whatever. I'd make the same demand of any president. Words of support are nice, but.

There are also a couple of documentary videos with Kain as the subject, although the titles escape me at the moment.

I would agree with Juliet that "Movement Never Lies" is definitely worth a read. Kain's longtime partner at the National, Frank Augustyn, has also written his memoirs, which I haven't read yet.

Show me the money.

I can't comment on the show since I missed it and I'm hoping that the other PBS stations in my area run it again soon. I did want to veer off topic to add to Ed's comments on the poor quality of the public programming on his local station. We have some of the same problems here, but the difficulty doesn't seem to be bad taste so much as not enough money and the need to attract eyeballs. Hence Antiques Roadshow, Yanni at the Acropolis, Suze Orman, Deepak Chopra, Michael Flatley discussing the evolution of his artistic vision, and so on.

Oops. This reply was supposed to go up to the Don Q thread on another board, but I'm afraid it's stuck here. My apologies.

[ 06-08-2001: Message edited by: dirac ]

I've already unburdened myself on this question in previous threads, so I'll just add a thing or two. The commercialization of ballet is deplorable, and probably unavoidable as long as the art form is left exposed to market forces with only unreliable private funding upon which to depend. However, Baryshnikov himself has benefited indirectly from the commercialism he criticizes; he became an international film star and hawked his own clothing line and fragrance, after all, activities made possible by the same economic system that creates the need for companies to stage Dracula and The Pied Piper (and The Nutcracker) in order to survive. I don't blame him for that. For good or ill, it's the American way. But I do wish he wouldn't blame American ballet for things it can't help.

Sounds like someone who could really do Salome's "Dance of the Seven Veils," if her voice is strong enough to ride that orchestra. (I think "move like a dancer" is sometimes a euphemism for "doesn't lumber across the stage like a grizzly.")

Back to the subject at hand, I'd nominate Charlize Theron. I understand she has some dance training and I bet the late Bob Fosse would have gone ape over her. She's also a potential Balanchine Superwoman type too, I think. Also Joanne Woodward. She's a big ballet fan and why no company has asked her to do roles like the Queen in Swan Lake I'll never understand.

[ 06-06-2001: Message edited by: dirac ]

In the late Robert Garis' "Following Balanchine," he discusses Kent in the role. He liked her distinctive effect but thought that her strength and stamina were not quite up to the demands of the part.

Merrill Ashley began dancing the role not long before Farrell came back to the company and also alternated in it later, I think.

[ 06-04-2001: Message edited by: dirac ]

It's anal-retentive of me to point this out, but I don't see how the lady behind you could have seen Kelly and Charisse perform "Slaughter on Tenth Avenue," since they never danced it together onscreen to my knowledge. (Kelly did do it, but with Vera-Ellen, and I seem to remember that it was somewhat different.)

Having said that, I do understand the larger point, if I understand it correctly, that the piece is better suited to musical comedy dancers or ballet stars with lots of musical experience, since a lot of what makes an item like "Slaughter" work is mastery of show dancers' style, which doesn't necessarily have anything to do with great technique and in which many of today's dancers are going to be deficient no matter how well rehearsed.

In the May 18 issue of the Times Literary Supplement, Alastair Macaulay reviews "The Oxford Dictionary of Dance" by Debra Craine and Judith Mackrell. He praises it for some things, such as its inclusion of a larger number of composers and designers than usually found in dance dictionaries, but is disturbed by some factual inaccuracies. He also notes with concern that Bill T. Jones receives more space than A. or G. Vestris, Bournonville, or Fred Astaire. (Link available online to subscribers only.)

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.