dirac

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).]

I saw a film about Torvill & Dean some time ago that chronicled their comeback to competition after a long absence. Christopher Dean remarked that at first they were getting consistently low technical marks on what was a very difficult routine. Eventually they figured out what was wrong. It wasn't enough to do hard things; they had to telegraph that they were doing them to the judges. "Hey!Look at this huge preparation! Big jump coming right up!Wow! We did it! Wasn't that great!" He seemed rather depressed that this method worked.

I did try that parlor game with "I Remember Balanchine." It's like Rashomon. Hardly anyone agrees on anything, except that the original "Concerto Barocco" had a much more syncopated allegro feel and a couple of people were told by Balanchine that "Stravinsky Violin Concerto" was his favorite ballet. And a number of people seem to have had trouble understanding what he saw in Suzanne Farrell anyway.

I also enjoyed the book "Portrait of Mr. B". It is mostly a gallery of pictures of Balanchine at work, but many of the shots are revealing and there's a lovely essay by Kirstein,two excellent interviews with the great man by Jonathan Cott, and Denby's essay on Agon.

While she was still in Russia Makarova had several roles made on her by Leonid Yakobson, in experimental ballets such as "The Bedbug", "Waltzes", and "The Kiss". He ran into trouble with the censors for political and artistic reasons and she stopped dancing for him after he left the Kirov. Roland Petit made some things for her toward the end of her career. I'm sure there are others I don't know about.

Makarova used to remark frequently on the paucity of roles created for her. An anecdote from Karen Kain might shed some light on this. For Makarova's Broadway outing, "Makarova and Company" she commissioned a new ballet from Lorca Massine, son of Leonide. On the night of the ballet's debut, Massine Jr. was appalled as Makarova apparently rechoreographed his ballet onstage. Partner Anthony Dowell complained to Kain that he didn't see much point in all those rehearsals if Makarova was just going to improvise anyway.

In Makarova's defense, the pas de deux may not have been that great in the first place and she decided to perform some remedial surgery. I don't remember hearing or reading that she messed around with the choreography of, say, Tudor.

I'd never bash Minkus but most of his music strikes me as awfully ordinary; the first time I saw "The Kingdom of the Shades" I was jarred by the pristine classicism of the choreography and the tinkly bouncy-bouncy music which accompanied most of it. A lot of what he did was hack work, to put it bluntly, but as Steve observes, it's enjoyable, unpretentious, well crafted hack work which fulfills its function successfully.

Having said that, it was a great thing for ballet that Delibes and Tchaikovsky came along to compose music that was more than just competent accompaniment to dancing. And I don't think the dance impulse in Delibes or Tchaikovsky is weaker than in Minkus; it's just more subtle.

It's not really a ballet book per se, but I was introduced to ballet between book covers by Noel Streatfeild's "Ballet Shoes",one of several "Shoe" related books she wrote for children. (It might appear that I'm misspelling her name, but I'm pretty sure that's correct.) I loved it when I was little and it holds up just fine today. My first ballet book proper was Agnes de Mille's "Book of the Dance", which is lavishly illustrated and has a typically pungent text. It's horribly out of date now, but I'd still recommend it, especially for the sections on the beginnings of ballet. I also came across by sheer accident a quaint little volume by Ashton's friend William Chappell on Fonteyn, with photographs by Cecil Beaton. I could not make much of the text at that time (it seems droll today), but Beaton posed her skillfully and she looks beautiful. I'd never seen her on film at that point, but I bought it because of the pictures.

I'd also endorse "Stories of the Great Ballets" -- it's the closest ballet comes to Milton Cross. There's one more volume whose name escapes me that I found useful as a reference and I'll look it up.

I also remember looking at a few books devoted exclusively to technique, but didn't get much out of those until I had seen more.

I second Leigh about the Kirstein books, with the caveat that he is an unashamed propagandist with a number of axes to grind,in other words very far from an objective observer. For example, in his book "Movement and Metaphor" (quoting title from memory)which describes epochal ballets and their influence through a century or two, he includes exactly one Ashton ballet! I'm of two minds about the Buckle books. I think his books tend to lack shape and his powers of analysis are not great, but on the other hand there's really no place else to go for a complete biography of Balanchine, for example. You need to have them. Taper's book on Balanchine originated as a magazine article and shows it, becoming very sketchy towards the end. I kind of liked Garis' book. His approach is self-absorbed, not to say eccentric, but while there's lots of guff about his mental "collaboration" with Balanchine, there's also insightful material on the relationship between Balanchine and Stravinsky, for instance. Also, he was friendly with people like Edwin Denby and B.H. Haggin who were also writing about ballet and has interesting things to say about them. I loved Nijinska's book. "No Intermissions" was a problem for me -- I find de Mille's life in some ways more interesting than her work and was eager to read this, but it was written by a professional biographer with not much background in dance, and so she groups de Mille with Balanchine, Ashton, and Tudor as if all four of them were working on the same artistic level -- just doesn't seem to know the difference. De Mille's book on Graham should be read but it is unashamedly partisan, ultimately too much so for me. I got a kick out of the anecdote describing Erick Hawkins auditioning for Rodgers and Hammerstein, though. Hope this helps.