Nanatchka

The writer's proper relationship is with the reader. (All kinds of things come into play in the seduction required to hold the reader. Wait! Don't scroll down. I'l be witty, I'll engage in conversational asides that will seem as if I am whispering in your ear...)(And what I am whispering is that the writer's first reader, the one who's really enchanted and charmed by every word, is the writer himself. Or herself, as the case might be.) As Bob Gottlieb's reader--and I get the Observer to read Mr. Gottlieb--I get to, in essence, have a little relationship with him whenever he publishes. I find it extremely satisfactory. If he has to break a few hearts on his way to my door, so be it. Faint heart never won fair reader.

The writer's proper relationship is with the reader. (All kinds of things come into play in the seduction required to hold the reader. Wait! Don't scroll down. I'l be witty, I'll engage in conversational asides that will seem as if I am whispering in your ear...)(And what I am whispering is that the writer's first reader, the one who's really enchanted and charmed by every word, is the writer himself. Or herself, as the case might be.) As Bob Gottlieb's reader--and I get the Observer to read Mr. Gottlieb--I get to, in essence, have a little relationship with him whenever he publishes. I find it extremely satisfactory. If he has to break a few hearts on his way to my door, so be it. Faint heart never won fair reader.

Mr. Gottlieb did not leave The New Yorker upon its purchase by Conde Nast. He arrived there from another outfit also owned at the time by the Newhouse family--Knopf, a division of Random House (the uber-publisher, not "little Random House," a subsidiary of big Random House, as is Knopf), at the behest of Sy Newhouse, head of Conde Nast. As for my admiring Mr. Gottlieb, it's true. I do. As far as I'm concerned, he could have edited Joe Heller's "Catch-22" and gone straight to heaven....

Mr. Gottlieb did not leave The New Yorker upon its purchase by Conde Nast. He arrived there from another outfit also owned at the time by the Newhouse family--Knopf, a division of Random House (the uber-publisher, not "little Random House," a subsidiary of big Random House, as is Knopf), at the behest of Sy Newhouse, head of Conde Nast. As for my admiring Mr. Gottlieb, it's true. I do. As far as I'm concerned, he could have edited Joe Heller's "Catch-22" and gone straight to heaven....

Going way up to a post by Leigh Witchel in re "Mime needs interpretation." With great respect, I differ. I think what mime needs is translation. It has specific meaning, literal meaning. It isn't subject to alternate interpretations. The danger is that an audience won't have a clue what is going onProgram notes are a really great help, provided people read them. (Bayadere could have used supertitles.)They should be called "libretti." Opera goers read libretti to see what the singers are singing--okay, you don't have too, sometimes the music just carries the day, but the acutal meaning certainly enhances the experience. It was never the maker's intent (mime ballet passages or opera) for the audience to intuit meaning. To me, interpretation comes more into play with so-called abstract dances. Or with the overall "reading" of a story.

If the fairies can die ("The old fairy's dead") then they are not, like the Greek gods, or the Tsar's God, immortal. They are simply living in a different time frame. This would explain age taking precedence, just as it does in Royal families. (The Duke is dead, long live the Duke.) The most beautiful Lilac scene I know was made for Kyra Nichols by Peter Martins. (Yes, yes, it is ravishing.) Lilac travels though mist on a boat, and her port de bras casts a spell. Thus Lilac mitigates the nasty curse of Carabosse in the same way that watching Kyra dance always mitigated the nastiness of real life. The whole deal is emblematic, isn't it?

Well, maybe. Matthew Bourne made no pretense of presenting "the" Swan Lake. He was presenting "a" Swan Lake. A version, an interpretation, a recension, what have-you. (Yes, yes, what-have-you can be answered any number of ways.) His is a meta-Swan Lake. Not that I liked it, believe me. I loathed it. But it was a vigorous loathing. I almost yearn for it in retrospect. I wasn't sitting there wondering"What's that?" "Who's that"-- or worse yet--"What Happened?" The NYCB Swan's worst flaw was driving the one act Balanchine out of the rep. (I love that one-act.) ABT's was making you roll on the floor laughing at Von Rothbart. He's always silly. there's no way to be a giant owl without being silly (you enter in a bird suit, you flap your wings, you try to see out of the eye holes in the neck of your owl head; it's not good), but the giant iguana added the unfortunate element of comedic surprise. I remember sitting in the house thinking, "This is not supposed to be funny." But it was, it was.

I attended Tuesday night with a ladylike personage who would not leave until the lights came up after the last curtain calls. Having plenty of time, I looked about and at my estimate about ten full rows of the house were still there--but spaced out. Odd notes: I know where the tulles are. They used them to stuff the tiger. (A friend remarked at intermission that the tiger looked as if it would squeak if stepped on. The ladylike personage, upon his entrance, leaned over and whispered "Poor Tony" in my ear. )Moving on, about those parrots--the ones in the hand, not the ones on top of the flower arches. They have little perches to hold onto, but the third parrot girl from the right had been dealt a perchless parrot, and thus was clutching hers around the body just about the tail. This was apparent because in all over the head arm movements, hers was the only curved wrist in evidence. She reminded me of Julia Child with a recalcitrant dinner chicken. (Just grab it here, raise it up, and....) Next up: the water urn was somehow attached to a flat plastic disk on top of the dancer's head. Question: Why has no one mentioned the hats? The hats were astonishing in their profusion. Now, lastly, a few serious remarks: First, this was the single most ridiculous ballet I have ever seen. You can't go home to the original, and part way just doesn't work. Time travel this was not. However, it was of great interest to see a ballet more or less as Balanchiine would have seen it, and wonder if some of it stayed with him--Oberon and Puck/Solor and his fakir. Doubled female principals, particularly in last act. Etc. Also, interesting to see Russian version of noble savagery via India. Sets thus of extreme interest,intellectually. Also costumes, what with Victoriana mixed into Orientalia. I bet you the tulle in the shades is nylon or its cousin, though, and I bet it wasn't in 1900. I'm glad I saw this, but I am not racing back to see it again. I'd go for the Shades, though, even with the reduced number of girls. Also, that greenish scrim RG mentioned must have looked very different in the original, when theatrical lighting was so different. Ditto the scrim at the back, through which the Shades stepped just after entering from our right, way upstage amidst "rocks." It looked like ripped pantyhose, that scrim. The overall front scrim effect was difficult to assess in its intention; the result was that the shades, at least from mid-front part of the house, downstairs, seemed to be dancing behind window screening. The reason given for the reduced number of girls in this act was that it was too expensvie to bring them all....this is a production about the production.

First, a school....

On another thread, Leigh Witchel suggested that in Balanchne's Dream Oberon and Titania are figureheads( rather than lovers)-- royal consorts with "separate bedrooms," an impression he finds enhanced by the presence of the Cavalier. I I went to Balanchine's Dream twice this week, and took this into consideration, though not wthout my own bias, since I like to think they're in love. Please post what you think about them! Here's my take: Peter Boal, in his eloquent reaction to the pair of young happy lovers--this is the spot where he sees how happy they are, and then looks ruefully at the magical "wild thyme"--ie that red flower--he is holding.,clearly indicating his own sorrow at the rift in his relationship with Titania. (I supose you could argue that he is sad they were never in love in the first place, but that seems a stretch). This rift is happily mended at the end of the first act, as all are the rifts among the mortals, thus restoring order in both kingdoms, earth and fairy. ( Note:Damian Woetzel is less invested in that moment with the flower and the lovers, but does nothing to make you think he doesn't love Titania. He's a less brooding, more easy-going Oberon.) Although Oberon and Titania do sleep in separate parts of the forest, they do leave at once point together. Exit, stage left, she on his arm. (In a grander time of bigger houses, people did have their own rooms. So restful, not to mention the closet space, and not at all to say they didn't visit one another. And perhaps spend the night.) Darci Kistler, being a lively Titania, seems like a mettlesome wife with a handsome young companion--the Cavalier--to go dancing with while her husband is otherwise occupied. She'll show him! In these performances, Kistler and Charles Askegard chose to make goo-goo eyes at each other while standing upstage on either side of Titania's rose bed, while Kyra Nichols and her cavalier looked at each other at different times--theirs was a much lower key deal. However, in either case, just looking at the architecture of the relationship--the King rules, the Queen dances with a handsome man in a silly costume--I couldn't help noticing that this was the relationship Balanchine had with his own wives and consorts--he ruled the Kingdom, and they danced (on his stage, mind you) with handsome young men, right in full view of the world. Thus you see mirrored real life in real art. Back to you, Leigh....

I don't know about Gelsey, but I wouldn't want to try restaging Firebird with Tallchief in the wings waiting for Scotch to go on....(She was the original.)

Don't they get their kick from champagne?

Oh, the Balanchine,the Balanchine, the Balanchine, for showing us that sublime moment when Titania feeds ferns to Bottom. Who next morning awakes to mime the words from the Shakespeare--Eye cannot see, ear cannot hear, etc. For him, it is a most magical dream--turned into a donkey, elevated to a god. And the sets are so beautiful, and the going to sleep on the shell scene is so beautiful. And the pace! A whole play in one swift act--and with the poetry of the Shakespeare heard, if you will, in the steps. Balanchine , as you may know, memorized someof the speeches as a child, in Russian, and knew them into old age. "I know a place where the wild thyme grows!" (In Ashton,all of a sudden there;s an artficial rose.) I find the Aston very pretty, rather broad (the tradesmen do four little swans, the lovers fight), and there's something both twee and louche about the point shoes on Bottom, . However, the duet for Titania and Oberon is completely perfect, and I would see the dance to see it. Also, I adore the music, I love to listen to it on June evenings and look for fireflys in the woods. I have the feeling Balanchine loved it too. I have seen some wonderful Balanchine Titanias--each the epitome and the apothesis of the feminine, as Mr. B. sought it.

Oh, the Balanchine,the Balanchine, the Balanchine, for showing us that sublime moment when Titania feeds ferns to Bottom. Who next morning awakes to mime the words from the Shakespeare--Eye cannot see, ear cannot hear, etc. For him, it is a most magical dream--turned into a donkey, elevated to a god. And the sets are so beautiful, and the going to sleep on the shell scene is so beautiful. And the pace! A whole play in one swift act--and with the poetry of the Shakespeare heard, if you will, in the steps. Balanchine , as you may know, memorized someof the speeches as a child, in Russian, and knew them into old age. "I know a place where the wild thyme grows!" (In Ashton,all of a sudden there;s an artficial rose.) I find the Aston very pretty, rather broad (the tradesmen do four little swans, the lovers fight), and there's something both twee and louche about the point shoes on Bottom, . However, the duet for Titania and Oberon is completely perfect, and I would see the dance to see it. Also, I adore the music, I love to listen to it on June evenings and look for fireflys in the woods. I have the feeling Balanchine loved it too. I have seen some wonderful Balanchine Titanias--each the epitome and the apothesis of the feminine, as Mr. B. sought it.

You're a little old for it, but you might enjoy an old book by Noel Streatfield called "Ballet Shoes." (There are others in the series--I think I recall "Theater Shoes," among others.) You would find this in a library. You might also enjoy some biographies or autobiographies of dancers. Try Toni Bentley's "Winter Season" for a start.

I still have a marvelous story Mindy Aloff wrote for The Nation about the Kirov about a zillion years ago. So interesting about the dancers's backs. Thanks for the heads up about this piece. I think I will write a note to the Nation saying how glad I am to read the new one. Why don't you, too, gentle readers of this Kirov piece? Maybe the publication should hear from the readership.

Since the tango is traditionally danced in Argentina by two men, it does not seem to me to be a "gay" theme in Piazzola Caldera (not that there would be anything wrong with that.) It seems more like a macho theme.

Kevin MacKenzie was pretty wonderful, too....Not to mention Helgi, and for heaven's sake, Eddie Villella. And so forth. Whether being a fabulous dancer makes you a great artistic director is another question.

The whole issue of funding--and as a CEO Peter Martins cannot be flawed--plays into repertory decisions. People often like to talk to the people they fund (ie living choreographers). People like to underwrite new work. Thus the company requires new work, without regard to what the dancers might or might not like. If there was a moment for funding NYCB solely as a Balanchine Legacy company, it is now past. However, what Homans was addressing was what the Balanchine now looks like. Hers is a sincere and authentic voice, coming from a particular point of view. Thus we engage in a "conversation" with her, as readers, and here as a discussion group. I would say that makes her article extremely succesful.