Ed Waffle

The only television show I tune in regularly is Friday Night Fights on ESPN2 so I have seen a number of thier ads. What impresses me about ESPN advers is that while they take sports seriously they are frivolously self-referential about themselves.

I don't know the context of the quote, the performance reviewed or very much about Darcy Kistler. In my initial response I might have erred by coupling "held together" with "each separate second", although they sound dire enough, especially when that is one of the things the critic recalls. However, if "precariously" is linked with "held together" the meaning becomes, in my opinion, unmistakable. Any performance that is precariously held together is not one that is comfortably or confidently presented. Looking beyond ballet or opera--it is not a compliment to say a President's foreign policy is "precariously held together". One would not want to be in proximity to a large machine that was "precariously held together". If one's sanity is "precariously held together", one may not be considered completey mentally healthy. What I realize is missing from the quoted portion of the review (and possibly from the review itself) is the object of the phrase in question. "Precariously held together" is transitive in that form--it cries out for completion. Held together by what. In the examples I have given above, if the foreign policy is held togther by a small and volatile majority in Congress; the machine by wire and duct tape and sanity by increasingly large doses of medication, the state of being it describes is unstable and tempory. The same may be true of a performance. It is the precariousness of the holding together that tells the tale here. Once again this may have nothing to do with what the critic initially thought about the performance or what she tried to convey about it. It is, however, an interpretation of the quoted text that makes sense--although, of course, by no means the only one.

This is by far the most descriptive passage of the reviews quoted by fendrock. It describes the performance and the dancer as well as almost any short passage I can recall. There is a real sense of Kistler being on the very edge of failure and what she has to do to not only keep from failing but actually to succeed. Whether this is what happens on stage or whether it is the sense that the author wanted to convey is, of course, beside the point. All the critic can do is write the piece and send it out to be read. There is a lot there. Any performance--ballet, opera, spoken theater, whatever, is an illusion. Even the most anti-narrative post-modern work must compress time or space; use lighting or costume (or lack of costume); or just take place on a stage. There has to be something illusory about it. And every performance, to some extent, is precarious--steps can be done wrong, notes missed, lines forgotten, entrances done too soon or too late--everything can go wrong. It is the "held together" and especially the "each separate second" which are the most telling. Often performances are just barely gotten through--held together--but usually for specific reasons. The performer may be ill, injured or under-rehearsed. The role may not be one with which she is comfortable for technical, dramatic or emotional reasons. The production itself may be one of those "jinxed" ones (like the Romeo and Juliet tour in the early 1980s that was full of problems with props, floors, injuries and just about anything else that can go wrong. Or it might just the the Scots Play. The "each separate second" aspect is something that many of us have seen--ballet and opera may be the most common forms for this to happen. The audience is aware of the technique being applied, can almost see the seams of the role that has been stitched toghether. It can cause a real sense of unease and almost hyper-awareness of what the artist is going through. Not so much a "will she hit the Bflat at the end of this aria" feeling but more "can she make it through the aria at all". Seeing a singer, for example, with her eyes glued to the conductor is one indicator that this performance is both held together and presented one second at a time. This seems to be the exact opposite of what one wants to see or hear at the theater. If the audience is aware that the artists is constantly on the very edge of not making it through a performance or can see the effort involved in presenting it, it is not exciting--at least not in the way that one generally thinks of excitement in the theater. Once again, this may not be what the author of the remarks above wanted to convey but it is what they mean when I read them.

A few notes: We have seen this type of conflict come up often in the pages of the New York Review of Books and occasionally The New York Times Book Review. Professor A, a recognized authority on (for example) the attitude of the German bourgeoisie toward the rise on National Socialism, is given a group of books to include in an essay review. One of the books is written by a young scholar, Lecturer B who has studied with the eminent Professor C. Professor A has hated Professor C for years, ever since Professor C wrote that horrible review of..... All of this will be known in the profession, but many will seem shocked when Professor A spends half of his review savaging the work of Lecturer B. Without, of course, mentioning his decades long feud with Lecturer B's academic sponsor. Regarding the medium sized city problem--Detroit is a medium sized city, at least culturally. We get our ballet from touring companies who generally are here for only four or five performances, but opera is provided by a resident company. The critics who write the reviews (there are two, one for each paper) are often but not always the people who write the feature article on the weekend before the company comes to town, an article that is usually on the front page of the Feature or Weekend section of the paper. It is accompanied by photographs, usually supplied by the ballet company. It has interviews with the Artistic Director and at least one star dancer. There may be a side bar about something cute, quirky or otherwise amusing. It essentially is a huge unpaid ad for the ballet company--the type of thing that publishers, who try to act like pillars of the community, generally do. Especially if it doesn't come off their bottom line. When the review comes out, generally after the four or five show "season" is half over, it is much too late to hurt the gate--or help it much, either.

Not including movies that take place in a ballet company like “Center Stage” or “The Red Shoes” and those which depend ballet performance and rehearsals as essential to the plot and characters, like “Turning Point” or “Billy Elliot”. Ballet dancers, when used as plot points in movies, have often been portrayed as victims, as helplessly promiscuous, or as flighty and unable to deal with reality beyond the stage and rehearsal hall. There have been a number of movies made based on that fiction. And I really like some of them. “Waterloo Bridge” is one example. A real weeper, as romantic as movies get, made in 1940 with a great cast. It is a wonderful example of its genre. Vivien Leigh is Myra, the young dancer who is thrown out of the corps after spending the night with Robert Taylor on the eve on World War I. She must survive on the streets after her disgrace. But then, on the same bridge where they said good-bye (with Taylor going, she thought to a heroic death) they meet again. Once again with the world at war they are thrown together.... “Gaby” is another of the same type. It doesn’t have quite the same cathartic kick as “Waterloo Bridge”, although they were both inspired by the same play. Leslie Caron plays Gaby, a French ballerina in London who (literally) bumps into Greg, a British soldier played by John Kerr. In less time than it takes to tell they are in love, engaged, thwarted by red tape and separated when Greg is sent to invade France. Gaby gets a telegram telling her that Greg is dead—but it turns out he has only been wounded. They are reunited but before they can be married in the company of jubilant friends and family, Gaby has to confess that when she thought Greg was dead she found comfort in the arms of too many men.... One reason for this symbolic/emblematic treatment of ballerinas is their “foreignness” to popular culture—since they were so different from daily life that their stories could be both sensational but also safe when shown on screen. There is also the edginess of the story itself, and one that was much more familiar to movie-goers in England in 1940 than it is now—the fearful intensity of loving someone while dreading the next phone call, letter or telegram. Seeing such an exotic creature as a ballerina in the same position as themselves would make the story more real and more glamorous. Whatever the reasons (of which I have probably addressed none) for using ballet dancers in these movies, they have been some melodramatic masterpieces. What are your favorite movies in which ballet is used, but not as the subject of the movie?

Prince Metternich, the ultra-conservative foreign minister of Austria, is played by Julian Sands, an actor who brings a certain edginess and intensity to most roles he takes on. Just the scenes (I assume there are some) between him and Malkovich as Talleyrand would make it worthwhile to tune in. Thank you, Old Fashioned--this is the kind of thing that I usually notice long after it has been shown.

Victoria--Carmina Burana is on odd work. In the U. S. it usually presented as a concert, while in Germany it is staged. Orff called it a cantata. Regarding operatic fairy tales-- Benjamin Britten's Midsummer Night's Dream is, as one can imagine, full of fairies and fantastic creatures. It was written in 1960, so I suppose that puts it on the postmodern side of things. The Rake's Progress by Stravinksy is fantastic but very dark. It is an "adult" fairy tale--the hero dies in the end--but is peopled with odd, perhaps nightmarish creatures. It is on the Met schedule and will be broadcast this month. Very modernist, lots of comments on the artist in crisis. An opera I think would be a perfect subject for a fairy tale ballet is The Cunning Little Vixen by Leos Janacek. It tells the story of a clever vixen (fox cub) reared by a gamekeeper. The vixen escapes and raises her own family. Some of the singers have two roles, human and animal--for example the local priest and the badger are one singer; the gamekeeper's wife and the owl are another. Not sure how that would be handled by the choreographer, Janacek and his librettist used it to good effect, with the human and animal characters having some of the same aspects to their personality. There is a ballet of midges, squirrels and hedgehogs, a chorus of forest creatures and plenty of fox cubs. It was first staged in 1920. Lots of Czech folk themes in the music.

Most interesting. According to the IMDB Malkovich plays Talleyrand, which could be a great bio-pic in itself. Depardieu has become so ubiquitous (and lately, so large) that he could play the Congress of Vienna. Talleyrand must have been an amazing charater--he not only served but prospered under the ancient regine, the Revolution, Bonapart, the Restoration, and the July Monarchy. Seems like a role Malkovich was born to play--but so are a lot of others. He is a sublime actor. Two other stars of the film that would cause me to tune in are Isabella Rossellini and Anouk Aimee. For more info go to http://us.imdb.com/Details?0253839

The Russians really know how to put on a festival!! There seems to be plenty of both opera and ballet, although including the premiere of a “Ring” cycle is quite ambitious. A festival goer had better like Girgeiv--from the schedule he is unavoidable. After hearing some of his Metropolitan Opera broadcasts, I don’t think he is quite the master of all podium trades that some seem to think. But even if he were, the scheduling is nuts. In mid June he his conducting the four evenings of the Ring, the Tchaikovsky Fifth and Glinka’s “A Life for the Czar”. This is between June 13 and June 18!! And he is bookending that marathon with the Verdi Requiem and “Boris Gudunov”! Even if you thought Gergeiv was the Second Coming of ________ (fill in name of your favorite conductor) that would be a bit much. He is also doing a lot of Mahler, music that doesn’t seem to suit him well. There is a LOT of very intriguing stuff, though. Anna Netrebko is all over the place. Not surprising, since she is a drop-dead gorgeous woman with an excellent voice. She wowed New York when the Kirov brought “Betrothal in a Monastery” and other works in 1998. Catch her while you can, since she is already booked for some of the heavier Verdi roles. Given her age, prior roles and training, this is a path that is not guaranteed to produce a long and productive career. Zubin Mehta and the Israeli Philharmonic doing the Mahler Third—this might be one of the hits of the orchestral part of the festival. Very odd program that the Met Orchestra with James Levine is giving on May 30—looks like something tossed togther at the last minute. A Finnish orchestra is doing Sibelius and Aho; one from Zagreb performing Dvorak and Parac. Yuri Bashmet and the Moscow Soloists play one concert in in early July—their recordings are tremendous. There is a solid month of ballet performances in July and August, with a not insignificant number of ballets during the rest of the festival. What a great way to spend the summer!!!

I can't really do head, feet, fingers and toes, especially since I have only seen Carla Fracci on video. Fracci encapsulates and symbolizes Italian Romantic ballet during the 1950s and 1960s. Her dancing was just the thing for depicting the sweetness and innocence of Giselle or Juliet. Haven't seen tapes of her as Odette/Odile or any other bad girl roles, so not sure how she would do those. Since she was in "Medea" with Barishnikov, she could probably handle them quite well. Somehow her romanticism is the same as the hyper-romantic bel canto and middle Verdi operas. While this will seem like something an ignorant American might say, she is just very Italian. She now heads the Rome Opera Ballet--one hopes she has a strong influence on their style.

From the review--follow the link below for all of it: "The petite soprano's scorched-earth displays of temperament are the stuff of legend, and Monday night her capable if prosaic pianist Howard Watkins was visited with Battle's unique brand of shock and awe." http://www.sun-sentinel.com/entertainment/...nment%2Dclassic

My initial thought on this (I haven't had any more) is that Brody would be slapping 'high fives' with his buddies at the next keg party, being congratulated for his good fortune for getting the best of Hale Berry. He acted like a jerk.

Something I wrote a few months ago. There are plenty of good dancers in “Chicago” especially those featured in the six murderesses number. Ekaterina Shelkanova was a soloist with the ABT. Denise Faye began dancing on Broadway ten years ago. Mya Harrison (who should be forgiven for her part in the dreadful “Lady Marmalade in “Moulin Rouge”) studied tap with Savon Glover. The movie depicts a universe that partially parallels our own, in which men abuse, beat up, cheat on and generally annoy women. In the world of “Chicago”, though, the women they prey upon are quick to deal with these men. They are shot, (the most typical form of dispatch) garroted, stabbed, poisoned, and pushed from windows. And as Mama Morton (Queen Latifah) says, “I never knew a man who got killed who didn’t deserve it.” None of the three stars, Catherine Zeta-Jones, Renee Zellweger and Richard Gere, are good singers or dancers. They are, however, movie stars and occupy the screen as such. The choreography and editing take care of the dancing, while digital doubling and tripling of the voice tracks allows them to sing. Men are best cast—Gere may be the most self-satisfied mature actor in Hollywood and is perfect as the impossibly smug lawyer Billy Flynn. John C. Riley is almost too good as the long-suffering and gullible Amos Hart. Taye Diggs carries off the thankless role bandleader and Greek chorus and Colm Feore, a stalwart at Ontario’s Stratford Shakespeare Festival, is properly reptilian as the Assistant District Attorney. On the distaff side, Queen Latifah obviously needs little vocal digital enhancement. She also seems to enjoy her role, playing it for all the campy gusto it has. Zeta-Jones, with her Louise Brooks bob, is the epitome of a femme fatale. The director, Rob Marshall, who is also credited first among the four choreographers, wisely did not let the camera linger on her for too long when she was in the same frame as professional dancers. As an audience we have become used to frenetic editing and jump cuts, so it is less obvious than it would have been in years past. She does move well and has a terrific body—like a stripper from the 1950s or a leading actress from the 1940s. Lily St. Cyr, or Rita Hayworth, for example. She has a throaty, smoky dramatic mezzo—almost a contralto—without much upper extension, but not much is needed in the keys in which she sings. She has the best singing voice of the three leading players, has a good sense of rhythm and knows what syllables in what words to emphasize. Zellweger’s voice is another matter entirely. Her singing sounds as if it would be unpleasant without digital enhancement and sweetening. It is very “white”—no vibrato almost like an English choirboy’s voice but lacking the beauty. A squawky tone with no breath support. Given that all her songs can be delivered with the Broadway “belt” voice, it isn’t too bad. Gere doesn’t really sing, but he places his voice well and knows how to sell a song. The structure of constantly cutting between musical numbers and the depressing, tawdry and mean “real” life that they reflect is shockingly effective at first, with Zeta-Jones on stage, having just shot her husband and Zellweger shooting the cad who has seduced and abandoned her. Or attempted to abandon her—he is shot dead before he gets out the door. But since every number (except the six murderesses) is cut this way, it becomes a bit of a bore by the end. There was only one great number—“They both reached for the gun”, in which Gere becomes a ventriloquist with Zellweger sitting on his knee as his dummy and the press corps become puppets whose strings he pulls. A note about the death and revival of movie musicals—there have been several movies recently that could be called musicals, in the sense that there are musical performances throughout the film, generally integrated into the action but sometimes just dropped in. Among them are “8 Mile”, “Drumline” and O Brother Where Art Thou”. “8 Mile” was a huge hit here in Motown and did well elsewhere. “Drumline” was marketed to an African-American audience, “O Brother” was pitched as a semi-art house movie, like most those done by the Coen brothers.

There has been a well-deserved chorus of praise for “Henning Kronstam: Portrait of a Danish Dancer” by Alexandra Tomolanis. Alexandra makes the subtitle clear in the Preface, but like any good biography of this type, this one illuminates the artistic climate around Kronstam, both during his development and his maturity. That environment, how it helped shaped the dancer and how the dancer helped to shape it, is an integral and most welcome aspect here. Alexandra’s prose style is very clear, almost transparent—in other words, perfect for a work like this. She tells what happened to Kronstam at different times, often from several points of view, and allows the reader to draw conclusions. While I have no idea of how Alexandra works, I would think that a style this clean and clear takes a lot of work to accomplish—making things look easy is often quite difficult. The style reminds me of the two-volume “Otto Klemperer, His Life and Times” by Peter Heyworth. Heyworth was a music critic for the “Times” of London for many years—perhaps there is something about writing on deadline about many different performances over the years that helps to hone such a clear style. Alexandra describes many emotional or touching scenes from Kronstam’s life—one in particular is the funeral of Vera Volkova, an extremely important person in his artistic development and in the survival and development of the Royal Danish Ballet. It is a very moving account, told from the point of view of both Kronstam and also of a third-party observer. The account begins simply but powerfully: “At the end of the season, in May, Vera Volkova died.” This sentence explains volumes—most importantly, a revered teacher had died, and when. But the “when” is not only in May, but at the end of the season, making it clear how time is measured in a ballet company, performing season by performing season. It also sets the stage (if you will) perfectly for the account of the funeral which follows, how Kronstam acted during that funeral, what he expected of others and why, and how he responded when those expectations were not fulfilled. That is just one sentence in one paragraph of a work of over 500 pages, but the book is full of such gems. It is the type of book that has become scarce—one written for the normally literate layperson with an interest but not much specialized knowledge in an art form. There are now many more books devoted to science that do this than the performing arts. The reader doesn’t have to know much about the technical side of ballet to appreciate this book—although those with that knowledge certainly may have a more profound understanding of it.

In yet another terrific post, Mikhail wrote: Leaving aside the (apparent) company politics which may have been part of this decision, my question regards a dancer rehearsing a work with two different partners. If all three partners know the work and have performed it before, which is not really the case in Mikhail's post, but assume it for the purpose of this question, how difficult would it be to rehearse a complex work under these conditions? Is it generally done, or is it usually something that is avoided?

In a different thread, Mikhail wrote: I have wondered about this since hearing an interview with Natalia Makarova in which she talked about reading the Pushkin translation of Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet" as a way to get more profoundly involved with the character she was dancing. I believe that part of the impetus behind this was that it gave the divine Miss NM the chance to say of younger (than her) dancers that they couldn't accomplish the same depths of characterization that she did. Leaving aside opinions of Makarova as Juliet for a moment, I wonder if dancers consulting the "source documents" is widespread and if it is helpful. In this case, the dancer is not doing Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet". She is doing the ballet as imagined by the choreographer who may have been influenced by a lot of other things besides the play. So perhaps one could be too influenced by aspects of the tragedy that the choreograhper didn't think were important. The opposite way of looking at this type of preparation is the way that some opera singers learn and perform a role. In some cases the singer may not know even the entire libretto of the work in question, having concentrated on and been coached in her role and how to sing it. And she may never know its nuances, being unable to read it in the language it was written. Once a singer becomes more famous in a particular set of roles she often presents "her" interpretation of it,no matter what the director or other artists are doing. This can be exciting and fulfilling for the audience, star power being what it is, but also quite frustrating. An example of this was a performance of "Lucia di Lammermoor" with Sumi Jo. Opening night with Sumi Jo was like going to an opera and having a recital break out. She was in glorious voice and nailed the mad scene as well as any could, but was not really part of the ensemble. The next day, with Young Ok Shin in the title role, was much more dramatic and true to the libretto. This may be less a problem in ballet, since opera singers are free-lancers (at least in the U.S.) and are hired for particular productions which are put together in a few weeks of rehearsals. In a ballet company with its continuity of personnel and artisitic vision, it seems it would be much less an issue.

From the article in Vogue: "You know what are my favorite foods? Octopus and chicken feet" She details her way of preparing them, as she might for dinner: Boil until soft, steam until moist and flavorful, saute in traditioinal Shanghai manner with soy sauce, white pepper and sugar. Yummy.

WARNING-- very ephemeral content. Yuan Yuan Tan is featured in an article in the current (April) Vogue magazine. It isn’t a profile as such—it is part of “The Shape Issue” which Vogue runs occasionally. Elizabeth Kaye, who wrote the article, is also the author, along with Clive Barnes, of “American Ballet Theatre, a Twenty-Five Year Retrospective”, a book that is on one of my shelves. Not sure if it is the same person—if so, she is writing down (WAY down) for the apparently ballet deprived Vogue reader. In the first two short paragraphs she says, “these days divas are as passe as their trailing capes and turbans” and calls the San Francisco Ballet, where Ms. Tan is a principal dancer, “the best of the regional companies.” We also find out that Ms. Tan is not anorexic, that her favorite food is octopus and chicken feet, that she dances so beautifully because she misses her native China and that Sharon Stone and Chelsea Clinton have been in the audience of her performances. There is a great picture of her as Odette being watched closely by Vadim Solomakha, in a studio. Another smaller photo is in front of a San Francisco landmark. She looks great in red and white and is running in stiletto-heeled pumps which seems like a dangerous thing for a working ballerina to do. I would imagine that most people buy Vogue for the same reason that most people buy Playboy—for the pictures and this issue a good one for that. The shape issue has the usual insanity and inanity that must accompany fashion coverage. “Curvy” (which in Vogue means overweight) is exemplified by Mia Tyler (Steve’s daughter) who apparently is a size 12. Since last year the "curvy” woman was uber-model Gisele Bundchen, this might be considered progress. “Short” is a 5’ 6” model. “Athletic” includes Jennifer Aniston and Michelle Rodriguez, but Serena Williams, one of the most athletically gifted women in the world, is categorized as curvy. Which she is, of course. Not the worst way to waste a hour, however.

Well, I did say "possibly", but what the heck--busted again!! I worship the exposed film that contains images of some actresses. For me, any movie with either Nicole Kidman or Julianne Moore is conditionally a work of art, unless proven otherwise. There are several movies with both of these actresses that most definitely are NOT art--the Irish one, in which Tom Cruise's accent kept slipping all over the place for Kidman, one with Moore in which she plays opposite some rapidly mutating creatures. There are plenty of other bad movies which have featured these women. However, any movie with both of them is art. Movie art, that is, which is, by my definition, less profound than opera, ballet, theater or other art forms that are live performances. One of the keys for me is a movie is frozen forever. It might be subject to interpretation and differing audience response but the movie itself won't change--outside of subtitles, colorization, etc. Art that must be performed in order to exist is on a different (and if I may use a value judgment) higher level. I am leaving out specialist ways of approaching it--reading a score, for example. This is only for the "lively arts". I don't expect anyone to agree or disagree with this assessment, of course.

Interesting to say the least. The car chases, explosions, obvious product placement and MTV-type editing necessary to Americanize "Shall We Dance" would make it a very different movie.

Baz Luhrman uses dance both as itself and as a metaphor. In "Strictly Ballroom" he created a completely self-contained universe of ballroom dance competition in Australia, then broke it open when the male star of the movie (who played the star-to-be of the ballroom competiton) fell in love with a women from outside of that world. Not sure what she was ethnically, but she and her family definitely were "the other". If it was a European film they would have been gypsies. Lots of ballroom dancing sequences, plus jazz dance and some ethnic/undefinable (at least by me) dance. John "Cha Cha" O'Connell was choreographer for "Moulin Rouge", "Romeo + Juliet" and "Strictly Ballroom".

Supporting actress: Can't comment on Kathy Bates. I haven't seen About Schmidt. After seeing the trailers for it I wouldn't see if if Jack Nicholson delivered a video of it to my home. Of the remaing: I would like to see Catherine Zeta-Jones win. She was excellent in "Chicago", a movie I have seen five times so far. She was much more a lead actress than a supporting actress. Queen Latifah was also quite good in a smaller role. Julianne Moore is one of my favorite actresses working today. She has been terrific in a number of movies, some good, some terrible. So, I will hope for a tie between her and Zeta-Jones. Will win--Moore, unless she wins Best Actress. Best Actor: I would like to see John C. Reilly win. He had four good performances this year: Chicago, Gangs of New York, The Good Girl, The Hours. Reminds me of an Anglo version of Luis Guzman, another "character" actor who is often overlooked. Also Reilly is from Chicago and graduted from De Paul University, my alma mater. As to who will win, it is a real toss up-- They were all in roles that the Academy likes to vote for--except Newman, who transcends categorization in Hollywood based on longevity. Harris's role is one long mad scene with a big ending. Easy to vote for. Walken was superb. As usual, he played Christopher Walken, which is what people (and voters) like. Cooper had a great role and made the most of it. The Academy likes movies about movies. I think Cooper will win. Regarding movies as an art form: Especially in the United States movies are first the product of an industry and secondly entertainment. They might be art, but none of those mentioned in this thread, with the possible exception of "The Hours" is art. Which isn't to say they aren't terrific movies--I loved "The Hours", "Chicago" and thought "Adaption" was good. I couldn't sit through "The Road to Perdition" but lasted for enough of it to know that Paul Newman gave a good performance. The best movie I saw this year was "Heaven" which played for about two days in Motown. Cate Blanchett was as good as an actress on film can be in it.

Off the top of my head: Prokofiev took episodes of War and Peace and created a very decent piece of musical theater, but it can't really be compared to the monumental novel--perhaps "based on" or even "inspired by" would be a better way to describe this and many other works than "adapted from". Just for laughs: In The Di Capo Opera Manual, which lists sets, major roles, suggested running times and other data for opera, has this for War and Peace under the heading Hazards: Cannonball lands onstage near Napolean; Staggeringly large cast; Moscow burns. Regarding opera taken from Shakespeare--Verdi did Macbeth, Otello and Falstaff--I know both the operas and plays pretty well. In every case they stand by themselves as independent works of art. Verdi always wanted to do King Lear and it he had it most likely would be a magnificent work of art, which one could experience without reference to the play. Perversely enough, though, I don't know Don Carlos, the play by Schiller and love the opera based on it by Verdi. But since I don't know the play, I feel I would understand the opera more if I did know it. MacMillan's ballet Manon, with its leering, pornographic glee at Manon's plight is closer to the novel by Prevost Manon Lescaut than either of the operas with which I am familiar, Massenet's Manon or Puccini's Manon Lescaut.

The post which you are accurately paraphrasing was very badly written by me. What I meant to point out in those passages was how, if one wanted to, one can find something wrong with every singer. It isn't a reflection of my own thoughts. I would much rather ignore what I don't like about a singer (unless it is just too glaring) and take joy in the wonderful sounds they produce. I have heard Swenson in the theater in "Manon" and "La Traviata" and while she is no Gruberova in the coloratura department (Gruberova is like a force of nature in those roles) she is quite good. Sorry for the mix up which is due entirely to my clumsy phrasing. More later on the Rossini recording with Horne, probably in a private message.

In a thread on another topic, Mel Johnson wrote: _____________________________________ "And a note on the Toulouse company: I believe that although Ed has said that the company acquitted itself "respectably", a lot would have to depend on Nanette Glushak as the company's director. She's a strikingly attractive and startlingly brilliant woman, and very classy, but her basic language is Classic Balanchine (nothing can convince me to use the word "old" in connection with Ms. Glushak!). Even though she worked with Tudor at ABT, and even, I think NYCB (She Wore Perfume in "Dim Lustre?"), I think her basic æsthetic is Balanchine, and at that, she is matched by only a few. Her braininess, good taste and sensibility would lead her to mount quite adequate productions of Tudor, but I think there was a slight disconnect there that might lead to less success than with Balanchine works or other neo-classics - I would love to see Toulouse do some Ashton!" __________________________________________ I share Mel’s very high opinion of Nanette Glushak although I have only seen her for a few minutes and that from the audience. Once when the Ballet de Toulouse pulled into town it was also the time that the Postal Service was issuing the ballerina stamps. Before the evening began a large replica of the stamp, mounted on a board, was put on stage on a stand. A local postmaster type entered and said something about the stamp, then Ms. Glushak entered. He presented her with the replica. Ms. Glushak seemed the slightest bit nonplussed for about a millisecond, then very graciously accepted the souvenir of her trip to Michigan, spoke briefly about how pleased she was to have it and how much the company enjoyed touring in the United States and exited. She was wearing a bulky brown sweater with threads of red. It has a roll collar and the sleeves were pushed up to her elbows. Dark brown leather slacks that fit very well and brown boots with high heels. She had short dark hair in an angular cut that emphasized her cheekbones, not that they needed it. Minimal accessories—gold earrings and possibly a simple gold necklace. Did I mention the leather slacks? She obviously didn’t expect to be called on stage and handed a large stamp mounted on a varnished board and may well have been thinking, “Where am going to stash this thing?” but was poised, gracious and briefly eloquent. It was probably a real high point for the postal official, but just another unplanned moment in what may have been a series of them, since the Ballet de Toulouse was on tour, where anything may happen. Saying that they did “respectably” was more a reflection of the conditions under which the company was touring and performing than anything else. Looking back, the Limon presentation of “Dark Elegies”, which I saw after this one, had a greater emotional impact which is the only way I can measure a work I have seen only twice. And its emotional impact, of course, will have as much to do with the audience watching as the artist performing—possibly much more. Ballet de Toulouse was on tour in the American upper Midwest in the middle of winter when I saw them that year. Toledo yesterday, Detroit today, Ann Arbor tomorrow, on a bus and truck tour. Different size stages, different sound systems, not much rehearsal time to correct errors that might creep in to performances. Add to that the personnel (and personal) problems that are heightened in a tour, the crummy food one tends to eat while on the road, a different motel bed almost every night and just being away from one’s home and everything that one finds familiar. And it is all in a foreign country, full of overweight people who don’t know a battement from a bumblebee. It is amazing they can get anything at all on stage. The following year they presented “Rodeo” and (I think) an act of “Scotch Symphony”—I can’t find that program and I’m don’t know if the Balanchine Trust allows excerpts, but I recall it that way. The company seemed much more at ease, especially in the Balanchine. This does seem to be an excellent company, led by a very talented and dynamic director. I would love to see them reviewed from their home turf. Showing once again that the French know what is important, they are prominently featured on the official site that promotes tourism is the Toulouse region.