Ed Waffle

I did. And after I finished thowing up.... The brochure doesn't seem that bad, given the current range of marketing attempts by opera and ballet companies which go from lame to disgusting. I think the problem now is less the dumbed down brochures and more the difficulty which more and more performing arts organizations are having in funding. There is less of it available and there will be even less in the next year or two. Or three. So while the marketing efforts may seem tacky and cheap (in this case are tacky and cheap) they are attempts to get a few more seats filled, something I am sure the Joffrey and everyone else needs.

dirac wrote: "I guess it may be "empowering" to some women to have the happy opportunity to strip for money in front of a gaggle of leering or indifferent men, but I don't think that I would find the experience that inspiring, speaking for myself." For an alternative view take a look at Strip City: A Stripper's Farewell Journey Across America by Lily Burana Like Bentley (who is one of my favorites ) Burana is a real writer. This is her first book but she has written for the "Village Voice", the "New York Times Book Review" and other mainstream publications. She is also a former stripper who took a sentimental journey to some of the clubs where she had worked in the past--she was about to get married and wanted to either get stripping or (although she doesn't make this obvious) her fiance out of her system. Available from Amazon.com by using the ad at the top of this page.

All I can comment on regarding Billy Elliot is the trailer, since seeing it convinced me not to see the movie. In the trailer Billy is first seen wearing boxing gloves and headgear--the huge, pillow-like gloves that amateur boxers use in training. The narrative of the trailer makes clear that he is drawn away from the manly art of self-defense and toward the gentler pursuit of dance. Which makes him odd, of course, and which I thought was the central conflict in the movie. Wouldn't it be nice if the movement was the other way--that ballet training was considered the norm for young men and that a few of them, of inexplicable reasons, wanted to become boxers.

All I can comment on regarding Billy Elliot is the trailer, since seeing it convinced me not to see the movie. In the trailer Billy is first seen wearing boxing gloves and headgear--the huge, pillow-like gloves that amateur boxers use in training. The narrative of the trailer makes clear that he is drawn away from the manly art of self-defense and toward the gentler pursuit of dance. Which makes him odd, of course, and which I thought was the central conflict in the movie. Wouldn't it be nice if the movement was the other way--that ballet training was considered the norm for young men and that a few of them, of inexplicable reasons, wanted to become boxers.

In Understanding Ballet by Clement Crisp and Mary Clarke it is noted: "His (Bournonville) narrative ballets incorporate traditional mime, a language of gesture that has always been part of the dancers' art, but he also made use of natural, everyday gestures. Because of this a tradition has grown up in Copenhagen that older dancers as well as dancers and opera singers--members of the companies which share the Royal Theatre's stages--take mime roles in many of the old Bournonville ballets. Because they may be senior artists and do not look lke dancers there is a great feeling of truth and probability about their performances, and in a work like Napoli --a joyful story of Neoplitan fisher folk--the mime roles of a ballad singer and a macaroni seller are wonderfrully true to life and enormous fun." This book is twenty-five years old may have already been looking back at a performing tradition that was honored more in the breech than the observance. It does not seem like the mime we see today, as least in North America.

What comes across very clearly in most of the accounts of the Pav's inability to appear at the Met is his extreme emotional fragility. For a time--a long time--he had one of the most lryically sweet voices anyone had ever heard. Even his harshest critics, and there were a lot of them, couldn't attack the sheer beauty of his voice. He was wonderful in all the bel canto lyric rolls. When he was working with Sutherland and Bonynge in Donizetti it was magic. His lack of musicianship, his laziness and self indulgence, his almost total dependence on coaches to learn a part and his collapsing physical health have caught up with him. It is a shame that he won't be able to do series of proper farewell concerts even if, like many artists, it would only be the first of several farewell tours. Pavarotti was formerly a singer that an intendant could build a season around. Now it will be difficult to book even one-off recitals. Pav sounds like a mental and emotional wreck when it comes to actually getting on the stage.

We saw Ballet Hispanico at the Detroit Opera House in November, 2000 and it was one of the least memorable nights in the theater I can (almost not) recall. The lighting was great--there was one number that included silhouettes of dancers behind a scrim while other dancers were performing downstage. A very striking effect. Based on my varying degrees of ignorance of the different art forms involved, I would say the choreography is modern dance with strong flamenco and folk influences using some movement generally seen in ballet. At least one number they did was choreographed by Ann Reinking, so Broadway style dance is also part of their repertory. By all means, see Ballet Hispanico and please post your impressions of it to he board.

At the Detroit Opera House here in the Motor City there are two great places to see ballet: front row of the orchestra, on either aisle or the trustee's circle, which is the first five rows of the balcony. Front row is great for works I have seen often (generally what we get here, anyway) to better watch the real work happening on stage. One can also see the pit band close up. Beware any seat in the orchestra not in the first few rows--the rake is VERY shallow and a tall person or one with big hair can be a disaster if you are seated behind that person. The trustee's circle--the approximate equivalent of the Grand Tier at the Met, but a LOT closer to the stage--is great for a relatively close up view but from above. At the Music Hall, just down the street, the rake of the orchestra is much better. The first tier of the balcony is quite good--I can't remember the second tier every being open, even for otherwise sold out houses. Music Hall plays host to modern dance. They had the DTH in the past, but the Opera House may have picked up those dates. Varner Hall, on the campus of Oakland University, has no balcony and a very steep rake with a low stage. They present modern dance and some instrumental recitals. Most seats are good. The Power Center in Ann Arbor (not sure if it is part of the University of Michigan--most things there are) is an excellent veune for ballet or dance, at least from the balcony. I haven't been in the orchestra seats there.

Lillian wrote: “she gave it her all; the lightning speed and star power were still there.” and further: “I was elated -- one last chance to witness her brilliance. What a gift." Star power. Perhaps like pornography, we can’t define it but we know it when we see it—because of the effect it has on us. It is not only the performer who decides when to retire but also the audience. One hopes that Merrill Ashley knew there were people like Lillian in the audience when she pushed herself through one last Allegro Brillante at Saratoga that year. She must have known—why else would she make such an effort. In 1973 Maria Callas shocked the music world by doing a recital tour. She had retired from the operatic stage eight years before and her voice was shot. However, there are pirate recordings of the concert in Hamburg that show flashes of her unique, dark timbre, her commitment, and her special way of dealing with music and words. And the response! Most of those in attendance would have known of the precariousness of her vocal estate—and most (if not all) ignored it, even when it was so horrible evident. It is the same type of star power that had people lined up the night before the box office opened to get tickets for Horowitz, when he was playing on recalled brilliance alone and we knew he hit an astonishing number of wrong notes. Star power was why the last Sergovia recital in Chicago sold out in an instant, even though we knew he couldn’t play with anything like his former virtuosity. And it is why people paid huge sums to hear the last concerts led by Otto Klemperer, even though he was ravaged by mental illness and so weak he had to be led to the podium. One thinks that it the performer is trying to stop time, to recapture a past that has long eluded his abilities. Whether it is the case or not, I have no idea. I do know, though, that Lillian’s point is as correct as anything I have read. We do (at least I do) want to be in the presence of a brilliant, world-stopping performer one last time and are willing to forgive that performer almost anything to get a chance to do so.

Lillian wrote: “she gave it her all; the lightning speed and star power were still there.” and further: “I was elated -- one last chance to witness her brilliance. What a gift." Star power. Perhaps like pornography, we can’t define it but we know it when we see it—because of the effect it has on us. It is not only the performer who decides when to retire but also the audience. One hopes that Merrill Ashley knew there were people like Lillian in the audience when she pushed herself through one last Allegro Brillante at Saratoga that year. She must have known—why else would she make such an effort. In 1973 Maria Callas shocked the music world by doing a recital tour. She had retired from the operatic stage eight years before and her voice was shot. However, there are pirate recordings of the concert in Hamburg that show flashes of her unique, dark timbre, her commitment, and her special way of dealing with music and words. And the response! Most of those in attendance would have known of the precariousness of her vocal estate—and most (if not all) ignored it, even when it was so horrible evident. It is the same type of star power that had people lined up the night before the box office opened to get tickets for Horowitz, when he was playing on recalled brilliance alone and we knew he hit an astonishing number of wrong notes. Star power was why the last Sergovia recital in Chicago sold out in an instant, even though we knew he couldn’t play with anything like his former virtuosity. And it is why people paid huge sums to hear the last concerts led by Otto Klemperer, even though he was ravaged by mental illness and so weak he had to be led to the podium. One thinks that it the performer is trying to stop time, to recapture a past that has long eluded his abilities. Whether it is the case or not, I have no idea. I do know, though, that Lillian’s point is as correct as anything I have read. We do (at least I do) want to be in the presence of a brilliant, world-stopping performer one last time and are willing to forgive that performer almost anything to get a chance to do so.

Victoria Leigh, in another thread, wrote: “There is too much emphasis on tricks, jumping and turning, and not enough on the ballet itself and the artistry of the dancers. Everyone today is a medal winner from some competition or other, and extreme technique is becoming the norm.” Victoria’s point, as always, is well taken and well made. And it may also address an issue that is increasingly a problem on the opera stages of the world and may well be in ballet. The problem is a lack of individual style, based partially on the loss of national styles of interpretation. To the extent that acceptable style is based on jumping through the rafters, turning like a top and extending like a contortionist, and not on a connection to the work being presented, there will be less content and meaning in performances. In opera the problem is structurally similar. Based on where you are, it is either the “internationalization” of style or the “Americanization” of style. Late nineteenth century verismo is the basic style for everything, so the bel canto masterpieces of Donizetti, the Mozart/Da Ponte masterpieces and the most delicate French works are interpreted using the sound world of Puccini. Part of this is unique to the lyric stage. Stage directors are becoming the real powers in opera productions, so an “all purpose” sound is acceptable. Another part, though, is more universal and affects any staged art form. I was thinking of this recently, when Sumi Jo, a soprano of rare coloratura gifts, cancelled a series of performances of “Lakme” at the Michigan Opera Theatre. It was a real cancellation—she is have scary vocal problems—but still disappointing, since the production was mounted with her in mind. It would have been her debut in the role. I have heard Sumi Jo in a number of roles, including Gilda in “Rigoletto”, Queen of the Night in “The Magic Flute” and the title role in “Lucia di Lammermoor”. Based on these and on her recordings, especially “Le Toreador” by Adolphe Adam, we may have heard much of what she would have done with Lakme. A debut we did catch here was Ruth Ann Swenson in the title role of Massenet’s “Manon” a few years ago. She has since sung it to acclaim in New York, San Francisco and London. The interpretation of French opera is based on a number of things, including the French language with its rhythmic idiosyncrasies when set to music and the incredibly rich French tradition of spoken theater. This tradition was probably stronger and more influential in France than almost anywhere else. I am sure that Miss Swenson knows at least as much about these things as I do about the general theory of relativity. Neither case is meant to convey a lack of respect for either of these singers—they are both committed and talented artists who are at or close to the height of their powers. Each has wonderful technique and a command of scores of roles. However, neither of them (nor almost anyone else I can think of) is really necessary to the operatic world. That is because neither of them has a definable style—neither has roles that belong to them, neither is able to inhabit a role in a way that makes one forget about the technique and artistry involved in doing it. In years past, Maria Callas helped to rediscover many of the bel canto operas of Donizetti and Bellini. Slightly later Joan Sutherland made many of the same roles her own. They were completely different artists, their approach to the parts were as different as can be and they were both absolutely essential to the world of opera in the middle of the last century. Each had an individual, definable and recognizable style. In many cases, recognizable from the very first vibrations of the first note of a role. I am sure there are dancers who were (or are) necessary to ballet in the same way that these singers were to opera. But to the extent there are, I would hazard that it is not because their jumps and turns are the most athletic and flashy.

This review highlights one of the often missed joys of Verdi—the orchestral writing. He was a great composer, of course, but also a quintessential man of the theater. While he wrote a lot of “oompha band” type accompaniment, Verdi also underlined some of the important moments in his dramas with ravishing sounds from the pit. This includes some of the string writing in “Traviata”, especially, as I recall, during the second act when Violetta is making her agonizing decision. A few years ago we attended a performance of “La Traviata” done by the Graduate School of Music of the University of Michigan. Afterwards I sought out the concertmaster to congratulate her on the beautiful playing by the strings of this very difficult music. It is also great to hear of yet another talented young soprano from Eastern Europe. Violetta is one of the most problematic parts to cast, since it seems to require a very different type of singer for each of its three acts. It has the stratospheric notes and florid technique of a true coloratura (especially if she takes all the interpolated high notes) the legato beauty and effortless long lines of a lyric soprano and the power and ability to cut through the massed forces of orchestra and chorus of a spinto soprano. This production sounds like one to see if it pulls into town. For those members of this board who are not opera goers, an inexpensive and well done “La Traviata” is a great place to start.

There may be financial reasons for an artist to stay on stage long after his career has peaked. While the POB forces dancers to retire too early in some cases, I believe it also supplies a pension for them—whether it is adequate is another question, of course. In the more free lance world of opera, star singers can and sometimes must extend their careers. The recent Pav cancellation orgy at the Met may involve Luciano’s personal finances as much as his desire to sing “Tosca” one more time in New York City. It has been variously reported that he is wealthy and that he owes an unpayable amount of back taxes to the Italian government. Richard Tauber, one of the most loved interpreters of Mozart’s tenor roles, sang Don Ottavio, his signature role, in London several weeks before he had surgery for lung cancer. Tauber was deeply in debt and had to sing to eat. If a dancer lives in one of the cultural capitals of the world—New York City, London, Paris—she will have large fixed expenses. It may not always be possible to think of one’s retirement income while pursuing such a demanding career. While we may know (or think we know) the fees that premiere artists get, we have no real idea what their expenses are, how much they are in debt, what investments they may have made, etc. In addition to the pull of the stage, a dancer, singer or instrumentalist might also love the lifestyle that goes with being a star—a lifestyle possibly too grand to support on income from teaching, writing or other post-retirement jobs. Obviously neither Nureyev nor Barishnikov needed the money. One wonders if the former was attempting to cheat death for as long as possible, continuing to work when very ill (much more so than Pavarotti was last week).

There may be financial reasons for an artist to stay on stage long after his career has peaked. While the POB forces dancers to retire too early in some cases, I believe it also supplies a pension for them—whether it is adequate is another question, of course. In the more free lance world of opera, star singers can and sometimes must extend their careers. The recent Pav cancellation orgy at the Met may involve Luciano’s personal finances as much as his desire to sing “Tosca” one more time in New York City. It has been variously reported that he is wealthy and that he owes an unpayable amount of back taxes to the Italian government. Richard Tauber, one of the most loved interpreters of Mozart’s tenor roles, sang Don Ottavio, his signature role, in London several weeks before he had surgery for lung cancer. Tauber was deeply in debt and had to sing to eat. If a dancer lives in one of the cultural capitals of the world—New York City, London, Paris—she will have large fixed expenses. It may not always be possible to think of one’s retirement income while pursuing such a demanding career. While we may know (or think we know) the fees that premiere artists get, we have no real idea what their expenses are, how much they are in debt, what investments they may have made, etc. In addition to the pull of the stage, a dancer, singer or instrumentalist might also love the lifestyle that goes with being a star—a lifestyle possibly too grand to support on income from teaching, writing or other post-retirement jobs. Obviously neither Nureyev nor Barishnikov needed the money. One wonders if the former was attempting to cheat death for as long as possible, continuing to work when very ill (much more so than Pavarotti was last week).

What I should have written (since it is what I was thinking) is that, like many new and untraditional productions at the Met, the current Onegin production was not well received and it seemed as if no one liked it at the time. This was obviously not the case since there were a lot of defenders of the production when it opened and it has become much less controversial. The fact that there was a significant amount of discussion and that it was quite heated but also often well founded shows that direction and production design remain important to opera goers in New York City. And the fact that the Met was willing to do a relatively standard work in a nonstandard but ultimately effective way speaks well of their artistic administration.

What I should have written (since it is what I was thinking) is that, like many new and untraditional productions at the Met, the current Onegin production was not well received and it seemed as if no one liked it at the time. This was obviously not the case since there were a lot of defenders of the production when it opened and it has become much less controversial. The fact that there was a significant amount of discussion and that it was quite heated but also often well founded shows that direction and production design remain important to opera goers in New York City. And the fact that the Met was willing to do a relatively standard work in a nonstandard but ultimately effective way speaks well of their artistic administration.

Opera audiences are generally more boorish, ill mannered and short tempered than ballet audiences. Renee Fleming was booed off the stage at La Scala when she did Lucretia Borgia there. Not because of any terrible flaws in her performance--the tapes from the one show she was able to get through were quite good--but because she wasn't the singer they wanted to hear. At Beyreuth, the altar of Wagnerian truth, new productions are regularly booed, hissed and screeched at, just becauset they are new. The Onegin production at the Met was roundly booed when it premiered--it seemed that no one like it.

Opera audiences are generally more boorish, ill mannered and short tempered than ballet audiences. Renee Fleming was booed off the stage at La Scala when she did Lucretia Borgia there. Not because of any terrible flaws in her performance--the tapes from the one show she was able to get through were quite good--but because she wasn't the singer they wanted to hear. At Beyreuth, the altar of Wagnerian truth, new productions are regularly booed, hissed and screeched at, just becauset they are new. The Onegin production at the Met was roundly booed when it premiered--it seemed that no one like it.

alexandra wrote: At least he didn't say that Americans watched dance the way they drove--while talking on the phone and eating a cheeseburger.

alexandra wrote: At least he didn't say that Americans watched dance the way they drove--while talking on the phone and eating a cheeseburger.

There are some genres of movies that Hollywood studios do well and there are some directors who work in the current studio system and produce watchable films. Rob Riener is one of these directors. His next project may be a bit of a stretch. This is from the Hollywood Reporter: LOS ANGELES (The Hollywood Reporter) --- Kate Hudson is in negotiations and Robert Downey Jr. is in discussions to star in Franchise Pictures' drama "Alex and Emma" for director Rob Riener. The project is aimed to go into production in the fall. Written by Jeremy Levin, the project is based on Feodor Dostoevski's short story The Gambler and is about a writer (Downey) and compulsive gambler who is under pressure to deliver his next novel. He hires a stenographer (Hudson) to transcribe his work and they fall in love in the process.” It is correct that Dostoevesky dictated this short novel to a stenographer—a secretary with whom he fell in love with and married. He did so while writing Crime and Punishment and in order to fulfill an onerous contract with a rapacious publisher. It seems to be a slender framework for such an ambitious and expensive undertaking, but little else of the novel or the circumstances of its production could be used in a work aimed at the mulitplex at the local mall. At one point, for example, Dostoevesky, having received some money from a publisher moved his family to Germany so he would have easier access to the roulette wheel. They reached a point where he left Anna penniless and pregnant in a hotel room for which they hadn’t paid and pawned her earrings to “try to catch up” at the casino. According to one critic The Gambler is a small masterpiece in terms of social realism: a Balzacian picture of pride, cynicism, greed and of seedy Russians abroad.” (Albert J. Guerard, The Triumph of the Novel) The Gambler has been subjected to the usual Freudian and Marxist interpretations—the only really notable thing about them is that the Freudian slant on it was written by old Sigmund himself. Which doesn’t make it any more or less correct, of course, but does give it pride of place among critical essays. Something like a Christian interpretation written by St. Paul or a Jewish one by Moses. Dostoevesky was addicted to gambling—it was one of the many very dark aspects of his personality. He wrote to his wife that he was “a man devoured by the passion for gambling” after he had lost all the money he could borrow and beg, including train fare back to St. Petersburg she had sent him. Alexei, the protagonist and narrator of The Gambler shares many of the traits of his creator. He is impulsive bordering on irrational, is willing to defy the social hierarchy to bring attention to himself and is in the thrall of forces he feels he is unable to control. Whether Reiner bases his movie on the novel, the circumstances of its composition or (most likely) a combination of both, he will have a very difficult task.

This is one of those "Don't get me started" threads. Coppelia would be an excellent choice for PBS. So would any of a number of ballets, operas, plays and other works. Unfortunately, PBS is too busy scheduling things like Antiques Roadshow to have the time for them. What is annoying is that PBS has become very market driven but still has the arrogance to approach individuals for contributions. PBS now has underwriters as opposed to the sponsors of the commercial networks but they serve the same function. There was a time when PBS might as well have meant "Primarily British Shows". Even that was better than what exists now.

There were a few posts on an opera list regarding "Opera for Dogs". Credit to James Calvert (who found some of them on another list) and Jack Hall, both of Opera_L. There must be some ballets that would appeal to animals, especially, I should think, cats. Here are the opera for dogs: Grrrr of the Golden West Fidolio L'heure espaniel I Pug-liacci Cavalleria Woofticana Turandog Simon Doggiengra The Flying Dachshund L'Incoronazione di Shar-pei-a (also L'Incoronazione di Puppy-a) Kat'a Kibbleanova Cosi fan Puppy Tannhounder Mutterdammerung Dog Carlo Falstarff Arfsifal Fido and Aeneas Jonny Spielt Arf Amelia Goes To the Dogs Dog-Chowvanni

Alexndra asks of those who live outside of ballet centers: (in the USA, that would be anyplace other than New York City or San Francisco, I would think) What do you see? As much as possible. But scheduling can be a challenge. See below. Is there a local company with a handful of performances a year? No. There have been attempts, the most recent a horrible failure with unpaid dancers and unfulfulled contracts. Is "Nutcracker" just about it? No. How far are you from a city that does have a ballet company? Chicago--Joffrey Ballet Does the largest company in your area tour? The Joffrey was here for two performances. How do you keep connected to ballet?? BalletAlert, Ballet Talk, this message board, alt.arts.ballet. Dance Magazine tries to cover much--I haven't read it in a while. One difficulty is the ephemerality of both opera and ballet in the hinterlands. This past weekend, for example, the Michigan Opera Theatre opened its Spring season with Othello. We have tickets for both Saturday evening and Sunday afternoon so we can catch both casts and also decide it we want to go back a third (or fourth or fifth) time. The same weekend the ballet company from Lyon was giving their "Cinderella" at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor. Another is that touring companies are here for a few days, often just a weekend. Both my wife and I have jobs that require us to work weekends, often on very short notice, so even the best laid plans can go awry. Tancos' observation about University programs is important. Not only dance programs themselves but university based presenters can bring dance to the sticks. It is generally modern dance around here (Oakland University brings several small companies each year) but it is dance nevertheless.

Nanatchka wrote: "I find myself worried about the cat." So did I. Pet murder to express displeasure is going way to far. Vegetables, however.... Maria Callas, cancelled a performance of Norma after the first act--she had bronchitis, tried to go on anyway and wasn't able to continue. It was with the Rome Opera and the President of the Italian Republic was in attendance. Callas was attacked in the press (the headlines are amazing), it was discussed in Parliment and she was quite unpopular at Italian houses for several months. After one performance in Milan soon after the Rome incident, someone threw a bunch of radishes onto the stage, instead of the usual flowers. There are as many different accounts of what happened next as their are people who have told the story, but just about everyone agrees on one thing. Callas picked up the offending vegetables and said "You can't get radishes at the opera house."