Manhattnik

I sense the potential for a new Apple "Switcher" ad here....

Perhaps your laptop was on a crooked table?

Michael, there is no way anyone can finish off a pirouette/fouette combination (and weren't those changes from attitude avante to devante stunning?) with a sextuple (or was it septuple?) pirouette while tilting in any direction. Were she off-kilter, she'd have bailed out long before she got to three or four. Or fallen over.

Actually, at the State Theater they do chassé en tournant, which feels a lot better than even a single saute de basque.

I guess we know who'll be doing Fourth Movement of Western, Hippolyta and the Marnee Morris role in Who Cares for the immediate future!

(I mean, they would have been rehearsing together, right. And if things weren't going well, the coaches and the director most certainly would have changed things).

And people say I have a dry wit!

" ... and in tonight's performance of Don Quixote, Miss Herrera's fouettes are brought to you by a generous donation from Jolt Cola."

I've tried to limit my choices to dancers still performing today whom I've seen enough to actually form an opinion. By the time I saw Assylmuratova in 1999, she was indeed grand and sublime, but also clearly tired. She may well indeed "belong" on many "great ballerinas of today" lists, but I couldn't put her on mine.

Of the Kirov dancers who came this summer, I'd have to list Pavlenko as the likliest ballerina-to-be -- in each part of Diamonds, she was truly stunning. If only her Swan Lake hadn't been cancelled!

Well, I'll own up to being too harsh on Part. She was out of shape -- alarmingly so in places -- but she also had an appealingly dramatique way of plunging herself into each big pose and holding back nothing, which was commendable and brave indeed as she surely knew that her technique that night was unreliable, to put it mildly. She has something of Farrell's intensity, and something of Farrell's mannerisms, such as the "hands-parting-invisible-cobwebs" gesture I remember so fondly.

Part could've said, "Screw this, I'm phoning the rest in," but she didn't hold back, even when this honesty brought her close to disaster in the big pirouette to the knee in Fourth Movement.

I will admit that I preferred Lopatkina's ice-princess Second Movement to Part's more florid one three years ago when the Kirov did Symphony in C here, and Part has never been one to impress with great technical strength in even the best of times. But I think when Part gets back in shape she could be a very special dramatic dancer indeed.

I've been picturing a Meunier/Part Symphonie Concertante, but I've been having more fun picturing a Meunier/Dvorovenko one. Let's just hope we get something more than a Meunier/Part Moyna and Zulma.

Alright, I'll say it. The Harrison ballet wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. There were bits that were pleasant in a sort of dreamy wake-up-and-smell-the-hashish mode. It would help if I had my program handy. The weakest part by far was the Parsons, which was just uninspired and utterly conventional balleto-modern flouncing around. I'll have more later when I have a program in front of me.

Hmmm.

Sneds, while there certainly was a half-baked look to Reyes' sautes de basque, I don't think it's humanly possible for a dancer to launch into a single and then decide in mid-air to add a second turn. Maybe if your name's Baryshnikov. I think Reyes simply didn't get a lot of elevation on her jump, or snap to her turns. It certainly would've been no surprise to her that Corella (or Steifel, for that matter) would be doing doubles. And damn good ones, too. I suppose we could start up an online petition to send those doubles off to the same retirement home where Kevin has banished Tudor's Romeo and Juliet, but I doubt he'd listen.

It's a man's job to make his partner look good (in ballet as in so many other things), and I don't think Molina is without blame for the weak showings had by Ananiashvili and Part opposite him in Second Movement. It's his job to get her up on her leg for those heart-stopping balances before the big backfalls (which were heart-stopping for the wrong reasons last night), and, while Part often exhibited the stability of a bowl of Jello, it was still Molina's job to get her up there, and keep her up there. Look at how Jock Soto can turn Kistler into a stronger dancer, as if by osmosis. (Part could've used a partner like Soto, although I will bite my tongue before describing any of the visuals which come to mind!) I don't know what you consider a major problem, but, while it's true that nobody actually fell over, there were enough white-knuckle moments to make me file this performance under "P" for Problematic.

Most striking was the moment near the end of the adagio when Part stepped backwards in big, tippy-toe steps and swooned back into the arms of the waiting Molina. Molina caught her and slowed her nicely enough as she fell to near-horizontal, but when he lifted his shoulders to stop her movement and bouncer her back onto her feet, she just kept right on sinking. It took Molina only a moment to make a second, stronger effort, and up Part came, but, shall we say, the magic spell was broken. Well, it can only get better.

And while Radetsky and Wiles got through Fourth Movement in fine form, I wouldn't want to see him partnering her in Second.

Today's great ballerinas? Well, this very New-York-Centric viewer would indeed put Kyra Nichols at the top of the list. There's nobody else dancing today who so easily and naturally finds the heart of the music, and the soul of the steps. Even in her sunset years, she's a revelation every time she steps onstage. Yes, her stage demeanor is often modest and reticent to the point of seeming cool and distant, but like the true Balanchine dancer she is, she lets the music and dance speak for themselves.

Ananiashvili, for her strength and wit and killer instinct. I always admire her stage smarts -- she always recognizes the Big Moments in a role, or even a diagonal, and nails them, time after time. The itty-bitty little connecting steps aren't always so important, but I find myself hardly caring when I'm watching her. I love the way she can find grandeur and drama in places where I'd never seen it before. In this way she's the opposite, or rather the complement, of Nichols, for whom God is clearly in the details. I love and admire the way Ananiashvili can pull a great performance out of a hat when she's clearly having an off night. Many dancers can look great when they're on a roll, but few have the intelligence and professionalism to keep on changing their approach until they make a performance work.

Wendy Whelan, with wit, strength and professionalism not all that different from Ananiashvili's, and a lyricism and athleticism which is far removed indeed. I've grown fond of her mannerisms -- like those little pouty faces she seems completely unaware she's making when in the throes of great concentration -- and rather in awe of the grace and fortitude with which she almost single-handedly carried NYCB's repertory on her back for a few recent years.

I think should Dvorovenko understand (and respect!) the difference between a diva and a ballerina, she could become a very good ballerina indeed, but I think the world would be a grayer place. Right now the interplay between herself and Belotserkovsky is perhaps the most fascinating study in the interplay of personalities on any New York stage.

Leigh, restrained for Dvorovenko would be about the same as Nioradze on her fifth cup of coffee. But Wednesday night she was the only ballerina who was on the music, and last night she toned down the smirks, feral smiles and moues to mere mortal proportions, and looked simply dazzling. However, it was the end of a busy week for her, and doubtless after some rest she'll once again be happily maxing (no pun intended) out the City Center diva-meter.

She's also exactly the sort of dancer Balanchine hated. I can only imagine what he'd have given her to do in NYCB....

Although there is within me an evil voice which wants Dvorovenko never to rein in her most diva-ish impulses, I was more pleased than I'd imagined possible when she did just that Sunday night. She was much more restrained (well, for her) than Wednesday night, and she certainly has the requisite attack, musicality and grandeur for First Movement. In fact, this was one of the best performances of Symphony in C I've seen for a long time. Certainly the corps has sparkled, and looked a million times better than they did last year.

Reyes' saute de basques were more like one-and-a-half or one-and-a-quarter ones, finishing the rotation with a quick (and not pretty) little catch-up after her landings. Sunday night Murphy (who looked great otherwise) did singles in one direction (to the right?) and doubles to the other. But doubles, whether done by the woman or man (Stiefel and Corella do toss them off rather brilliantly) just don't look right here -- at City Ballet they just do a simple chasse en tournant, and it looks much better. Did they ever do sautes de basque here at City Ballet? Clearly they must have at one point, or why would John Taras include them in his staging for ABT? Yet, also clearly, they've been gone for a long, long time, and not without reason -- the step doesn't really fit in the musical phrase.

(I've seen Reyes do singles and doubles here, and seen them done more prettily, too. Someone should tell her not to bother with them if they're just going to look ragged and incomplete.)

Estelle, the POB doesn't double up in Symphony in C, excuse me, Palais de Cristal. How could they, when the corps for each movement is dressed in a different color? When NYCB first performed Symphony in C (in 1948, I think), they didn't have enough dancers to do the entire ballet without some doubling-up, hence the decision to ditch the colored costumes, and go with white for everyone.

The biggest moment of interest (perhaps an unfortunate choice of words) was Veronika Part's Second Movement. She's a big gal, and clearly out of shape. Lots of wobbles, and there were times it looked as if Molina was about to drop her, although this may say as much about Molina's skill as a partner as it does Part's need for some time on the stairmaster. (I remember Ananiashvili looked much better in Second with Carreno than with Molina.) Part had some soulful moments, but I was reminded how much I preferred Lopatkina's Second Movement when the Kirov did this here in 99.

They're going to polish me up.

Aha! This looks like another job for Ballerina Polish.

Perhaps we could pitch in and send Ms. Meunier a few tins? What was that supplier's name again?

I was tremendously looking forward to seeing her tonight. Oh well, I'll keep my fingers crossed for the rest of the season.

You made a lot of good points, Michael. And let's not forget the matchstick arms, often flung around with the wild abandon so missing in the footwork.

Anyone see Lorena Feijoo in the lead in Paquita last Sunday?

It depends on what night you've seen them.

Tuesday and Wednesday nights I'd have said International, without a doubt. But they looked great in ensemble works in which classical style, precision and clarity aren't essential (the two Morris pieces), or in works which could be carried by a few strong dancers (and they certainly have more than a few!). It certainly looks like Tomasson has assembled an interesting and catholic repertory, more so than Martins or McKenzie, it seems, although it's hard to judge on the strength of a few mixed bills.

Thursday was the night of the big tests of how well SFB could do classicism and neoclassicism: Paquita and Rubies. And in these it looked almost more Civic than Regional. I was really surprised and disappointed to see how the company floundered here. In Paquita, the corps looked like they were taking an examination, and doubtful of passing, and in Rubies, like a pickup game of touch football. Was it just an off night? I'd like to think so, but I don't know.

I do know I would be happy to see them again, and hope they return soon.

"But Mrs. Herrera, when I said 'tin ear,' I meant it most respectfully -- just think, she can go out in the rain and they won't rust! Now, would you please put the gun down?"

I remember seeing Yuan Yuan Tan dance the lead in Etudes during SFB's last visit here a few years ago, and my reaction was much the same. She's got a strong technique, beautiful line, and no pizzaz at all. There's a reason why they call this stuff bravura; it's as much about the ballerina's attitude as her technique. You can't be larger than life if you never push your limits, and occasionally throw caution to the winds (or at least look that way). Compare the Kirov video of Olga Chenchikova in Paquita to a performance like Tan's. Chenchikova was sloppy as hell compared to Tan, but you knew she got to wear the fanciest tutu because she was the toughest and most fearless kid on the block. Tan gets to wear hers because she looks pretty.

I also saw the program with Chi-Lin, and I never quite know what to make of such modern-day ethnic pastiches. I always cringe at the beginning of Bugaku, but get swept away in the genius of cold and erotic duet. (I'll bet Tan would be great in Bugaku -- she has the sang froid for it.) Chi-Lin was just an embarassingly kitschy bit of Chinoiserie, particularly disappointing after Tomasson's beautiful and clever Chaconne for Piano and Two Dancers, for the sensationaly sprightly Kristin Long and the godlike Yuri Possokhov (has he ever danced Apollo, I wonder?). But I'm digressing. Watching Chi-Lin (and knowing I'd be seeing Turandot at the Met the next night [Andrea Gruber isn't quite the fat lady Jane Eaglen is, but you certainly know when she's singing!]), I wondered about the rights and wrongs of an artist attempting to play with the styles and fragrance of another culture's art forms. Think what you will of Robbins' Watermill (which I love) or Bugaku (which I also love), they're at least attempts get a bit beyond the surface of another culture's art forms (although it's interesting that each uses a veneer of Orientalia as a smokescreen for some rather fierce erotica). Chi-Lin just seemed vapid, with a few hand gestures and the like grafted onto ferociously ordinary, thouch certainly pretty, choreography, and I kept on imagining I was hearing echos from that more forthright bit of kitsch playing a few blocks away -- "you travel there IN a TROLLEY, IN a TROLLEY all the way...."

Ed, I was sitting upstairs in the cheap seats, so I don't recall any mad bravoers. Honestly, by the middle of Rubies I was just thinking about the exits. And a gentleman doesn't spit, he expectorates.

I think Feijoo will kick butt in Paquita. She has the temperament for it more than Tan (Yuan?) does. And I think Possukhov will be great in Rubies.

Last night was a bit of a disappointment at SFB. I don't know if the dreadfully slow tempi in Paquita were due to Makarova's staging, or Neal Stullberg's inattentive conducting, but I swear continents move faster than some of those diagonals. The overly ornate costumes (the pas de trois dancers looked like dancing Hostess cupcakes) didn't help either.

Most of the girls looked dutiful and in a bit over their heads. Not inspiring at all. Kristin Long had a few nice moments in a ferocious jumping solo, but I still don't see what the fuss is over Yuan Yuan Tan (she didn't do much for me in Etudes last time they were here, either). She's pretty, has a beautiful line, and is dull as watching paint dry. I got the feeling that the upcoming fouettes were weighing on her mind -- she seemed much freer once past them (and she did a creditable job with them), but then again, by that point the ballet's just about over. I did like Katitia Waldo in the pas de trois -- she's got a bit more spunk than most of these bland girls. The two men -- Vadim Solomakha with Tan, and Guennadi Nedviguine in the pas de trois (with Waldo and Vanessa Zahorian, who was tolerable), were beautiful. I loved Nedviguine's beats (we got to see a lot of them as he did a killer solo with a lot of sisonne battus a la seconde in a circle around the stage) and Solomakha's big, easy and soft jumps. The men in this company are sensational, and seem to share a lot of the qualities I loved so much in Helgi's dancing -- grace, calm, clarity -- but the women look, well, flat. It's like a company of Helgis with no Patties.

Julia Adam's Night had some cute and clever moments, but ended up dragging badly by the end. Lots of clever floor work, and work with dancers streched about inside fabric. Rather ikky costumes by Benjamin Pierce (who also, it seems, danced the lead), too reminiscent of the infamous feather pants from Matthew Bourne's Swan Lake. The piece seemed to be a dream of sorts imagined, quite often with wit, by Vanessa Zahorian. I wouldn't run to see it again, but I wouldn't run away from it. Hans van Manen's Solo, to fiesty Bach violin solos has three wonderful and different men skittering about the stage in cascades of witty variations. I've always liked Van Manen's work, and it was nice to see some again, after too many years. There was an intersting contrast between the weighty and sculptural Peter Brandenhoff, the lanky Stephen Legate (with the best surfer haircut the company), and the diminutive Nedviguine, who proved to be a stunningly natural turner, and seemed to be tremendously enjoying himself. As did all the guys, and the audience as well.

Would the same could be said about Rubies, which proved to be even a bigger disappointment than Paquita. Flat, flat, flat. It seemed that many of the choreography's details and fine bits were missing, from both the leads and the corps. The dancers looked to be masking uncertainty under a kind of overly flashy stage brio which their often fuzzy dancing didn't support. I also wondered if the City Center stage was simply too small for Rubies, or that it had been under-rehearsed. It didn't look high-voltage, just busy and cluttered. The leads followed SFB's familiar pattern: Gonzalo Garcia, short and fiesty in a Villella-ish mode, soared through his solos with winning bouyancy and irony, while Kristin Long looked game, but outmatched, and unable to imbue the role with anything more than a bit of soubrettish spunk. Which is not what it's all about. The pallid Muriel Maffre had the line for the Patricia Neary role, but not the strength or authority. I imagine at one time she'd have killed in this role, but not last night.

It was a sad evening -- after Tuesday and Wednesday I thought SFB was clearly in the same league with NYCB and ABT, but after such letdowns with the two "biggies" they brought, it's clear they have a ways yet to go. I do think Helgi can clearly has put together a more-interesting repertory than either Martins or McKenzie (not counting the many Balanchine and Robbins ballets which Martins inherited).

Speaking of which, le toute NYCB was in attendence, and someone should tell Peter Martins that it's rude to take one's seat after the ballet's already started, especially when one is sitting in the very front of the balcony.

I'm sure that for seven figures Peter Martins would rise to the occasion.

I could be wrong, but I always had the impression that The Times always pays for its own tickets, rather than accept comps.

Yes, Waldo danced in Vertiginous tonight, and she is indeed The One.

I'm glad I went to San Francisco Ballet's opening night. It's been awhile since I've seen them, and it was good to get reaquainted. Every time I see them I'm struck by the transformation wrought by Helgi Tomasson, from the schlockiness of Michael Smuin's repertory to the company's current classical strength and depth. Maybe they're not quite up there with NYCB and ABT (well, NYCB), but they're pretty damn close.

Last night's program started with Continuum, or, Yes, Virginia, Another Ligeti Piano Ballet, by Christopher Wheeldon ©. I'm not sure when or why he became a ©, but this certainly confirms his current status as a Hot Property. So why shouldn't he copywrite himself, or his name, or whatever the © is all about? Anyway, Continuum looks very much like outtakes from Polyphonia (or, doubtless, Morphoses, if I'd actually seen it). Here we again have four couples in a drifting, dreamy and, well, dim environment, thanks to Natasha Katz's atmospheric (if occasionally smoggy) lighting. I would just pan this as a case of Wheeldon breathing his own exhaust, except, well, he's just too damn good. Sure, I'd seen the upside down lifts (Muriel Maffre and Benjamin Pierce do a commendable job of what would be the Wendy-and-Jock duet had this been made for NYCB), hands-to-the-floor and butt-to-the-air poses, extremely flexed feet and knees and general rolling around on the floor before, but that didn't stop me from being drawn into Continuum, just because I wanted to see what happens next. While, as has often been noted, Wheeldon is working in Balanchine's familiar Agon/Episodes/Violin Concerto territory, the fact is, at least on a purely visual and spatial level, he's pretty good at it. I just wish I could take more away with me from these Ligeti ballets than Wheeldon's intoxicating logic and sensuality. He makes beautiful landscapes, but doesn't take me on a journey.

Oh yes, the mens' unitards and womens' belted leotards are dark, dark green here. Not dark, dark purple. And Muriel Maffre has legs to die for (of course she's going to do the big-girl role in Rubies -- let's see if she can top the memory of Pavlenko!), but the other women didn't leave me with a profound impression of their individuality (although they're indeed profoundly flexible). The men all have a nice air of geniality and warmth rather different from their more high-strung NYCB counterparts (and somewhat grander hair and thighs).

Thank goodness I'm not getting paid by the word, so I don't have to say much about Yuri Possukhov's Damned, a disjointed yet still overblown telling of the story of Jason and Medea. Possukhov uses a large corps here much like a Greek chorus, and, indeed, their striking costumes by Thyra Hartshorn -- deep white skirts for all, bare-chested for the men, and fake bare-chested for the women, surmounted by white domino masks which give them something of the enigmatic smiling quality one sees in some of the most ancient Greek statuary at, say, the Met. Of course, there was nothing ancient about the garb of Jason (Guennadi Nedviguine, who can jump) or Medea (Lorena Feijoo, who can flare her nostrils) nor, for that matter, for the choreography. Hatshorn's scenery created some telling effects, particularly the immolation of Jason's beloved (not, of course, Medea!) at the hands of the gift of a magical scarf from Medea (will these ballet heroines never learn?). The scenery must've also been sturdy to withstand ceaseless assaults from Feijoo's teeth. Perhaps I'd have found it all a bit more moving if I hadn't seen this mythological thing done much, much better by Martha Graham, among others, and if Feijoo, called upon repeatedly to pose with one gorgeously-arched foot stabbing the stage like a weapon in her black dress and toe-shoes, didn't keep on making me think of Mercedes on a really bad hair day.

I knew nothing of Mark Morris' Sandpaper Ballet. I thoroughly loved it. It's set to Leroy Anderson's extremely smarmy orchestrations of schmaltzy music from the forties or so we hear most often in elevators or embedded in chips on greeting cards. (Oh, I forgot to mention the orchestra sounded fabulous. Were you listening, Peter? Kevin?) As with most of Morris' work to popular music (or just most of his work), Sandpaper flirts with excessive cuteness, but this time never quite tumbles into that abyss. I loved his wit, good-natured silliness, and even the two-tone green Isaac Mizrahi costumes with the arm-length green gloves for all. A big, bustling ensemble piece, Sandpaper shows us the company's dancers in a very appealing light. Morris is a genius in responding to music, perhaps not at the deep structural level of a Balanchine, but in his own ironic and visceral way. Yes, the jokes came fast and furious, but they mostly fit with the amiably silly music. Moreover, he does a masterly job of grafting his signature loose-limbed and vernacular movement style with ballet's more formal and grander vocabulary. It just looks like so much fun to go galoomphing across the stage with big, hammy sissones and assembles on almost every big beat. I'm going to try to see this again Saturday, and I wouldn't at all mind seeing it in the repertory of ABT or NYCB (instead of Eifman -- say it ain't so!).

At the risk of sounding like a recurring poster on alt.arts.ballet, who is that gorgeous redhead? One of the LeBlancs?