Manhattnik

I can't add much to this Repertory from Hell. I was going to say "token Balanchine," but you already mentioned Jewels.

I suppose we could throw in the Token Work from the Previous Regime/Tradition. "Oh, we haven't thrown out Tudor/Bournonville/Ashton, why, just last season we did Dim Lustre/La Sylphide/Fille. We just need to give him rest so he'll be fresh the next time we revive him."

Well, to give the Devil his due, I do think McKenzie's decided, not inappropriately, that Tudor's works are more suited for City Center than the Met. Certianly the revival of Dum Lustre (and kudos to McKenzie for even trying this!) would've looked very lost indeed at the Met.

What really makes me sad is reading reviews of Tudor's works by people who clearly Don't Get It. Comments I've read in reviews, or here, about Lilac Garden or The Leaves are Fading make me a little sad. I think Lilac Garden is just exquisite, and its emotional tangles, while of a period, easily relate to what any of us might find ourselves tied up in even in the 21st Century.

I wouldn't necessarily put all the blame on how these ballets are being performed, either. I thought the recent ABT performances of Jardin and Lustre were, for the most part, quite well done (with some rather large lapses here and there). I wonder if our audiences today are so conditioned to seeing "steps," whether of the classical, neoclassical, Forsythian, hip-hop or whatever persuasion, that works where bravura of any sort takes a clear back seat to the emotiona content just don't work for some of us these days. (That's not to say that I don't think Tudor is at all easy to dance -- some of the stuff in Jardin looks hard as hell!)

On the other hand, I'd easily trash all the Stanton Welch ballets in the world for some well-staged and enduring Tudor revivals. I'm so regretful I remember very little of his Romeo and Juliet. I remember being dismayed when ABT announced they were getting MacMillan's, because it seemed clear we wouldn't see Tudor's again. And, so far, we haven't.

While we're talking about purchasing books online, I feel the need to remind everyone that if you purchase books from Amazon via the link at the top of this (and every) page, a small pittance from your purchase goes to Ballet Alert. So if you do have the urge to obtain any of these books, please go through the above link?

Thanks in advance!

I wonder what happened to my copy of Christopher d'Amboise's book about his first year or so with NYCB. The passage where he's taking NYCB class, suddenly realizes he's surrounded by scores of gorgeous women, and then trades a silent, knowing glance with his father, is really priceless.

While we're talking about purchasing books online, I feel the need to remind everyone that if you purchase books from Amazon via the link at the top of this (and every) page, a small pittance from your purchase goes to Ballet Alert. So if you do have the urge to obtain any of these books, please go through the above link?

Thanks in advance!

I wonder what happened to my copy of Christopher d'Amboise's book about his first year or so with NYCB. The passage where he's taking NYCB class, suddenly realizes he's surrounded by scores of gorgeous women, and then trades a silent, knowing glance with his father, is really priceless.

When Massine died, the Dance Collection did a tribute to him, showing many films of his works. I remember being struck by the the rapidity and invention in "Good Humored Ladies," which was shown in a film of a 1960's revival by the Royal Ballet. I'd really love to see this performed onstage, if anybody remembers it now. I did love ABT's recent revival of Gaite Parisienne.

I guess I'm the only one who'd like to see more works by poor ol' forgotten Massine. Ah well, that's always me. Odd man out....

There was a time, back when, when it seemed that Feld was making ballets which were his "take" on the works of others. Intermezzo was reminiscent of Dances at a Gathering, Excursions was Rodeo on steroids, The God Amused was Apollo and friends, etc.

I rather liked a few of the newer Feld pieces I saw when I was taken to see Ballet Tech a year or so ago. But then he produces something like Organon or Felix, and I have to wonder "what happened," indeed.

C'mon. Perhaps NYCB was different after City Center, but "all over?"

Can you say "Stravinsky Festival?" Davisdbundlertanze? Mozartiana? Jewels?

Balanchine came from an institution even larger and more hieratic than NYCB was to become. I think he knew what he was doing, and what he was getting into, and what he wanted NYCB to become.

I think we have our answer to Kyra Nichols' status now, given that she's cast to dance Vienna Waltzes this week.

I'll certainly be there!

Back when, I used to say it with flowers. But that requires a certain amount of planning in advance.

Back when, I used to say it with flowers. But that requires a certain amount of planning in advance.

Patricia McBride may not have been a Gelsey-Kirklandish slip of a thing, but plump? It's one word I'd never have applied to her, nor imagined anyone ever applying to her!

In the years after Balanchine's death, it was noted fairly widely that the physiques of NYCB dancers, under Martins' reign, were changing, becoming less Amazonian and more rounded with even, God forbid!, the occasional emphatic bosom.

Patricia McBride may not have been a Gelsey-Kirklandish slip of a thing, but plump? It's one word I'd never have applied to her, nor imagined anyone ever applying to her!

In the years after Balanchine's death, it was noted fairly widely that the physiques of NYCB dancers, under Martins' reign, were changing, becoming less Amazonian and more rounded with even, God forbid!, the occasional emphatic bosom.

Let's not forget Tudor's "An Echoing of Trumpets."

I only saw bits of it on a video documentary about Tudor, but the brief excerpts were enough to make me want to slit my wrists. All I could think was that it was clear that Tudor had found his perfect milieu in Sweden (where the documentary was filmed). If anything, Tudor's work was even gloomier than Bergman's.

Kathleen Tracey has had an up-and-down career. I remember when first returning to viewing NYCB after a rather long hiatus, I thought she was by far the more interesting sister (it's shameful how we make such comparisons, isn't it?), particularly the dreamy way she'd do the walking solo in Emeralds. Since then, and particularly after she was out for awhile recovering from breaking her arm in a freak accident while performing Union Jack in Saratoga, she's often seemed to be phoning in her performances, giving perfectly professional renditions of her roles, but with, it seemed, little joy or enthusiasm. I've noticed a marked change in her manner since Christopher Wheeldon gave her that wonderful role as the Stage Manager in Variations Serieuses (showing us she has the best head of hair in NYCB, too). I've enjoyed seeing this trend continue.

And, ooops! It was Ritter, not Angle, with Van Kipnis in the Fourth Movement. That's what I get for dashing these things off without checking a program.

The condensed version:

It was just great to see the company again. In a few places the corps had a bit of opening-night raggedness, but nothing extreme. Andrea Quinn conducted marvelously -- the orchestra sounds great, and I'm getting more fond of her rapid tempi. And there were some auspicious debuts.

Serenade:

Ringer has always been a powerful and moving Waltz Girl; here, she takes care to show you the pain and fragility behind her sometimes placid beauty. I'm beginning to think it's one of her best roles (who wouldn't want to dance this, though?). Janie Taylor made a great debut as Russian -- her occasionally over-the-top romanicism and Upper West Side edginess contrasted perfectly with Ringer's serenity. Kathleen Tracey (I guess no need to differentiate her from Margaret anymore, is there?) gave a good, clean rendition of the Dark Angel, but she never quite seemed dark or other-wordly enough. Lyon and Fayette both danced well, particularly Fayette with Ringer.

Stravinsky Violin Concerto:

Alexandra Ansanelli made an early debut in the second aria, with Nikolaj Hubbe, replacing an indisposed Yvonne Borree. This was one of the best performances of this duet I've ever seen, even better, perhaps, than by its creators, Kay Mazzo and Peter Martins. Ansanelli dances with a enchanting combination of power and vulnerability, never more in evidence than in this role, which calls for both. Anyone who's followed her career knows how she's strong yet fragile, and it's part of her charm that she quite often looks that way onstage. Mazzo had a bit of this quality, but also a great passivity which obviously inspired Balanchine in making this rather odd adagio. I don't see that passivity in Ansanelli, and the dynamic between her and Hubbe is far more balanced than between Mazzo and Martins. Normally I'd sputter and say "But this duet has to be about the woman's passivity -- remember Mazzo!" yet here I found Hubbe's flamboyance to be both collaborative and protective. I suppose it might sound dismissive to say that Wendy Whelan and Jock Soto were their usual selves in the first duet, except that they're usually magnificent here -- I find it hard to say enough good things about Whelan, a real goddess of a dancer whose strength and reliability sometimes, I think, encourages her to be thought of as a "workhorse" ballerina. She is, of course, but she's much more than that.

Symphony in C:

Oh joy, oh rapture!

The company was in fine form here, helped along by Quinn's sprightly (got it right that time!) conducting. The "bookend" ballerinas, Jennie Somogyi in the First Movement and Pascal van Kipnis in the Fourth both served their purposes admirably: Somogyi, who welcomes us to the party, with her power, insouciance and musicality (with a very poised and elegant Philip Neal) and Van Kipnis, who brings everyone together for the grand finale, with her familiar sunny disposition and ease with those killer fourth-movement turns (with a welcome Jared Angle). In the second movement, Maria Kowroski gave one of the best performances I've seen from her -- strong and bright in the small allegro bits and regal and breathtaking in the grand adagios, although I really wish she'd lose the ten-after-six head-to-the-knee penchee. It's over-the-top (literally) and a little frightening and grotesque. Aside from that, she was gorgeous. A good share of the credit here has to go to Charles Askegard's attentive partnering.

The big news was Ashley Bouder's long-awaited debut in the very allegro Third Movement. She's always been a magnificent jumper, and she certainly didn't disappoint here. She's beyond fearless, and she seems to have an instinctual flair for the dramatic -- she'd have been a great Baby Ballerina in another generation, I think. Of course Benjamin Millepied was also a treat here -- he seems to get stronger and cleaner every season -- but, as usual, I had a hard time taking my eyes off of Bouder.

If there were a way to clearly differentiate between booing the dancers and booing the choreographer, perhaps I might consider it. Or perhaps not; it's just Not Done here, usually. Besides, this is a season heavy with old and new Diamond Project ballets, and I'd never get over my laryngitis.

If there were a way to clearly differentiate between booing the dancers and booing the choreographer, perhaps I might consider it. Or perhaps not; it's just Not Done here, usually. Besides, this is a season heavy with old and new Diamond Project ballets, and I'd never get over my laryngitis.

I believe the Paris Opera Ballet recently staged that wonderful Jerome Robbins work, with its original subtitle restored:

Pendant La Nuite (Tout les Chattes Sont Gris)

The Onegin production at the Met was roundly booed when it premiered--it seemed that no one like it.

Well, I liked it. But what do I know?

The Onegin production at the Met was roundly booed when it premiered--it seemed that no one like it.

Well, I liked it. But what do I know?

I don't think I've ever booed anyone, although I've been tempted to. Oh, I did join in the boos directed at the NYCB orchestra at their first few bows after the previous couple of strikes, but that's understandable. I think for awhile after the strike before last the orchestra stopped taking their last-intermission bows because of the torrents of boos. But that was only because they richly deserved it.

I also remember the boos that frequently greeted Watermill. I remember an early or mid-Eighties performance where Villella came out for the curtain call only to be greeted by a torrent of boos. Although I'm sure he was used to folks booing Watermill by then (I don't recall it getting booed in the mid-Seventies), I won't soon forget his crestfallen look of hurt and surprise, which he soon covered with a perfectly poised professional mien. Regardless of what one thought of Watermill (I rather liked it, but that's another kettle of worms), booing Eddie Villella at the NYS Theater is beyond unforgiveable.

Other than that, I figure someone someplace might've liked a particular show, and who am I to spoil their fun? There must've been people somewhere who actually enjoyed Heather Watt's virtues as a performer (whatever they might've been -- I lacked such fine powers of discernment). I wouldn't have wanted to rain on their parade. Besides, it's hard to boo when one is biting one's knuckles.

The most recent incident of really inappropriate booing I recall happend last fall at a performance of the Met's somewhat unconventional but rather brilliant production of Eugene Onegin (and I'm too lazy to look up the credits). After Onegin (Thomas Hampson, that night) kills Lensky, the orchestra goes immediately into that grand polonaise. Many be-wigged footmen emerge, some make off with Lensky's body, others change a very passive Onegin's clothes from his outdoorsy dueling outfit to formal eveningwear. I thought it was a very clever transition, representing his years of indolent wandering before encountering Tatiana and Gremin. Apparently it left some disgruntled member of the audience feeling short-changed out of the sight of the Met Opera Ballet in boots and ribbons stamping and kicking their way through a real polonaise, and as soon as the music ended, out came a very loud and prolonged "booo!" from somewhere up near the rafters. There was an embarassed murmer from the audience, and the show went on.

It was really beyond tacky.

I do wonder if opera audiences might be more prone to booing than ballet audiences. Thoughts, anyone?

I don't think I've ever booed anyone, although I've been tempted to. Oh, I did join in the boos directed at the NYCB orchestra at their first few bows after the previous couple of strikes, but that's understandable. I think for awhile after the strike before last the orchestra stopped taking their last-intermission bows because of the torrents of boos. But that was only because they richly deserved it.

I also remember the boos that frequently greeted Watermill. I remember an early or mid-Eighties performance where Villella came out for the curtain call only to be greeted by a torrent of boos. Although I'm sure he was used to folks booing Watermill by then (I don't recall it getting booed in the mid-Seventies), I won't soon forget his crestfallen look of hurt and surprise, which he soon covered with a perfectly poised professional mien. Regardless of what one thought of Watermill (I rather liked it, but that's another kettle of worms), booing Eddie Villella at the NYS Theater is beyond unforgiveable.

Other than that, I figure someone someplace might've liked a particular show, and who am I to spoil their fun? There must've been people somewhere who actually enjoyed Heather Watt's virtues as a performer (whatever they might've been -- I lacked such fine powers of discernment). I wouldn't have wanted to rain on their parade. Besides, it's hard to boo when one is biting one's knuckles.

The most recent incident of really inappropriate booing I recall happend last fall at a performance of the Met's somewhat unconventional but rather brilliant production of Eugene Onegin (and I'm too lazy to look up the credits). After Onegin (Thomas Hampson, that night) kills Lensky, the orchestra goes immediately into that grand polonaise. Many be-wigged footmen emerge, some make off with Lensky's body, others change a very passive Onegin's clothes from his outdoorsy dueling outfit to formal eveningwear. I thought it was a very clever transition, representing his years of indolent wandering before encountering Tatiana and Gremin. Apparently it left some disgruntled member of the audience feeling short-changed out of the sight of the Met Opera Ballet in boots and ribbons stamping and kicking their way through a real polonaise, and as soon as the music ended, out came a very loud and prolonged "booo!" from somewhere up near the rafters. There was an embarassed murmer from the audience, and the show went on.

It was really beyond tacky.

I do wonder if opera audiences might be more prone to booing than ballet audiences. Thoughts, anyone?

Or Cat Mess in Bruges?

I find female impersonation interesting when it's about the idea of being a woman, which really exists quite apart from one's gender. It's a bit of a stretch, but you could argue that a really good female impersonater, like one of the Trocks, shows us everything about a ballerina that isn't merely being female.

That's when I like them the best, when they're showing me, and having fun with, the idea of a ballerina. This isn't at all the same thing as pretending to be a ballerina; when they do the latter, I find it much less interesting, because to be a real one, you need all the trappings, plus being female. The very best I've ever seen a Trock or Grandiva dancer doing a "straight" female role is at about the level of a decent regional company, and I'm just not impressed by a mediocre ballerina of any gender.

And even if a Trock or Grandiva were to turn in a performance indistinguisable in any respect from a "real" woman's, I'd have to say, "what's the point?"