papeetepatrick

Yes, I also like (in fact, adore) the Prokofiev score, and cannot even think of a single full-length ballet score I prefer. It's definitely on a par with 'Swan Lake' and 'Sleeping Beauty,' and way beyond 'Nutcracker,' which has all that flabby-sounding stuff in the first act. I'd be somewhat interested in a Martins version. I saw Lavery's pas de deux this winter and found it extremely unsatisfying--this could be mostly for those of us who do like the full-length Prokofiev ballet, but it seemed to just not have time to quite even start, much less build up into something (I think it was Borree and Askegaard I saw in this, but it was so forgettable I've forgotten that too). I remember that on the same program was 'Friandises,' which is also not very satisfying, but there was at least one moment when dancers went like bullets diagonally across the stage that I can remember.

That sounds fantastic, and also like something she might really decide to do.

I agree with some of your points, but it was in Europe that 'modern' composers were doing something more parallel to Balanchine--after Schoenberg, Berg and Webern, came Boulez, Stockhausen and Xennakis. Of course, what you say could be true specifically only of dance, but the culture of Europe (and France in particular) is where the real 'high modernist' action was taking place in music, so it cannot have been a culture-wide phenomenon that would apply to all the Arts. Plus, without needing any detail, what was happening in literature and painting (in America too, of course.) Composers like Copland, Sessions, Bernstein, Cage and others are important (and to me personally, I may prefer them), but not quite as heavyweight as their European counterparts in terms of gaining immense power and all the funding and government support that goes with it.

I see Martha Graham as quite as important, even if it's not ballet as such. There are works by Robbins, Ashton, and MacMillan that may not be as great as Balanchine at his greatest, but if you include musical theater Robbins did work of importance there that ranks with Balanchine; and even if Ashton, for example, is not as towering as Balanchine, still his work does something else that is satisfying that Balanchine's cannot do. There are other people who will know more about what was done in the 20th century in USSR, Denmark and England and Holland. I look at it as that yes, Balanchine was the greatest ballet genius, but that there is a tendency to centralize creative power therefore in this greatest one does not follow as a positive endeavour. I think I have been able to tell from Leonid's eloquent and excellent notes in various threads that, while he admires Balanchine, his greatest interests are within the great Russian tradition that descends from Petipa and goes into the newer Bolshoi and Kirov works, and pretty clearly is involved in a treasuring of ballerinas that are within that tradition and rarely the 'ultimate Balanchine ballerinas.' He also loves Fonteyn, as many of us do, but the only Balanchine ballerina I've seen him single out is Violette Verdy, whom I saw once and who had a lot of fire. (of course, correct me if I've misinterpreted another BT writer here.) In any case, it's natural to worship figures like Balanchine for periods of time, even if I've ceased to do it with so much ardour. Then people get a different historical perspective. They start looking at things differently. It's also true that the very Balanchine Muses themselves had genius that Balanchine himself didn't have--that these kinds of genius were of the dancer rather than the choreographer are an important distinction to some but I don't find them so. The easiest example is Farrell, of course, without whom Balanchine would not have been able to realize many of his visions--but at a certain point, she takes it beyond what was specifically his and makes it new in the performance--and it is most interesting when she makes it hers perhaps a bit more than it is his. (Surely her strongwilled persona is not limited to off-stage decisions.) So that even within the Balanchine inner circle there are other geniuses that were necessary for that genius and, since they couldn't be done without, they have a genius that is even distinct from his own, no matter how closely associated and intertwined their mutual work is. And Balanchine's well-known disparagement of great dancers who were not in his immediate sphere, such as Makarova and Nureyev, may have been mostly just idle words (especially since he did some work with both of them, but would never claim that either was 'God-sent', of course), but they do point to the fact that there are other voices that people are listening to, and that there are very many ABT goers who never go to NYCB. They do not see why I or anyone else find Patricia McBride and Suzanne Farrell profound--they want to see something that did not become 'American-naturalized' but that still has more of the aura of old Russian ballet--and these are exemplified by Nureyev and Makarova in the big old 19th century ballets more than any of Balanchine's more subtle but cooler hothouse proliferations. Nureyev and Makarova could, by virtue of what they were, do things that Martins and Farrell could never do, and vice-versa. I think a certain amount of objectivity is important to keep no matter how great the artist. For example, I think little objectivity is shown by Ravel vs. Debussy camps, or Mozart vs. Beethoven cults--or even Garbo vs. Dietrich cults. As I mentioned above, the better comparison is probably between Petipa and Balanchine, but it isn't possible to really do it yet, because the Balanchine trademark is still very hot--and is the guiding strategy within the promotion of all his greatest dancers--whether Martins, Farrell, Villella, Tomasson, McBride, Hayden and the rest. This is mostly obvious stuff, even though a bit rambling. I guess one of things I'm saying is that I think the process of comparison has to be handled very carefully, and only the minimum amount should be used. I used to have a terrible tendency to succumb easily to comparison and the rather illusory identifications it seems to offer, but I found that it too often excluded much work of fine or even great, quality, if there was too much emphasis only on the very greatest.

Doesn't the definition of "genius" preclude the notion of "many others"? Probably, but not 'several others.' And there are those. Balanchine is probably the greatest for me if you judge on both quantity and quality, but there are others that mean as much if you think in terms of fewer works of equivalent quality. I think what omshanti brings up is useful, because Balanchine, like Mozart, seems to have lead to a cult that can sometimes be oppressive--and this can actually detract from their own work when they get deified to the point where someone else is briefly given a moment, but all roads lead back to this kind of godhead. I used to subscribe to this, too (of Balanchine, not of Mozart), until I realized that even if he did the largest amount of innovative dance work in the 20th century, that others did things he could not do (for whatever reason--but in particular that it is not even desirable for one genius, even the greatest, to be omnipotent. If you take it further back than the 20th century, it makes more sense, because it's not very meaningful to compare Balanchine and Petipa, who are equally indispensible)

Thanks, Farrell Fan and Dirac--I was thinking about 'Prodigal Son' as something that might have happened at least once, but I was fairly sure it hadn't. I can easily imagine Farrell in a full-length 'Swan Lake.' It wouldn't substitute for the more traditional and theatrical, but it would have been beautiful and fascinating. Also possibly Juliet in the 60's period. The others are less easily to visualize as she clearly was not looking at those things for herself.

Did Farrell ever dance with Baryshnikov during his year at NYCB? I haven't been able to find any mention of it googling, and had been surprised about the one 'Apollo' with Nureyev, so I assume she did not. However, I definitely don't know even though I never heard of it.

I'm not going to be able to get this, having just looked, but thanks for the report. It would stand to reason that the earlier version would be darker because of changing attitudes to theater in many cultures, and Japan's was one that especially metamorphosed in thousands of ways throughout the 20th century.

I'm going to look for this this afternoon, in meantime have put hold on 'Tokyo Story' and looked at some other Ozu titles. Agree about the scene with the three at the end--I kept thinking the boy would change his mind and run after his father, but the mother seemed to think that the father wouldn't want him to even if he tried to catch him.

Yes, it's heartbreaking, but I wasn't sure there was no happy ending at all. Wasn't there some sense of contentment in the companionship of the actress and the 'Master', even if it was very compromised, but if only because they had both been so abusive of each other before and were now trying to be forgiving and supportive? I'm not sure about this, and even less sure what would happen with the boy and the other beautiful actress that he'd eloped with. I thought it possible that it was an imperfect, but not totally tragic ending. Tell me if you think that's completely impossible, as I may well be off here. It's true he would never be a 'successful actor,' and the mother had been using the phrase 'to be somebody' in a way that was very stark. But I thought he might still find remnants of happiness even in small-time theater. Another fantastic stylistic element was the boy's choppy movements when he first falls in love with the beautiful girl. I hadn't ever seen anything like the way he moved, that may be something Japanese.

canbelto--I had only watched about 45 minutes of it last night when I posted, trying to figure out my phantom black and white Japanese film about various rackets. Then I watched the rest: It is absolutely beautiful! I think I liked it more than any Japanese film I have ever seen, and for some reason I've had a resistance to Japanese culture, not because I have anything against it intrinsically, but because, like many island cultures, there's a lot of insularity. It was so subtle and complex with the interplay of relationships and milieux, and the exquisite performances. And those colours! I kept looking at those red flowers the 'the Master' described as 'pretty flowers.' They look like Poinsettia or Amaranthus Summer Poinsettia. And there was more traditional sounding Japanese music in the theater scenes and others. I almost wanted a sake, and I never have liked it...because the wife's tiny steps to heat it were so perfect. The ending was completely unique for me. Well, thanks again, as I don't think I'd have ever seen it. (especially since I thought I'd already seen it, and hadn't.)

I'm so annoyed I turned it back in, not knowing I was going to post anything. But it's: annotated by Richard Ellis and Christine Du Boulay. It's a very small little text, and I didn't think that the pictures of the dancers in formations were on any kind of staff that I recognized from music, it would just show the formation for 4 bars of music, alongside it a written description of 'kneeling' and then 'rising' and bringing the garlands overhead, etc., but I have no idea what I am talking about. The 'Beginner Dance Notation' was in 2 parts, Benesh and Labanotation, but since I've got to put this off till later, I only looked at a few symbols for pirouettes, etc. I see you mentioned Benesh, which I took about 5 minutes on for now, but Stepanov I hadn't heard of. Anyway, I saw no staff in the actual SB Waltz notation. I hope you or someone else can enlighten me based on this sketchy little description.

These are all revelations. The SB scores, all in Russian with a few French translations (as 'Fleur de Farine') are from 1952. the same-format SL scores are from 1958. These are beautiful old things and worth looking at even if you don't read music. The SB scores are much more straightforward and with fewer cuts, at least to the RB (1994) video I used them with. They are in 4 volumes, hardcover, and I am surprised Perf. Arts Library lends them out--there is only one complete copy of each full ballet. SL (in 2 volumes here) is much more difficult to follow (I used Makarova SL with Schaufuss and Hart), as the Black Swan pas de deux is in the first volume, long before the First Act pdd. I haven't gone through it but once, and not into the 3rd act. Very enjoyable. There's a beginning dance notation I looked at so I could see what it was like. Complicated but probably not that difficult for dancers, and maybe very devoted non-dancers. Also took a look at the single Petipa dance notation score I could find--of 'The Waltz' from SB. I coudn't follow it after the first 4 bars, but it would one of the ones you could work on to see what these diagrams mean, because there are verbal descriptions of the 'garlands' being waved all the way through, and there are these geometric pictures of the dancers at given points. Fascinating stuff to look at and maybe pursue further later.

I just saw that David Howard's 'Ballet class: Intermediate-Advanced' is still available. I haven't seen it, but it might be of some interest.

I got the titles confused, but thanks for bringing it up, because it's very worthwhile and I doubt I'd have ever seen it. A black and white Japanese film I saw sometime in the last year from the 50's, I believe, but wasn't paying close attention to was what I thought 'floating Weeds' was: It had to do with various rackets, money for a son's tuition, some prostitution and homosexuality in the characters, too. But I just can't figure out what it was--more tragic sort of thing and there were a lot of fights between the petty criminal man and one of the women, and perhaps more than one, not sure. This film is very interesting and is also first time I hear westernized Japanese film score--in first half the background stuff has mandolin and/or accordion sounds that reminded me of 'Cinema Paradiso' and even vaguely of 'Rome Adventure,' but this may have been frequent. I know little of Japanese cinema, probably having seen 15 or 20 classics once or twice each, but I had always thought I heard a more classical Japanese music in them.

Fantastic. I had no idea, of course, and that must be what (or part of what) I am seeing in Nureyev in 'Le Corsaire' and Baryshnikov recently in the old 'Carmen' video with Zizi Jeanmaire. [Added later: I think I must have seen Baryshnikov do his mid-air suspension in Tchaikovsky Pas de Deux on Balachine tape with McBride. Don't think it could have been in 'Carmen,' but I saw them close together.]

Along the lines of the English wives, I like Nancy Mitford's 'Madame de Pompadour', who was inevitably political even if French and not married to Louis XV. Saint-Simon's 'the Age of Magnificence' is terrific for the real scathing thing on Louis XIV, and the one Proust always refers to in 'Recherches.' (Much more objective than Olivier Bernier's lectures and books, which veer toward the extremely superficial except when they stay on the subject of silver furniture and gardens, etc.)

That's definitely true of musicians, and if there's real conscious awareness of the process of gaining technique, there can even be long periods of being out of shape and then getting back into shape, even though this can take weeks or months to fully regain. However, it would not be possible to regain it at all after a long period of inactivity or after a certain age were not the muscle memory already well-registered. This is not advisable, as it is better to stay in practice, but I have had periods in which I simply had to do other things, and was even surprised when it begins to come back. I don't know if this would be the case if one had learned to play an instrument but with technical instruction that was somewhat vague and often depended almost exclusively on a natural physical gift (but it usually would, I think). In any case, it's even more muscles in dance, but they're muscles so I suppose it has to work along the same lines. There are special virtuoso things that require some constant attention to, as with distant leaps where there is an element of chance involved, but after technique is developed, you get a feel even for means to get to that point at which you can put a lot of it on 'automatic,' and you need to, or you can't be involved in the music and be expressive. That would have to be true of the dancer, I'd think, because you couldn't keep thinking of 'how I must do this pirouette' while doing them as a role without it just looking academic. Any physical performer has to (mostly) forget about the technique in an actual performance and become what the work's artistic demands dictate. I warm up with some of the easier Bach 'Preludes and Fugues' instead of scales and arpeggios, etc., or mechanical exercises, and this can work very well for practising alone. I think that part would be different, though, because dance class is a definite ritual in itself, and the various participants can't just go off on their own when there are so many others working there and a teacher directing them.

I agree about Leigh, but the film itself is maybe not great, but extremely rich, with Signoret also a fantastic non-hysterical morphine addict ministered to ever-so-sensitively by Oskar Werner and other great assorted characters

Bart--Thanks so much for bringing Ananiashvili up, because I now just watched through the Perm State Ballet production, and she is indeed electrifying. I can't say I love everything about this production the way I do about the Bolshoi one with Bessmertnova, because I don't like all that much about any of this except Ananiashvili. I still miss the waltz for Black Swan music that is usually played. This is the second time I know of (Nureyev/Fonteyn 1966 is other one) where it's not used, but now I should be able to watch the 'Don Quixote' with her shortly as well. Richard53dog--You mentioned you have several videos with her. What are they and how do they compare with this one? I get the impression of voluptuousness and lightness at the same time when I watch her--something I've seen only once or twice before (and not usually the ballerina either.)

Helene--and it could only happen in such 'cruel and unusual' circumstances. Made me remember Arlene Croce's piece 'Farrell and Farrellism', in which attempts were made on Karin Von Aroldingen (and perhaps others) to remedy the sense of lack during Farrell's Bejart sojourn. However, I thought Ms. Croce went a little far in her assessments of Ms. Aroldingen's talents, which she thought limited, unless she was referring the attempt to 'farrellize' her. I thought Von Aroldingen could be very haunting and moving and was an especially sensitive artist, so my guess is that that occurred as a result of that difficult period.

I understand your point, and consider it to be 100% incorrect regarding the pianists or instrumentalists, no matter how closely they resemble each other--try to test a NYCB audience without opera glasses in the 4th ring who don't know much about the dancers, and you would have found in the 80's that most would be lucky they could pick out Suzanne Farrell--and only because of her height and because they knew which role she was doing (if they didn't, they still might not). Let them describe in perfect detail why it was Maria Calegari or Heather Watts without knowing they were dancing that night. And few could make the difference in various Violettas, Mimis, etc., if they just heard on an unidentified recording. They wouldn't have been able to tell the difference between the perfectly schooled Balanchine dancers than most dancers would know how to tell the difference between Andras Schiff and Murray Perahia or Garrick Ohlsson or even Leif Ove Andsnes or Ivo Pogorelich. It is precisely the same to compare a dancer to a singer and to see that while a dancer can be 'musical,' he/she cannot literally sing. Dancers can be musical, but they are never musicians as such, unless they are also musical performers as well (as was Balanchine himself.) A singer is more like an instrumentalist than like a dancer. this is because they are both musicians, not because they can get an artistic 'singing' quality in their art. As for the dancer 'singing,' he is therefore much more like an instrumentalist than a singer, because the pianist or violinist is often cajoled over and over to 'Sing! Sing it!' But he/she is never actually singing in the same sense as a singer is. The dancer and the instrumentalist become 'singerly', but they do not sing. Likewise, the instrumentalist and singer can 'dance' their music, but they dance it in precisely the same way that a dancer or instrumentalist 'sing' theirs. What you've said would only be possible if the pianists were capable of forgeries such as are done in paintings. They would have to make a special project to exclude every ounce of personal expression.

Obviously, delighted to see this thread unearthed. Very different kinds of musicality all through dance and ballet. You can see it in Nureyev's sensitivity and gentleness in 'Les Sylphides,' you can see other kinds in Ghislaine Thesmar in the wonderful old tape of 'La Sylphide.' As a musician, it's common enough to be most attracted to Balanchine, and I'm no exception. There were many musical dancers, and Melissa Hayden was one of the most musical. Her remarks in the '6 Balanchine Ballerinas' film are the most articulate I've ever heard on the issue, including about when dancing without the music, the rhythm that is produced and 'heard' even then. As the furthest extension of this 'pure musicality', you find a dancer who can become like another musical instrument of the orchestra itself, just as the prima donna does become the primary instrument of the orchestra in opera (Maria Callas said this perfectly, but I can't remember where), and thus creates a new voice of music him/herself. This is the area in which the Balanchine/Suzanne Farrell collaboration reached a special kind of grandeur, and in this realm I think Farrell is peerless. This goes beyond being expressive and sensitive to the music, and the body vibrates with the music from the orchestra as well as bringing in new dimensions of pulse, carving out new musical shapes, and I think Farrell was the master (of those I've seen), because she was definitely doing this all the time. It is as if you really could see music. Of course, there is then a lesser emphasis on the theatrical aspect, but then that's why there are all sorts of artists and all kinds of dancers. In all of the most musical dancers, though, there is a sense of long line that is exactly parallel to the line that must be drawn through a musical composition, and while a great dancer is not precisely parallel to a great opera singer, since dancing is a 'becoming-music' (even at its pinnacles, it is not literally music, as poetry is not either), whereas the voice is actually music in the literal sense. Martha Graham must have been an astonishingly musical dancer, as her works most certainly are, and Virginie Victoire Mycene is especially musical in a most rare way as the Bride in 'Appalachian Spring.'

If you order carefully and just get water, Cafe Frida on Columbus between 77th and 78th is romantic and delicious Mexican. To keep it in budget category, just order a salad or an entree and no dessert, but I loved the place right before I went to see NYCB sometime back in February. Beautiful lighting and decor; it's a restaurant I'd call neither very expensive nor at all cheap, but definitely not a long walk. Charming service, not that surly sort. Or here's a 9th Avenue update I just found in the Times: March 26, 2006 Good Eating Ninth Avenue: Thinking Outside the Circle Compiled by KRIS ENSMINGER If the Metropolitan Opera season or Jazz at Lincoln Center lures you to the Columbus Circle area, you may be looking for an alternative to the neighborhood's pricier restaurants. These alternatives, along Ninth Avenue in the West 50's, are both satisfying and affordable. EL CENTRO (646)-763-6585; 824 Ninth Avenue (54th Street); $; $25 and Under: 3/15/06. The cheery, kitschy dining room at this new Mexican spot says less "this is a really authentic Mexican place" and more "this is a really fun place to drink margaritas." But the restaurant is worth a visit just for the dishes and drinks that it gets right, like posole, any version of chilaquiles with meat, and ample margaritas. EMPANADA MAMA (212) 698-9008; 763 Ninth Avenue (51st Street); $; $25 and Under: 12/14/05. Empanada Mama has nearly 40 empanadas to choose from. The simple beef filling is available in three casings: fried wheat flour dough, baked wheat flour dough or fried corn flour. Straight-ahead options like chicken, beef and pork are reliable. Dessert empanadas, particularly one stuffed with figs, caramel and cheese, are beyond reproach, but order with great reserve if you want to have appetite enough. NOOK (212) 247-5500; 746 Ninth Avenue (50th Street); $; Article: 5/14/03. This appropriately named cafe has sandwiches, salads and main dishes that wander the globe. Entrées currently include Tuscan chicken breast stuffed with spinach and ricotta cheese and a parmesan sauce, Thai marinated grilled rack of lamb; sashimi peppered tuna; and goulash. ROBERTO PASSON (212) 582-5599; 741 Ninth Avenue (50th Street); $$; Article 5/11/05. This year-old Italian place is named after its chef, a co-owner who was the chef at Le Zie in Chelsea. The menu includes slow-braised rabbit in peppers with kalamata olives, tomato and grilled white polenta; and herb-marinated grilled red snapper with steamed vegetables and cilantro dressing. WHYM (212) 315-0088; 889 Ninth Avenue (58th Street); $$; Article: 1/25/06. This spot (whose name is pronounced whim) offers trendy American fare. Its owners, Evan Kushner and Sean Connolly, own Eatery down the street. The current menu includes wasabi pea-crusted tuna; five-mushroom tortellini; chicken pot pie; and duck ravioli. XING (646) 289-3010; 785 Ninth Avenue (52nd Street); $$; Diner's Journal: 3/18/05, Article: 1/25/06. After renovations, Xing recently reopened with a new look and a new chef, Lulzim Rexhepi, formerly at Kittichai in SoHo. The new menu, more fusion than Chinese, offers dishes like black truffle, galangal and scallion-crusted black cod and wok-fried foie gras.

Interesting observation, with Romeo and Juliet actually conceivable (if we could really know all of the context) as continuing in some fashion, although I'd never thought of it till now. In any case, they didn't betray each other, so they could have loved each other alive as well as dead. That is not true of Antony and Cleopatra, as he could have only come to hate her had they lived, after her ghastly and quite unaristocratic betrayal of him at sea which is chronicled better by Plutarch than Shakespeare (who was strongly and often influenced by Plutarch). One might say he had it coming, and one would be right, but only to a degree. With death, and in such claustrophobic and enclosed circumstances, they may well have been able to experience an enormous surge of 'jouissance' of their own tragedy that makes our own fascination with their story seem pretty limp and garden variety. Then we get to leave it all to Charmion to wrap things up and give Cleopatra's reputation the last word (at least on the premises.)