popularlibrary

It seems to me that some of this discussion misses a couple of basic points. Since the infamous 32 were not choreographed by Petipa, but added to suit the virtuosity (and maybe the dramatic ideas) of a particular ballerina, we are not dealing with something written in stone. Let's face it, even much of the genuine Petipa choreography that survives isn't written in stone from one production to another, or why are companies still doing Chaboukiani's Bayadere instead of Petipa's. The situation strikes me as similar to the matter of vocal decoration and improvisation in 18th and early 19th century bel canto opera. It was part of the singer's skill set to be able to provide virtuostic embellishments, and one singer was not bound by what another did, though of course a particularly skillful piece of decoration would be copied by more than one singer. The 32 (or whatever) fouettes were added by a dancer and I would think they can be changed by a dancer with a better or more personally effective notion to substitute. If they've become tradition, I'm not sure it isn't because too many dancers have let themselves be lazy or unimaginative. Then, of course, there's the question of the music now used itself, which wasn't intended for the Odile/Siegfried pas de deux. For one thing, as Alastair Macaulay has pointed out, the music isn't especially suited to the 32 whirls. So - do we ask for the music Tchaikovsky actually wrote to be restored (isn't it the music now used for Balanchine's Tchaikovsky Pas de Deux?), which would more or less put an end to 32 anything, or accept that with all the various substitutions in score and choreography, the rather unmusical fouettes can give way to other possibilities? It gives one furiously to think, as someone or other once said.

I did write about Tony Blum dropping Maria Tallchief during Scotch Symphony on the thread for Gorey's Lavender Leotard, but I think my favorite disaster happened during the Tchaikovsky Pas de Deux around 1970 or so at the NYCB. The scheduled cast was McBride and Villella, but Villella, who was having a lot of physical problems in those days, was injured and couldn't dance. Jean-Pierre Bonnefous (as he was listed then) had just joined the company and in the grand tradition of let's throw them to the wolves, was told to go on sans rehearsal, with fiancee McBride. While somewhat awkward, they got though it until the final catches. Then McBride launched herself through the air, Bonnefous reached out to catch her - and she went right through his circled arms and landed upside down on her hands and dangled there while he grabbed frantically at her feet. I think we all just did the usual o-o-o-o-w!! that accompanies such disasters while she got herself upright, refrained from socking him, and they managed to finish the ballet. Talk about baptism by fire! However, the engagement remained unbroken and they even danced together again, pretty well, too.

Thanks so much! If you have the time. popularlibrary, to write out the order of the clips I would really appreciate it. Happy to. The easiest way is to give you the time for each part: part one - 3:22 part two - 4:40 part three - 3:37 part four - 1:26 part five - 1:51 part six - 2:55

I'm almost finished with the book, and have found it fascinating. One of the things I most admire about it is Kavanagh's ability to place Nureyev in context. Using his own personal identification with Byron, she manages to show that Nureyev's importance, like Byron's, was less as an individual great artist than as a cultural and artistic force who upended received ideas, broke through over-consticting conventions and remade a generation's ideas of art and culture. Like Byron, he suffered a bad childhood, came to sudden and disorienting fame, exploded an entirely new way of seeing things that built on the best of the old, and redeemed his chaotic life by re-invigorating a foundational culture - the Paris Opera Ballet instead of Ottoman-occupied Greece - that needed to be freed of corruption. She never pushes any of this too far, but the parallels are certainly there. Instead of indulging in moralistic judgments or the tiresome psychobabble that disfigure so many biographies of great figures, she tries to see his behavior whole, as part of the total force he was. The lack of preaching allows the facts to speak for themselves all the more powerfully. His awfulness was part of his greatness, part of how he functioned - something that many of the people who put up with his frequently appalling behavior recognized. Nor does she glorify him - he doesn't need it. I think it's a fine piece of work. While re-inforcing my own decidedly mixed memories of him on stage, she also greatly expands my understanding of who he was and what he accomplished, and at what cost to himself and everyone around him.

Is "Songs of a Wayfarer" available on dvd or vhs? Either with Nureyev or Hilaire and Legris? If you are willing to put up with hideous amateur photography that constantly goes in and out of focus, and the ballet being in six pieces, YouTube has a nearly complete performance of Le Chanson du Compagnon Errant with Hilaire and Legris from the 2007 Moscow Prix Benois Gala. Look under 'Benois de la dance' - and make sure you get all six pieces. If you are interested, I can tell you what order the pieces go in. (It is possible to figure it out, but time-consuming.) Personally, I think the performance (as opposed to the ballet itself) is worth every bit of the inconvenience. These are two of the greatest dancers of the past couple of generations giving performances of majestic power, subtlety and beauty. They are a lesson in great art, and not to be missed, especially as Hilaire is now retired and Legris will be by next July.

I was in the theater for the NYCB performance that got the tosses removed from Scotch Symphony. Unfortunately, I don't remember the year (early 60s), but the cast was Tallchief and Anthony Blum. The boys threw her and Blum missed, sending the two of them tumbling down in a heap of tulle and tartan on the stage. The tosses were forthwith removed from the ballet, not to return while I was still going (up to the mid-70s). No one was hurt, as I remember, but for sheer embarassing awkwardness, it was a special moment.