NYCB Spring 2008: Week 9 (Jun24-29)

[perky]

I respectfully disagree with Carbro regarding the Kyle Froman photo of the ladies laying on the seats in their tutus. This is my favorite of all the photos. I see irony at work in the poses, although I didn't think of jewelry box ballerinas as Carbro did. To me the girls look like offerings laid out to the ballet Gods with the seated girl almost casually looking down at them as if to say "I'm not falling for it". I had no idea that Jerome Robbins quote was attached to the photo, but it makes perfect sense to me.

[DeborahB]

It's no secret that I loved the Dancer's Emergency Fund Evening (warts and all) but I found Joel Lobenthal's review wrong (in many ways), overly harsh,

and filled with a whole lot of silly whining (sorry, SZ. No disrespect intended). I do feel that Alistair Macaulay got it right though. It was also a very well written review.

[Klavier]

I thought that overall these photos were coldly dehumanizing rather than joyfully celebrating the beauty that comes from observing highly skilled ballet dancers. Froman could have taken pictures of the rehearsals for this event and created something more interesting/memorable; imagine dancers with faces and dance movements!

I'm also in agreement with Lobenthal's review in The NYSun.

I haven't yet read Lobenthal, but regarding the photos, "pornographic" seems too strong a word for me. Still, I do think the photos are a bit too self-consciously "arty," and their carefully composed symmetries deprive them of any sense of spontaneity. E.g: parallel to the much-discussed ballerinas photo, he has one in which 24 shirtless men clad solely in tights are shot from above lying on their backs on a marble floor - I can't identify this particular location. And though this pose does not look as agonizing as lying over three seats in the orchestra section, the floor does look cold and uncomfortable. The outer group of 8 are taken with their limbs close to their bodies; the limbs of the inner group of 16 are spread out to look like X's. I can't identify most of the dancers. Whatever else, this photo certainly minimizes the dancers' individualities and makes them look more like elements in a design. And elements of a design, rather than strong individuality, is what one senses in many large ensembles in ballet, such as the conclusion of Symphony in C. The question is whether this use of photography undermines Froman's apparent attempt to make us think of the dancers as people - which he does very successfully through both words and pictures in his published book.

[DeborahB]

I'm so glad that you liked Kyle Froman's book, Klavier. I did too!

I do think that he was going for something different (i.e. not about the personalities/individuals per se) with these

photos. That said, I do think it's wonderful -- and good for his potential career after he retires someday (although I hope they bring back "Slaughter" soon so that we can see Kyle tap dance again. He's such a good hoofer. Also, think of all the new "striptease" girls that might fit the bill now. I think there are quite a few in the company) -- that his work has elicited so much discussion.

[AmandaNYC]

The first Dancers' Emergency Fund program was held on February 24, 1985. There were a total of ten, held annually, the last in 1994. In his speech, the Ballet Master in Chief said they'd been money-losers. I don't quite understand the full meaning of this, but would assume that it did NOT mean that each resulted in a DROP in funds available for dancers.

At least the last few held after I started attending NYCB perfs were on Sunday nights, in place of the 7pm perf (back when there was a 1pm and 7pm perf on Sundays). I'd say that would be the worst time for a dance event, and the timing was probably one of the reasons they didn't fill the theaters then (at least they weren't full when I went). It's one thing to have the Balanchine Celebration final event last hours upon hours into a Sunday night; it's another to have a random grouping of excerpts-- without the sexiness of 'dancer's choice' at that time.

As for the Froman photos-- I haven't 'thought' much about them until now, and had simply gone with my gut reaction, which was that they were really cool. I believe I read somewhere that the girls in the orchestra were supposed to have the effect like they were rippling down the seats. Can't say I perceived it that way, but I just thought all of the photos were fun-- a different way of seeing the dancers. While some may perceive the girls/orchestra photo and quote as against each other, some could also say it was ironic. Froman commented how he wanted to show how the dancers are inseparable from the theater, they are a foundation and part of it. I went with that in looking at all the photos.

-amanda

[Dale]

I agree with Amanda. I thought the photos are really cool. Like Amanda, I saw the photos in light of the concept. I feel there's room for all types of photographs of dancers: rehearsal, performance, posed etc... A recent trend has been to show dancers as athletes, in all their sweat and grimaces, bloody toes and bandaged feet and all that. Quite frankly, I'm bored of that now. And I'm glad the giveaway was not just more Paul Kolnik photos we see everywhere.

[Klavier]

I think that Goldberg --- which I love - could be shortening by a good 15 minutes. I thought that when I first saw it decades ago too)

The problem, though, is that it really can’t. Bach wrote the Goldbergs as 30 variations on a theme that is of course heard both at the beginning and the end of the work, and each of the variations is in two sections that are both repeated. Bach did not conceive the GV for public performance, and it was not played complete until the early 19th century, at which time, ETA Hoffmann records, only one person stayed through to the end. Today pianists have three options: take none of the repeats (as Glenn Gould does in his 1955 recording, which weighs in at 38 minutes), take repeats selectively (as Gould did in his 1981 remake, about 51 minutes), or take them all, which makes for a long work of about 80 minutes – just right for a full-length piano recital, as Murray Perahia did at Avery Fisher about 10 years ago. This gives each variation a 4-part structure: AABB.

Amanda Vaill says in her biography that Robbins took all the repeats, but that was not exactly true at Sunday’s matinee: #16, the Overture starting Part II, had no repeats; #25, the long slow adagio pas de deux, was played without repeats; and so was the restatement of the theme. I think, but am not positive, that #27, the last of the canons, was also cut, so that following the pas de deux we get three virtuoso variations keeping the momentum going until the finale Quodlibet. Whether Robbins choreographed all the repeated sections originally I can’t say; if so, #25 would have been about 8-9 minutes long in itself.

But to come around to my point, in deciding to keep all or most of the repeats, Robbins set himself the challenge of finding contrasting but complementary variants for each of the repeated sections. For example in #13, the Adagio quartet near the end of Part I, AAB conclude with the two sets of partners in close position at the middle of the stage, where the repetition of B finds them exiting in open position at the four corners of the stage. There are probably many moments of this type, and it would take a recording to let me sit down and analyze all the permutations. At the same time, Robbins continually reveals himself listening to Bach and responding musically: the little four-part fugue #10 is set as a quartet of boys imitating each other, with amusing leapfrog rollovers; the fast little trills of #14 have Adam Hendrickson (in a superb performance) jumping with little beats; in the canon at the sixth, #18, Wendy Whelan and Ben Millipied are seen in playful hip waggling to mirror the imitative texture of the music. The most exhilarating section, however, is the final Quodlibet, variation 30, which Robbins treats as the climax of the work before it dissolves into the repetition of the theme. Here, in this mixture of several folksongs, Robbins brings back his entire cast in splendid 18th-century costume, and finds all kinds of complex group movements before ending in a diagonal tableau at the final cadence. I have seen this work only twice, once three years ago, and this moment was as stunning now as it was then.

GV is such an ensemble piece that it’s hard to single out any one dancer. But as a musically inclined person I must offer some mixed reactions to Cameron Grant’s pianism. Anyone who knows this music first-hand knows it requires extreme virtuosity. The obvious rapid figuration is only part of it; however, the real technical difficulty comes with mastering the numerous passages that call for intricate hand-crossing. This is more a problem for the piano than for Bach’s original harpsichord, as he expected a 2-manual keyboard where the hand-crossings would not have been an issue. It is playable on the piano all the same, and anyone who can master it technically deserves applause. Grant was more than equal to the technical demands, but tempos in a number of the variations, such as #15, the slow movement in G minor, tended to be quite slow, and I don’t know if this is what Robbins wanted or what Grant worked out with the dancers. But even that wouldn’t have been a problem had Grant found more dynamic inflection in the music. Playing the same Kawai grand on which Richard Moredock two nights ago had banged out Chopin’s B minor scherzo, Grant’s tone was infinitely more refined; but in the more emotional slow variations he did little more than competently play the notes. As many modern recordings will demonstrate, there’s a lot more to say with this music.

Following intermission (at last! some no doubt thought), we had the Brahms Handel Variations in Edmund Rubbra’s dreadful, unidiomatic orchestration. This Robbins-Tharp effort looked promising at first, with a striking blue background and exciting blue costumes. And then exciting green costumes. I could have lived without it. Compared to the mature mastery of the Goldbergs, the whole thing looked unsettled. The set and costumes grew tiresome after a while. Once the Green Team entered carrying Wendy Whelan aloft, I just turned off and wished I had left at the break, with only the memory of Bach’s glorious music and Robbins’s glorious choreography to take with me into the rain.

[carbro]

I was at Sunday's performance, too. I am not a great fan of Goldberg, although I understand why the ballet is admired by others. I find Robbins pompous in places, and while I acknowledge the fact that I go to the theater in order to be manipulated, I don't like to be aware of the manipulation as its happening. Goldberg shows me just how I'm being handled. I was interested in seeing if my memory (vague and fading fast) of Brahms-Handel still held. Well, yes and no, which I'll get to in a bit.

Whose inspiration was it to pair Goldberg Variations with Brahms-Handel? For starters, the start of the second ballet looks like a continuation of the earlier one. And then there's the music. What did we get? Two themes and how many variations?

Back to B-H, the finale is quite thrilling, but oh, what a hodgepodge until then , relieved only by Ashley Bouder's next entrance.

While I'm here, let me add a few words about Sat Mat (slowly but surely catching up), a quartet of wonderful ballets (all by B'chine) that, again, didn't qutie gel as a program. Mozartiana suffered from a sluggish Theme & Variations section (the doing of guest condutor Andrews Sill?). Le Tombeau de Couperin, a ballet seen too rarely and then usually underrehearsed, sparkled. Megan Fairchild and Joaquin deLuz continue to deepen their interpretations of Divertimento from Le Baiser de la Fee. It was a deeply rewarding performance.

Then came La Sonnambula, which also ends sadly. I would have preferred this ballet to be preceded by something with a less somber ending. For -- how many years? -- I have strenuously avoided Yvonne Borree's Sleepwalker? On Sunday, her Sleepwalker had nothing -- nothing -- to apologize for. She was musical, appropriately oblivious, and fascinating. Sebastien Marcovici managed not to elicit the dreaded audience giggles during the central pas. The principal cast was completed by Amar Ramasar, a subtly sinister Baron, and Sara Mearns who was a perfect Coquette, -- just alluring enough.

More later.

[EAW]

I want to second the take on Saturday afternoon's program. The one dud was Mozartiana - not, in my opinion, because of the conductor but because of underperformed leading roles. Wendy Whelan is not convincing or beautiful in the huge ballerina part, and Daniel Ulbricht is sketchy at best in the marvelous Gigue. Tombeau was danced with great care, did sparkle, and grows more and more touching over time. Baiser, too, was moving, and I think this is the best thing Megan Fairchild has ever done. I agree that Yvonne Borree was unobjectionable as the Sleepwalker, and the ballet as a whole made its proper impact. This was not one of those programs that made me leave the theater with little more than sad wishes for the "good old days."

[DeborahB]

With all due respect, Klavier, of course Goldberg could have been shortened (and I've read Amanda's and all the other Jerry bios). There are always ways to edit music/dance. I am not only a pianist (of over 35 years) but have an advanced degree in music (although it's not my profession now). I am quite familiar with most of the great composers (and some not so great. I am, however, sorely lacking in information about most jazz composers since jazz is not my thing) so I do feel like I have a bit of a leg to stand on here.

I also thought that Cameron Grant played the piece beautifully.

But again, to each his own -- that's what makes art so wonderful to watch and discuss.

And other notes: I thought Wendy Whelan was lovely and beautiful in Mozartiana (not my favorite ballet though).

Yvonne Borree broke my heart as the Sleepwalker. I don't think she could have been better. She almost made me forget about Wendy (and Nicolaj)

and all the other great ballerinas in that role.

Brahms-Handel -- it was fun seeing it (as I hadn't seen it since it's premier) the first time. The second time it was "when is this going to be over?"

But I confess that I am not a Tharp fan (at all) so it may be that I can't see what's "good" about the ballet.

[Klavier]

With all due respect, Klavier, of course Goldberg could have been shortened (and I've read Amanda's and all the other Jerry bios). There are always ways to edit music/dance. I am not only a pianist (of over 35 years) but have an advanced degree in music (although it's not my profession now). I am quite familiar with most of the great composers (and some not so great. I am, however, sorely lacking in information about most jazz composers since jazz is not my thing) so I do feel like I have a bit of a leg to stand on here.

I also thought that Cameron Grant played the piece beautifully.

The beauty of his playing was not in doubt.

But in regards to "shortening" the Goldbergs, are you suggesting that Robbins should have done so, or that Robbins's completed work should now be edited? And if either of these is the case, exactly how and where? Or is the problem with Bach's original structure, in your opinion? Since you are a pianist, I expect you know that Bach created a highly symmetrical structure in the GV - theme; 30 variations divided into two sections of 15 each, and 10 groups of three variations following the pattern of virtuoso toccata, free form piece, and canon. What could be sacrificed without violating the symmetries Bach wrote into the music?

[DeborahB]

Oh no! I would never even suggest editing this, or any other masterwork, after the fact. I just think it should have been done at the time.

As for the rest of your questions, I'd prefer not to get into this as it's would be time consuming to explain in the details it would deserve (and I have a demanding full time job, and it's my busy season). However, I'd just like to respectfully disagree with you (if that's okay).

I do enjoy your posts a lot though! They always give me something to think about.

[DeborahB]

Then again, Mr. B. did edit, didn't he? Of course, he edited himself.

[kfw]

Klavier, thank you very much for your thoughtful and informative analysis of the Goldberg Variations, both as music and as choreography. Your comments made me feel like I'd seen part of the performance, and if I ever have the chance to see the ballet again, I'll reread them beforehand.

[Kathleen O'Connell]

I’ve always been partial to Arlene Croce’s observation that she’d like to see Goldberg cut by fifteen minutes, but not the same fifteen minutes each time. I’m not a fan of slicing and dicing music that’s best understood as a whole, and really object to the current enthusiasm for re-assembling snippets of suites and concerti by different composers into the equivalent of a 20 minute set on MTV Baroque, but Balanchine and Robbins did some version of both themselves (e.g., Scotch Symphony, Midsummer Night’s Dream, Square Dance, Brandenburg), so I wouldn’t be inclined to take a genius to the mat over it. (I might be a bit more insistent when it comes to observing the repeats, however, since I think they’re structurally important to the excerpt itself.) And I do think that there are some works that editing won't hurt, and might even help. (Harliquenade - we don't really need every note of Drigo's score ...)

Re The Goldberg Variations: the composition is certainly a conceptual whole, but I’m not sure that it is actually heard that way by most people (and Bach didn’t write it to be played in its entirety as concert music in any event). If you didn’t tell your average ballet-goer that TGV was one composition by a single composer, would they be able to work it out for themselves? Would presenting the audience with 45 minutes of excerpts instead of the whole thing represent some sort of wholesale violation of the work’s integrity, even if the audience couldn’t tell the difference? If so, is TGV the kind of composition that can generate a coherent ballet of an hour plus in duration – i.e., should a choreographer even try? I like Goldberg well enough and sit through it cheerfully whenever it pops up in my subscription (as Klavier has pointed out, the work is full of lovely, perceptive detail), but to me it’s two different ballets held together by a costume gimmick. I have a pretty decent foundation in music theory (for an amateur), practice almost every day, and spend a lot of time listening to music in a concert setting (i.e., actually paying attention to it without distractions) and yet I still can’t really take in TGV as a single composition in one sitting, even when I work hard to do so – nor does Robbins’ choreography help me hold the piece together in my mind over that long arc. Robbins may have allowed his reverence for TGV as composition to take precedence over what he could control as a choreographer and what his audience could really absorb. He apparently had no such reverence for the Brandenburg Concertos – but to me, chopping up a baroque concerto, which does have a well-defined structure and was meant to be heard as a whole, is a worse offense. So I guess what I’m saying is that if one insists that TGV is the kind of composition that must be heard in its entirety, than a ballet to TGV ought to reinforce the integrity of the whole and be perceived as a fully integrated whole itself – and for me at least Goldberg doesn’t quite get there. Trimming music that doesn't need to be heard in its entirety to get a ballet that works as a unified whole might have been the better course to follow. But I'm still glad we have Goldberg, anyway.

I give Cameron Grant full marks for getting through the whole of TGV respectably at tempos that were likely not his choice, but the brass section at Saturday evening's performance of Brahms-Handel should have been taken out at dawn and shot as an example for the woodwinds.

[Klavier]

1) I’ve always been partial to Arlene Croce’s observation that she’d like to see Goldberg cut by fifteen minutes, but not the same fifteen minutes each time... And I do think that there are some works that editing won't hurt, and might even help. (Harliquenade - we don't really need every note of Drigo's score ...)

2) Re The Goldberg Variations: the composition is certainly a conceptual whole, but I’m not sure that it is actually heard that way by most people (and Bach didn’t write it to be played in its entirety as concert music in any event). If you didn’t tell your average ballet-goer that TGV was one composition by a single composer, would they be able to work it out for themselves? Would presenting the audience with 45 minutes of excerpts instead of the whole thing represent some sort of wholesale violation of the work’s integrity, even if the audience couldn’t tell the difference?

3) I give Cameron Grant full marks for getting through the whole of TGV respectably at tempos that were likely not his choice, but the brass section at Saturday evening's performance of Brahms-Handel should have been taken out at dawn and shot as an example for the woodwinds.

1) Croce's point, it seems to me, is quite different from your point about Harlequinade. There's a difference between saying that there are dead or weak spots that can be cut from a score in a particular production, and saying that the work just feels long and perhaps any 15 minutes could be trimmed from a performance, but not the same 15 minutes each time. Yes, it's long, but the point I've been trying to make is that while Robbins could have followed Glenn Gould and set the whole thing at about 40 minutes without repeats, the use of repeats is integral to his conception, as he invariably sets each of the repeated sections to different choreography. And so while we're hearing AABB in each variation, we're simultaneously seeing something like ABCD, thus creating a very interesting counterpoint between dance and music. (I think I've given my answer to your point about the work's integrity just now.)

2) What an audience can or can't tell varies enormously among audience members. I'm sure that many people posting here with decades of ballet experience can see aspects of performance that elude me; in turn, having 30+ years of experience listening to the GV has given me a perspective others may not have. Could most spectators discern that this was a single work by a single composer? I think so, as each variation is in the same key and maintains the overall phrase structure of the theme. If one feels negatively about the work, you might consider it monotonous; if you do respond to it, you sense an overall cumulative momentum that takes place over the long span of the composition. One starts to sense the repeated binary construction of each variation, and if another pattern were to be interpolated, like a minuet-trio-minuet, I think it would be immediately sensed as foreign to the basic pattern and style of the work. And I think it fairly easy to discern that some of the variations are brilliant virtuosic pieces, some are imitative (canons and fugues), some are slow expressive arias - and the most expressive aria of all comes in #25, which Robbins naturally set as a pas de deux for the most mature female and male dancers. Of course, the more familiar one is with the GV, the more these characteristics will become obvious. But that's true of any work of art.

3) Please don't get me wrong. Cameron Grant is a very capable pianist, possibly the best piano soloist at NYCB. I've heard him do better (e.g., the Bartok 3rd in Evenfall). He was very effective in the many highly animated portions of the work. Where he fell short in my opinion was in the more expressive slower sections, where I heard very little of the inflection and phrasing that some other performers have brought to this music. Try for instance Charles Rosen's recording for a very different experience of #25; inexpensive used copies of his version are easy to find on Amazon.

[drb]

...I hope the company decides to add the other video -- the one of the dancers as children.

Your wish is their command--here it is!!!

http://www.youtube.com/user/newyorkcityballet