(I've seen about seven performances since I last posted. Will try to whittle at backlog. Nothing to do until TSFB next performs anyways.)
Russian National Ballet Theatre
Chopiniana/Romeo and Juliet
18 January 2011
Tryon Festival Theater, Krannert Center for the Performing Arts
Orchestra Row R, Seat 6
Chopiniana
(lead couple: Marianna Tchemalina and Ruslan Mukhambetkaliev)
From what I saw of this program (mishaps - both weather and a fundamental inability to keep time), it was a rather politely danced program. It was academically sound but pallid. Where is the mystery? Mukhambetkaliev tried for bravura (in a ballet blanc?) and Tchemalina projected beauty. They danced well separately but together gave the impression that they were dancing two different ballets. The corp couldn't decide whether they were grabbing ears or chins as they indicated the necessary port de bras with their fingers.
Romeo and Juliet
music from the Tchaikovsky suite
choreographed by Elena Radchenko
Juliet: Ekaterina Egorova
Romeo: Dmitri Schemelinin
I couldn't bring myself to write an actual review, so here's what happened in my head during the performance, more or less.
(Tableau for the Capulets)
Juliet: Oh woe, oh arabesque en attitude, oh parents.
(Tableau for the Montagues)
Romeo: I'm too cool to have parents, just a posse.
lighting technicians: Let's play with the red colored gels!
(Scene opens upon the party at the Capulets)
Paris (Samat Abdrakhmanov): My hat is substantially bigger than my head.
(A bunch of poorly masked people burst in - Mercutio taunts everyone and is quickly found out. For some reason not made clear on stage, they are allowed to stay. General revelry ensues. Somewhere in here Juliet wanders onto the stage with her girlfriends, sees Romeo, falls in love very quickly. I think there was a love duet but I may have fallen asleep during it. Suddenly Tibault becomes angry. He seems a very volatile fellow. He and Mercutio fight. Predictably, Mercutio dies.)
Lady Capulet: I have taken off my fake curls and will now perform the Mad Scene from Giselle. Oh whiplash. Ow.
(Romeo finishes the job, looks confused but then appropriately devastated. Gives solo in front of the curtains that involves much bravura jumping. Suddenly realizes that it is not a good idea to linger and runs away Somewhere)
Scene 2:
(Romeo bursts into Juliet's room. Juliet greets him joyfully. They roll around on the floor. No, really, they Roll Around on the Floor.)
Parents Capulet: Oh good morning there, Paris will marry you!
Juliet: Um, okay. Oh, wait a minute. No. NO!
Parents Capulet: Death by drawing and quartering! Well, this is a family performance, so we'll just drag you around the floor for a while.
Juliet: Heave, Cry, Woe. (Parents stomp off stage, nearly treading on each other's hems in the process.)
(Suddenly a Robed Man appears behind a colored window, waves his arms and makes the cross several times)
me: Didn't anyone ever tell you not to take unidentified bottles from strange men?!
(Romeo wanders in again, sees Juliet prone on the floor, pointedly not rolling around this time.)
Him: (in the style of teenagers everywhere) OH NOES.
(Suddenly women wearing translucent curtains wander in en pointe. This wakes up Your Critic in a cloud of befuddlement. Apparently he is now reliving their very short Acquaintance. It was a very fondly remembered time with lots of lifts. They exeunt, pursued by no bears.)
Romeo: I fumble around my back for MY poison!
(He drinks and he dies. Juliet wakes up.)
Juliet: I'm alive!
(She makes a circuit around the stage before realizing that Romeo is prone directly behind where she had been sleeping.)
Juliet: (gasp) Romeo! You're not dead! (picks up an arm) You are!
Romeo: (FLOPS audibly on stage)
Your critic: (completely loses her composure into her elbow)
Juliet: Oh well. (stabs self and Dies)
(Your Critic manages not to kill herself on the performing center's steps afterwards and staggers home to write this Account of Events.)
28 January 2011
24 March 2010
Suzanne Farrell Ballet, 6 March 2010
(My notes for the evening's program are less precise. For some reason, I was given a program to the Mariinsky Opera's production of War and Peace and not to the ballet, so I have no idea of the substitutions, particularly as the distance of my seat made it difficult to see faces. Please correct me if I am wrong, horribly or otherwise.)
Haieff/Faun/Midsummer/Apollo
6 March 2010, 7:30 PM
Eisenhower Theater, Kennedy Center
Orchestra X107
While I consider Row R in the Eisenhower Theater a perfect fit in height and distance from the dancers, Row X was also acceptably wonderful. The overhanging promenade compressed my view of the stage, but the additional rise at X made it easier to observe spatial depth between different layers of choreography.
Haieff Divertimento, on its own merits, is not a strong opening to the evening's program. For that matter, it is not particularly a masterpiece. The music meanders in subtle undulations, the choreography seems to squeeze unfinished segments of familiar ballets together, and the ending comes as a bit of surprise (what, already? what happened?). I think at intermission I mentioned to Jack that it seemed like a doodle, albeit one that we gladly pay to see!
Four couples in minty turquoise frame a lone cavalier in white as he tries to fill a couple's role by himself. It's an interesting conceit - man without woman trying to fill the place of two, but he doesn't quite know what is missing. Henning looked uncertain in this opening section, and I wasn't sure whether this was due to personal choice or choreography but am inclined to think the latter.
The two dance an idiosyncratic duet, replete with pawing motions of the feet, lightbulb hands from Apollo, and a whole section that seemed lifted from 4Ts. Holowchuk's solo was beautifully soft, that is, what I could discern of it in the mid-to-late evening lighting. The finale would have worked more effectively had I a better idea of what solo contribution Woman (or at least Holowchuck) brought to this gathering. Henning seemed genuinely startled when his girl spun away from him and jetéd off for parts and peoples unknown. Don't go, he seemed to say, I know what I'm missing now.
Faun was danced by Michael Cook and Natalia Magnicaballi this evening. The changed partnership presented a completely different character than the Mladenov/Magnicaballi pairing at the matinee. Cook was a youthful Faun, still searching out and testing the boundaries of his domain. Unlike this afternoon, Magnicaballi entered quietly, almost apprehensively, in anticipation of the strange unfinished creature that she would find within.
The entire performance projected a youthful innocence about their fascination with the mirrors that suggested that, with time and experience, their narcissism may yet be mastered by their mutual attraction to each other. After the duet and kiss, the Girl exits quietly while Cook's Faun lingers over the experience - they need time and distance to think, but who knows what will happen when we're no longer looking?
Repetition inevitably entails comparison. Cook is a shorter, stockier Faun than Mladenov, and must work harder to achieve clarity in shapes that his technique or inexperience does not yet allow. There could also be more modulation to delineate highs and lows in his performance. Cook draws our attention to the Faun's thinking, his hesitation in deciding how to approach the Girl (or whether he should at all), that Mladenov's near-electric affinity to Magnicaballi obscures.
Another beautiful performance from Angelova and Seymour in the Act II pas de deux. Once again I am prevented from saying more due to the murky lighting.
There was a moment in Apollon Musagete when I chanced to look around and realised that the theater was completely silent for perhaps the first time that evening. What a moment to remember.
The Muses (K Draxton as Calliope, V Angelova as Polyhymnia, N Magnicaballi as Terpischore) gave very musical performances, though there seemed to be some disagreement (sometimes within the same solo) as to whether their depictions should be naturalistic or impressionistic. Draxton in particular seemed indecisive about the source from which her words emanated. Magnicaballi was a very sensitive but subdued Terpsichore, submerging herself in the music. The woman herself was less substantial in character. Angelova ran into a bit of danger in the triple pirouettes to arabesque - she went valiantly after triples but did not always finish cleanly - but her phrasing impressed once again. She took a horrific belly-flop to the floor in Coda - unfortunately amplified by microphones placed in the strings - and looked disoriented as she picked herself up slowly, but rejoined her fellow dancers and finished without a noticeable difference in the quality of her performance.
This was Michael Cook's debut as Apollo and it was clear that he has an idea of how to develop the character. However, he needs to work harder to define levels and shapes with his body. His Apollo in infancy was youthful and wild, and he wasn't able convey character development to a point where either of these qualities were mastered. The Muses give him obeisance but it was clear that their submission was somewhat voluntary. He is called to ascend Mount Olympus, but taking his rightful place will be a challenge. I look forward to seeing what he does with Apollo in the future.
After the performance, Jack remarked that Apollo was 'not bad' for twenty-four year old choreographer. I think I replied that it wasn't a bad effort for a choreographer of any age. Overall, a most satisfactory ballet weekend in DC.
Haieff/Faun/Midsummer/Apollo
6 March 2010, 7:30 PM
Eisenhower Theater, Kennedy Center
Orchestra X107
While I consider Row R in the Eisenhower Theater a perfect fit in height and distance from the dancers, Row X was also acceptably wonderful. The overhanging promenade compressed my view of the stage, but the additional rise at X made it easier to observe spatial depth between different layers of choreography.
Haieff Divertimento, on its own merits, is not a strong opening to the evening's program. For that matter, it is not particularly a masterpiece. The music meanders in subtle undulations, the choreography seems to squeeze unfinished segments of familiar ballets together, and the ending comes as a bit of surprise (what, already? what happened?). I think at intermission I mentioned to Jack that it seemed like a doodle, albeit one that we gladly pay to see!
Four couples in minty turquoise frame a lone cavalier in white as he tries to fill a couple's role by himself. It's an interesting conceit - man without woman trying to fill the place of two, but he doesn't quite know what is missing. Henning looked uncertain in this opening section, and I wasn't sure whether this was due to personal choice or choreography but am inclined to think the latter.
The two dance an idiosyncratic duet, replete with pawing motions of the feet, lightbulb hands from Apollo, and a whole section that seemed lifted from 4Ts. Holowchuk's solo was beautifully soft, that is, what I could discern of it in the mid-to-late evening lighting. The finale would have worked more effectively had I a better idea of what solo contribution Woman (or at least Holowchuck) brought to this gathering. Henning seemed genuinely startled when his girl spun away from him and jetéd off for parts and peoples unknown. Don't go, he seemed to say, I know what I'm missing now.
Faun was danced by Michael Cook and Natalia Magnicaballi this evening. The changed partnership presented a completely different character than the Mladenov/Magnicaballi pairing at the matinee. Cook was a youthful Faun, still searching out and testing the boundaries of his domain. Unlike this afternoon, Magnicaballi entered quietly, almost apprehensively, in anticipation of the strange unfinished creature that she would find within.
The entire performance projected a youthful innocence about their fascination with the mirrors that suggested that, with time and experience, their narcissism may yet be mastered by their mutual attraction to each other. After the duet and kiss, the Girl exits quietly while Cook's Faun lingers over the experience - they need time and distance to think, but who knows what will happen when we're no longer looking?
Repetition inevitably entails comparison. Cook is a shorter, stockier Faun than Mladenov, and must work harder to achieve clarity in shapes that his technique or inexperience does not yet allow. There could also be more modulation to delineate highs and lows in his performance. Cook draws our attention to the Faun's thinking, his hesitation in deciding how to approach the Girl (or whether he should at all), that Mladenov's near-electric affinity to Magnicaballi obscures.
Another beautiful performance from Angelova and Seymour in the Act II pas de deux. Once again I am prevented from saying more due to the murky lighting.
There was a moment in Apollon Musagete when I chanced to look around and realised that the theater was completely silent for perhaps the first time that evening. What a moment to remember.
The Muses (K Draxton as Calliope, V Angelova as Polyhymnia, N Magnicaballi as Terpischore) gave very musical performances, though there seemed to be some disagreement (sometimes within the same solo) as to whether their depictions should be naturalistic or impressionistic. Draxton in particular seemed indecisive about the source from which her words emanated. Magnicaballi was a very sensitive but subdued Terpsichore, submerging herself in the music. The woman herself was less substantial in character. Angelova ran into a bit of danger in the triple pirouettes to arabesque - she went valiantly after triples but did not always finish cleanly - but her phrasing impressed once again. She took a horrific belly-flop to the floor in Coda - unfortunately amplified by microphones placed in the strings - and looked disoriented as she picked herself up slowly, but rejoined her fellow dancers and finished without a noticeable difference in the quality of her performance.
This was Michael Cook's debut as Apollo and it was clear that he has an idea of how to develop the character. However, he needs to work harder to define levels and shapes with his body. His Apollo in infancy was youthful and wild, and he wasn't able convey character development to a point where either of these qualities were mastered. The Muses give him obeisance but it was clear that their submission was somewhat voluntary. He is called to ascend Mount Olympus, but taking his rightful place will be a challenge. I look forward to seeing what he does with Apollo in the future.
After the performance, Jack remarked that Apollo was 'not bad' for twenty-four year old choreographer. I think I replied that it wasn't a bad effort for a choreographer of any age. Overall, a most satisfactory ballet weekend in DC.
23 March 2010
Suzanne Farrell Ballet, 6 March 2010 (matinee)
These are my 'official' reviews for BalletTalk. I will supplement them with less official impressions as time allows.
Donizetti/Faun/Midsummer/Agon
6 March 2010, 1:30 PM
Eisenhower Theater, Kennedy Center
Orchestra R109
I would like to gibber incoherently for a moment at the truly excellent quality of dancing by the company. These dancers seem genuinely happy to be dancing, and that joy permeated their performance and made their steps glow.
Donizetti Variations is a piece that, were I to hear it too many times, would likely incite me to shoot my stereo system. On a faint acquaintance, however, it is merely relentlessly happy and looks as if the Paquita grand pas de deux had been transplanted into Act One of Giselle. The May Queen (Kendra Mitchell) welcomed us to view her courtiers (romanticised peasants all) as they showed off their fine ankles and calves in various permutations of humanity.
Mitchell's May Queen was content to let her court frolic, but her courtiers knew that they celebrated at her sufferance. For those slightly unclear, one good solo soon settled who was boss. In comparison, Michael Cook's performance was less authoritative. The technical demands of his solo looked as if they had defeated him, but his determination to _finish_ reminded me of Albrecht amidst the Willis. The trumpet joke, as Jack noted, was muted, but it worked out fairly well once the audience figured out what was going on.
There's nothing quite like a beautiful set of muscles rippling into awareness as the Faun began his exercises for the day. Mladenov, substituting for Henning, capitalized on his height in every languid stretch and pose, creating stark shapes that resonated in afterimages long after the performance ended. This Faun was clearly and comfortably the ruler of his little domain, but it was clear that he wanted (or anticipated) something unexpected to break up the monotony.
Mirroring Mladenov's anticipation, Magnicaballi carried herself like an unfurled flag. I thought she nearly vibrated with suppressed excitement as she entered the studio, subtly shifting the Faun's fascination from his reflection to the awareness of something 'other' (and similarly beautiful) in those mirrors. Their awareness of each other was like a physical entity keeping them in orbit around each other, which in turn seemed to diminish the initial impact of meeting each other's eyes due to its inevitability. Instead, the real shock was reserved for the moment that they managed to break their study of each other, back to a less complicated admiration of their reflections together. When the Girl finally flees, it seemed like an affirmation, of both rejecting the complication and intensity of being together. Instead the Faun goes back to sleep, content with a faint memory of the girl and the dangerous temptation of kissing.
Violeta Angelova and Ted Seymour substituted for the Act II pas de deux from Midsummer. The choreography is unexpectedly delicate despite the difficult partnering, and seemed to show (with greater feats of trust in each other) that the dancers' affections and destinies are intertwined. I would like to say more, but unfortunately was defeated by the lighting, with whom I was in unwitting competition.
Agon, already difficult musically, was more than a little off in my only viewing this weekend. The trumpet was ahead in the music in spots and the woodwinds' tuning seemed wholly discordant instead of merely dissonant. The first pas de quatre opened with a short definition of open and closed positions and needed greater clarity from synchronisation. Overall the corp gave a very competent performance. The choreography flowed organically though I think some of the shapes (amidst the confusion of limbs) could be, again, better defined.
In the first Pas de Trois, Michael Cook danced on the edge of restraint. If this were a contest then he definitely won in energy but not refinement against Holowchuk and Brandt. In fact this was a recurring theme throughout the two performances that I saw - that he had the _idea_ of execution, but that his performance of it wasn't as clear as his energy alone would allow.
Violeta Angelova shone in the second pas de trois. Her Bransle Gay flowed languidly from one position from another, achieving impossibly etched positions and sharp angles without becoming staccato in her phrasing. The juxtaposition was a great reading of the choreography and marks it as a performance to remember.
Mladenov and Magnicaballi are well-matched in essentials, both being long of limbs and bursting with dance intelligence. They did not dance the pas de deux as a competition in brute strength and flexibility (and given the advances in training over the past fifty years, nor should they), but instead treated it as an challenge in projecting ambiguity. Who dictates the moves? Who decides what comes next?
The pas began as a simple contest between Mladenov and Magnicaballi in asserting dominance, with Magnicaballi willingly - even gladly - losing. But as Magnicaballi is bent into a back attitude against Mladenov's shoulder, she bends just a bit further and presses into his face. Mladenov flinched, as if realizing (with more than a little apprehension) that perhaps his victory had not been as clear-cut nor as desirable as he had thought.
Donizetti/Faun/Midsummer/Agon
6 March 2010, 1:30 PM
Eisenhower Theater, Kennedy Center
Orchestra R109
I would like to gibber incoherently for a moment at the truly excellent quality of dancing by the company. These dancers seem genuinely happy to be dancing, and that joy permeated their performance and made their steps glow.
Donizetti Variations is a piece that, were I to hear it too many times, would likely incite me to shoot my stereo system. On a faint acquaintance, however, it is merely relentlessly happy and looks as if the Paquita grand pas de deux had been transplanted into Act One of Giselle. The May Queen (Kendra Mitchell) welcomed us to view her courtiers (romanticised peasants all) as they showed off their fine ankles and calves in various permutations of humanity.
Mitchell's May Queen was content to let her court frolic, but her courtiers knew that they celebrated at her sufferance. For those slightly unclear, one good solo soon settled who was boss. In comparison, Michael Cook's performance was less authoritative. The technical demands of his solo looked as if they had defeated him, but his determination to _finish_ reminded me of Albrecht amidst the Willis. The trumpet joke, as Jack noted, was muted, but it worked out fairly well once the audience figured out what was going on.
There's nothing quite like a beautiful set of muscles rippling into awareness as the Faun began his exercises for the day. Mladenov, substituting for Henning, capitalized on his height in every languid stretch and pose, creating stark shapes that resonated in afterimages long after the performance ended. This Faun was clearly and comfortably the ruler of his little domain, but it was clear that he wanted (or anticipated) something unexpected to break up the monotony.
Mirroring Mladenov's anticipation, Magnicaballi carried herself like an unfurled flag. I thought she nearly vibrated with suppressed excitement as she entered the studio, subtly shifting the Faun's fascination from his reflection to the awareness of something 'other' (and similarly beautiful) in those mirrors. Their awareness of each other was like a physical entity keeping them in orbit around each other, which in turn seemed to diminish the initial impact of meeting each other's eyes due to its inevitability. Instead, the real shock was reserved for the moment that they managed to break their study of each other, back to a less complicated admiration of their reflections together. When the Girl finally flees, it seemed like an affirmation, of both rejecting the complication and intensity of being together. Instead the Faun goes back to sleep, content with a faint memory of the girl and the dangerous temptation of kissing.
Violeta Angelova and Ted Seymour substituted for the Act II pas de deux from Midsummer. The choreography is unexpectedly delicate despite the difficult partnering, and seemed to show (with greater feats of trust in each other) that the dancers' affections and destinies are intertwined. I would like to say more, but unfortunately was defeated by the lighting, with whom I was in unwitting competition.
Agon, already difficult musically, was more than a little off in my only viewing this weekend. The trumpet was ahead in the music in spots and the woodwinds' tuning seemed wholly discordant instead of merely dissonant. The first pas de quatre opened with a short definition of open and closed positions and needed greater clarity from synchronisation. Overall the corp gave a very competent performance. The choreography flowed organically though I think some of the shapes (amidst the confusion of limbs) could be, again, better defined.
In the first Pas de Trois, Michael Cook danced on the edge of restraint. If this were a contest then he definitely won in energy but not refinement against Holowchuk and Brandt. In fact this was a recurring theme throughout the two performances that I saw - that he had the _idea_ of execution, but that his performance of it wasn't as clear as his energy alone would allow.
Violeta Angelova shone in the second pas de trois. Her Bransle Gay flowed languidly from one position from another, achieving impossibly etched positions and sharp angles without becoming staccato in her phrasing. The juxtaposition was a great reading of the choreography and marks it as a performance to remember.
Mladenov and Magnicaballi are well-matched in essentials, both being long of limbs and bursting with dance intelligence. They did not dance the pas de deux as a competition in brute strength and flexibility (and given the advances in training over the past fifty years, nor should they), but instead treated it as an challenge in projecting ambiguity. Who dictates the moves? Who decides what comes next?
The pas began as a simple contest between Mladenov and Magnicaballi in asserting dominance, with Magnicaballi willingly - even gladly - losing. But as Magnicaballi is bent into a back attitude against Mladenov's shoulder, she bends just a bit further and presses into his face. Mladenov flinched, as if realizing (with more than a little apprehension) that perhaps his victory had not been as clear-cut nor as desirable as he had thought.
10 February 2010
Speaking in analogy works much better in class than when explaining ballets
A little earlier, while buying Kennedy Center tickets...:
"The story? Apollo is born. He discovers how awesome rock music is. He picks a chief groupie, and then they all get stoned and ascend to a higher plane of consciousness!"
"The story? Apollo is born. He discovers how awesome rock music is. He picks a chief groupie, and then they all get stoned and ascend to a higher plane of consciousness!"
19 November 2009
BalletTalk recently hosted a heated discussion over the current state of 'ownership' over Balanchine's ballets. I decided to look up a few of the sources to pull together a base report. My impression is that most of the ballets are now concentrated in the Balanchine Trust, though it's not clear which ones are currently not.
I suggest reading the thread in its entirety. For ease of navigation, direct links to my report are posted below.
Part I: The Legacy
Part II: Ballets Named in the Will
Part III: Financial Assessments of the Legacy
I suggest reading the thread in its entirety. For ease of navigation, direct links to my report are posted below.
Part I: The Legacy
Part II: Ballets Named in the Will
Part III: Financial Assessments of the Legacy
24 October 2009
Miami City Ballet, 4 October 2009, On Tour in Chicago
Miami City Ballet
Sunday 4 October 2009
Auditorium Theatre, Chicago
Center Orchestra, Row P
Symphony in Three Movements
Nothing quite compares with the shock and joy of seeing a new favorite for the first time.
That said, the second look was pretty shocking and aweful as well. The dancers in all four pieces were more alert and energetic than the night before. The jumping in Valse Fantaisie and the level of energy in In the Upper Room ceased to look as labored as the night before. Catoya and Sarabia shed their reminders of Things Other Than Swans. This was an on-message performance throughout.
Stravinsky’s Symphony in Three Movements, as the program tells me, was a musical attempt to capture the maestro’s impressions of the Second World War. There are the odd moments of crashing chaos sandwiching the deadly quiet in which one sits in dread over what happens next.
Mr Villella and Ms Mauro at the Fireside Chat talked about the ‘generic’ (or perhaps simply general) images of war choreographed into the piece: that of the Home Front, the helicopter arms, etc. In the last review, I described the choreography using organic images (the sentient hedge, orbiting bodies), but in truth I also had no idea how to organize the anachronistic but highly persistent images of the Great War, courtesy of my fantastical love of Blackadder Goes Fourth.
The pale gleaming women of the Home Front reminded me of particularly sinister and organic barbed wire (its spikes the arms and baroque hands of the Balanchine-trained corp). Tricia Albertson’s jumping contest with Alex Wong became more competitive in the matinee: she challenged him head-on in both ability and athleticism. It wasn’t the lighter one-upmanship of the night before but a grimmer competition whose purpose is unknown.
The rhythmic trot, the precision formations strip the corp members of their respective genders – they are anonymous bodies, trying to trap and engage and out-maneuver each other’s units. This time the imagery of the Rubies women seemed more integrated into the action of the corp, pulsing into focus and then just as quickly disappeared, like reflections from popped foam bubbles. The cognitive dissonance is less when one prepares for it, but it is still disconcerting. Are they brief reminders of civilization amidst the chaos? Or perhaps is it an allusion to the spirit of woman as, or at, war?
Someone once said that conflicts were in reality short and brutish things, most of the other time in war was spent in boredom, in anticipation and also in dread. As I watched the second movement, I kept thinking about life in the trenches, of bodies sitting still, contorting to climb over obstacles and other bodies. It is a moment of reflection in the stolen calm, in which life resumes in all its oddity. Kronenberg and Guerra in this performance was not as languorous (nor the observer as delirious) as the night before, the newly observed sharpness in their movements better accentuated the contrasts in the choreography.
Once again I short-change the third movement in my inability to call up a unifying image of its proceedings (an excellent excuse to see it yet again). Perhaps the most I can say is that if the first had directed my attention to the personalities of dancers or blocks of dancers, then the third forced me to look at the movements of the dancers in relation to each other. It was as if I were forced to view war from above like one would view a Busby Berkeley musical, where suddenly one could extract purpose and logic and even beauty from its purportedly senseless components.
The tragedy of war lies in its costs, regardless of the identity of the victor. Perhaps it was an accident of the close reading, but the image that I took away from the finale were the men, prone like corpses, staring out into nothing as the women erected trees of graveyard crosses behind them.
Valse Fantaisie 1953
“The three ballerinas, wearing headdresses reminiscent of Glinka's Russia, moved together in a perpetuum mobile, attended by the male dancer.” – From the Balanchine Foundation catalogue entry for the second Valse Fantaisie
I am rather ambivalent about the ‘modern’ costuming that every Balanchine ballet seems to have these days. On the one hand, I think it would have lent grandeur and a more overt sense of story (or at least structure) to the choreography; but on the other, the national costumes would have overwhelmed the choreography with notions of character.
The increased energy level improved the performance of this piece perhaps most of all. The night performance had dancers looking as if they were straining to jump and was very distracting. That had disappeared by the matinee and the dancers looked happy and free as they bounded all over the stage.
There is a clear structure to Valse fantaisie that at once evoked that of the grand pas de deux from Paquita (ensemble, male solo, female solo, female solo, pas de trois, etc) but also transcends it. The waltz rhythm is relentless, an ever-present pulse that sustains the action even as dancers stop, reset, find each other to dance in another configuration.
Perhaps the strongest impression that the piece made (besides the excellent dancing by all, including the late substitution for Jeanette Delgado, Sara Esty) were the number of Les Sylphides references that Mr Balanchine seemed to have snuck in. There were the sequence of one footed hops to pointe from the Mazurka and even the undulation of the arms.
Valse fantaisie does not resemble Sylphides harmonically but there was the same choreographic integration of the corp and the soloist when the four dancers reunite for the finale. Instead of maintaining the distinction of rank, Mr Balanchine integrates the soloists into the corp (but then again, what kind of corp do four lead dancers make?), allowing them to emerge and melt back seamlessly into a moving tapestry.
As Jack noted, there were indeed some problems in the lighting, as the lighting began to dim even before the dancing was over! It wasn’t the most climactic of endings, but overall, still a lovely performance.
Black Swan pas de deux
The small glitches in mannerisms had disappeared by the matinee performance. Sarabia, prince that he was, ditched the Theme and Variations quote. Catoya dropped the odd Don Quixote/generic Spanish epaulement that she did at the end of her fouettés. The partnering seemed rougher than Saturday night, though the trick-y moments (which I am still not so fond of) - particularly the ending partner spin in which he takes his hands off - no longer looked as if Catoya was about to fall over while doing the rumba.
Sarabia is, as I say again, elegant, but really the Black Swan pas de deux doesn’t give him much to do. In addition, I could not keep my eyes off of Catoya, who seemed to have drunk a million cups of seductive evil coffee before the matinee. While the amused detachment still remained, this time she casted her web more widely out to us, fascinating an admittedly primed audience with little more than presence. I particularly appreciated her balances that went on forever. I felt as if I were granted a glimpse into the essence of Odile, that of a potent distillation of intent and technique aimed at Siegfried with the sole purpose of getting him to say YES. It was particularly startling when, during one particularly balance, she suddenly turned her head to look at us, as if commanding us to devote the proper amount of attention and awe to her if we weren’t already, and believe me, we were!
Poor Siegfried didn’t stand a chance, and quite frankly, I didn’t feel sorry for him.
I’ll leave off In the Upper Room as I have very little to add. I seemed to have lost track of Deanna Seay in the matinee performance. I don’t know how it happened, especially as I quite enjoyed her dancing as a stomper the night before. The smoke did not work as well as the night before, differing highly in quantity in quantity as well as location as the performance went on. The performers in the afternoon also seemed to have more trouble with the scenery – two or three got a bit tangled in the black fabric strips, but these are minor quibbles. Everyone danced their heads off (once again, Jeanette Delgado the stomping demon!) and the energy levels complemented the music (and the still convincing climax) much better. Jack noted that the two stompers at the end seemed to have jumped twice as high as they did the previous night, and they did!
Applause was not as sustained nor as loud as the previous night. There was a lot of it but not as much as the company deserved. For their next performances in a clime near me, I think I should invest in an amplifier, or perhaps an unobnoxious company of claquers to do what the city could not.
Sunday 4 October 2009
Auditorium Theatre, Chicago
Center Orchestra, Row P
Symphony in Three Movements
Nothing quite compares with the shock and joy of seeing a new favorite for the first time.
That said, the second look was pretty shocking and aweful as well. The dancers in all four pieces were more alert and energetic than the night before. The jumping in Valse Fantaisie and the level of energy in In the Upper Room ceased to look as labored as the night before. Catoya and Sarabia shed their reminders of Things Other Than Swans. This was an on-message performance throughout.
Stravinsky’s Symphony in Three Movements, as the program tells me, was a musical attempt to capture the maestro’s impressions of the Second World War. There are the odd moments of crashing chaos sandwiching the deadly quiet in which one sits in dread over what happens next.
Mr Villella and Ms Mauro at the Fireside Chat talked about the ‘generic’ (or perhaps simply general) images of war choreographed into the piece: that of the Home Front, the helicopter arms, etc. In the last review, I described the choreography using organic images (the sentient hedge, orbiting bodies), but in truth I also had no idea how to organize the anachronistic but highly persistent images of the Great War, courtesy of my fantastical love of Blackadder Goes Fourth.
The pale gleaming women of the Home Front reminded me of particularly sinister and organic barbed wire (its spikes the arms and baroque hands of the Balanchine-trained corp). Tricia Albertson’s jumping contest with Alex Wong became more competitive in the matinee: she challenged him head-on in both ability and athleticism. It wasn’t the lighter one-upmanship of the night before but a grimmer competition whose purpose is unknown.
The rhythmic trot, the precision formations strip the corp members of their respective genders – they are anonymous bodies, trying to trap and engage and out-maneuver each other’s units. This time the imagery of the Rubies women seemed more integrated into the action of the corp, pulsing into focus and then just as quickly disappeared, like reflections from popped foam bubbles. The cognitive dissonance is less when one prepares for it, but it is still disconcerting. Are they brief reminders of civilization amidst the chaos? Or perhaps is it an allusion to the spirit of woman as, or at, war?
Someone once said that conflicts were in reality short and brutish things, most of the other time in war was spent in boredom, in anticipation and also in dread. As I watched the second movement, I kept thinking about life in the trenches, of bodies sitting still, contorting to climb over obstacles and other bodies. It is a moment of reflection in the stolen calm, in which life resumes in all its oddity. Kronenberg and Guerra in this performance was not as languorous (nor the observer as delirious) as the night before, the newly observed sharpness in their movements better accentuated the contrasts in the choreography.
Once again I short-change the third movement in my inability to call up a unifying image of its proceedings (an excellent excuse to see it yet again). Perhaps the most I can say is that if the first had directed my attention to the personalities of dancers or blocks of dancers, then the third forced me to look at the movements of the dancers in relation to each other. It was as if I were forced to view war from above like one would view a Busby Berkeley musical, where suddenly one could extract purpose and logic and even beauty from its purportedly senseless components.
The tragedy of war lies in its costs, regardless of the identity of the victor. Perhaps it was an accident of the close reading, but the image that I took away from the finale were the men, prone like corpses, staring out into nothing as the women erected trees of graveyard crosses behind them.
Valse Fantaisie 1953
“The three ballerinas, wearing headdresses reminiscent of Glinka's Russia, moved together in a perpetuum mobile, attended by the male dancer.” – From the Balanchine Foundation catalogue entry for the second Valse Fantaisie
I am rather ambivalent about the ‘modern’ costuming that every Balanchine ballet seems to have these days. On the one hand, I think it would have lent grandeur and a more overt sense of story (or at least structure) to the choreography; but on the other, the national costumes would have overwhelmed the choreography with notions of character.
The increased energy level improved the performance of this piece perhaps most of all. The night performance had dancers looking as if they were straining to jump and was very distracting. That had disappeared by the matinee and the dancers looked happy and free as they bounded all over the stage.
There is a clear structure to Valse fantaisie that at once evoked that of the grand pas de deux from Paquita (ensemble, male solo, female solo, female solo, pas de trois, etc) but also transcends it. The waltz rhythm is relentless, an ever-present pulse that sustains the action even as dancers stop, reset, find each other to dance in another configuration.
Perhaps the strongest impression that the piece made (besides the excellent dancing by all, including the late substitution for Jeanette Delgado, Sara Esty) were the number of Les Sylphides references that Mr Balanchine seemed to have snuck in. There were the sequence of one footed hops to pointe from the Mazurka and even the undulation of the arms.
Valse fantaisie does not resemble Sylphides harmonically but there was the same choreographic integration of the corp and the soloist when the four dancers reunite for the finale. Instead of maintaining the distinction of rank, Mr Balanchine integrates the soloists into the corp (but then again, what kind of corp do four lead dancers make?), allowing them to emerge and melt back seamlessly into a moving tapestry.
As Jack noted, there were indeed some problems in the lighting, as the lighting began to dim even before the dancing was over! It wasn’t the most climactic of endings, but overall, still a lovely performance.
Black Swan pas de deux
The small glitches in mannerisms had disappeared by the matinee performance. Sarabia, prince that he was, ditched the Theme and Variations quote. Catoya dropped the odd Don Quixote/generic Spanish epaulement that she did at the end of her fouettés. The partnering seemed rougher than Saturday night, though the trick-y moments (which I am still not so fond of) - particularly the ending partner spin in which he takes his hands off - no longer looked as if Catoya was about to fall over while doing the rumba.
Sarabia is, as I say again, elegant, but really the Black Swan pas de deux doesn’t give him much to do. In addition, I could not keep my eyes off of Catoya, who seemed to have drunk a million cups of seductive evil coffee before the matinee. While the amused detachment still remained, this time she casted her web more widely out to us, fascinating an admittedly primed audience with little more than presence. I particularly appreciated her balances that went on forever. I felt as if I were granted a glimpse into the essence of Odile, that of a potent distillation of intent and technique aimed at Siegfried with the sole purpose of getting him to say YES. It was particularly startling when, during one particularly balance, she suddenly turned her head to look at us, as if commanding us to devote the proper amount of attention and awe to her if we weren’t already, and believe me, we were!
Poor Siegfried didn’t stand a chance, and quite frankly, I didn’t feel sorry for him.
I’ll leave off In the Upper Room as I have very little to add. I seemed to have lost track of Deanna Seay in the matinee performance. I don’t know how it happened, especially as I quite enjoyed her dancing as a stomper the night before. The smoke did not work as well as the night before, differing highly in quantity in quantity as well as location as the performance went on. The performers in the afternoon also seemed to have more trouble with the scenery – two or three got a bit tangled in the black fabric strips, but these are minor quibbles. Everyone danced their heads off (once again, Jeanette Delgado the stomping demon!) and the energy levels complemented the music (and the still convincing climax) much better. Jack noted that the two stompers at the end seemed to have jumped twice as high as they did the previous night, and they did!
Applause was not as sustained nor as loud as the previous night. There was a lot of it but not as much as the company deserved. For their next performances in a clime near me, I think I should invest in an amplifier, or perhaps an unobnoxious company of claquers to do what the city could not.
06 October 2009
Miami City Ballet, 3 October 2009, On Tour in Chicago
Miami City Ballet in Chicago, Auditorium Theatre
3 October, 8 PM
Row P, Orchestra
Symphony in Three Movements/Valse Fantaisie (1953)/Black Swan/In the Upper Room
There’s a moment in the Vision scene in Sleeping Beauty when Aurora wafts through the Lilac Fairy’s attendants. They are arrayed in rows, suggesting paths, perhaps mazes. Perhaps it’s a foreshadowing of the thorns to come.
The image came back to me upon viewing Symphony in Three Movements for the first time. The curtain rises on a cascade of hair and legs. I was reminded of a slightly unruly hedge with ponytails and arms and legs enough for spikes. Their bodies, clad in white, gleamed (to borrow a phrase from Ms Farrell’s book) like bleached pebbles.
There was a strong undertone of Rubies in the choreography. In fact the cognitive dissonance became so great at one point that I was forced to look down (alarming Jack in the process) to remind myself of its provenance. The jazz references grew more acute with references from what seemed to be the Charleston. Here was the ghost of McBride doing arabesques in profile, the corp of girls repeating the prancing jog of the boys in a rhythmic march, even the one brief glimpse of the tall girl, face briefly visible upside down. But always they were refracted images, seen in clusters, either in unison or in rounds, briefly glimpsed resemblances that receded into the mist.
Particularly notable was Alex Wong in the first movement with his wonderfully soft and full-bodied leaps. Tricia Albertson repeats it after him, casually. Anything you can do, she seemed to say, well never mind about the height, here is a lesson on style!
At the end of the first movement, the corp formed a giant pinwheel as Kronenberg pirouetted her way through the criss-crossing ranks. I was sitting too low to see the pattern, but there was a wonderful sense of changing depth even when viewed it straight on. I especially appreciated the Company's clarity in movement. There was a suggestion of great physicality without it looking difficult or fussy which I loved.
I had not thought to associate the pas de deux in second movement (echoes of Gailliard in the instrumentation!) with stillness. Space, in the absence of the corp, acts as both ornamentation and the ultimate barrier, the deep blue of the backdrop added depth to the movements even as it limited them to their bodies.
In fact the second movement seemed like a meditation on containment, motions and bodies caught up in orbit around each other. We see the motif repeated in the hands, around the bodies, and even how the dancers moved in relation to each other (was this a binary system or a planet with a satellite?).
Kronenberg and Guerra were deliberate in their partnering – nothing hurried or affected – serenely allowing the movements to bring out their innate sensuousness. Echoing the first movement, Guerra and Kronenberg alternating with each other as they delineated the circular space around their bodies in lazy breaststroke motions (‘helicopter arms’, as Mr Balanchine called them).
If Sleeping Beauty’s hedge were alive, I thought it might look something like the third movement, terrifyingly beautiful as it grew and moved in near-sentience. In this case, the woman was the hedge, mesmeric and prickly.
After that, I found myself rather weak in the knees! In fact I was in such a daze that I don’t quite remember what happened in Valse Fantaisie (1953), some twenty minutes later. I can report that Sara Esty replaced Jeanette Delgado and that I thought “Apollo with his three Muses, at a (Russian) social?” but beyond that and an image of Les Sylphides that I will come back to in my post about Sunday, it is a blur of waltz music.
I located some of that lost composure for the Black Swan pas de deux, danced by Rolando Sarabia and Mary Carmen Catoya. I found myself wondering what a full length Swan Lake from the two of them may look like. Rolando Sarabia has lovely carriage and gorgeous air positions, and his Siegfried knew it.
There is a stillness about Catoya that had a very lovely effect on her dancing (I lost moments speculating on her Emeralds). Her Odile did not deal in superfluities – she allowed Siegfriend to project his own desire onto her, maintaining an amused remoteness throughout. After all, the boy was ready to fall in love, unnecessary motions would have been overkill. However, she seemed to be a bit off of her legs at the night performance, her balances came off fairly well but her pirouettes did not look secure.
It may have been shock at seeing something non-Balanchine after such a feast, but I thought the warhorse was crammed too full of tricks, and the discomfort kept me from enjoying it as much as previously. The partnering looked off that night as well, and Catoya looked like she was about to fall onto the floor when Sarabia took away his hands during the last partnered pirouettes. I should also add that the Russianness became jarring when Sarabia launched into what seemed to be one of the male solos from Theme and variations with a series of double tours en l’air – pirouette in the middle of the coda.
I’ve only seen In the Upper Room through video, and I must admit that I don’t particularly enjoy it. Video flattens the stage and this is one piece that loses much more than average in a recording. Seeing it live restores some of the excitement and depth to the choreography that had been missing.
However, that being said, it’s still not one of my favorites (or even preferred) upon a live viewing. There are figure skating references, yoga references, all sorts of movement ideas thrown in there for an interesting soup, but appreciating the athleticism of dancers can become a bit tedious when the pacing lags and the choreography does not develop toward any unifying idea. The bombers and the stompers dance, occupy the same space, share each other’s clothes, but the choreography is sealed off against each other. They coexist but they do not interact. It became extremely noticeable in the last section, as the music tried to build toward a heart-pounding (and unsubtle) climax that the choreography was simply unable to match.
That being said, I did enjoy watching dancers enjoying themselves. Most of the dancers looked a bit lethargic in the beginning, but woke up (the transition was rather obvious) as they threw more energy and attitude as time went on, but they still looked a bit too much like ballet dancers. One notable exception from the very beginning was Jeanette Delgado, whom my eyes gravitated back to time and again, though she was replaced (I'm told) after two sections by another stomper due to injury. She had a wonderful way of throwing herself into the choreography. Her body radiated tension, as if trying to contain anarchy within its limits as it fought to get out everywhere.
[A few minor edits due to late at night stupidity and for optimistically thinking I could go it along without my program or my notes. Corrections were primarily for grammar and clarity save for a more major one correcting Ms Kronenberg's name. My apologies, Ms Kronenberg, I shan't do it again!
3 October, 8 PM
Row P, Orchestra
Symphony in Three Movements/Valse Fantaisie (1953)/Black Swan/In the Upper Room
There’s a moment in the Vision scene in Sleeping Beauty when Aurora wafts through the Lilac Fairy’s attendants. They are arrayed in rows, suggesting paths, perhaps mazes. Perhaps it’s a foreshadowing of the thorns to come.
The image came back to me upon viewing Symphony in Three Movements for the first time. The curtain rises on a cascade of hair and legs. I was reminded of a slightly unruly hedge with ponytails and arms and legs enough for spikes. Their bodies, clad in white, gleamed (to borrow a phrase from Ms Farrell’s book) like bleached pebbles.
There was a strong undertone of Rubies in the choreography. In fact the cognitive dissonance became so great at one point that I was forced to look down (alarming Jack in the process) to remind myself of its provenance. The jazz references grew more acute with references from what seemed to be the Charleston. Here was the ghost of McBride doing arabesques in profile, the corp of girls repeating the prancing jog of the boys in a rhythmic march, even the one brief glimpse of the tall girl, face briefly visible upside down. But always they were refracted images, seen in clusters, either in unison or in rounds, briefly glimpsed resemblances that receded into the mist.
Particularly notable was Alex Wong in the first movement with his wonderfully soft and full-bodied leaps. Tricia Albertson repeats it after him, casually. Anything you can do, she seemed to say, well never mind about the height, here is a lesson on style!
At the end of the first movement, the corp formed a giant pinwheel as Kronenberg pirouetted her way through the criss-crossing ranks. I was sitting too low to see the pattern, but there was a wonderful sense of changing depth even when viewed it straight on. I especially appreciated the Company's clarity in movement. There was a suggestion of great physicality without it looking difficult or fussy which I loved.
I had not thought to associate the pas de deux in second movement (echoes of Gailliard in the instrumentation!) with stillness. Space, in the absence of the corp, acts as both ornamentation and the ultimate barrier, the deep blue of the backdrop added depth to the movements even as it limited them to their bodies.
In fact the second movement seemed like a meditation on containment, motions and bodies caught up in orbit around each other. We see the motif repeated in the hands, around the bodies, and even how the dancers moved in relation to each other (was this a binary system or a planet with a satellite?).
Kronenberg and Guerra were deliberate in their partnering – nothing hurried or affected – serenely allowing the movements to bring out their innate sensuousness. Echoing the first movement, Guerra and Kronenberg alternating with each other as they delineated the circular space around their bodies in lazy breaststroke motions (‘helicopter arms’, as Mr Balanchine called them).
If Sleeping Beauty’s hedge were alive, I thought it might look something like the third movement, terrifyingly beautiful as it grew and moved in near-sentience. In this case, the woman was the hedge, mesmeric and prickly.
After that, I found myself rather weak in the knees! In fact I was in such a daze that I don’t quite remember what happened in Valse Fantaisie (1953), some twenty minutes later. I can report that Sara Esty replaced Jeanette Delgado and that I thought “Apollo with his three Muses, at a (Russian) social?” but beyond that and an image of Les Sylphides that I will come back to in my post about Sunday, it is a blur of waltz music.
I located some of that lost composure for the Black Swan pas de deux, danced by Rolando Sarabia and Mary Carmen Catoya. I found myself wondering what a full length Swan Lake from the two of them may look like. Rolando Sarabia has lovely carriage and gorgeous air positions, and his Siegfried knew it.
There is a stillness about Catoya that had a very lovely effect on her dancing (I lost moments speculating on her Emeralds). Her Odile did not deal in superfluities – she allowed Siegfriend to project his own desire onto her, maintaining an amused remoteness throughout. After all, the boy was ready to fall in love, unnecessary motions would have been overkill. However, she seemed to be a bit off of her legs at the night performance, her balances came off fairly well but her pirouettes did not look secure.
It may have been shock at seeing something non-Balanchine after such a feast, but I thought the warhorse was crammed too full of tricks, and the discomfort kept me from enjoying it as much as previously. The partnering looked off that night as well, and Catoya looked like she was about to fall onto the floor when Sarabia took away his hands during the last partnered pirouettes. I should also add that the Russianness became jarring when Sarabia launched into what seemed to be one of the male solos from Theme and variations with a series of double tours en l’air – pirouette in the middle of the coda.
I’ve only seen In the Upper Room through video, and I must admit that I don’t particularly enjoy it. Video flattens the stage and this is one piece that loses much more than average in a recording. Seeing it live restores some of the excitement and depth to the choreography that had been missing.
However, that being said, it’s still not one of my favorites (or even preferred) upon a live viewing. There are figure skating references, yoga references, all sorts of movement ideas thrown in there for an interesting soup, but appreciating the athleticism of dancers can become a bit tedious when the pacing lags and the choreography does not develop toward any unifying idea. The bombers and the stompers dance, occupy the same space, share each other’s clothes, but the choreography is sealed off against each other. They coexist but they do not interact. It became extremely noticeable in the last section, as the music tried to build toward a heart-pounding (and unsubtle) climax that the choreography was simply unable to match.
That being said, I did enjoy watching dancers enjoying themselves. Most of the dancers looked a bit lethargic in the beginning, but woke up (the transition was rather obvious) as they threw more energy and attitude as time went on, but they still looked a bit too much like ballet dancers. One notable exception from the very beginning was Jeanette Delgado, whom my eyes gravitated back to time and again, though she was replaced (I'm told) after two sections by another stomper due to injury. She had a wonderful way of throwing herself into the choreography. Her body radiated tension, as if trying to contain anarchy within its limits as it fought to get out everywhere.
[A few minor edits due to late at night stupidity and for optimistically thinking I could go it along without my program or my notes. Corrections were primarily for grammar and clarity save for a more major one correcting Ms Kronenberg's name. My apologies, Ms Kronenberg, I shan't do it again!
19 August 2009
from Jack
A recent exchange with Jack regarding an older post on Mazzo, conducted over several emails:
Jack: I said that about Mr. B? Mazzo in "Diamonds" used to puzzle ME; it was anticlimactic, in contrast to the big cast in white, the symphonic Tchaikovsky music, and coming last always. When Farrell came back into it, it was GRAND FINALE and then some! I loved Mazzo in "Duo Concertante" too, she was right for that; no coincidence, it was made on her.
me: I remember pretty well that you had said that Mazzo in Diamonds was confounding to Mr B. Mazzo to me was almost clam-like in her reticence. In that way she lacks the majesty that Farrell commands. She required delicate coaxing to flower and Diamonds is too grand a ballet for it.
Jack: I said that about Mr. B? Mazzo in "Diamonds" used to puzzle ME; it was anticlimactic, in contrast to the big cast in white, the symphonic Tchaikovsky music, and coming last always. When Farrell came back into it, it was GRAND FINALE and then some! I loved Mazzo in "Duo Concertante" too, she was right for that; no coincidence, it was made on her.
me: I remember pretty well that you had said that Mazzo in Diamonds was confounding to Mr B. Mazzo to me was almost clam-like in her reticence. In that way she lacks the majesty that Farrell commands. She required delicate coaxing to flower and Diamonds is too grand a ballet for it.
26 May 2009
Ballet Chicago Studio Company, 17 May 2009, Captivating Rhythms
Captivating Rhythms
Presented by the Ballet Chicago Studio Company
Sunday 17 Mary 2009, 3 PM matinée
Athenaeum Theater, Chicago
Somewhere in Orchestra Row N
I unfortunately missed the first act presentation of Bach 1041 and Coppelia. However, two-thirds of a performance is still better than none at all, especially when preceded by a traffic jam that lasted for nearly an hour. And so, having established this fact, I'll move onto the second and in strict numerical order, the third.
The excerpt from Ellington Suite (choreography Duell) was unfortunately too short for me to form much of an opinion. The choreography was suitably jazzy for the 'giggling rapids' - Ellington's counterpoint to babbling brooks? - and it showed off the male trio to good effect. The piece began a bit sluggishly, but the dancers seemed to wake up little by little, possibly in preparation for Rubies.
Alice Gleaning (choreography Ted Seymour) is a world premiere featuring Ballet Chicago student Maeva Esteban. The piece begins with a corp of women dancing in unison to Mozart while a girl (Olivia Schmit) fiddles with her shoe on the floor. The choreography corresponds simply to the melodic line as background dissonance builds, until Maeva is drawn out into another space, in which she, joined later by the corp, is free to play with motifs, repetitions, and variations in a more modern milieu first to the words and music of Ravi Shankar, then to music by Nikolas Lund (and Steve Reich at some point – please feel free to correct me).
This piece showcased Maeva's energy and attack, and she shifted between ballet and modern technique effortlessly. Jack tells me that Maeva had very beautiful ballon in her jumps as well (in Coppelia), and we agreed that she would do equally well in a ballet or a modern company.
The marriage of modern and ballet is always fraught with interpretation – one which I couldn't resist, apparently. Maeva is drawn out of the melodic simplicity of ballet to take off her shoes, to join in this new free performing medium that can have layers and repetitions. Is it a rejection of the simplicity of classical ballet? Is it an opinion on the limitations of ballet? Is it a commentary on modern dance being the rejection of ballet? I'll stop now before it turns into the Spam sketch. Beans are off.
My primary purpose for this trip was Rubies, which I had never seen live. These performances were set by Sandra Jennings, and several male dancers who have performed elsewhere told me that it was perhaps the most balletic Rubies that they have done.
Seeing it live puts back the sheer velocity and depth that had been missing from video. While watching, I was often reminded of the mental image I had when listening to Capriccio for the first time, that of cartoon heroes on a merry chase, opening and closing doors while everyone's paths crossed and uncrossed until they were tied into a large ball, arms and legs sticking out randomly.
I commented to Jack that these performances still had the 'new car smell' – it was clear to see that the company loved to dance it and they attacked it with immense energy. You could almost hear the skidmarks as the company and the choreography chased after each other. Marvelous.
Olivia Schmit was a cool tall girl, staring the audience down in with a measured glare. She reminded me of a huntress, brushing off captivity by her cavaliers because they were incapable of keeping her. I wanted more animation – at times the stare looked blank and it looked very odd against her dancing.
Margaret Severin-Hansen and Gabor Kapin were the guest couple. Severin-Hansen is rather short – and at first I thought their proportions were a bit mismatched – but she danced big, showing off the lines and levels of the pas de deux with panache. Kapin was a sandy haired king of the pack, but I thought his solo needed more attack – he looked more self-satisfied than charming or delighted at his bag of tricks. As he swung her around in a series of several lifts, the tight velocity reminded me of partnered lifts from the lindy hop – she seemed to love it, winding him more tightly with every move.
At the end of the pas de deux, tho' he had swung her around and danced and flirted, it was clear that Severin-Hansen had the upper hand – he was mesmerized by the illusion she had dropped in his palm. Odile won this round.
After the performance, I grinned foolishly at Jack for a full five minutes and had to restrain myself from asking for several encores. A good first viewing, I'd say.
Presented by the Ballet Chicago Studio Company
Sunday 17 Mary 2009, 3 PM matinée
Athenaeum Theater, Chicago
Somewhere in Orchestra Row N
I unfortunately missed the first act presentation of Bach 1041 and Coppelia. However, two-thirds of a performance is still better than none at all, especially when preceded by a traffic jam that lasted for nearly an hour. And so, having established this fact, I'll move onto the second and in strict numerical order, the third.
The excerpt from Ellington Suite (choreography Duell) was unfortunately too short for me to form much of an opinion. The choreography was suitably jazzy for the 'giggling rapids' - Ellington's counterpoint to babbling brooks? - and it showed off the male trio to good effect. The piece began a bit sluggishly, but the dancers seemed to wake up little by little, possibly in preparation for Rubies.
Alice Gleaning (choreography Ted Seymour) is a world premiere featuring Ballet Chicago student Maeva Esteban. The piece begins with a corp of women dancing in unison to Mozart while a girl (Olivia Schmit) fiddles with her shoe on the floor. The choreography corresponds simply to the melodic line as background dissonance builds, until Maeva is drawn out into another space, in which she, joined later by the corp, is free to play with motifs, repetitions, and variations in a more modern milieu first to the words and music of Ravi Shankar, then to music by Nikolas Lund (and Steve Reich at some point – please feel free to correct me).
This piece showcased Maeva's energy and attack, and she shifted between ballet and modern technique effortlessly. Jack tells me that Maeva had very beautiful ballon in her jumps as well (in Coppelia), and we agreed that she would do equally well in a ballet or a modern company.
The marriage of modern and ballet is always fraught with interpretation – one which I couldn't resist, apparently. Maeva is drawn out of the melodic simplicity of ballet to take off her shoes, to join in this new free performing medium that can have layers and repetitions. Is it a rejection of the simplicity of classical ballet? Is it an opinion on the limitations of ballet? Is it a commentary on modern dance being the rejection of ballet? I'll stop now before it turns into the Spam sketch. Beans are off.
My primary purpose for this trip was Rubies, which I had never seen live. These performances were set by Sandra Jennings, and several male dancers who have performed elsewhere told me that it was perhaps the most balletic Rubies that they have done.
Seeing it live puts back the sheer velocity and depth that had been missing from video. While watching, I was often reminded of the mental image I had when listening to Capriccio for the first time, that of cartoon heroes on a merry chase, opening and closing doors while everyone's paths crossed and uncrossed until they were tied into a large ball, arms and legs sticking out randomly.
I commented to Jack that these performances still had the 'new car smell' – it was clear to see that the company loved to dance it and they attacked it with immense energy. You could almost hear the skidmarks as the company and the choreography chased after each other. Marvelous.
Olivia Schmit was a cool tall girl, staring the audience down in with a measured glare. She reminded me of a huntress, brushing off captivity by her cavaliers because they were incapable of keeping her. I wanted more animation – at times the stare looked blank and it looked very odd against her dancing.
Margaret Severin-Hansen and Gabor Kapin were the guest couple. Severin-Hansen is rather short – and at first I thought their proportions were a bit mismatched – but she danced big, showing off the lines and levels of the pas de deux with panache. Kapin was a sandy haired king of the pack, but I thought his solo needed more attack – he looked more self-satisfied than charming or delighted at his bag of tricks. As he swung her around in a series of several lifts, the tight velocity reminded me of partnered lifts from the lindy hop – she seemed to love it, winding him more tightly with every move.
At the end of the pas de deux, tho' he had swung her around and danced and flirted, it was clear that Severin-Hansen had the upper hand – he was mesmerized by the illusion she had dropped in his palm. Odile won this round.
After the performance, I grinned foolishly at Jack for a full five minutes and had to restrain myself from asking for several encores. A good first viewing, I'd say.
21 May 2009
vehemence, paraphrased
(at a lebanese restaurant in Chicago)
jack: Kay Mazzo in Diamonds just didn't look the same. That used to drive Mr Balanchine crazy.
me: He was trying to recreate Farrell. No one can recreate Farrell in Diamonds because no one is Farrell. He's trying to recapture something that isn't possible, tapping on an overbred body line to invoke something that is innate!
I happen to like Mazzo in Duo Concertante a lot, but comparing her to Farrell is like asking someone to race a Mazda MX-5 against a Duesenberg. Like her or not - and I'd venture to say that I grapple often between liking her and throwing things at her - there's nobody who dances quite like Suzanne Farrell.
jack: Kay Mazzo in Diamonds just didn't look the same. That used to drive Mr Balanchine crazy.
me: He was trying to recreate Farrell. No one can recreate Farrell in Diamonds because no one is Farrell. He's trying to recapture something that isn't possible, tapping on an overbred body line to invoke something that is innate!
I happen to like Mazzo in Duo Concertante a lot, but comparing her to Farrell is like asking someone to race a Mazda MX-5 against a Duesenberg. Like her or not - and I'd venture to say that I grapple often between liking her and throwing things at her - there's nobody who dances quite like Suzanne Farrell.
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