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.
19 August 2009
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.
15 March 2009
Mark Morris Dance Group, 14 March 2009: Romeo and Juliet Lives, News at 11.
Romeo and Juliet, on Motifs of Shakespeare
Choreographed by Mark Morris
Performed by the Mark Morris Dance Group
14 March 2009
Krannert Center - Tryon Festival Theater
Orchestra Center, Row V, Seat 5 (last row, approximately center, on steep incline to stage)
I gave up my initial idea of adding yet more profundity to the subject of gender politics somewhere between the first and second scenes of Act I. What more can I say that others have not stated already? That women were cast Tybalt and Mercutio and added a predictable but curiously heterosexual slant to those characters (and to those interactions with their male peers)? That indeed the sexual politics of the adult world include a heavy element of violence; and of, in Mr Morris's words, women's ability to fight back (only) in context of their positions and roles?
Krannert does not have the best acoustics from the pit - the orchestra must sit very low and the sound (which logically follows location) emanates from a boxed opening before the stage, affecting the quality greatly. There were a few scary moments with the strings at first, but tensions were worked out as musicians dug deeper, both dramatically and chronologically, into the score. Prokofieff's restored score was a revelation. I heard it with some disbelief, not believing that such minor changes could have wrought so much. There is a lushness and delicacy of timbre and tone that was missing previously, and it seems to have become more thematically varied. I no longer felt as if the various leitmotifs directed the brass to relentlessly pound my ears into submission.
The New York Times review disliked the production with more energy than I was capable of last night. I will not repeat Mr Macaulay's exact words on the needless repetitions of steps except to say that I share them, and that I began to cringe halfway through the second scene as the hitch steps and the endless low arabesques detracted my attention from the action with their predictability and their regular devotion to the melody. The choreography is not not musical, but it is wedded to an annoyingly regular melodic sense that positions the steps within the music instead of through the musical phrases.
Morris's Verona is a sensual and interactive world. Dancers form relationships with each other, indulge in games, clumsy plots, and occasionally transparent enmities that are covered over with cartoonish displays of friendship when the Prince (or perhaps the parent) approaches. Tho' brutal in the machinations of men and women (see Lady Capulet's introduction of Juliet to Paris by a shove, also Paris's manhandling of Juliet during the banquet), it is one in which the men and women seem to have apparent sexual lives without relegating it to the realm of MacMillan's courtesans or (even worse, perhaps) yet another psychological drama involving Siegfried's tutor.
Maile Okamura was a superb Juliet. Her restraint made Juliet poignant, deeply unhappy and in search of something more equal and tender than what Paris, merely a rich thug in this production, was capable of. It was clear in her duet with lady Capulet that she was not a fully grown woman. Where as Lady Capulet, all heavy skirts and sombre hair, sank into the steps as if mired in the concerns and power games of that fair city, Juliet in white floated above them, delicately sculpting the air as if to delineate a higher realm in which she still dwells. However, even in her independence there is some level of resignation - the poison holds no perverse fascination for her, she takes it as is her duty.
Romeo, whose name I will recall if only I had my program - where oh where is it, was a peculiarly gentle man, his bearing often reminding me of Dear Ashley Wilkes (for good or ill) off in world parallel to this one. However, as mystically and ecstatically connected as the young people were at first meeting, neither provided sufficient dramatic motivation to the audience for taking action in order to be together; instead, they were pulled and pushed in various directions, subordinate to the Needs of the Plot instead of the Dictates of Emotion.
These dramatic inconsistencies proliferate throughout the production. Mercutio is still a jester, a mad cap prankster whose character is fleshed out during a pantomime sequence with Juliet's nurse, but the dramatic development comes too late, as Romeo is instead convinced to go to the Capulets' party by unknown means. Rosaline was included in this production and explicitly rejected Romeo at the party for sake of emotional closure. However, was this rejection out of duty? Sheer dislike? I could not read it clearly and she faded into the general obscurity in the company of other townsfolk soon after. However, as this scene came at the expense of establishing Mercutio's relationship and importance to Romeo, the poignance of Mercutio's death is undercut by his portrayal as simply the Jester and I could have done without it.
Two other relationships were of special note: that of Friar Laurence, now a much younger and vital man, with Romeo, and that of Nurse and her servant. We see Romeo glancing sharply at Friar Laurence during the establishing scene - the relationship is never explained. Was it a warning from the Friar, a warning to Romeo over his impetuous emotions? Had the Friar identified his likely instrument for reconciling the ancient feud? We are never told. Instead the Friar resumes his wiseman role before briefly transforms into a dancing role in Act III, illustrating a non-point to Juliet for reasons that are dramatically obscure. Second, the Nurse oscillated between moments of intense identification and blankness with Juliet. Was her servant (the man in the green cap she dances with) simply a servant? It seemed like her sympathy toward Juliet could have been motivated by a similarly confounding relationship with man (perhaps that servant) but it is never entirely made clear. Again, her rejection of Juliet is not dramatically consistent in Act IV - there is no inner struggle, the Nurse does so because the plot demands it but there are no hidden feelings nor conflicts. One other outstanding character had no set choreography: he is simply the Prince's flag-bearer. Perhaps even more self-important than the man he serves, he paces about the town with a measure of self-important insouciance that even his master could not (or would not) match.
Macaulay discussed several plot inconsistencies, so I will skip over those (I share most of his objections) and expand yet again on my perception of Morris's logic of setting dance to music. The choreography was most effective for pairs and single dancers - the dance of the townsfolk with their stylistic poses and shuffle steps was repetitive and in many cases made me cringe. What was it meant to do? However, there was also great gentleness in moments, particularly by the women with their soft port de bras, lifting the air with their arms and torsos, but in most others I was distracted by the preponderance of steps. There were steps in isolation, repeated sequences, mirrored sequences, sequences repeated to other characters. In addition, at moments there seemed to have been isolated quotes from the MacMillan choreography. Regardless, all in all it was an overload of choreography in places that really did not need it, almost as if the choreographer did not fully trust the music to carry the moment.
Choreographed by Mark Morris
Performed by the Mark Morris Dance Group
14 March 2009
Krannert Center - Tryon Festival Theater
Orchestra Center, Row V, Seat 5 (last row, approximately center, on steep incline to stage)
I gave up my initial idea of adding yet more profundity to the subject of gender politics somewhere between the first and second scenes of Act I. What more can I say that others have not stated already? That women were cast Tybalt and Mercutio and added a predictable but curiously heterosexual slant to those characters (and to those interactions with their male peers)? That indeed the sexual politics of the adult world include a heavy element of violence; and of, in Mr Morris's words, women's ability to fight back (only) in context of their positions and roles?
Krannert does not have the best acoustics from the pit - the orchestra must sit very low and the sound (which logically follows location) emanates from a boxed opening before the stage, affecting the quality greatly. There were a few scary moments with the strings at first, but tensions were worked out as musicians dug deeper, both dramatically and chronologically, into the score. Prokofieff's restored score was a revelation. I heard it with some disbelief, not believing that such minor changes could have wrought so much. There is a lushness and delicacy of timbre and tone that was missing previously, and it seems to have become more thematically varied. I no longer felt as if the various leitmotifs directed the brass to relentlessly pound my ears into submission.
The New York Times review disliked the production with more energy than I was capable of last night. I will not repeat Mr Macaulay's exact words on the needless repetitions of steps except to say that I share them, and that I began to cringe halfway through the second scene as the hitch steps and the endless low arabesques detracted my attention from the action with their predictability and their regular devotion to the melody. The choreography is not not musical, but it is wedded to an annoyingly regular melodic sense that positions the steps within the music instead of through the musical phrases.
Morris's Verona is a sensual and interactive world. Dancers form relationships with each other, indulge in games, clumsy plots, and occasionally transparent enmities that are covered over with cartoonish displays of friendship when the Prince (or perhaps the parent) approaches. Tho' brutal in the machinations of men and women (see Lady Capulet's introduction of Juliet to Paris by a shove, also Paris's manhandling of Juliet during the banquet), it is one in which the men and women seem to have apparent sexual lives without relegating it to the realm of MacMillan's courtesans or (even worse, perhaps) yet another psychological drama involving Siegfried's tutor.
Maile Okamura was a superb Juliet. Her restraint made Juliet poignant, deeply unhappy and in search of something more equal and tender than what Paris, merely a rich thug in this production, was capable of. It was clear in her duet with lady Capulet that she was not a fully grown woman. Where as Lady Capulet, all heavy skirts and sombre hair, sank into the steps as if mired in the concerns and power games of that fair city, Juliet in white floated above them, delicately sculpting the air as if to delineate a higher realm in which she still dwells. However, even in her independence there is some level of resignation - the poison holds no perverse fascination for her, she takes it as is her duty.
Romeo, whose name I will recall if only I had my program - where oh where is it, was a peculiarly gentle man, his bearing often reminding me of Dear Ashley Wilkes (for good or ill) off in world parallel to this one. However, as mystically and ecstatically connected as the young people were at first meeting, neither provided sufficient dramatic motivation to the audience for taking action in order to be together; instead, they were pulled and pushed in various directions, subordinate to the Needs of the Plot instead of the Dictates of Emotion.
These dramatic inconsistencies proliferate throughout the production. Mercutio is still a jester, a mad cap prankster whose character is fleshed out during a pantomime sequence with Juliet's nurse, but the dramatic development comes too late, as Romeo is instead convinced to go to the Capulets' party by unknown means. Rosaline was included in this production and explicitly rejected Romeo at the party for sake of emotional closure. However, was this rejection out of duty? Sheer dislike? I could not read it clearly and she faded into the general obscurity in the company of other townsfolk soon after. However, as this scene came at the expense of establishing Mercutio's relationship and importance to Romeo, the poignance of Mercutio's death is undercut by his portrayal as simply the Jester and I could have done without it.
Two other relationships were of special note: that of Friar Laurence, now a much younger and vital man, with Romeo, and that of Nurse and her servant. We see Romeo glancing sharply at Friar Laurence during the establishing scene - the relationship is never explained. Was it a warning from the Friar, a warning to Romeo over his impetuous emotions? Had the Friar identified his likely instrument for reconciling the ancient feud? We are never told. Instead the Friar resumes his wiseman role before briefly transforms into a dancing role in Act III, illustrating a non-point to Juliet for reasons that are dramatically obscure. Second, the Nurse oscillated between moments of intense identification and blankness with Juliet. Was her servant (the man in the green cap she dances with) simply a servant? It seemed like her sympathy toward Juliet could have been motivated by a similarly confounding relationship with man (perhaps that servant) but it is never entirely made clear. Again, her rejection of Juliet is not dramatically consistent in Act IV - there is no inner struggle, the Nurse does so because the plot demands it but there are no hidden feelings nor conflicts. One other outstanding character had no set choreography: he is simply the Prince's flag-bearer. Perhaps even more self-important than the man he serves, he paces about the town with a measure of self-important insouciance that even his master could not (or would not) match.
Macaulay discussed several plot inconsistencies, so I will skip over those (I share most of his objections) and expand yet again on my perception of Morris's logic of setting dance to music. The choreography was most effective for pairs and single dancers - the dance of the townsfolk with their stylistic poses and shuffle steps was repetitive and in many cases made me cringe. What was it meant to do? However, there was also great gentleness in moments, particularly by the women with their soft port de bras, lifting the air with their arms and torsos, but in most others I was distracted by the preponderance of steps. There were steps in isolation, repeated sequences, mirrored sequences, sequences repeated to other characters. In addition, at moments there seemed to have been isolated quotes from the MacMillan choreography. Regardless, all in all it was an overload of choreography in places that really did not need it, almost as if the choreographer did not fully trust the music to carry the moment.
05 March 2009
In a curious juxtaposition, after reading Croce's "Farrell and Farrell-isms", I had the most curious image of Suzanne Farrell's reappearance in the Symphony in C Adagio; she is jammed unceremoniously into her costume before someone gives her a great shove, at which time Ms Farrell begins bourreeing fantastically, floating in the direction of the force applied onto the stage and into the arms of her cavalier.
It is then I realize that it is merely a ballet recreation of the Prince on the Bridge of a Castle Moat from The Sound of Music and grow heartily ashamed of myself.
It is then I realize that it is merely a ballet recreation of the Prince on the Bridge of a Castle Moat from The Sound of Music and grow heartily ashamed of myself.
18 October 2008
Suzanne Farrell Ballet, 12 (matinee and evening) October 2008
This is just a repost of my review from Ballet Talk.
Permalink: http://ballettalk.invisionzone.com/index.php?showtopic=27990&view=findpost&p=234978
----
I apologise for the lateness of my report but the commitments of an academic-in-training is never done. Also food poisoning killed whatever was left of me for three days and that is never fun. I went to both programs on Sunday 12 October, the matinee of Liebeslieder Walzer/Ragtime/Episodes, and the night time curated performance of Balanchine's pas de deux. I don't have very much to say about the second program, so I've combined impressions from both into one post.
For those people looking for seating information, I've posted about it in this thread a few messages back. (ed permalink: http://ballettalk.invisionzone.com/index.php?showtopic=27990&view=findpost&p=234758)
Liebeslieder Walzer/Ragtime/Episodes
Sunday 12 October 2008 2:30 PM
Eisenhower Theater, Kennedy Center
Row C 23 (Left Balcony, four seats from the left end)
All three pieces on the afternoon program were new to me. I've seen Liebeslieder Walzer on video (including Karin von Aroldingen coaching pieces of it on Balanchine Lives!) but never from a stationary perspective. From a first outing perspective I think I would have preferred to see no other company. While the dancers seemed tentative at first they settled into the dances soon enough, especially in the pointe section. There were some lovely movements - the couple who danced the 'pushing' duet in a later segment lost themselves to the delirium of the dance. The woman spun away, reaching for something out of the confines of this particular ballroom. The man grabbed her hand at the last moment as if anchoring her to reality, it looked as if he reminded himself as well. All in all, the steps and the moods were there, but aside from flashes of insight the dancers were not yet comfortable enough to delineate distinct personalities among them. With Liebeslieder I wonder whether the dancers are distinct couples trying out different moods and fates while they associate, or whether they are anonymous projections of relationships, viewed at a remove. With the SFB I currently lean toward the latter. Part of it, I think, is simply dancers needing more time with this particular ballet. They do not yet look comfortable, as if waltzing was not yet firmly ingrained in their bodies.
All of that being said, here are my caveats, as have been mentioned by several posters and reviews already. It may have been a function of where I sat, but the male singers were overpowered by the women, especially at first. They sorted themselves out and performed admirably, but it was to the audience. The acoustics may be off but I wanted them to remain within that diegetic space, to preserve the illusion of unity between music and dance. Second, Jack's right about the chandelier - the sparkliness was even more distracting and provided a very clear 'ceiling' to the dance during the second part. I would rather not have souls fly up and hit themselves on a million and one shards of waterford crystal. Third, someone (was it you Jack?) mentioned the lighting change - the distinct impression of lights fading into the starry night in second section instead of an abrupt dimming of lights. It was so subtly done at first that I thought it was my eyesight. I think I really would have preferred an abrupt dimming to clearly cue the difference in moods.
But these are all staging caveats, the dancers danced beautifully. I would love to see what they can do in a year's time, or perhaps even five. It would be a lovely ballet to grow into.
The dance archeologist in me wonders what the first concert version of Ragtime looks like (with Diana Adams). This version with its demi-caratère gestures and the loose-limbed choreography can only connect in my mind to Farrell and her little eccentricities. Elizabeth Holowchuk did admirably, but she filled the Farrell mold - is it possible for her to exceed it? Actually the first thought I had when they began dancing was, "My God, it's Rubies with Suzanne Farrell!" But it wasn't, not quite, she was perhaps a less cynical jazz baby, before she had acquired quite the verve and edge of Rubies.
I went into Episodes completely cold, as I had seen only a recording of Kent in Episodes from the RM Productions. I must confess that I had to stifle giggling all through it. There were wickedly funny quotes from Agon (splits from the pas de deux, non linear canon work), what seemed to be the Rite of Spring (distorted plie work), and even tendu éffacés and écartés from what looked to be Theme and Variation in the Ricercata. The dancers, from both the SFB and Ballet Austin, had terrific energy and commitment in the performance of it, and the SFB dancers looked visibly more comfortable in this than in Liebeslieder. I did notice that the SFB dancers had sharper, more clearly delineated movements than those from Ballet Austin. The difference between whips and knives, perhaps?
Finally, I will add that the corp work in the Ricercata, both in canon and also in its echoing of the principals, reminded me strangely of Fokine's logic in his corp work in Les Sylphides. The orchestration in the 'style of Bach' did nothing to dissuade me of that impression.
Sunday 12 October 2008 8 PM
'The Balanchine Couple'
Orchestra Row S 123 (Center Orchestra on the Left Aisle)
I thought that this would be a good program to take a ballet neophyte to - and while Farrell's narration was great - the pas de deuxs were too disconnected from each other to make for good continuous watching. Watching Balanchine's work in excerpt always reminds me of how interlocked his choreography was - how do you begin to understand Apollo and Terpischore when there is no context of what came before or after?
As I have nothing substantive to say about, this portion is broken up into random impressions:
Apollo: See above for my complaint about context. Apollon Musagète is my favorite Balanchine ballet for its simplicity of both dance and orchestration. I'd love to see what sort of an Apollo Runqiao Du is in a complete ballet. After seeing him in Liebeslieder and this I have in mind him as a Martins type - he of the quiet controlled majesty. All right, perhaps Martin's majesty was a bit less controlled. smile.gif
La Sonnambula: I've only seen the recording of Baryshnikov and Ferri in this, so I don't have a fair comparison of it. Kirk Henning was a suitably yearning poet, perhaps too curious or attracted for his own good. Magnicaballi was a beautiful Sleepwalker - her controlled dancing created a lovely and menacing contrast with the lush and (I thought) rather insipid orchestration.
The Unanswered Question: Hands down, my favorite pas de deux de six of the evening. I love Ives, and Holowchuk's disquieting performance was wonderful. There looked to be a few technical difficulties when the men moved her about, but it didn't break the atmosphere. Cook's dancing read very clearly on the stage against the dim lighting, but its sharpness also lent it a bit too much theatricality.
La Valse: I told Jack that Maurice Ravel is one of my favorite composers. I love Dear Maurice precisely for his sense of orchestration - that one or two acidic notes in a lush chord that subtly throws my harmonic universe out of alignment. Death's appearance was sudden and dramatic (this being the revised version from the 70s), but I am of the opinion that if danced with suitable aplomb then his presence is not needed until the final scene in the ball room, the menace should have been telegraphed alone by the tension inherent in both the music and dancing. That said, I have nothing substantial to say, except that I'd love to see a full La Valse from SFB.
(I've just realized that I had more to say than previously envisioned. Whoops.)
Agon: I asked Jack if Agon was a contest between the dancers and the music, or whether it was a contest _between_ the dancers. He said Yes. In my limited experience I've never gotten the sense of the second part from a performance. It could be dancer proficiency or any number of things, but this performance put some of that menace, that sense of competition between the man and the woman, back in. Is he guiding her or is she being presented with a challenge that she cannot win? Moreover, did she provoke him to it?
Meditation: ... After the last few pas de deux, Meditation felt surprisingly conventional. It was quite a shock, really.
Pas de deux mauresque: Not the greatest of works, but it was a great display of range. It was character dancing à la Balanchine and a charmingly sinuous one, In a Manner Other than Coffee.
Diamonds Pas de deux: Seeing this done in a Swan Lake esque classical tutu (instead of a powderpuff) just reminds me all the more powerfully that Diamonds is _not_ Swan Lake. Magnicaballi and Mladenov gave a good performance but she was slightly off her legs (tired perhaps?). It wasn't as majestic nor as mystically ecstatic as it could have been. I think I'd love to see Magnicaballi in Emeralds. Mladenov slipped off the radar (sorry!) as I spent most of it trying to figure out what she was doing with the role.
Stars and Stripes: Pickard and Cook gave a spirited performance of the pas de deux (but alas, no full company finale!). They've both got the idea of it, but I don't think that either of them quite had the legs for this sort of dancing. Pickard at the end especially looked tired (perhaps concerned?) through the split jumps. Both of them played it straight. While the pas can be too campy, I remember seeing a recording of Hayden in her delight and perhaps even amusement at the things that her legs were doing (look at them go!). Of course, in this I could be a little biased, as my own private nickname for Liberty Bell is Tweety Bird.
The Balanchine Couple is a lovely program, but it simply whets the appetite for _more_, for complete renditions of each of these ballets from the company. At moments I did question Farrell's casting, especially in the Stars and Stripes, but for the majority of it her choices worked well and gave _distinct_ performances in the pas. It is this very distinctness that I would like to see more of in Liebeslieder.
A lovely day of visual overload and then it was back to academia. I look forward to seeing them again in fifteen months or so.
I may have more to say in the future but I think for now this is it.
Permalink: http://ballettalk.invisionzone.com/index.php?showtopic=27990&view=findpost&p=234978
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I apologise for the lateness of my report but the commitments of an academic-in-training is never done. Also food poisoning killed whatever was left of me for three days and that is never fun. I went to both programs on Sunday 12 October, the matinee of Liebeslieder Walzer/Ragtime/Episodes, and the night time curated performance of Balanchine's pas de deux. I don't have very much to say about the second program, so I've combined impressions from both into one post.
For those people looking for seating information, I've posted about it in this thread a few messages back. (ed permalink: http://ballettalk.invisionzone.com/index.php?showtopic=27990&view=findpost&p=234758)
Liebeslieder Walzer/Ragtime/Episodes
Sunday 12 October 2008 2:30 PM
Eisenhower Theater, Kennedy Center
Row C 23 (Left Balcony, four seats from the left end)
All three pieces on the afternoon program were new to me. I've seen Liebeslieder Walzer on video (including Karin von Aroldingen coaching pieces of it on Balanchine Lives!) but never from a stationary perspective. From a first outing perspective I think I would have preferred to see no other company. While the dancers seemed tentative at first they settled into the dances soon enough, especially in the pointe section. There were some lovely movements - the couple who danced the 'pushing' duet in a later segment lost themselves to the delirium of the dance. The woman spun away, reaching for something out of the confines of this particular ballroom. The man grabbed her hand at the last moment as if anchoring her to reality, it looked as if he reminded himself as well. All in all, the steps and the moods were there, but aside from flashes of insight the dancers were not yet comfortable enough to delineate distinct personalities among them. With Liebeslieder I wonder whether the dancers are distinct couples trying out different moods and fates while they associate, or whether they are anonymous projections of relationships, viewed at a remove. With the SFB I currently lean toward the latter. Part of it, I think, is simply dancers needing more time with this particular ballet. They do not yet look comfortable, as if waltzing was not yet firmly ingrained in their bodies.
All of that being said, here are my caveats, as have been mentioned by several posters and reviews already. It may have been a function of where I sat, but the male singers were overpowered by the women, especially at first. They sorted themselves out and performed admirably, but it was to the audience. The acoustics may be off but I wanted them to remain within that diegetic space, to preserve the illusion of unity between music and dance. Second, Jack's right about the chandelier - the sparkliness was even more distracting and provided a very clear 'ceiling' to the dance during the second part. I would rather not have souls fly up and hit themselves on a million and one shards of waterford crystal. Third, someone (was it you Jack?) mentioned the lighting change - the distinct impression of lights fading into the starry night in second section instead of an abrupt dimming of lights. It was so subtly done at first that I thought it was my eyesight. I think I really would have preferred an abrupt dimming to clearly cue the difference in moods.
But these are all staging caveats, the dancers danced beautifully. I would love to see what they can do in a year's time, or perhaps even five. It would be a lovely ballet to grow into.
The dance archeologist in me wonders what the first concert version of Ragtime looks like (with Diana Adams). This version with its demi-caratère gestures and the loose-limbed choreography can only connect in my mind to Farrell and her little eccentricities. Elizabeth Holowchuk did admirably, but she filled the Farrell mold - is it possible for her to exceed it? Actually the first thought I had when they began dancing was, "My God, it's Rubies with Suzanne Farrell!" But it wasn't, not quite, she was perhaps a less cynical jazz baby, before she had acquired quite the verve and edge of Rubies.
I went into Episodes completely cold, as I had seen only a recording of Kent in Episodes from the RM Productions. I must confess that I had to stifle giggling all through it. There were wickedly funny quotes from Agon (splits from the pas de deux, non linear canon work), what seemed to be the Rite of Spring (distorted plie work), and even tendu éffacés and écartés from what looked to be Theme and Variation in the Ricercata. The dancers, from both the SFB and Ballet Austin, had terrific energy and commitment in the performance of it, and the SFB dancers looked visibly more comfortable in this than in Liebeslieder. I did notice that the SFB dancers had sharper, more clearly delineated movements than those from Ballet Austin. The difference between whips and knives, perhaps?
Finally, I will add that the corp work in the Ricercata, both in canon and also in its echoing of the principals, reminded me strangely of Fokine's logic in his corp work in Les Sylphides. The orchestration in the 'style of Bach' did nothing to dissuade me of that impression.
Sunday 12 October 2008 8 PM
'The Balanchine Couple'
Orchestra Row S 123 (Center Orchestra on the Left Aisle)
I thought that this would be a good program to take a ballet neophyte to - and while Farrell's narration was great - the pas de deuxs were too disconnected from each other to make for good continuous watching. Watching Balanchine's work in excerpt always reminds me of how interlocked his choreography was - how do you begin to understand Apollo and Terpischore when there is no context of what came before or after?
As I have nothing substantive to say about, this portion is broken up into random impressions:
Apollo: See above for my complaint about context. Apollon Musagète is my favorite Balanchine ballet for its simplicity of both dance and orchestration. I'd love to see what sort of an Apollo Runqiao Du is in a complete ballet. After seeing him in Liebeslieder and this I have in mind him as a Martins type - he of the quiet controlled majesty. All right, perhaps Martin's majesty was a bit less controlled. smile.gif
La Sonnambula: I've only seen the recording of Baryshnikov and Ferri in this, so I don't have a fair comparison of it. Kirk Henning was a suitably yearning poet, perhaps too curious or attracted for his own good. Magnicaballi was a beautiful Sleepwalker - her controlled dancing created a lovely and menacing contrast with the lush and (I thought) rather insipid orchestration.
The Unanswered Question: Hands down, my favorite pas de deux de six of the evening. I love Ives, and Holowchuk's disquieting performance was wonderful. There looked to be a few technical difficulties when the men moved her about, but it didn't break the atmosphere. Cook's dancing read very clearly on the stage against the dim lighting, but its sharpness also lent it a bit too much theatricality.
La Valse: I told Jack that Maurice Ravel is one of my favorite composers. I love Dear Maurice precisely for his sense of orchestration - that one or two acidic notes in a lush chord that subtly throws my harmonic universe out of alignment. Death's appearance was sudden and dramatic (this being the revised version from the 70s), but I am of the opinion that if danced with suitable aplomb then his presence is not needed until the final scene in the ball room, the menace should have been telegraphed alone by the tension inherent in both the music and dancing. That said, I have nothing substantial to say, except that I'd love to see a full La Valse from SFB.
(I've just realized that I had more to say than previously envisioned. Whoops.)
Agon: I asked Jack if Agon was a contest between the dancers and the music, or whether it was a contest _between_ the dancers. He said Yes. In my limited experience I've never gotten the sense of the second part from a performance. It could be dancer proficiency or any number of things, but this performance put some of that menace, that sense of competition between the man and the woman, back in. Is he guiding her or is she being presented with a challenge that she cannot win? Moreover, did she provoke him to it?
Meditation: ... After the last few pas de deux, Meditation felt surprisingly conventional. It was quite a shock, really.
Pas de deux mauresque: Not the greatest of works, but it was a great display of range. It was character dancing à la Balanchine and a charmingly sinuous one, In a Manner Other than Coffee.
Diamonds Pas de deux: Seeing this done in a Swan Lake esque classical tutu (instead of a powderpuff) just reminds me all the more powerfully that Diamonds is _not_ Swan Lake. Magnicaballi and Mladenov gave a good performance but she was slightly off her legs (tired perhaps?). It wasn't as majestic nor as mystically ecstatic as it could have been. I think I'd love to see Magnicaballi in Emeralds. Mladenov slipped off the radar (sorry!) as I spent most of it trying to figure out what she was doing with the role.
Stars and Stripes: Pickard and Cook gave a spirited performance of the pas de deux (but alas, no full company finale!). They've both got the idea of it, but I don't think that either of them quite had the legs for this sort of dancing. Pickard at the end especially looked tired (perhaps concerned?) through the split jumps. Both of them played it straight. While the pas can be too campy, I remember seeing a recording of Hayden in her delight and perhaps even amusement at the things that her legs were doing (look at them go!). Of course, in this I could be a little biased, as my own private nickname for Liberty Bell is Tweety Bird.
The Balanchine Couple is a lovely program, but it simply whets the appetite for _more_, for complete renditions of each of these ballets from the company. At moments I did question Farrell's casting, especially in the Stars and Stripes, but for the majority of it her choices worked well and gave _distinct_ performances in the pas. It is this very distinctness that I would like to see more of in Liebeslieder.
A lovely day of visual overload and then it was back to academia. I look forward to seeing them again in fifteen months or so.
I may have more to say in the future but I think for now this is it.
02 October 2008
Your Improbable Heroine
Even though I've been interested in dance for as far as I can remember, I've only seriously watched ballet for the last two to three years. My interest in Balanchine is even more recent, as only recently have I acquired any level of access to writings and media on his work. Only recently have I felt confident enough to make observations beyond the most banal and superficial, and even now it's in a limited context.
One of my earliest memories of cable television was of a (probably) Soviet gymnast going from arabesque (they call it a scale) into a front walkover. In retrospect I probably thought, 'oh what lovely line', but I was only four or five, so I probably thought 'ooh pretty' and left it there. Then in secondary school and university I got into figure skating and both artistic and rhythmic gymnastics. However, frequent scoring changes affect the execution and conception of the sports, and as placement was never my original motivation for following the sport, I am now only an occasional spectator. I danced when I was younger, and now I have gone back to it, except now I hold no illusions over my inabilities. But that's all right, they can dance and I'll pretend to do so, killing swans and massacring washing machines in my wake.
I go to ballet, watch them, and occasionally put on a video simply to listen to the interaction of music and toe shoes. I've had good guides thus far in helping me pick out well-made, well-performed performances. All this has only served to deepen my obsession, but that's okay, it's still legal.
All of the preceding has basically set this blog up as a repository of my occasional cleverness.
One of my earliest memories of cable television was of a (probably) Soviet gymnast going from arabesque (they call it a scale) into a front walkover. In retrospect I probably thought, 'oh what lovely line', but I was only four or five, so I probably thought 'ooh pretty' and left it there. Then in secondary school and university I got into figure skating and both artistic and rhythmic gymnastics. However, frequent scoring changes affect the execution and conception of the sports, and as placement was never my original motivation for following the sport, I am now only an occasional spectator. I danced when I was younger, and now I have gone back to it, except now I hold no illusions over my inabilities. But that's all right, they can dance and I'll pretend to do so, killing swans and massacring washing machines in my wake.
I go to ballet, watch them, and occasionally put on a video simply to listen to the interaction of music and toe shoes. I've had good guides thus far in helping me pick out well-made, well-performed performances. All this has only served to deepen my obsession, but that's okay, it's still legal.
All of the preceding has basically set this blog up as a repository of my occasional cleverness.
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