City Center, NYC, recently hosted a teacher’s training program for the Zena Rommett Floor–Barre Technique. Teachers, and those wanting to be certified, came from many places on the globe to review their methods and to learn anew. The morning I attended, master teacher Charlotte Furst from Sweden gave a very clear and calm class to attentive students.
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Zena Rommett Floor–Barre Technique has been with us for almost fifty years. A former ballerina, Ms. Rommett first taught her methods at the Joffrey School of American Ballet; the technique essentially gives ballet dancers barre training on the floor, thereby eliminating the intrusion of gravity and balance in developing neurological pathways in the body.
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Ballet, and dance in general, requires certain physical necessities– alignment, turnout, and lengthening, for example. Tendu’s, coupe’s, passe’s, and degage’s with pointed or flexed feet can be slowly practiced on the floor to give the dancer the desired placement.
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I sat and watched class with Camille Rommett, Zena’s gracious daughter who heads up the Foundation. Camille schooled me on some of the finer points as the class progressed, and told me that Zena always gave dancers what they needed, not what she knew. They never use the term “stretch” as I inadvertently spoke, but preferred the term, lengthening, as in the spine, back of the legs, and arms.
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The devotee’s since the 1960′s have continued to be enthusiastic, and the technique has been a favorite of many past and present stars: Judith Jamison, Lars Lubovitch, Tommy Tune, and Patrick Swayze, to name a few luminaries. At present, Camille said this method is being taught worldwide, and on numerous colleges campuses and national dance studios. Next month they’ll offer another teacher’s training in Florence, Italy.
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Basically, while working slowly on the floor, nothing is set to chance. At the barre, things may move quickly and the student may get used to working improperly, and develop bad habits; on the floor there is a lack of tension, and without music, the dancer, along with an aware teacher, can focus of his or her needs. Incidentally, this technique has been used as a rehabilitation method for those who have injuries too. It’s easy to see how effective this method would be for someone who has had a knee or ankle injury, for example, and wants to activate and strengthen those areas.
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Camille also said that Zena emphasized transitions as well. Having been a ballerina, she well understood the necessity of linking movements together with proper alignment. Ms. Furst underscored this by coaxing the students to relax during their movements, not to struggle, and to become more fluid, with a strong center and relaxed face.
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For those who don’t have studios nearby that offer these classes, many DVD’s are available for the young dancer, the professional, elders, and injured. I’m a convert, and consider this technique very valuable for dancers and non-dancers alike. Why would anybody not want the effects of a longer, stronger, and balanced body?
In the Second Act of La Bayadere, in Hindu India, Solar reclines in sorrow, smokes his opium pipe, and dreams of his dead lover, Nikiya. As he falls into a dream vision–The Kingdom of Shades–harp strings lead us into his subconscious world. Then, the first of thirty-two shades, or spirits, appear as from the clouds; plie arabesque, cambre, port du bras repeated in timeless unison growing whiter and whiter as light suffuses and overcomes darkness. In a word, the dancers create an impression, mesmerizing and sublime, that is one of the most iconic exerpts in classical ballet.
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In 1877, the genius of classical ballet choreography, Marius Petipa, first unveiled La Bayadere in Imperial Russia. It has been considered one of his finest achievements in an illustrious career that included the best of the best for this Frenchman: Le Corsaire, Sleeping Beauty, Nutcracker, Don Quixote, Cinderella, Raymonda, and of course, the great Swan Lake. All these works, and many others of his, fill dance theatres all over the world on any evening, and have become the ethos of ballet itself, today and perhaps forever.
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La Bayadere is a narrative ballet about the love affair between Solar, a warrior, and Nikiya, a temple dancer (Bayadere) in exotic, ancient India. But their love is thwarted by the High Brahmin who also declares his love for Nikiya, but is rejected by her. The Radjah Dugumanta wants Solar to marry his daughter Gamzatti, but finds that he is already in love with Nikiya. Both he and the Brahmin collude to kill to Nikiya. Solar must marry Gamzatti.
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La Bayadere then becomes a eternal story of love, jealousy, revenge, and eventually, cosmic reconciliation. It has sometimes been compared to Verdi’s opera Aida, especially the ending, the triangular love affair, an exotic locale, but these prove to be loose comparisons, and reflect the cultural developments and tastes of the era more than anything else.
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David Hallberg, back from Russia, where he was made principal dancer at the Boshoi, a first ever for an American, brilliantly danced the role of Solar. Nikiya was flawlessly danced by Paolina Semionova from St. Petersberg–the place where the first La Bayadere was originally performed; so you could say the production was infused with a genuine Russian spirit. This, added the fact that this version was conceived of and directed by the great Natalia Makarova, made everything even more compelling.
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Hallberg now appears to be a more mature artist; his acting ability and mime, noble and tastefully restrained, always promising more in his glowingly fluid movement. He seems to float when he is airborne, and always lands lightly, composed, and clear in his transitions. He seems to be made for classicism, as his abilities are textbook clear and delightfully executed. With so many stars retiring this year–Maxim Beloserkovsky, Angel Corella, and Ethan Stiefel– Hallberg will no doubt be a busy dancer.
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Paolina Semionova was astonishing throughout, and was most effective in the famous “basket dance.” Solar is forced into marrying Gamzatti, the Radjah’s daughter, and Nikiya is ordered to dance at the betrothal celebration. To render this complex and pathetic moment, a dancer must live a multiplicity of emotions as she dances before her lost love: confusion, disbelief, sorrow, as she dances sensually before the gathering.
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Semionova captures all the complexities with her arching back, expressive arms, and slow slides into the floor while the delicate Minkus score underscores the pathos. Ingrid Bergman, 20th century actress, could achieve this dramatic life on screen, and this was a moving likeness in dance.
During Nikiya’s dance, a basket of flowers is presented to her. Thinking it a gift from Solar, and a secret sign of fidelity, her mood brightens, and life is breathed into her movements, she has a reason to believe. But in her joy, she buries her head into the flowers, and a serpent strikes out and bites her in the neck. The conspirators succeed. An antidote is offered by the Bhramin, she refuses, as sees Solar and Gamzatti depart. She would rather die than live without Solar, and collapses.
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Earlier in the week, Veronika Part and Marcello Gomes danced the leads to equal effectiveness. Part, long limbed, with beautiful arched feet and wonderful line danced with passion and precision. Gomes always a devoted and stellar partner added with his precise technique and powerful sensitive presence. Gamzatti was danced by Gillian Murphy–confident, strong, full of attack and perfect energy. Seo, as Gamzatti with Hallberg was more lyrical, airy, without the punch of Murphy, but again very expressive in her pas de duex, with beautiful quality.
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Finally, at the wedding ceremony at the temple, with a great Buddha statue presiding, we have a show stopping dance–the Bronze Idol. Daniel Simkin on Tuesday, and Joseph Phillips on Saturday. Both had bravura performances and were electrifying in their stylized leaps.
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The ceremony is solemn. Solar is going to the alter but sees images of Nikiya as a shade, and falls into remorse. Nikiya’s spirit, dressed is white, enters and departs, spinning and leaping through the proceedings, as the beautiful candle dance is created by sixteen bayaderes. As in a serenade, and music to match, they
surround the couple with crooked arms and flexed hands holding candles aloft. As Gamzatti lures Solar to the alter, a shade enters with a basket of flowers that was used to kill her rival, reminding Solar once again of the evil transgressions. As he approaches the alter, as if going to the guillotine, the rare contrast between beauty, sadness, and remorse is struck.
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But nature, the gods, do not want this ending. As the Bhramin orders the couple to take their vows, the temple is destroyed, and in the apotheosis, Nikiya emerges from the destruction with a white coil of ribbon
that Solar catches as they eternally ascend together, united at last.
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Praise all around: For Petipa, for Ludwig Minkus’ score, for Natalia Makarova’s staging, to the truly world class dancers, and even the maestro of both evenings–Charles Barker–who worked wonderfully with the dancers both evenings. La Bayadere is a study in Romantic Classicism, with many music and dance styles, groups of varying sizes, classic partnering, and exotic costumes and sets. We have Imperial Russia to thank for this exquisite artistic production–a nod to the accomplishments of Aristocracy–and to the astonishing talent of our 21st Century World.
Erez Milatin in “Last Man”, choreography by Jason Ambrose
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Reviewed by Carlos Stafford,The Model Critic
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The Ellison Ballet Spring Showcase 2012 had a rousing performance last Saturday night at the Manhattan Movement and Arts Center. In an evening of classical and contemporary ballet, the students delivered a pleasing amalgam of well-chosen pieces that showcased their remarkable abilities.
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A sampling of romantic duets to music by Chopin opened the program–Waltz, Scherzo, Minute Waltz, and Nocturne –with nuanced and delicate partnering. Sara Ezzell–David Hochberg, Sarah Tryon–Jason Ambrose, and Lauren Archer-Louis Picuira-de Pimodan painted beautiful languorous and evocative shapes in Nocturne, while the men in their solos, and ensemble work were outstanding in the Finale–bold and confident. All appeared well-rehearsed and sharp in their intentions.
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As the evening proceeded, there were a few brilliant performances. Ka’imi Cambern was technically exacting in the “Variations from Flower Festival at Genzano” executing the difficult Bournonville style with attack and elevation, and added haughtiness. We were also presented with “Variations from Don Quixote,” by Erez-Ben Zion Milatin, who matador straight, bold, and strong, danced with panache.
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But perhaps the best pure dance performance of the evening was by Leonid Khrapunsky, in “If Only.”
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Dance being one of the primal arts was certainly in evidence here. With contemporary choreography to percussion instruments only, Mr. Khrapunsky viscerally interpreted the beats with elemental and animal athleticism; with a quick tempo, and intense, expressionistic movement encompassing a lightly woven theme and variation, he electrified the audience thoroughly.
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And there was more! Closing the program was a thoroughly engaging ”Gypsy Dance from Don Quixote.”
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Music by Minkus, choreography by Larisa Calero after Marius Petipa, and Gypsy Solo choreography by Kasyan Goleizovsky. This turned out to be the piece de resistance for the evening. What was good? Everything. Lauren Archer, the music, guitar solos, sexy costumes, big wild hair with flowers, all added up to a true mood of a gypsy camp; like swans, you can never have too many gypsies. Everyone likes the myth of the gypsies, and they are found everywhere from India, Romania, to Spain These were of a Russian variety.
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Lauren Archer provocatively captured the Spanish passion and essence of her character, and danced with wild abandonment as she displayed a flexible, pliant, and expressive body. The choreography sizzled, and the corps of fellow gypsies were wild and beautiful, as gypsies should be.
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After having seen the Ellison school perform a few seasons ago, I must say the men were stronger and better prepared than ever before. The women were also sharp and displayed a maturity that was evident, say in “Fan Dance from La Bayadere,” where they all appeared in harmonious unison in another Minkus score.
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In a word, the energy, commitment and dedication all showed through, and one lucky graduate, David Hochberg was accepted into the Sarasota Ballet Company. Well done and congratulations!
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A lovely reception followed, where dancers, former dancers, instructors, family members and balletomanes socialized after an exciting evening.
Dropped by the Manhattan Movement and Arts Center in NYC last week to catch a shared program, WalkingTalking/ Catherine Miller; and the Ariel Rifka Dance, featuring the Joffrey Ballet School Performance Company.
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In a casual atmosphere, without sets, and in a small but packed house, the three groups presented a combination of classical ballet and modern dance pieces that ran the gamut from Gerald Arpino’s 1986 commissioned dance, “Birthday Variations,” to Catherine Miller’s more modern offering,
All the dances were interesting for highlighting the young performers, and for showcasing the accomplished choreographers. By far though, the most polished offering was the World Premiere of “Barroco,” by Africa Guzman, a native of Madrid, who in a twenty year career, worked with such luminaries as Maya Plisetskaya, Nacho Duato, Jiri Kylian, William Forsythe, and Mats Ek. Here, we saw a dance that possessed strong choreographic imagination, surprising transitions, bright, clear shapes and line grounded in a compelling music composition. Mostly, it was exciting to watch the dancers blend with the evocative allegro tempi of Vivaldi, and then to the slower, romantic guitar solo. The movement was powerful, lyrical, and athletic, but more important graceful, and delivered with intensity and purpose. Lastly, the claret-colored costumes added to the good choices of this sophisticated piece.
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Special mention to Nathaly Prieto, who danced all the dances in the first half, and once in “Unfurl,” by Catherine Miller, in the remainder of the program. Showing a wide range of talent and musicality in her busy evening, she was used to best advantage in “Barroco.”
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The second part of the evening was mostly modern with some contemporary ballet elements. Ariel Grossman’s “Une Nuit,” a New York premiere, was very charming, with an easy grace which, as the piece developed became more hypnotic and compelling. With five girls in white tunics, combined with the surprise of lime green socks, shorts, and matching headbands, we imagine them having stepped off a Grecian urn to dance with pure joy and natural movement to sounds of perhaps a Balalayka, then calliope rhythms.
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“Holly,” another small but very honest and personal piece, of hope and prayer, and of saying goodbye, to the beautiful “Four Concerned” ended the evening. Both these latter pieces had a freedom and beauty beyond technique that was very inspiring. Sometimes it is a deeper experience to view dance as pure expressive movement, beyond story, detailed construction, and self-consciousness; these dances achieved that feeling for me.
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Still, there was a bit of nostalgia in the air too, for the glory days of the Joffrey Ballet Company when they once wonderfully graced the stage at City Center, before picking up stakes and moving to Chicago. It was good to see Gerald Arpino’s name in print, and to see a touch of his talent in “Birthday Variations.” It’s not a great dance, pretty simple, but still reminded those of his association with Robert Joffrey, and how they both electrified the dance world with their cutting edge company of youth, athleticism and new ideas–a real American original. Some of those “shades of forgotten ancestors” permeated this performance, and they are still missed here in New York. The new students honored that tradition, and will no doubt brighten other companies across America. Everybody, keep dancing!
Recently, Gelsey Kirkland’s Academy of Classical Ballet (GKA) energetically presented a truly pleasing showcase of both her young, dynamic students, as well as a debut for her newly minted, fledgling Academy.
What was pleasing?: Youth, strength, quickness, on the one hand, coupled with a ready enthusiasm and joy exuding from Kirkland’s well trained dancers–they came to deliver their best performances with surefire commitment, nothing held back. When this fortunate event occurred, the audience didn’t necessarily look for perfection of technique from the budding dancers, which by the way was very accomplished, but to the exchange of the infectious, energetic dynamics given so generously by the performers. And indeed, grounding this energy was a very evident clarity of acting ability that connected character and story, giving the varied program depth and delight.
The theme of the night was the “Art of the Ballerina–The Triumph of Feminity.” Kirkland and Michael Chernov tell us, to achieve this goal “we look to the archetype of the ballerina, who represents the ideas of purity, gentleness, sensitivity, empathy, and tolerance while demonstrating strength of body, heart and mind parallel to that of the bravest heroine.”
The program was well chosen–”Mostly Bournonville and Petipa”: “Pas de Huit” from a Folk Tale, “Excerpts from Le Conservatoire,” Napoli Pas de Six,” from Bournonville; “Neapolitan” and “Hungarian” from Swan Lake, “Drum Dance,” and the longer closing piece from La Bayadere, “Jewels,” “Blue Bird Pas de Duex,” and “Red Riding Hood and the Wolf” from Sleeping Beauty–all these from Petipa. And special mention to the wonderful “Pas de Quatre” by Perrot/Dolin, beautifully performed and costumed, as well as the final La Bayadere lead couple, pas de trois, and corps. La Vivadiere by Arthur St. Leon was also exciting and well received.
The mission statement at GKA is also well worth mentioning…“we believe the development of a ballerina is dependent on more than simply providing excellent instruction in technique; the dancer must also be nurtured in the light of inspiration and the waters of culture…to encourage a renaissance of dramatic storytelling in ballet.”
That GKA stresses storytelling is refreshingly evident, and so correct to my mind. So often at the bigger, important productions from abroad, as well as a trend in national companies, ballet, at times, has become showier, more gymnastical, with dancers performing bravura movements with more regularity. Too much of this display and the message becomes the dancer’s individual prowess instead of the work at hand; everything becomes subverted, and we loose nuance and subtlety. Yes, this approach is commercial, sells tickets, and has its place in divertissements, but can in the end, become cloying and unsatisfying, beyond the spectacle, projecting nothing. So, having the dancer’s live their roles with honesty, grounded in the context of verisimilitude with the story, will always, in the end, appeal to the audience’s desire for inspiration, transcendence, and the enjoyment of recognition of truth and beauty.
Perhaps from this group of dancers we will one day see an individual emerge that can lead the way to a new and honest view of dance that bridges the gap to the past (i.e. Dame Margot Fonteyn), and reflects the actual gift of performance that Gelsey Kirkland herself offered the world of ballet. Look at her Nutcracker for instance!
Here’s wishing the Directors, Faculty, and dancers all the luck in achieving their goals, and congratulations on your auspicious beginnings.
Anna Sokolow (1910-2000), iconic modern dance choreographer, whose career vigorously spanned the entire 20th Century; an artist in whose life and times collaborated with many of the great dancers and choreographers of her era; an artist with deep roots in Israel, Mexico, and the New York dance scene, was honored with a performance of a few of her representative pieces, Nov 14th, at the Cunningham Studio.
Photo Credit: Meems
Before “Odes,” the most important offering of the evening, a short film presented Sokolow working with dancers at Ohio State University, and these asides are loosely recalled:
Words lie, movement never lies.
Steps are important, but what really matters is the mood and the drama created.
I don’t want to be popular. I don’t want to please everybody. I want to tell the truth.
Sokolow, above all, wanted her dancers to be committed, to be connected to belief, to seek the most beautiful way of expression. She also stressed clarity of movement, and definite, strong gestures.
“Odes”–Accompanied by flutist Roberta Michel, and music by Edgard Varese, twenty-three dancers created an intense, highly dramatic mood of terror and dehumanization. With mechanical blips and bleeps in the soundscape, conveying the interior horrors of a concentration camp, the dancer’s frenzied movements of fear and impending doom created a frightening mood. The dancer’s total commitment to living the choreography with honesty, belief, and energy made this piece entirely engrossing.
But if you were to deconstruct the choreography from “Odes” and “Two Preludes” which topped the evening’s presentation, the dominant theme would be pain and suffering, nothing light, nothing edifying; misery, we would find, is the human condition, the overriding motif of these dances. That Sokolow defined this theme well cannot be denied here; in this sense she accomplished her ends. In “Two Preludes,” an intimate solo, danced beautifully by long-limbed Melissa Birnbaum, we have a dance created twenty years after “Odes,” but with the same mood, although not as deadly intense: remorse, loss, internal suffering, contractions to the floor, implosions of energy, fetal postures, head cupping, unsteady footing–everything pointing to imprisonment on being. The same applied to the personal work of artistic director Jim May, in his solo “Passage” and “At the Still Point of the Turning World” by Ernestine Stodelle–a very literal dance to a poem by T. S. Eliot; both encompassing the very same themes–No Exit.
As you view these dances, you are reminded that as culture evolves, language changes. The same applies to dance vocabulary–the symbols and images become dated and loose their frisson. For example, if you see a performance of a Broadway show like “A Chorus Line” today, it reads as refreshingly quaint, and a bit dusty; no modern viewer would believe, for all its merits, that it had won a Pulitzer Prize in its day. It simply doesn’t speak to today. The same applies with these museum pieces by Anna Sokolow; once relevant, but difficult to watch now.
But most relevant to this performance, is the notion of depressing doom and gloom. It begins to look like artistic self-indulgence or posing–to have one idea pounding out the nastiness of life, and nothing else. Of course few view the world quite like this, or else we’d all jump into the East River. Finally, we can look at this performance either as a bad choice of programming the pieces of this legendary choreographer, or perhaps as a real glimpse into Sokolow’s concerns as a choreographer. In either case, it was difficult to watch, not solely because the dance movement did not transcend time, but because the ideas expressed were not balanced.
Theatre review by Carlos Stafford, The Model Critic
The Roundabout Theatre in New York opens its 2011-12 season with a sober, well-written play by Terence Rattigan from l961. The ever reliable Roundabout, has decided to offer a play for our times that starkly makes its point, doesn’t belabor its message, and wraps up neatly, no apologies. With occasional humor and icy reality, we are presented with a Rasputin-like international financial wizard from the 1930′s, and his relationship with his estranged son.
In a word, you are led to think of these modern day figures from recent history: Bernie Madoff, Bernie Ebbers, Samuel Israel, Jeffrey Skilling from Enron, Ken Lay, Scott Rothstien, Tom Peters, Alan Stanford, Jerome Kerviel, etc., characters all famous for over consumption, and feeding at the trough of public gullibility .Man and Boy is reputedly based on the life of Ivan Kreuger, an earlier version of a ponzi scheme artist, who killed himself for this same form of gluttony.
Stage icon, Frank Langella plays Gregor Antonescu, and does another great theatrical turn; he gives the feeling that the role was created for him because of his obvious physical bearing, wit and sophistication. A few seasons back, before Nixon/Frost, he played Sir Thomas More in A Man for All Seasons; a supremely ethical man in the Court of Henry Vlll, who is led to the gallows for his beliefs. Here, he plays the polar opposite–an intriguing Romanian-born financier, who as his resume states, saved the post-war French Franc, brought roads to Yugoslavia, and electricity to Hungry. However, like a sophist, he is likely to bend the truth; for his raison d’etre is not in doing good, but at winning at all costs, no matter the method. In other words, his truth is another man’s slippery slope. For him there are only two kinds of people, those who do and those that don’t. As an actor, Langella certainly does, and is riveting in his theatrical skills and believability; his diction, behavior, and command of the stage even makes his character sympathetic.
Antonescu has made a fatal mistake. His vast empire is collapsing. The world has caught on to him–he has a severe “confidence and liquidity” problem; the stakes are enormous and pressure is mounting–his stock has dropped 23%, national financial calamity is eminent. Gregor Antonescu has already survived many set backs in his career, even numerous assignation attempts–can he survive this challenge? In the face of it all, he remains calm, detached, and even charming.
In a well conceived single-set play, we find Boris (Adam Driver), Gregor’s son, living with his girlfriend in a depression-era basement apartment, Greenwich Village, early 1930′s. A Socialist, Boris hasn’t seen his estranged father in five years. Suddenly, he receives a visit from his father’s assistant, Sven (Michael Siberry); the media of New York is hounding them for information, and need a safe house for an urgent middle-of-the-night meeting with the president of American Electric, in a last ditch effort to save the faltering merger with Manson Radio. It would be the most important meeting of Antonescu’s life, and he seeks his son’s help. Shocked to see his father in these circumstances, and remembering wounds from his demeaned past, Boris reluctantly agrees.
As the meeting unfolds, we see the characters emerge. Mark Herries ( Zack Grenier) president of American Electric plays his smallish role with quiet aplomb as the secure and knowing rival to Antonescu’s
pitch. Antonescu convinces, befuddles, and masterfully digresses in his cool, desperate attempt to reach an agreement, and as he does, he even astonishingly uses his own son as a homosexual lure for the executive he knows to be a closeted “fairy.”
Let’s put it this way: Plato, Buddha, Jesus, Gandhi, or Mother Teresa wouldn’t ever go to Starbucks with Gregor. But if they did, Plato would say, did you ever consider that happiness does not follow from injustice?
Buddha would silently nod in agreement: Or that desire is the cause of suffering? Jesus listening would say, did you ever hear of my idea, Gregor my son, that man cannot live by bread alone? Yes, I always thought that too says Gandhi, and that oppression of others destroys the soul of man? Finally Mother Teresa hands Gregor a cookie, and says, come give your mother a hug, and remember even the rich are hungry for love.
But enough of this! This is exactly what the play doesn’t do–moralize. The direction is crisp and to the point, the actors don’t lay on sentiment or sermonize. Man and Boy is not presented as a morality play, but a play that tries to mirrors life, about choices people make from their own point of view. Langella and Driver, man and boy, or better, father and son, have an unbridgeable gap separating them. Antonescu’s life is driven by one passion only: to be recognized, to obey his dictum that says, appearances are all that count; love, as he states, is a commodity he cannot afford. His first wife, mother to Boris, was a Romanian burlesque dancer; his present wife, plucked from the London typing pool, received the title of Countess for a little money on the side. She, portrayed in broad strokes of cynical humor by Francesca Faridany, appears in a brief scene towards the end, to make sure her interests are secure; base and disloyal, she sees Antonescu as a meal ticket mostly, and desserts him when the pressure mounts. Faridany plays her as a hyperbole of a disloyal wife, that is very entertaining in an unedifying way Sven, his long time “loyal” assistant, also abandons Gregor, but not without showing some form of humanity in his mostly snaky self interest. Siberry does well here, as we see him transformed into a Svengali-like character.
As negotiations fall apart, as the tabloids of London report of Antonescu’s indictment for arrest, Antonescu is left alone without support. Only his son, the person Antonescu has abandoned as a boy, belittled as weak and worthless, comes to his aid with an open hand. Gregor senses his son’s love and humanity, and becomes his haunting conscious. As in Wordsworth’s poem, the child becomes father to the man, and in another sense, tries to help his father escape. But this will not do–it is much too late. There is no room for love. Alone in his son’s apartment, he examines a earlier photo of the two in a happier time–a lost moment on a beach in Biarritz. Gregor has always know this day would arrive. He puts on his hat and coat, and without excuses, slips cold steel into his pocket and disappears into the night.
It was a sobering affair, with a quick double scotch to make it go down easier. Audiences should see works like these, as well as frothy ones like Anything Goes, for the full affect of what theatre can offer.
A ballerina must possess many qualities, but balance, strength, and control are paramount. Earlier this summer, Polina Semionova, guest artist with ABT, was truly flawless as Odette-Odile. Her balance was deep-center to gravity, unfailing the entire performance; her understanding and ability to execute choreographic form and detail, and her unerring musicality, drew great moments of audience appreciation, while her shimmering arms were seemingly boneless, and otherworldly.
Take the beautiful pas de duex in Act Two with Prince Siegfried (Marcelo Gomes) and Odette, by the lake: A study in simple passé, pirouette, arabesque en dedans, then en dehors, repeated with slight variations in all directions, creating a heroic, poetic vision of liquid smoothness between the lovers.
Siegfried finds his young, seeking soul in Odette. He must choose a bride to become King. As a human, Odette, transformed and trapped as a swan by the evil sorcerer Von Rothbart, awakens him. Only able to become human at night, she tells of her plight: the spell can only be broken if a virgin youth swears his undying love. When they dance, Gomes dances Siegfried with the requisite passion and abandonment of an unbounded soul. Semionova, on the other hand, plays Odette, not withstanding her powerful technique and luminous dance ability, with an emotional remoteness, an indecipherable heart. [Was that her choice?] Gomes combines scintillating dance with passion, and projects a more fully realized performance. He communicates deep feeling with a virile, but open sensitivity, that is remarkably rare in a dancer.
photo courtesy of The Prince and the Swan blog
Two years ago, I must mention that Gomes danced Siegfried with the great, but now retired Nina Ananiashvili. Then, perhaps because he wasn’t so sure of his role, or for whatever other reason, he too was more of a technician, and didn’t communicate subtlety. Ananiashvili, like Gomes in this Swan Lake, was the total package. Even though at the end of her career, her technique faltering, but still blazing, her ability to transmit the complex feelings of Odette/Odile was fully realized. In her case, she always possessed passion, combined with impeccable dance ability, first seen when she made her American debut as Kitri in Don Q, at the New York State Theatre. And even though it’s not fair to compare dancers, since all bring special, individualistic talents, nonetheless, passion and depth of character rank high in how a performance is perceived; it’s that ineffable quality that permeates along the stage lights into the darkness of the theatre, creating a transporting magic.
Of course, this is what makes dance the most wonderful of the performing arts. Watching a ballet competition, for example, of eight couples dancing the third act of Sleeping Beauty, you’ll witness eight individual energies, all creating something different while the music and choreography remains the same, the technique similar. Some wonderful, unidentifiable spark differentiates the performers. Is it experience? Is it soul? Is it some kind of knowingness? As a dancer grows and matures, they seem to naturally deepen their understanding of character, as Gomes realizes in this Swan Lake.
At Siegfried’s birthday party, the corps dance around the spinning maypole, weaving and unweaving the ribbons; wearing festive violets, muted lavenders, and royal blue outer skirts, with tiaras for the women; men, in handsome waistcoats that mimic the same colors. On marbled floors, in the outside garden overlooking the lake, drinks are served in golden cups. The Queen Mother, played by former ABT’s outstanding principal dancer, Susan Jaffee, presents Siegfried with a crossbow, and all celebrate. The very lyrical pas de trois, at the end of the party, the fading sun, and the exotic reverie dance, bring the ensemble together for a soft close; then, an unexpected, rousing and proud Czards, to dignify the proceeding, and pulse the heart, like a final kiss of departure. His young heart full, Siegfried wanders into the forests to soothe his yearning soul, alone.
What makes Swan Lake such a captivating work of Art? One could start with the mythical proportions of the story: the metaphor of the eternal quest for authenticity and wholeness; spiritual ascendency through heroic and unconditional love; the moral struggle and triumphant battle over the smoke and oppression of evil–all elemental forces. Call it Swan Lake, Swanansee, Le Lac de Cygnes, what you will, staged and re-staged for the last 150 years, since Petipa and Lev Ivanov choreographed, and Tchaikovsky’s mesmerizing score; the elements of story, mood, magic, poetry, and dazzling symphonic ideas, never ceases to enlighten, transport, and make this work a holy event.
The audience applauds in profound appreciation, realizing what it has witnessed is not ordinary–the uplifting love expressed in the final act; Odette’s signature, joyous celebration of freedom, completing her triumphant thirty-two perfect fouettes; to the lovers final leap of faith– all epitomizes this dazzling work of Art: a strong coherence of music, choreography, and libretto; the unity of flutes, oboes, violins, and horns, the blending of stylized, ideal human movement, and finally, the depth, variety, and passion of a genius score. Clearly, Swan Lake has no equal in Ballet.
It was a grand night for ABT’s, Paloma Herrera! This Argentinean-born dancer, celebrating her twenty seasons with American Ballet Theatre, and dancing in one of the most cherished of all ballets from the Classical Era, presented a perfect opportunity for Ms. Herrera to perform once again, and to remind audiences of the immense pleasure she has so graciously given throughout the years–quite an extraordinary accomplishment.
One can’t ask more from a ballet than Coppelia. Consider the lush music of Leo Delibes, first performed in Paris in 1870, filled with gaiety and surprising variety; paired with the choreography of Frederic Franklin (after Nicholas Sergeyev), presenting a panoply of Mazurkas, Czardas, Spanish, and Scottish character dances, embedded harmoniously into the development of comedy, love dances, and group celebrations. Add to these, the tone poems dances of Hours, Dawn, and Prayer, in Act 111, and you have a rich amalgam of visual and aural art.
The story is simple and sweet. Franz (Angel Corella) is in love with Swanilda (Herrera), but sees a doll in Dr. Coppelius’ (Victor Barbee) window, reading a book, and falls in love with her. Swanilda becomes jealous, sneaks into Dr. Coppelius’ workshop with friends at night, and discovers that the doll is merely what she is, a doll. Coppelius discovers the intruders, and chases them away, except for Swanilda, who quickly disguises herself as the doll. She then decides to play a trick on Coppelius, and come to “life” as the doll. Coppelius thinking he has created an animate being ( historically in the realm of Dr. Frankenstein), has drugged Franz, who has also tried to sneak in the workshop, and proceeds to try to magically imbue Franz’s heart to Swanilda. As Swanilda mechanically moves through the workshop, with the help of Coppelius, she magically “transforms” to human. She dances her Spanish and Scottish dance with fine style and to the delight of Dr. Coppelius; then proceeds to create mayhem in the workshop by winding up all the other dolls and running amuck. All intruders escape, and the next morning the villagers celebrate the many marriages. The Burgomaster gives dowries of gold to all, including Dr. Coppelius, for the trouble he has endured, and all are united in joyous celebration.
The dances seem to come and go fluidly throughout the performance, as each builds from grace note to grace note. Moving from the introduction of the villagers in Act 1, to the celebratory dances for the impending nuptials, elegance and aplomb is on proud and playful display. Special mention to the Polish Mazurka, and Czardas performed with charm, masculine haughtiness, and most of all, elegance; to the Grand Pas de Duex with Corella and Herrera, cast perfectly together, and delighting the audience with their intuitive partnering. Herrera, small, pixyish, and flexible was at the same time, comedic as the doll, and romantic and expressive as Swanilda. As for Corella, one could say he always brings his welcomed boyish charm, and dances his heart out with each performance.
In Act 111, the children from JKO’s school for ABT, performed wonderfully in beautiful light green tulle, and presented a visual and poetic dance to the passing of the hours. Stella Abrera gloriously performed her tribute to dawn, and Marie Riccetto’s prayer dance, was moving and delicately reverent. Mending their love, Herrera and Corella, ended the performance to the great familiar music, and an astonishing fish dive, where the ballerina is lifted and quickly tilted forward, body inverted. Usually done to the front, the audience was rewarded with a spectacular bravura dive to the rear. Both dressed in shimmering white, displaying open and gracious personalities, set the tone for the real celebrations afterwards.
The supremely accomplished English actor, Brian Bedford, both directs and acts in this revival of Oscar Wilde’s, The Importance of Being Earnest, at Roundabout’s American Airlines Theater, in New York City. It comes here via Des McAnuff’s production in Ontario’s Stratford Shakespeare Festival. Please pass the scones and marmalade, we’re in for a wild ride.
At a time in Bedford’s career, where he easily could be playing Lear, Cardinals, and Popes, he instead tackles the imperious, supercilious Lady Bracknell, in drag. That the gifted Bedford plays this hefty role, against type and gender, would at first seem distracting. But truly, the moment he first arrives on stage, he creates an immediate suspension of disbelief. With only his face exposed, dressed in outlandishly beautiful period frocks in colorful silk, wigs, hats, jewels, and eyelashes, he delivers Lady Bracknell’s character with hilarious tartness and aplomb. Playing the character in a ” serious manner,” he confidently never telegraphs, or cajoles the humor, but rather lets the lines resonate on their own, ”trippingly on the tongue”. Perfect!
As far as the play itself, it is easily one of the Greats in modern English drama. The famous Lady Bracknell interview with the suitor, John (Jack) Worthing, for Gwendolen Fairfax’s hand in marriage is brilliant:
Lady Bracknell: Do you smoke?
Jack: I must admit I smoke.
LB: I’m glad to hear it. A man should always have an occupation of some kind. There are
far too many idle men in London as it is.
LB: I have always had the opinion that a man who desires to be married should know everything or nothing. Which do you know?
Jack: I know nothing, Lady Bracknell
LB: I am pleased to hear it. I do not approve of anything that tampers with natural ignorance.
Ignorance is like a delicate exotic fruit, touch it and the bloom is gone. The whole theory
of modern education is radically unsound. Fortunately in England, at any rate, education
produces no effect whatsoever. If it did, it would prove a serious danger to the upper
classes, and probably lead to acts of violence in Grosvenor Square.
LB: Are your parents living?
Jack: I have lost both my parents.
LB: Both? To loose one parent, Mr. Worthing, may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose both
looks like carelessness.
When Jack reveals that, as a child , he was found in a hang-bag in Victoria Station, Lady Bracknell delivers her famous “In a hang-bag?” response in a voice so low and aspirated with chagrin and disbelief, that the air fills the entire theater, reaching the usher at the rear in Row ZZZ.
As for the play itself, Wilde’s clever work cuts in many farcical directions; essentially, a humorous look at the desiccated, starchy manners of English high culture during the Victorian Age, where people don’t say exactly what they mean, have secret agendas, small larcenies, and hidden pasts. For love, both Algernon Moncrieff and Jack Worthing assume the name of Earnest, while Gwendolen Fairfax and Cecily Cardew, will marry no one but a man called Earnest, creating hilarious entrapments.
But for all the comedic repartee, verbal badinage, and witty aphorisms, it amounts to nothing but a tempest in a teapot–earnestly pure entertainment, without any real moral or social significance. One leaves the theater refreshed and delighted. And bringing this all together, along with Bedford, was a fine assemblage of actors–notably Sarah Topham (Gwendolen) and David Furr (Jack Worthing), who were very good, and of course, the reliable Dana Ivey as Miss Prism and Paxton Whitehead as Chasuble.
I once saw this play done in Killarney,Ireland, in a small pub over pints of Guinness; perhaps twelve people drinking and watching. One of my partners, not a fan of drama of any sort, had a huge grim on his face throughout. Afterwards, he grabbed my arm and asked again the name of the play, if it wasn’t already obvious, then bought rounds for everyone.
It would be looked upon as carelessness if you missed this play.
The Language Archive Laura Pels Theatre Reviewed by Carlos Stafford, the Model Critic
The Language Archive by Julia Cho has an auspicious beginning–a clever theme, full of promise. But sadly, as the play progresses, instead of adventure and insight, we get a routine Carnival Cruise Line five-day vacation to one island and back. What follows is a one-dimensional, black and white juxtaposition of airy concepts.
George, (Matt Letscher), a passionate expert on languages, can’t communicate his feelings to his wife. His wife, Mary (Heidi Schreck), on the other hand, has an abundance of emotions as she strangely weeps, and leaves arcane, poetic messages for George to find. When they do speak, Mary says she has no idea what George is saying.
George, in the meantime, has invited an aging foreign couple to his lab, to tape their soon to be extinct language. They hail from a far eastern European “Borat-like” land, and speak Elloway Alta (Jayne Houdyshell) and Reston (John Horton) are ersatz noble savages. They bicker in English because “its the language of anger,” buy otherwise, they speak Elloway because its the language of love. In Elloway,they don’t say “I love you,” they say, “I could never live without you.”
Mary walks out on George, and meets a man at the train station. He is carrying a parcel, and is on his way to commit suicide. He has been a baker all his life, and is taking his most important possession–his “starter.” He gives it to Mary, and she decides to embark on a new life as a baker herself.
Emma (Betty Gilpin), George’s attractive assistant, is hopelessly in love with George, and to impress him, decides to learn Esperanto. Literally throwing herself at him, poor George doesn’t see. When they hug, George weeps remembering his wife, and Emma smiles now that she finally ends in his arms.
All this literal construction, gives the play an artificial feeling–Theatre of the Absurd-Light, and gets in the way of a theatrical piece that is very well crafted, clean, learned. It is well directed by Mark Brokaw with quick pacing and fluid transitions, and the set design by Neil Patel was astonishingly handsome.
As for the acting, Jayne Houdyshell and John Horton make the evening enjoyable in their multiple roles. As for the principles, all were finely skilled actors without a script to work with. The old saying that they’re are no bad scripts, only bad actors is not true here. There was little character development, and the actors struggled to breathe life into a play more concerned with literal concepts and structure than real people.
