Everything is beautiful at the ballet
It's been an intense two weeks since my father died, and I've spent a lot of time thinking and writing about him. Today I decided I needed a break so I'm writing about something dear to my heart: ballet.
The phrase above--taken from Chorus Line, of course-- is written at the top of my email file at work. I chose the phrase for a couple of reasons. It's such an antidote to the law-and-business world where I spent my days. And it reflects my great and lifelong love of ballet.
My grandmother kindled my passion when she took me to see a performance of Ballets Russe de whatever incarnation at the old Seattle Civic Auditorium when I was in early elementary school in the early 1950s. We saw Alexandra Danilova dance the Dying Swan, and I was transfixed. I couldn't have imagined anything could be so beautiful. I remember my grandmother smiled and said, yes she was very good, but ``I have seen Pavlova.'' (She referred, of course, to the great Anna Pavlova, one of the stars of the Imperial Ballet in St. Petersburg before the Russian revolution. Pavlova, more than anyone else, brought ballet to the western hemisphere, playing in hundreds of small venues throughout North and South America).
I took ballet as a child, but my teacher was worse than mediocre and the classes were split, half ballet and half tap dancing. I hated the tap dancing, and the silly costumes we had to wear for recitals, but I was in heaven the minute we got to the ballet portion of the class. Alas, I am over 6'5" en pointe, which made the notion of getting really serious about ballet ludicrous back then. (Today there are some excellent tall ballet dancers, notably Muriel Maffre, who danced with SF Ballet for 17 years).
When I was got married in 1965, I insisted we race home from our honeymoon so I could see the legendary Fonteyn/Nureyev partnership in a performance of Romeo and Juliet.
For part of my career as a journalist, I was a ballet critic, and I loved having those two seats on the aisle in the 10th row aht are a critic's privilege. In that era I saw the Joffrey Ballet in its great flowering while Bob Joffrey was still alive, and just about every dance company that made it to Seattle. And I read about every other company and dancer, longing to see them in their glory.
A few months ago I made a discovery: huge amounts of ballet are available on the Internet. All you have to do is a Google video search, and the most any performances I've ever wanted to see showed up.
Who could have imagined that I'd be able to find actual footage of Pavlova dancing the Dying Swan? The film was shot in 1911, with all the limitations of the era, but still, it's Pavlova herself. (One thing amuses me. Apparently some younger ballet students have seen the video, are unaware of who Pavlova was, and these silly little twits are presumptuous enough to offer her some pointers on technique).
Fonteyn and Nureyev, who are now both dancing in what we Pagans call The Summerland, can be seen in the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet. How amazing that Fonteyn at age 40 was an utterly believable 14-year-old Juliet in the first flush of young love.
Maya Plisetskaya, the Bolshoi's prima ballerina assoluta, did not have many opportunities to perform in the west when she was at her peak. Her father was killed during the Stalinist purges, and the fact that she was Jewish in an era of officially sanctioned anti-Semitism in the Soviet Union meant she stayed home when the Bolshoi began to perform in Europe and, later, in the U.S. She married Rodion Shchedron, a well-known Russian composer who created the score for the Anna Karenina (based on Tolstoy''s novel, of course) ballet . Plisetskaya choreographed this ballet and danced with the Bolshoi. Just fragments are available on the Internet, but the finale, with the approach of the train is terrifying and heart-breaking.
Ravel's ``Bolero'' is far from my favorite piece of music, but I simply could not stop watching Plisetskaya dancing the version set on her by Maurice Bejart. The ballet is for 40 men and Plisetskaya, and her energy never flags through the entire piece.
Mark Morris is a dancer/choreographer I've watched for years, beginning when he was just a kid, dancing with the Koleda Folk Ensemble in Seattle. Several years ago I saw him dance Queen Dido in his balletic version of Purcell's Dido and Aeneas. This section, in which he is dancing Dido's lament, always brings me to tears.
In my wanderings, I've found several new-to-me dancers whose work I love. First is Alina Cojocaru, a tiny Romania-born dancer who is now taking principal roles at the Royal Ballet. Cojocaru is absolutely ravishing in Sleeping Beauty's Rose Adagio, and she knocks off those impossible balances with a radiant smile. And her entry into the ballroom in Cinderella Act II is simply magical. She enters, so dazzled by the otherworldliness and transformation the fairy godmother has wrought that she floats down the stairs en pointe, not even noticing the prince as he takes her hand.
Marcia Haydee, who danced with the Stuttgart Ballet, was the late choreographer John Cranko's muse. He set the Eugene Onegin ballet on her, and I was pleased to find the ballet's final scene--where she relinquishes Onegin forever--available on the Web. Haydee won fame as a dramatic ballerina, with acting skills on a par with her technical excellence.
Natalia Osipova is one of the up-and-coming ballerinas at the Bolshoi. I don't like her in everything, but she dazzles as Kitri in Don Q. Check out the huge grands jetes in this tiny segment of the grand pas de deux variation from Don Quixote. She's so athletic, with huge jumps. I do not like her Giselle at all. In my opinion, she's way too earthy to be a believable Wili. Here's her Giselle debut, where Myrtha, the queen of the Wilis, calls her forth from her grave.
Speaking of athleticism, how could I ever have missed Tetsuaya Kumakawa, who danced with the Royal Ballet before he went home to Japan to found his own company. When I first saw this variation from Don Q, I really couldn't believe what I was watching, and had to go back and run it several times.
The performance that's moved me the most was Darcey Bussell's farewell performance with the Royal Ballet last June. She danced the lead role in Kenneth McMillan's ``Song of the Earth,'' which was set to Mahler's Das Lied von der Erde for two vocalists and orchestra. Bussell retired at the peak of her powers, and never has she danced more powerfully and passionately than she did that night. Here you can see the final, ``Farewell'' section of the ballet. And here's the ovation she receives afterward. Incidentally, you can see the entire ballet on the Internet. Here's part 1, part 2, and part 3. Bussell chose this ballet for her farewell performance, and it's impossible to imagine any other work that would have suited her better.
One other ballet favorite I've seen on the Internet is not really a dance at all. It's the``grand défilé
The Paris Opera Ballet, founded in 1661 by Louis LXIV is the oldest ballet company in the world. I've watched this a number of times, and it always reminds me of the fact that ballet is an art form transmitted from person to person over the ages. It always requires this human connection--even in the era of videotape--in order for its spirit to survive.
Every night when I come home from work and wait for my last editor to sign off on my work for the day, I fire up my laptop and watch ballet. Frankly, I can't think of a better way to spend that necessary waiting time.
ballet dance dancers ballerina pavlova fonteyn nureyev Plisetskaya Bolshoi Ballets+Russe Bussel Royal+Ballet
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