Archives de Tag: Paris Opera Ballet

par | 31 janvier 2013 · 17 h 20 min

An unbiased plot summary of KAGUYAHIME

“Fair as the moon, clear as the sun, and terrible as an army with banners.” (The Song of Solomon)

Kaguyahime, NDTI 1991, Photo Roger-Viollet

Kaguyahime, NDTI 1991, Photo Roger-Viollet

The word “surreal” nestles between “surprise” and “surrender” in most dictionaries.

1) “Having the intense irrational reality of a dream;”

2) “to strike with wonder or amazement esp. because unexpected (as noun)/ an attack made without warning (verb);”

3) “the action of yielding one’s person…into the power of another” (Websters’s Dictionary)

 All prove unexpectedly useful when trying to think about what happened in, and your reactions to, this most unusual and practically indescribable ballet.

Maki Ishii’s score gives us the live collaboration of Western percussionists with Japanese experts of Kodo and Gagaku. Jirí Kylián, inspired by the music, uses one of the first recorded stories in Japanese literature, The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter, to frame the action on stage.  Yet there is nothing “Japanese-y” about the staging, the choreography, the over-all message. This piece embodies a universal lament:  since the beginning of time men continue to blame women for arousing their own testosterone-driven impulses to commit violence.

ACT I  [40 minutes]

She, Kaguyahime the goddess of the moon, slowly prepares to descend to earth.  There she intends to walk carefully through its bamboo forests. Some part of her hesitates to encounter the earth’s fearsome aliens: us humans, but curiosity consumes her. She tests the ground with her feet gently – for her as weird a sensation as walking on the moon for us.

The music will illustrate this contrast between the celestial and the earthy throughout. The hypnotic rustle of the Gagaku winds, made of bamboo, belong to Kaguyahime’s world.  Harmonious and refined, Gagaku has provided the exquisite soundtrack to imperial court ceremonies for over a thousand years.  Buoyant and vigorous, Kodo drums are the sound of village festivities, they celebrate us in all our primal human power. Indeed, this is one piece where you may be excused for leaning forward to look into the orchestra pit:  the magnificent drummers seem to be dancing themselves.

Men in white, the “suitors” from the village, steal in and push around boxes (the symbolism escapes me). Each vies for her attention by dancing a solo of increasing intensity. Soon it becomes clear that they all wish to seduce her.  The last one actually manages to touch her, but cannot hold on to her. She manages to keep eluding his grasp.

The ground cleaves open to create a living sea of red colors.  The women of this village take over the stage and dance in a wild and jumpy way, pulling the men back into their orbit. Boxes are pushed around, opened and shut (the symbolism escapes me).  Kaguyahime finds herself literally hoisted onto a pedestal. But do they wish to celebrate or isolate her?

When conflict begins, we should not be surprised.  Those in black are the Mikado’s (Emperor’s) minions  — call them knights or nobles or…just…more… men.  This is not class struggle, however, for they fight about only one thing:  a woman.

The goddess of the moon is bewildered and sad. Why such a mess?  How could this be her fault?

O! Withered is the garland of the war,/The soldier’s pole is fallen; young boys and girls/Are level now with men; the odds is gone,/And there is nothing left remarkable/Beneath the visiting moon.” [Shakespeare, Antony and Cleopatra, Act IV]

Intermission [20 minutes]

ACT II  [30 minutes]

            Very violent drumming. One musician almost bashes in the face of a drum shaped like “the man on the moon.” The noise could even remind you of helicopters, the sound associated with combat. A local dispute has escalated into a major war where even women join the battle. Trapped by the competitive violence her beauty has evoked, Kaguyahime – as hapless as Helen of Troy – lets herself be pulled to and fro by a boy, a couple…

The gentle moon goddess tries to cover her ears, to hide, increasingly fearful of what she has wrought merely by having shown her shimmering self to us.

The stage is invaded by a billowing golden curtain. Our goddess finds herself engulfed in the manipulative and more than intoxicating embrace of the Emperor.  At first he seems quite the boor, stomping in with his two henchmen, but something about him fascinates her. She gets pushed and pulled in a tortured quartet and then abruptly finds herself alone. Perhaps, her solo suggests, the emperor – of all these men – has touched her heart? Could he possibly be more than a mere man? Perhaps slightly divine?

More wild drumming than you could ever imagine.  The army returns. The moon goddess suffers being beset by shields, mirrors, blocks: has the Emperor arranged all this new confusion?  He wants her.  And she wants him too, as becomes clear in a tense and too short duet. (I lament how little stage-time Kylián allots the Emperor).

But this proves a most intelligent goddess.  Frightened by the awful covetousness of humans, their endless capacity for jealousy and their easy willingness to kill each other over all unimportant things, Kaguyahime decides to leave this planet.

She summons the brightest light. After the Emperor leaves her be –  descending as calmly as a sunset — she ascends regretfully back to her home in the sky, so very sorry that we have all disappointed her dreams of life amongst us.

With how sad Steps, O Moon, thou climb’st the skies!/ How silently, and with how wan a face!/ What! May it be that even in heavenly place/ That busy archer his sharp arrows tries? [Sir Philip Sidney, “Astrophel and Stella.”]

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par | 11 décembre 2012 · 8 h 14 min

To pointe or not to pointe… Is that the question?

WWF

What a piece of work is a man! […] how infinite in faculty! in form, in moving, how express and admirable! in action how like an angel! in apprehension how like a god! (Hamlet, Act II, scene 2)

These four pieces were created on the bodies of dancers in the Paris Opera Ballet yet are these “ballets?” Does ballet mean: women wearing toe shoes? Fluffy tutus? Men in tights? Perennial productions of The Nutcracker? Are these four « modern » either, though? The term proves equally slippery, and as rich with clichés. Does modern mean anything anymore when we still automatically call Picasso’s work “modern” and he has been dead since 1973?

Invented in the US and Germany about a 100 years ago, modern dance defined itself against the sissified genre of ballet: rejecting any footwear and seeking a more natural way of moving, these pioneers developed a grounded, earthy, expressive form. Then in the 1960’s, a new generation of “post-modernists” went as far as one could go to eliminate, if not movement, then “dance” from their dances.

The term used much today, “Contemporary,” means reacting to and interacting with current trends in society and art. As in: what “modern” used to mean. [This month’s Dance Magazine interrogation of current choreographers on this subject inspired my musings).

The “modern contemporary ballets” we witness tonight try to defy categorization. By indirections find directions out, as Shakespeare counsels us (Hamlet Act II, scene 1).

By now almost all dance makers have learned to appreciate the way classically-trained ballet dancers understand the use of the body and its weight and its center and its energy. And they love to take chances. If anyone can look good – both ethereal and earthy — while intentionally falling off their shoes, the Paris Opera’s dancers can.

In The Middle, Somewhat Elevated (1987)

Choreography by William Forsythe; Music by Thom Willems. (28 minutes)

The mysterious title refers to just where Forsythe blithely told the Opéra’s management to put those golden cherries (so that’s what’s dangling up there!) when told he had no budget for a set.

But the music will probably bother you more than the title. The composer constructed a “Theme and Variations” out of the sound of a locomotive crashing into a train, along with electronic distortions of his own voice. 25 years on, the opening chord still…no, I won’t tell you, just sneak a look at your neighbor when the lights first blast on…I own a copy of the recording, and play it when I need something violent to get me out of a bad mood. Smashing things – or at least bouncing around full force– can prove quite cathartic, if you stick with it.

Forsythe likes the idea that any part of the body – from your big toe to your little finger — can provide the intitial impulse for a violent cascade of movement to follow. He knows that tension, distortions, weird changes in speed, all challenges can lead us to dance in ways we never thought of before. This ballet (it has girls in toe shoes, guys in tights, no?) breaks movement down in order to let the dancers exult in demonstrating how they have chosen reconstruct it.

The laws of gravity need not apply. You can start from any point or any “pointe,” in order to test the limits of your strength and balance.

For me this ballet illustrates a portion of Hamlet that I’ve always found both perfect and absurd: … there’s a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, ‘tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come: the readiness is all. (Act V, scene 2).

The dancers are ready.

PAUSE ONLY

O Zlozony/O Composite (2004)

Choreography byTrisha Brown;Music by Laurie Anderson.(25 minutes)

Trisha Brown belongs to an earlier generation (born in 1936 vs. Forsythe’s 1949), yet her imagination fed Forsythe’s just as her own continues to grow and evolve. A founder of the post-modern and minimalist wave one could encounter downtown at Manhattan’s Judson Church during the ‘60’s, her early works often used the music of complete silence.

With the still inventive and chic violinist Laurie Anderson (do a search of ‘O Superman’ from 1981), Brown chanced upon a poem by Czeslaw Milosz. Anderson recorded a Polish actress reading this ode to a bird and began to tweak it in her own way. Each musical section is exactly two minutes long. Brown, always willing to attempt a new way of looking at things, broke this poem down in her own manner too: a trio set against a starlit sky, against which they evolve, revolve, return, float, and come to rest.

The opening section illustrates (distills? cracks open?) the image of a branch still swinging from the heavy weight of a bird that rocked back and forth over great seas of air.

You may get distracted when the composer gets to the poet’s bird sounds: “pta, pteron, fvgls, brd.” Or by trying to figure out how dancers supposedly (according to the program) are shaping letters – including inexistent ones – of the alphabet as they go along.

The woman in this triangle sometimes wears pointe shoes. Could that mean something? I find myself again in Hamlet: see yonder cloud that’s almost in shape of a camel? (Act 3, scene 2) i.e. just let it go…and try not to think too much.

Tonight you will either die of boredom or experience a kind of out of body experience if you surrender to the dancers’ intense concentration and quiet commitment to revolving within outer dimensions of space and sound.

INTERMISSION (20 minutes)

Woundwork 1 (1999)

Choreography by William Forsythe; Music by Thom Willems. (15 minutes)

Wound as in “winding,” not “harming.” For two couples.

Growing up on Long Island in the 1960’s, Forsythe thought that dance meant the twist (and he was high school dervish) and music meant rock and roll. He discovered classical ballet in college, along with the Derrida, Foucault, Barthes…

The music stems from the recording of three clarinets, deconstructed and unraveled.

The piece could be called “roll and reroll.” Or “ twist and detwist.” While at first the two duets seem not to belong to the same place, the more you look the more you realize that one couple’s to- and-fro gets echoed, and mixed up, by the other’s.

Perhaps Hamlet fits these dancers too: though I am native here/and to the manner born – it is a custom/ more honored in the breach than the observance. (Act 1, Scene 4). By breaking some genteel rules of ballet, Forsythe frees the Parisian dancers to stylishly outdo themselves. If you are to the manner trained, is « too elegant »even possible?

PAUSE ONLY

Pas./Parts (1999)

Choreography by William Forsythe; Music by Thom Willems. (35 minutes)

One of the touchstones of modern French literature, Raymond Queneau’s Exercises de style, comprises 99 retellings – in 99 different literary styles – of the same dull anecdote about standing around waiting for a bus. After a while, the absurdity starts to cheer you up.

Here we only experience 20 sequences (parts) put out by 15 dancers who each latch onto micro-segments of a dance phrase (a step, a pas, let’s say “the letter ‘E’”) as they dance into and around each other. After a while, even Hamlet would have started to smile. You won’t believe your ears when Willems’s music devolves into a deliciously perverse version of the cha-cha.

There’s a divinity that shapes our ends/Rough-hew them how we will. (Act V, scene 2).

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par | 6 août 2012 · 7 h 30 min

Rêveries estivales 2/2 : Je me prends pour Aurélie

Contrairement à celle de Monica Mason à Londres, la fin du mandat de Brigitte Lefèvre à la tête du Ballet de l’Opéra national de Paris ne sera sans doute pas propice au lancement de confettis sur scène. On s’en passera : au fond, l’harmonie d’une passation de pouvoirs ne préjuge de rien. Et personne ne s’étonnera que le processus soit douloureux : le poste compte, avec le secrétariat général de l’ONU, au nombre des plus exposés de la planète.

Car tout le monde a un avis et le fait savoir. Les amateurs, à la fin d’un spectacle, ne disent-ils pas : « quand nommera-t-on enfin Machin ? », « programmer ce Balanchine en début de soirée, quelle balourdise », ou encore « C’est une absurdité d’avoir distribué la petite Truc là-dedans, elle n’a pas le style » ? Bref, on veut tous prendre la place de Brigitte. Sauf moi, car je me prends déjà pour Aurélie.

Comment donc, vous ne connaissez pas Aurélie Filippetti, notre ministre de la culture ? C’est elle qui va devoir trancher la succession de Brigitte Lefèvre, paraît-il prévue pour 2014. Et là, j’ai quelques idées à partager.

Tout d’abord, le plus tôt sera le mieux. Ceci dit sans animosité. Je suis presque un fan de Brigitte Lefèvre depuis que j’ai vu La Danse, le documentaire de Frederick Wiseman : d’abord, elle choisit bien ses bijoux, et ensuite, la façon dont elle réduit à quelques secondes le passage en studio de répétition des mécènes américains à 20 000 dollars par tête de pipe est tout bonnement inénarrable. Voilà une fille qui a le sens des vraies valeurs. Et puis, ses présentations vidéo sont tellement en roue libre et soufflées par le vent que par comparaison tout un chacun se sent délicieusement structuré.

Mais elle est en poste depuis 1995, et ça fait quand même beaucoup. Deux fois plus que la moyenne de ses homologues toutes époques confondues (9 ans). C’est moins que Louis Pécour (42 ans), mais pas loin de Jean Coralli, Louis-Alexandre Mérante et Joseph Hansen (entre 18 et 20 ans). Beaucoup plus en tout cas que la moyenne des directeurs post-Lifar, Noureev compris (9 en 34 ans, soit moins de 4 ans en moyenne).

Autant dire que cette longévité est une anomalie, dont la prolongation est chaque jour plus sclérosante. Il y a bien, de nos jours, des directorats très longs (Edward Villella à Miami jusqu’à sa douloureuse éviction, John Neumeier à Hambourg depuis 40 ans). Mais ce sont des personnalités exceptionnelles, qui s’identifient à leur compagnie.

Prendre garde au syndrome de la Belle endormie. C’est mon deuxième conseil gratuit. La Grande boutique est un paquebot qui peut presque naviguer en automatique. Il y a l’école de danse et l’encadrement intermédiaire, qui maintiennent le niveau et l’unité stylistique de la compagnie. Il y a les concours d’où émergent, malgré tout, les talents. Certaines générations sont plus brillantes que d’autres, mais sur longue période le système fonctionne. Il y a le prestige du Palais-Garnier, qui fait salle comble quoi qu’on y programme. Bref, ça peut rouler tout seul. Et c’est bien là le risque.

Certains critiquent la programmation, les nominations ou les préférences stylistiques de Mme Lefèvre. On pourrait en discuter  – il y a eu des réussites et des échecs, c’est normal – mais le problème est surtout que la direction n’a apparemment plus de projet. Les objectifs statutaires – diffusion des œuvres du patrimoine et création contemporaine – sont peu ou prou poursuivis. Mais il manque une autorité pour galvaniser la compagnie, fixer un cap, donner du sens, et faire rayonner le Ballet au-delà du cercle des initiés.

On rêve d’une stratégie lisible pour faire vivre le répertoire, et redécouvrir des pépites méconnues ou oubliées. De rendez-vous réguliers et de prises de risque calculées pour les jeunes talents (aujourd’hui, c’est ailleurs – par exemple chez Incidences chorégraphiques – que ça bouillonne et l’Amphithéâtre de Bastille est sous-utilisé). D’un discours intelligent et d’une pédagogie professionnelle en direction de tous les publics.

Dresser un portrait-robot du candidat idéal. Si l’on veut éviter de nommer un « apparatchik du chausson » (la formule est de Luc Décygnes), il faudrait définir au préalable les qualités requises, préciser les ambitions souhaitables et les critères à respecter :

– une autorité artistique incontestable, aux yeux de la troupe comme de l’extérieur ;

– une capacité à tenir les deux bouts de la chaîne qui lie tradition et modernité, passé et avenir ;

– une volonté de sortir le Ballet de l’Opéra de son splendide isolement culturel, et de lui donner une culture du public, sans sombrer dans la démagogie.

Bien sûr, avant même les auditions, chacun a son favori. Mon choix n°1 serait Sylvie Guillem. Elle a l’aura et l’expérience, elle aurait le bagout et l’énergie. Elle est classique et contemporaine, délicieusement française et merveilleusement ailleurs, et elle a un potentiel de rayonnement médiatique et artistique terrible. Elle n’est probablement pas volontaire. Mais les meilleures candidatures ne sont pas forcément spontanées…

Post-scriptum (ajouté le 23 janvier 2013) – La rédaction en chef des Balletonautes remarque – comme tout le monde le sait maintenant – , que ce n’est pas la ministre de la culture qui nomme le directeur de la danse, mais simplement le directeur de l’Opéra. Elle a décidé de ne pas modifier l’article de ce pauvre James : tant pis s’il a l’air ridicule, il n’avait qu’à pas se croire encore au temps où Jack Lang avait œuvré à la nomination de Rudolf Noureev au poste que l’on sait.

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Classé dans Humeurs d'abonnés, Retours de la Grande boutique

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par | 27 juillet 2012 · 8 h 15 min

La Fille mal gardée : le temps du bilan

Récapitulatif au menu.

Notre série des « Fille mal gardée » a commencé par une entrée très « British ». Pour s’ouvrir l’appétit, James, qui a des goûts de luxe, est allé admirer le couple Cojocaru-Kobborg à Londres ; une représentation d’hommage à Alexander Grant, le créateur d’Alain récemment disparu, sous des auspices radieux (Cojocaru), insolemment gaillards (Kobborg), étincelants (Kay) et truculents (Mariott). Rien que ça…

Après une telle mise en bouche, il fallait, pour patienter en l’attente du plat de résistance, quelques entremets. Cléopold s’est donc penché sur les sources « révolutionnaires » du ballet de Dauberval non sans s’interroger sur le mystère qui transforme un sujet fort trivial en une expression de pure grâce. Pour résoudre ce genre de question, rien de mieux que de se tourner vers la chorégraphie elle-même (ici la variation de Colas interprétée par Mathias Heymann, récent récipiendaire d’un Benois) ainsi que vers la personnalité des créateurs du rôle (Nerina, Grant, Holden). La chorégraphie d’Ashton est en effet un savant mélange entre solide tradition et conscience de l’Histoire, le tout saupoudré d’incongruités charmantes.

Quand les choses sérieuses ont commencé, fin juin, c’est James qui s’est servi en premier. Las, si sa distribution Ould-Braham-Hoffalt avait la saveur d’un printemps sans nuage, son deuxième couple (Zusperreguy-Magnenet) était un été parfois couvert (la technique intermittente de Colas). Plus tardif mais plus chanceux, Cléopold, a eu le meilleur de ces deux distributions. Il s’est régalé de l’expressivité technique de la première et a fort gouté l’évidente théâtralité de la seconde.

Au dessert, le même schéma fatal s’est confirmé pour James, premier servi. Sur la distribution Hurel-Carbone, l’expression était en place mais la technique trop souvent en berne. Il y avait néanmoins un délicieux digestif en la personne d’Adrien Couvez. Il est des plats qui sont meilleurs après avoir reposé. Pour la même distribution, Cléopold a été servi sur une nappe en dentelle.

Bilan étoilé

Sujets de satisfaction : Le menu des distributions a été globalement suivi, ce qui n’était guère arrivé de toute la saison 2011-2012. Chacun des quatuors dansés avait une saveur bien marquée. Les entremets (entendez le corps de ballet) étaient d’une absolue fraîcheur. L’enthousiasme de cette jeunesse faisait vraiment prendre la sauce. Quand l’Opéra montera-t-il des spectacles en France pour utiliser son vivier de jeunes talents au lieu de les laisser se durcir ou pire, s’avarier, en attendant de pouvoir poser un pied sur scène ?

Et surtout… Myriam est étoile. Ce n’est pas trop tôt, mais il est juste qu’elle ait été promue dans un rôle qu’elle a fait sien depuis 2007.

Petits regrets : Avoir manqué trois numéros à la carte. Mathilde Froustey s’est toujours montrée une Lise pétillante et Emmanuel Thibault … est toujours Emmanuel Thibault. On aurait bien testé les produits du jour (Pierre Arthur Raveau en Colas ou encore François Alu en Alain).

L’addition : Pour la plus grande joie des Parisiens, le reste de la compagnie s’est produit aux États-Unis sans une grande partie de ses vraies personnalités. Un pas de deux des vendangeurs sans Thibault, Carbone, Madin, Hurel ou Froustey ; une Suite en blanc sans ces mêmes danseurs et surtout sans Myriam Ould-Braham ; tous ces rôles de demi solistes enfin où auraient su briller Simon Valastro ou Adrien Couvez… Cette richesse est allée finalement se perdre dans les ensembles d’Orphée et Eurydice de Bausch. La critique américaine n’a pas tardé à se repaître de cette carence.

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par | 25 juillet 2012 · 15 h 30 min

Esprit de corps

It gladdens my heart that friends in New  York– one still quite new to ballet, the other a veteran of watching modern dance –  have discovered Giselle for the first time with the Paris Opera Ballet.  By definition, that meant that they would discover the work of the corps.

1) “Giselle” was breathtaking[…] the corps de ballet honestly shined the most. Some of their dancing left people around me gasping. Hopping on one flat foot and then going straight up to pointe without losing balance, brava!”

2) “my friend Kathy and I are floating after tonight’s performance of « Giselle » The NYTimes review [MacAuley, you don’t need a link] does not do it justice.  We particularly loved the second act – the corps was absolutely incredible! I had never seen « Giselle » live but Kathy has seen it multiple times and thought this corps was extraordinary and by far the best she has seen in any ballet.  We were not alone as the ovations were incredible – six curtain calls I think.”

The Paris Opera Ballet’s corps knows just how to float, and make the audience float with them. Sometimes one individual will attract your eye –Ciaravola and Gilbert, not too long ago, could hypnotize my binoculars – but never break the spell.

Even so, I had been leery of the POB’s choice to bring Giselle to the States.  That well-known Benois set that wobbles at every knock, those over-fluffy long tutus for the second act…and, good lord, New York gets to see Giselle almost as much as the Nutcracker!  Bo-or-ing.

I should have remembered that I owe my own love of ballet to the corps in, guess what?

My adorable godfather had treated me to my first ballet: Nutcracker, what else?  I hated it so much – only the“Snowflakes” made the evening tolerable — I cried when my parents stuck me two years later into a school that included ballet in the curriculum…While  I worked and worked at all of this painful and unnatural crap I kept thinking “blech, if I’m to end up in Nutcracker, what’s the point in all this?”

Then my glamorous friend Andrea  ( two year’s older! Quite a coup for a skinny and mournful mite) dragged me to see my second ballet ever: Giselle with ABT  (that company which later got lost along the way).

Whenever I find myself ending up with aching and dully-bruised knees – that means often, I’m clumsy — I think of that first Giselle.  I can still remember being both in pain and in heaven the end of that night.  Perched up on seats in the very last row, house right, at City Center – Andrea on the aisle, me one off.  My ears having begun to explode in response to the startlingly fresh yet structured music hammered up to us by the orchestra during the overture, I began to lean so far forward in this last seat up there that I kept repeatedly falling over onto my knees while the sound of the seat I should have sat on continually annoyed those around me by clapping shut.  I clonked down over and over again, despite Andrea hissing at me that I was making a fool of myself during each solo, duet, the mad scene. By Act II, giving up on the seat altogether, I basically remained in my position of prayer once the corps began to cross the stage.  Andrea started leaning forward…

I still get to tease her about her much too subtle fall-off-the-seat technique : when I tell her that once again in Paris I found myself slipping dangerously forward from my top-of-the-house seat during the second act of Giselle.

Therefore, I’ve been deeply concerned by the average two to four-year turnover in the ABT corps for years now.  It shows on stage.  It used to be a company of soloists who weren’t bothered by being part of the group for they knew they had a chance to one day get promoted.  That’s been lost:  you get stars plus background noise, not a family. I love the way Ailey and POB hold on to their dancers.  L’esprit de corps only works if each individual feels valuable. Neumeier does this in Hamburg, London’s Royal Ballet under Monica Mason found that feeling again, and Manuel Legris has started to give his corps in Vienna that same élan.

While, of course, the stars appeal to me, those who all sublimate their egos and urge to take over space in order to create a unified and living work of art for the audience to share with them remain my heros.  The corps? My definition of performance artists.

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par | 13 juillet 2012 · 22 h 25 min

Ballet de l’Opéra à New York. « Programme français » : Warming Up

Wednesday night saw the opening of the Paris Opera’s stint in New York on their US tour. They haven’t been in New York for sixteen years, and I don’t think the audience knew quite what to expect. The program was called « French Masters of the 20th Century » and included Suite en Blanc (Lifar) L’Arlésienne (Petit) and Boléro (Béjart). Initially, this was the night I was least excited about. I’ve wanted to see Suite en Blanc for a long time (and how nice to finally see some Lifar in New York, in Balanchine’s theater no less!) but I didn’t really know that much about L’Arlésienne, and I’ve never liked the music for Boléro, so I must admit to having been less than psyched about seeing Bejart’s version. In a happy turn of events, I cannot imagine a better opening night; it was a triumph (with some very minor complaints).

Suite en Blanc was incredible. From the opening pose to the last one, time didn’t seem to exist; I just sat there and loved it. Now to details! « La Sieste », for me, seemed to be more about the choreography than the dancers. Aurelia Bellet, Marie-Solene Boulet, and Laura Hecquet were nice, but none of them made me go ‘wow!’ Seen as a whole though, it did feel very dreamy. « Thème Varié » united Cozette, Paquette and Bullion, and it went about as well as expected given that particular line up. But let’s move on. Nolwenn Daniel gave a light and bubbly quality to her « Sérénade » (which turns out to be possibly my favorite part choreography-wise). She didn’t turn the fouettés into a trick, they were just another step for her and she made them blend in. The audience didn’t know quite what to do here; we’re so used to clapping at the least provocation that by the time everyone realized that ‘Hey! Fouettés!’ she had moved on.  The « Pas de Cinq » I loved as well. Alice Revanand is definitely a dancer I want to get to know more. She reminded me a bit of a fairy, as if the steps were so natural for her that she could just sort of play and be flirty and enjoy herself. Gillot replaced Letestu in « La Cigarette ». Of course her technique is flawless, but I didn’t love her in the role. It just didn’t work with the rest of the ballet. I think I feel the same about her as I do about Sara Mearns at NYCB.  I really would have loved to see Letestu do this. Thank goodness for YouTube! Does anyone know why Letestu was replaced? Is she injured? Ganio did the Mazurka which I thoroughly enjoyed; everything was big without being too heavy, which is no small feat considering the music! Dupont and Pech did the Adage which was lovely. My problem with Dupont is lack of expression (which is weird since she “loves to act”) but here it works; she can just be pretty, that’s fine. No acting required. What was really fun to see though, is that she and Pech clicked. There were moments on stage where they looked at each other and grinned a bit; I think they were having fun, which is wonderful because I really found it wonderful too! OK, last was La Flute with Gilbert, which couldn’t have been better. When little girls say they want to be a ballerina princess when they grow up, this is what they mean. By the finale I was ecstatic; this is why I love ballet.

L’Arlesienne I loved a bit less. Ciaravola was a great Vivette; very pretty and did a convincing job of comforting poor, desperate, Belingard’s Frédéri…but he sometimes forgot to act. Don’t get me wrong, technically there are no complaints or anything but his expressions kind of went in and out. I will say that his suicide scene was masterful. People around me gasped, which is always a good sign!

Finally, Bolero. I cannot be an impartial judge here; I really -really- dislike the music so there was a snowflake’s chance in Hell that this one would become one of my favorites. I will say that I loved Nicolas Le Riche who was, in a word, intense. His movements were so powerful that it almost seemed like he was trying to hold himself back during the rocking movements and suddenly he would escape and burst out of control. This might be because of the red table and the spotlight, but he made me think of a solar storm. In any case the audience loved it.

I think I understand what the Paris Opera was trying to do with this program: Show the US that they can do everything: classical, contemporary, you name it, they’re masters both in choreography and performing. That’s going to be hammered in with Giselle and Orpheus and Eurydice, but this was their introduction and it was big. I think once the audience kind of got a feel for the company they loved it. Applause for Suite en Blanc was OK, more than polite but less than enthusiastic; for L’Arlesienne it was warm; and after Bolero there was a standing ovation. As far as introductions go, this was perfect. I think New York is more than excited to see what else they’ve brought. Oh, this is exactly the way I wanted to end my ballet season! More please!

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par | 7 juin 2012 · 6 h 15 min

Balanchine in Paris & NYC : Can I offer you a glass of ballet?

NYCB, June 1 : Concerto Barocco, Tschaikovsky Pas de Deux, Fancy Free, Symphony in C

I was lucky enough to be in Paris a little over a week ago and had the opportunity to view some footage of the Paris Opera Ballet performing Symphony in C. Initially, I didn’t want to watch it. OK, actually the first time Cléopold tried to show it to me I think I ran away yelling about how I wanted to be surprised in New York (as I had done for Serenade). He suggested that, just maybe, studying and watching videos beforehand wouldn’t make the first performance less magical, but rather the opposite: knowing a little about what you’re seeing actually makes the performance way more fun and easier to understand. Go figure, he was right. As. Always.

What a treat! Watching the Paris Opera version made me excited to see it in New York, but what I noticed most, and actually one of the aspects that I continue to love about the Paris Opera in general, is how totally in control the dancers are. Every movement is deliberate and had a calmness or coolness about it. They never looked rushed or harried even though the piece is not what I would call serene, the music is quite fast, and the steps are very technically demanding.

This makes an excellent contrast to New York City Ballet, which I love for their energy and fire. Yes, every movement still has an intense level of precision and concentration (see: Whelan, Wendy), but the attitude behind the exact same steps is totally different. I wouldn’t call NYCB rushed, and they weren’t behind the music either, but every step felt fast and had sharpness. The dancers at NYCB have an attack that the Paris Opera does not use very often (exceptions: Forsythe, McGregor, etc). Please, please understand that I’m not saying that one is better than the other in any sense, just that they’re very different, and it’s fun to notice!

NYCB always dances with a high level of attack and energy because Balanchine wanted it that way. He even loved when people fell as it signified that they were really giving everything they had on the stage. On the other side of the pond, Paris Opera feels softer and has a lightness that I rarely see in New York. It’s like a velvety cabernet vs. a glass of champagne. Both are fantastic, but totally different.

Honestly, I could say the same thing about the companies’ respective homes. I live in New York, where everything is fast. In fact, everything happens NOW, and you’re probably late for something. “What are you waiting for, dear? Dance now! Do it now! You could get hit by a bus later!” Want to guess who said that? (It was Balanchine.) If there’s a piece that exemplifies the NYC speed, it would be Glass Pieces by Jerome Robbins (which they’re doing next spring. Oh yes, I’m excited already!). Paris, by contrast feels slower as a city. Yes, there were times when I was stressed and rushed there, but I’m trying to talk about the city’s atmosphere. How many people do you see power walking through a market? How many people run around with Starbucks cups because they need their caffeine fix right now? Some yes, but I would lay you money that they’re American students studying abroad. You feel the cities’ energy in the street, and you absolutely see it in their dancing. What a pleasure to be able to know and love both!

Next time: NYCB’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

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par | 26 avril 2012 · 11 h 09 min

David Hallberg is Going to Make Me Homeless

The challenge: Go to the ballet approximately once per week while simultaneously never missing a ballet class (no Tuesdays or Thursdays) and working around travel plans. As a quick explanation for those of you in Paris who haven’t bought ballet tickets in New York, the process is slightly different. Here, instead of tickets coming out a few weeks before each production, every ticket for the entire season goes on sale at the same time. This results in poverty for about a month and internal battles about exactly how much ballet I can see.

What follows is a transcription of me fighting with myself over which tickets to buy. For reading purposes, the irrational side of my brain will be abbreviated to IB, and the (slightly) more reasonable side will be RB. I hope you’re entertained by my burgeoning schizophrenia.

The scene: Sitting at my work computer, currently with a single brain. The calendar for the NYCB season opens and my brain is immediately torn in half. The ballet battle begins.

Irrational Brain: Serenade and Firebird on the same night?! Buy every single ticket! NOW!

Rational Brain: Um, yes, that would be lovely, but don’t you want to see, you know, other things too? Also, I know you tend to get carried away here, but please remember you have to pay rent and buy food at some point.

IB: (sigh) Fine… two of them? Please? One includes Kammermusik No. 2 and the other has DGV: Danse a Grande Vitesse, neither of which you’ve seen so it’s totally justifiable, right?

RB: Done and done.

IB: Wait a second… by other things you don’t mean that I should go to the new Martins and Millepied night out of sheer obligation to the idea of “newness” do you?

RB: It would be a learning experience, and you need to push yourself more! Come on, what have those two choreographers ever done to make you actively avoid them?

IB: Ocean’s Kingdom and Black Swan respectively. Absolutely not. Veto declared. You can’t make me!

RB: Fine, be that way. What about Symphony in C? You’ve always wanted to see that, and June 1 has Concerto Barocco, Tschaikovsky Pas de Deux plus Fancy Free.

IB: Deal… What about A Midsummer Night’s Dream?

RB: Yes, but only one. You still have ABT and Paris Opera Ballet to buy.

IB: (sulks for a bit while looking up the ABT schedule and then…) Mother of everything sacred, David Hallberg is doing Apollo!

RB and IB simultaneously: Forget food, buy that ticket immediately!

RB: Hmm that night Osipova is doing Ratmansky’s new Firebird… that could be interesting. It would make a nice contrast to Balanchine’s. Let’s see… what else?

IB: Bayadere? That one’s beautiful!

RB: Correction, Nureyev’s is beautiful in Paris. You literally fell asleep last time you saw it at ABT. Also do you really want to see ABT’s corps de ballet as the Shades?

IB: Fine, but you don’t get to bring up the corps every time.

RB: If they could stand in a straight line I wouldn’t have to. Onegin?

IB: YES! With Julie Kent? Oh… she’s partnering Bolle.

RB: Hmm you know, that could be good. A man with this photo as his Twitter profile could probably pull off “pompous jerk” really well. Also, Kent makes everything magical, and you’ve never seen it.

IB: Done. Let’s see…obviously Steifel’s retirement in Corsaire. That’s just a given. What about Romeo and Juliet? Oh! Hallberg’s dancing… Why can’t he partner someone other than Osipova? Just for a change.

RB: Not everyone will partner Julie Kent. Get over it. Also, you thought Osipova was charming in Coppelia and actively wondered if she could pull off a young, dramatic role like Juliet; she could be fantastic! And you get to see Hallberg again, so stop complaining.

IB: Angel Corella is retiring! He’s dancing Swan Lake with Herrera… is that worth it?

RB: Yes, yes, it is. I wonder what ABT is going to do about its lack of male dancers? Oh, look! They’re giving Simkin a Swan Lake, and Hammoudi has one too! Too bad they’re on Wednesdays at 2:00. That could have been interesting.

IB: Ugh, can’t I just skip work those days? I want to see!

RB: No. Moving on. Paris Opera, what to see?

IB: Um, all of them, obviously. Is that seriously even a question?

RB: Yeah, that’s not really up for debate, is it? I think we’re done here!

IB: I think so! Alright, so it looks like we have:

May 2nd: NYCB Serenade, Tschaikovsky Pas de Deux, Kammermusik No. 2, Firebird

May 4th: NYCB Serenade, DGV: Danse a Grande Vitesse, Firebird

June 1: NYCB Concerto Barocco, Tschaikovsky Pas de Deux, Fancy Free, Symphony in C

June 6: NYCB A Midsummer Night’s Dream

June 8: ABT Onegin (Kent, Bolle)

June 11: ABT Apollo, Firebird, Thirteen Diversions (Hallberg, Osipova, Company)

June 18: ABT Romeo and Juliet (Hallberg, Osipova)

June 28: ABT Swan Lake (Corella, Hererra)

July 7: ABT Le Corsaire (Steifel, Murphy)

July 11: POB French Masters (Company)

July 18: POB Giselle (Gilbert, Hoffalt)

July 20: POB Orpheus and Eurydice (Gillot, Bullion)

Are we good? Does that cover it? Should I buy more? I feel like I should probably buy more.

RB: Did…did you just trick me into spending the rent and food money again? How do you do this EVERY season?!

IB: It’s a God-given talent. Or crippling financial addiction. Take your pick.

Weeks later…

Cleopold, being the wonderful person/editor that he is, suggested that it would benefit this little article to add links to the three ballet calendars I referenced (which I did). However, in adding said calendars, it was necessary to actually look at them, which led to the following….

RB: OK, just looking for the link, just going to highlight the link and put it in the article. Don’t even think about looking-

IB: There is a Cojocaru/Kobborg Romeo and Juliet on a non-ballet class day that you didn’t even consider last time! What is wrong with you?! That’s mandatory viewing, especially after Cleopold and Fenella loved it so much! How could you not want to see Cojocaru die smiling?

RB: No. You already spent all your ballet money! Don’t you click that link, don’t you dare-

IB: But look, Hallberg is doing Swan Lake! You know you have to see that!

RB: Yeah, with Semionova! Do you even remember how bored you were last year? You saw her running off stage after she killed herself!

IB: Don’t care! Hallberg. As. Siegfried.

RB: No no no no no no

IB: (buys tickets)

RB: …You do realize that now you’re not allowed to buy wine for the next two weeks.

IB: Worth it.

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par | 17 avril 2012 · 14 h 58 min

On Ballet and Pop Culture Part III: The Eleventh Commandment: Thou Shalt Not Bore The Audience

The ballet season after BS premiered, NYCB and ABT both pricked up their ears and decided it would be an opportune time to perform Swan Lake. They were right, and actually there were sold out performances. Obviously, this is a short-term solution. Natalie Portman is NYCB’s honorary spring gala chair this season and so far the reaction I’ve heard can be summed up as “eh.” This brings us to the big question: can ballet companies take this upswing in interest and translate it into new ballet converts before everyone stops caring? If so, how?

On March 22 The Royal Ballet did something absolutely brilliant: they live streamed their entire day of rehearsals. They also included interviews with dancers, musicians, the artistic director and costume/scenery archivists as well as archived rehearsal videos. The interviewers even asked questions from people watching from Facebook and Twitter. THAT is how you advertise. I didn’t care too terribly much about the Royal Ballet until that day. Sure I knew who Cojocaru and Kobborg were (again, guest stars), and Marianela Nunez, of course, but beyond that… not a thing. Now I consider myself a fan. I watched all day, and it was fascinating. Yes, I had to do work at this thing I call my “job” where I get “paid” so I can, you know, live, but the RB was in my ear all day long, even if I was forced to use the computer screen to do other things. I saw rehearsals for Alice in Wonderland, Polyphonia, a new Liam Scarlett ballet, Sweet Violets, as well as Pagoda and Romeo and Juliet. (Now I really want to play with swords.) After seeing the Alice rehearsal I immediately bought the DVD on Amazon and am so excited to watch it. As an aside, it’s been like two weeks. Where the heck is my DVD, Amazon?! The day concluded with an exclusive look at a rehearsal of Wayne McGregor’s new collaboration with musician Mark Ronson, Carbon Life, followed by a Q&A session. The lesson that should be taken away from all this? The program made me sincerely care about this company. And there it is: the key to my generation’s collective heart is, apparently, access. In a world of Facebook and Twitter, the idea that ballet is a world unto itself simply can’t fly anymore. On one hand, this makes me a bit sad. I love the mystical aspect of ballet, the idea that dancers are just so far removed from this world that they could never be touched by something as mundane as YouTube is beautiful, romantic and sad (Sylphide anyone?). But I have to say, Ashley Bouder posting her backstage Instagram pics on Facebook and laughing about her falls on Twitter makes me care more about her; it makes me want to buy tickets to see her, and more tellingly I have. Programs like this make ballet accessible to the unwashed, unlearned (aka uninitiated) masses. They make it far less scary, and they make what seemed to be a boring leisure activity reserved only for rich snobs, absolutely enthralling. THIS WORKS. I want to see almost everything they rehearsed, I want to follow them avidly, and I really hope they tour here so I can see them in person. I would even consider taking a side trip to London if I could get tickets.

That said, let’s talk about attempts to appeal to a new and younger audience that do not work. All of them can be summed up in a single word: pandering. Let’s begin with a general example. You’re a painter and you really want people to look at, appreciate and buy your paintings because hey, it’s art but you still need money to survive. Do you A) explain to people why you paint the way you do, what it means to you, and a bit about your technique or B) start to paint pictures of bunnies because, really, who doesn’t love bunnies? The answer is A, right? So why, why in God’s name would any company try to sell a ballet based on anything other than the quality of the ballet itself? I’m going to start with McGregor’s new piece, since I just finished watching that rehearsal. Now, since I haven’t seen it, I can’t say if it’s good or bad, it may even be great! However, most of the marketing surrounding Carbon Life has been about the costumes and music, so I feel pretty justified in saying that I do not care, at all, that the costumes were designed by Gareth Pugh. Sorry. I also don’t care that Mark Ronson did the music. Since they’ re trying so very hard to be young and cool by using a punk designer and popular music, the audience might initially be large and maybe even made up exclusively of 20 year olds; I don’t know what’s going to happen. What I do know is if the piece is bad overall, no ungodly fashion budget will save it. None. Because here’s the flip side to this social media thing: if something is bad, everyone will know in a matter of seconds. Personally, I don’t want to see this ballet. The choreography looked like everything McGregor has already done (and everything that Forsythe did before that).

Another great example of really obvious pandering is NYCB’s recent flop Ocean’s Kingdom. Music was by Sir Paul McCartney (they got a freakin’ Beatle!) with costumes by Stella McCartney. Choreography was by Peter Martins, of course, but somehow no one cared about that part. To very quickly sum up: the music was obvious, the costumes were cracked out, and the choreography was utterly forgettable. I wrote a review if you’re interested which you can see here, but really, all you have to do is watch this and you’ll have an idea (fair warning, I will use literally any excuse to show that clip because it makes me laugh so hard I cry… I am apparently 5 years old. However, it really does work here if you check out Daniel Ulbricht’s outfit ).

To be clear, I’m not against costumes, and I don’t think that every ballet should be danced in a black leotard and pink tights. If I thought for a second that I could get away with it, I would wear a tutu to go grocery shopping, or more accurately, just never take it off. I spent weeks looking for Sylvia’s dress for a special event (still looking, if you find it please message me. I will love you forever). When costumes (and music and setting) actually enhance the ballet and not distract from it, those extra details can make a production go from good to absolutely magical. Take the Paris Opera Ballet’s recent production of La Source: Jean Guillaume Bart’s choreography was riveting on its own, but when you add Christian Lacroix’s costumes and the set design… just wow. Every aspect of the ballet, choreography, music, costumes and scenery merged beautifully to create the finished product. You don’t even have to stick with tutus! Look at John Neumeier’s version of Sylvia: You can dress your nymphs in leather vests and helmets and put your goddess in a tuxedo; it gets the point across without being flashy and the dancers can move. Costumes are important and ideally help tell the story and set the mood, but they should never be the point. We have fashion shows for that.

So finally, here’s what I think needs to happen if we want to keep this ballet wave going: education. If we can show why ballet merits attention, I honestly think people will go and appreciate it, but once there’s an audience there has to be great ballet to watch. Essentially: explain why ballet is awesome and then prove it.

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