At the Ballet

Complexions at the Westobou Festival 2014

Hissy Fits by Dwight Rhoden

Here in Augusta, GA we don’t get much quality dance performance, so I’m always sure to see whatever is offered in the annual Westobou Festival, a really nice arts celebration that occurs each fall and is, sadly, under-attended. This year the dance company was featured on October 2nd, my birthday, so it felt like a special gift for me.

Complexions Contemporary Ballet is a New York-based company celebrating 20 years. Under the artistic directorship of Dwight Rhoden and Desmond Richardson, the group’s “foremost innovation is that dance should be about removing boundaries, not reinforcing them. Whether it be the limiting traditions of a single style, period, venue, or culture, Complexions transcends them all, creating an open, continually evolving form of dance that reflects the movement of our world—and all its constituent cultures—as an interrelated whole.”Also, the ensemble is comprised of dancers of varying heights, body types – and colors – which is pretty awesome.

Last night’s performance featured a large cast of impressively strong dancers attacking three long, challenging pieces by Rhoden. Some individuals stood out among others, Phil Orsano most especially, although the choreography was very much ensemble-driven. In a small, egalitarian company, though, one would expect a greater degree of precision and togetherness. Throughout the program, dancers were consistently out of sync by just a beat or so. The effect was a little sloppy and confusing – the audience was never sure which steps were intended to be executed in canon and which were simply being executed by dancers slightly “off” from one another. A corps featuring so many different shapes and heights requires a pretty meticulous rehearsal master to achieve the necessary precision to best show off the choreography. Perhaps one is needed here.

Headspace began with the dancers facing upstage and for a moment there was the “Chorus Line” effect of our watching from behind as though the real audience were on the other side of the backdrop. That moment went nowhere, however. The dance proceeded without further reference to any such allusion.

It was a long piece set to jazz music by Terence Blanchard. Clad in black leotards, the dancers performed in varying groups, clusters and duos. The steps were neoclassical – a modern feel with a balletic origin. It was an impressive piece, if not a bit long. I wished for closure at the exquisite moment when a female dancer slowly spun a male upside down on the floor – but the piece continued a bit longer and repeated many phrases, with seemingly no concession to the ebb and flow of the changing musical tone.

Hissy Fits was a little disappointing only because its mood felt overly similar to its predecessor. By this time, I was craving a fresh feel – maybe some softness in the arms to interrupt all the angular extension that ruled the night – as well as some pointe work, which was never to be last evening. This piece, executed inexplicably in “underwear” (think beige panties, black socks and white camisoles), came off much like Headspace set to Bach music instead of jazz.

Innervisions seemed to enliven both performers and audience. A crowd-pleaser set to Stevie Wonder songs, it was a classic example of funky jazz dance. I was worried that the evening would fall on the showy side – Complexions made a recent appearance on “So You Think You Can Dance” – but even this raucous piece didn’t cross over into shallow tricks. It was a puff piece, but a pleasant and resectable one. The only discordance came in the middle of the suite when the grim “Ghetto Village” played with no apparent change in the mood of the dancing. Stevie was singing, “families buying dog food now / starvation roams the streets / babies die before they’re born / infected by the grief” … and we were all still celebrating.

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If I sound overly critical of the evening, perhaps I should reiterate that I am so grateful for the opportunity here to see a program worth taking the time to critique. I very much hope to have more such opportunities in Augusta. Although I could do without the en masse opening of potato-chip bags in the theatre – must Americans eat at simply EVERY event? – and the red wine, which the woman behind me thoughtlessly held while applauding, staining my white shirt. On my birthday. But I’m not complaining!

American Ballet Theatre (ABT) soloist Misty Copeland is everywhere these days. From interviews on the major television networks and a guest appearance on NPR’s “Wait Wait…Don’t Tell Me,” to regular social media posts, Copeland has gained notoriety beyond the inner circle of the ballet world.

With the recent Under Armor commercial featuring her having gone viral – if you’ve visited Facebook this week, you’ve definitely seen it – it’s all the rage for the general public to comment on her physical strength and marvel that ballet is truly athletic, as much a “sport” as football or hockey, etc., etc. Under Armor certainly seems to have achieved its intended goal. Copeland is strong, determined, successful – and hot! – and everybody’s uniformly amazed by her.

As they should be. Copeland is a gorgeous dancer and a beautiful, successful woman. What most people fail to grasp, I believe, is that she is no stronger or more physically impressive than her peers at the top of the ballet profession. Any dancer performing at Misty’s level – or above, as she is not yet a principal ballerina – can do what she does. The calves so prominently displayed in the commercial, the control and balance, the strength and spirit…that IS ballet. If Under Armor is helping to spread that gospel, then I’m grateful. But, as physically challenging as it is, ballet is not a sport. It requires every bit the same bodily talent and discipline but ballet is an art, demanding not only physical capability but grace, musicality and a transcendent stage presence. There are plenty of dancers out there with Misty Copeland’s calves but her rise is attributable to the miraculous union of her body’s ability with her exceptional artistry.

Part of Copeland’s meteoric rise to popularity is, of course, the fact that she’s a very rare example of a successful black ballerina, one who is more shapely than your average dancer. For this I admire Copeland’s tenacity and I celebrate ABT for recognizing her as a valuable contributor to the art form. Under Armor is smart to cash in on Copeland’s unique position. But while it’s positive that the company is promoting the idea that ballet is tougher than you think, it does dance a disservice to reduce its definition to pure sport. That’s the problem with a sportswear label being the leading educator about ballet to the general public. Dance companies around the world – the true experts – should be teaching us about ballet on TV and social media. As I’ve said all along, it’s past time to unleash the archival footage and play it for the world to see. Invite new audiences into the rarefied dance world by making accessible the incredible strength – and beauty – of ballet and the artists who dedicate their lives to performing it.

Hubbard Street Dance Chicago at the 2014 Spoleto Festival 

It’s been many years since I last saw Hubbard Street Dance perform live (that show was staged at Wolf Trap center for Performing Arts in Vienna, VA and it was fabulous) so the company’s participation at the 2014 Spoleto Festival was the main impetus for my spending this weekend in Charleston, SC. It was worth the trip.

Gnawa by Nacho Duato 

Opening the program was Nacho Duato’s “Gnawa,’ a visually stunning piece inspired by the Spanish-born choreographer’s feelings for the Mediterranean aesthetic. It was an energetic beginning to the show, danced impeccably by the group of 14. Most memorable was when the ensemble assembled in a sort of circular heap: a heaving mass of people expanding and contracting, with a dancer or dancers reaching out and sometimes flying over the formation here and there. The moment evoked a balanced sense of both community and individuality, both beautiful and life-affirming.  

Quintett by William Forsythe

After the first intermission came William Forsythe’s “Quintett,” which the choreographer intended as a final love letter to his dying young wife. In Forsythe’s own words in a May 2012 Chicago Tribune review:

It’s not at all morbid…I think if you saw it and didn’t know the background, you’d never guess. There’s no attempt to create any pathos. The message comes from the dancers in it, a message about living and dancing. 

This, I was glad to hear because I definitely didn’t “guess” the works’ inspiration. In fact, I wasn’t at all sure what to make of the piece. And I blame the music. I want to say that I enjoyed the spirit of the piece and Forsythe’s inventive choreography. However, the score – Britain’s Gavin Bryar’s “Jesus’ Blood Never Failed Me Yet” – was so repetitive and went on for so long that I lost all focus and just held on to my seat, waiting for it to be over.

The music is comprised of a short orchestral phrase accompanying a recording of an old homeless man singing a mumbled, tuneless lyric, played over and over again, ad infinitum. Perhaps Forsythe’s usual audience of Germans can better tolerate the sound. I was not the only one driven to near insanity by it. The girls behind me loudly voiced their annoyance. I eyed them for their rudeness – but I was totally thinking the same thing. Forsythe feels his piece is about the desire to live but it sure had me wanting to JUST END IT ALREADY.

PACOPEPEPLUTO by Alejandro Cerrudo

Mercifully, the second intermission was followed with Cerrudo’s PACOPEPEPLUTO. Three brief solos, one on the heels of the other, were so full of power and humor that it all ended too quickly and the audience was left wanting more. Because the piece is set to Dean Martin songs, I hadn’t high hopes for enjoying it personally, but the choreography and energetic dancers overcame my resistance immediately.

I’m not sure why the dancers were near-naked or why the lighting was so dim. A friend pointed out that suits and top hats would have seemed more appropriate for costumes. I’m all for seeing every bit of those incredible bodies work but a little more lighting would have made it more interesting in several respects! I hold criticism, however, as the performance space (a makeshift stage in TD Arena) could have been the culprit.

Falling Angels by Jiří Kylián

Completing the program was Kylian’s fascinating “Fallen Angels.” Kylian’s use of choreographic repetition stood in contrast with the musical repetitiveness about which I previously complained. Steps acquired increasing interest as one ballerina after another explored them in her own space. From Wikipedia:

Falling Angels depicts females and female dancers in their aim to achieve perfection but succumb in various stages to the human female psyche and female events such as ambition, seduction, pregnancy, birth, death, motherhood and self-awareness. It is about the things that pull and push a dancer from the ‘purity’ of dance and performance. 

This statement reeks, I feel, of anti-feminism. However, by replacing its specifically female-oriented phrasing with a more universally human angle, I arrive on a truthful commentary on humanity’s noble, yet impossible striving for perfection. Complete purity, in any form, artistic or otherwise, is simply not human.

If the ballet companies won’t make their work more widely available, I’m glad the library is stepping up. Hopefully others will follow suit.

http://hyperallergic.com/117959/new-york-public-library-puts-major-dance-video-archive-online/

Music: Dowland, Neusidler, Morley and anonymous composers

Choreography: Eliot Feld

Premiere: American Ballet Company, New York 1970

Try finding footage – or even a still photograph! – of this ballet online and see for yourself the lack of any record of its existence. This is a perfect example of how potential audiences are missing out on dance history and another opportunity to discover its joy.

Just this week New York City Ballet posted footage from its recent performance of The Sleeping Beauty on Facebook. What a brilliant marketing tool! When will NYCB and its ilk stop hoarding footage and share it publicly for free online? Rather than driving down ticket sales, surely such access can only serve to peak interest.

With such a dearth of visual data on Eliot Feld’s The Consort, it’s hard to see why exactly Balanchine included it in his “101 Greats.”  A 1989 review* by Martin Bernheimer of Feld’s later ballets laments their diminished quality compared to The Consort’s “inventive antics.” Indeed, the ballet is sure to have plenty of those. Beginning with costume and choreography suited to the ballet’s Elizabethan score, the piece soon devolves – or evolves? – into an earthy, sexual foray. The dancers cast off traditional clothing onstage, revealing peasant gear befitting the loose romp to follow. Reviewers largely agree that this is where Feld’s choreography shines.

Deborah Jowett of The Village Voice says of The Consort’s conclusion, which sees the rowdy peasants engaged in “a debauch,” “It reminded me of one of those Breughel scenes: you feel that because most of the time the peasants must have worked so hard, their appetites for play and drunken oblivion must have been immense, simple and quickly sated.”

Additional resources

*http://articles.latimes.com/1989-04-17/entertainment/ca-1900_1_eliot-feld-darren-gibson-consort

http://www.nytimes.com/1982/06/07/arts/ballet-feld-s-consort.html

Concerto Barocco

Choreography: George Balanchine

Music: Johann Sebastian Bach

Premiere: Pre-NYC Ballet ensemble, May 29, 1940

As was his custom, Balanchine designed this ballet upon the score, composed in this case by Bach. He took the music as a point of departure and choreographed a non-narrative dance as its complement.  Always with the music as his guide, Balanchine rarely introduced story into his ballets. “If the score is a truly great one,” said Balanchine, “[the choreographer] … can present his impression in terms of pure dance.”

Concerto Barocco was the first of many Balanchine works to be costumed with practice attire. Today it’s a familiar aesthetic, stylistically typical of Balanchine’s work. As much of a dance lover as I am, the star of the piece for me is Bach’s gorgeous score. The choreography is sometimes lyrical and often sharp and athletic, a once unexpected interpretation of the music that is par for the course now that Balanchine is so ubiquitous.

Additional resources

http://www.nycballet.com/ballets/c/concerto-barocco.aspx

La Fille Mal Gardee (The Unchaperoned/WaywardDaughter)

Choreography: Jean Dauberval

Music: Ferdinand Herold

Premiere: France, 1789

My summer visit to the Paris Opera to see La Fille Mal Gardee had less to do with any particular interest in the production than with my long-held wish to see the opera house itself. The ridiculous chicken dance in the first few minutes of the ballet didn’t much bother me because I was too preoccupied with the gorgeous Chagall ceiling and images of “La Loge.”

I could tell, however, that the American guy in front of me (coerced into attendance, I’m sure, by his female companion) was thinking that ballet is the dumbest thing he’d ever seen. And if the first 20 minutes of La Fille had been my only exposure to dance, I’d have had to agree with him.

What once may have been charming or amusing – dancers in full chicken costume clomping about in gigantic plastic feet – is now embarrassingly silly. The effect of a pastoral scene might have been achieved with more subtly and artfully. I also remain unmoved by the tradition of en travesti roles (female characters portrayed by male dancers), which is employed in La Fille in the character of The Widow Simone. In a modern context it seems either bigoted (is it funny to see a man playing at femininity? are we laughing at the idea of the male ballet dancer?) or consciously contemporary (are we demonstrating our “ok-ness” with sexual ambiguity?) or strangely both. La Fille creates an exceptionally uncomfortable tension in the juxtaposition of clumsy Widow Simone and odd, effeminate suitor Alain. It feels incredibly un-PC to be giggling at the loping old woman, whom we know is played by a man, and the prancing sissy. The audience laughs along with the main characters and their villager friends and it feels like we’re all ganging up on Simone and Alain, like bullies at a playground.

Redeeming factors, however, did rescue this ballet for me and I now recall it fondly. The relationship between the title character (Lise, the un-guarded daughter) and her lover Colas is tender and mature. In love from the outset, their union grows deeper and more committed throughout the ballet. It’s a welcome change from the more typical boy meets girl scenario. The intimacy and friendship between the two are more believable than the star-crossed romances of other ballet lovers.

There is a recurring theme using ribbons, which is cleverly choreographed and beautiful. At times, Lisa and Colas lovingly entwine one another in colorful spools and later the village engages in a lively maypole dance.  Surprisingly, the loveliest, most memorable moment of the ballet is from a brief mime sequence. Lise, believing she is alone, imagines her life as Colas’ wife. Colas suddenly reveals himself and, realizing he has witnessed her reverie, Lise pulls her shawl over her head in embarrassment. Her shyness and humor, and the playful reconciliation that follows demonstrates true intimacy between the two.

In contrast with the cliche of the ballet’s pastoral setting, the relationship between Lisa and Colas feels relatable to a contemporary audience. Balanchine writes in “101” of La Fille that “the earliest of ballets in the current repertory, its universally comical situations are no doubt responsible for its survival.” I would guess, though, that it’s the universal love theme that’s caused La Fille to endure, through numerous re-workings over 150+ years, as a modern ballet treasure.

Tuesday night’s performance by American Ballet Theatre (ABT) at The Kennedy Center was pleasant enough for the price – last minute tickets sold for $25 – if not entirely inspiring. Two of the four pieces from the mixed repertory performance were nicely done if not overwhelmingly memorable. The evening also included one glowing highlight (Manon Act I Pas de Deux) – and one dismal low point (Don Quixote Act III Grand Pas de Deux).

Black Tuesday
Choreography by Paul Taylor
Music: Songs from the Great Depression

Black Tuesday was a great start to the evening. A lively, Depression-era romp depicting both the strength of the American spirit and the gritty difficulties of loneliness and poverty, the ballet is 30 minutes of spirited and expressive dancing, executed nicely by the company. Particularly moving was Misty Copeland’s solo danced to the tune, “The Boulevard of Broken Dreams.” Copeland’s dancing of desperate struggle was passionate and very beautiful. Typical of Paul Taylor, however, the sadness of this piece is more than tempered with a generous dose of uplifting humor. “He peoples his Shantytown with Vaudevillians and Doughboys, hookers and showgirls, all eking out a meager existence on the streets of the city. Music hall hoofers recall their heyday, down-and-out couples jitterbug down Park Avenue, a pimp continues to hawk his wares, and a newsgirl pretends to slay the big bad wolf that is the Depression.” (Paul Taylor company website)

Manon (Act I Pas de Deux)
Choreography by Sir Kenneth MacMillan (Premiere: Royal Ballet 1974)
Music: Jules Massenet

This Manon excerpt, “the bedroom pas de deux,” was the highlight of the evening. Julie Kent danced with her usual perfection. Even her hair tumbling loose from its bun served to enhance, rather than detract, from the restless passion of her character. MacMillan’s choreography is lilting, romantic and technically interesting. Everything about the piece, including the minimalist set, sang an intimate portrait of a young couple in love.

Viewed outside of the context of the full length ballet, this scene is slightly misleading. Young Manon is not quite the innocent she seems. Just moments after her romantic bedroom scene with her lover Des Grieux, she succumbs to the advances of wealthy Parisian Monsieur G.M., abandoning Des Grieux. Throughout the ballet, Manon declares and then betrays her love for Des Grieux twice and compels the earnest young man to lie, cheat and murder before finally choosing love over material grandeur as she dies in his arms.

MacMillan said of the ballet, “The characters fascinate me…My clue to [Manon’s fickle, erratic] behavior is her background of poverty. Manon is not so much afraid of being poor as ashamed of being poor. Which brings me to the other theme of the ballet – the contrast between great wealth and great poverty in eighteenth-centry France…” (New Yorker Magazine 1974).

Between Balanchine, in his “101” comments, and MacMillan himself, there is a consensus that Manon is decidedly amoral – someone with “much charm but little character.” However, when considered in the context of an era when poverty, by MacMillan’s own admission, “was the equivalent of a long, slow death,” it’s hard to blame her completely for her bad behavior. Here is a teenaged girl initially destined for the convent and subject to the insensitivity of her brother’s manipulations. Wavering and rash choices do not seem unreasonable for a poor young woman in a time when being a poor young woman meant you had very few options and very little control over your own destiny.

Perhaps it’s true that Manon is a slut and Des Grieux a fool, but the context and motivations for their actions are subject to interpretation, which makes for a refreshingly layered ballet plot.

Additional resources

2005 Moscow clip

ABT Manon synopsis

http://www.kennethmacmillan.com/ballets/all-works/1970-1977/manon.html

Don Quixote (Act III Grand Pas de Deux)
Choreography after Marius Petipa and Alexander Gorsky
Music by Ludwig Minkus

Unfortunately, the perfection of Manon was immediately followed by a bumbling performance of the Don Quixote Grand Pas de Deux. Ballerina Xiomara Reyes seemed off kilter and about to tip over straight through the curtain call. She missed several balances and fell out of some critical turns. Both she and partner Herman Cornejo came across as a little bit ridiculous, almost as though they were deliberately poking fun at the choreography. What should have been a lively and impressive display of ballet technique was instead a shockingly disappointing exercise in awkwardness.

The audience, surprisingly, ate it up. As my friend commented, “I guess all you need is some red and black, throw on some sparkles and they’ll love it!” Hard-to-please reviewer Sarah Kaufman of The Washington Post was also surprisingly more impressed – or perhaps, more accurately, less disappointed – than I was. (Read her review).

Thirteen Diversions
Choreography by Christopher Wheeldon
Music by Benjamin Britten

My main reason – aside from the irresistible ticket price – for attending last night’s show was to see this piece by Christopher Wheeldon, whose work so often leaves me speechless with its refreshing steps and breathtaking drama. Thirteen Diversions features brilliant partnering sequences and formations that are typically Wheeldon-esque. However, the piece did not grip or hold me in the way that others by this promising choreographer have done.

Benjamin Britten’s score was thoroughly enjoyable, played beautifully by the Kennedy Center Opera House Orchestra (which this week includes my friend, violist Tiffany Richardson).

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Read The Washington Post review by Sarah Kaufman

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Upcoming at KenCen is ABT’s La Bayadere (view clip) this week.

I was disappointed to miss last weekend’s fine performance by Mark Morris Dance Group of “L’Allegro, il Penseroso ed il Moderato,” which received a stellar review from The Washington Post.

If you haven’t yet seen the new documentary “Joffrey: Mavericks of American Dance,” find a screening and go! The movie eloquently traces the history and contributions of the Joffrey Ballet, which started from nothing and became a leading force in American dance, combining classical ballet with modern dance technique in new – and uniquely American – ways. The film is a tribute to the work and vision of founders Robert Joffrey and Gerald Arpino, as well as that of the dedicated and adventurous dancers who helped define a new manner of movement, which includes my friend Roger Plaut.

The best thing about this movie, though, is the sheer amount of exposure it gets for ballet in today’s “YouTube” society. Not only can audiences everywhere learn about dance history at the movie theatre for under $20 a ticket, they can also access acres of archival footage on the movie’s website. Finally, at least one company is making its treasure available to the masses via the Internet! I look forward to using this resource for my future posts about Joffrey-created ballets – so stay tuned!

Featured in the movie are several clips from Joffrey works, including Robert Joffrey’s own 1967 “Astarte,” a groundbreaking, rock-ballet that landed the company on the cover of Time Magazine and solidified the Joffrey’s position as America’s timely, world-aware dance company. Arpino’s choreography (he was much more prolific than Joffrey) echoed the same notions. His 1969 ballet “Trinity,” for instance,  had ballet dancers moving in ways very different from their peers and captured the dichotomous mood of its time. The ballet looks and sounds a little dated today (can we say “disco” music?) but that’s the good and bad of Joffrey; much of what feels dated today was once supremely relevant. And the overall feeling of the ballet still resonates, even if the music is a bit outmoded. “Deuce Coupe”, the Beach Boy ballet presented in 1973 in collaboration with Twyla Tharp and her modern dancers went a long way to bridge the vast distance between ballet and modern dance at its time, and forged a path for the future.

I first came to love the Joffrey for its infamous “Billboards,” released on video in 1994. The ballet is set to music by Prince and is both celebrated and criticized for its popular, sex appeal. But in addition to the groundbreaking ballets that were the Joffrey’s contributions to the American dance canon, we are also indebted to the company for restoring “lost” works from the early 20th century. Robert Joffrey had a lifelong admiration for the masters of early modern ballet; he identified with Nijinsky as a dancer and with Diaghilev as an impresario. Important ballets from this period were never recorded and, therefore, unavailable to audiences.  Joffrey, therefore, went to great lengths to recreate these ballets as closely as possible to their originals. In 1973 he presented “Parade,” restaged in collaboration with original creator Leonide Massine. His attempt to do the same for Fokine’s “Petrouchka” was not as successful but is, nonetheless, admirable for its appreciation of important moments in dance history. Joffrey’s timely presentation in 1967 of Kurt Jooss’ anti-war ballet “The Green Table,” staged in collaboration with Jooss, was all too relevant at that time – and sadly remains so today.

“Robert Joffrey was committed to preserving historic ballet masterpieces that had fallen out favor in the repertories of world ballet companies. He realized that much respect should be paid to the classical choreographers who were pioneers of their time, by the pioneers of the present.” Sheri Candler

Movie website  – Check out the BLOG!

Washington Post movie review

Saw the movie and want more? Check out these Podcasts from former company members.

I am also reading the definitive book on Joffrey, the man and the company. Order yours today: The Joffrey Ballet: Robert Joffrey and the Making of an American Dance Company by Sasha Anawalt.

Choreography: Jerome Robbins

Music: Frederic Chopin

Premiere: New York City Ballet, 1956

Watch a video 

In “101,” Balanchine calls The Concert “a charade in one act,” and, indeed, the piece is like a series of comedic sketches. The ballet begins with a pianist sitting down to play, as if in a concert, and various, eccentric “audience members” (dancers) appearing on stage with their own folding chairs to observe the performance. The eccentric “concert attendees” act out the unique fantasies and daydreams that the music inspires within them, including plots of murder and deception, and imaginings of playful flight. The ballet is, according to Patricia Barnes in “Dance and Dancers,” “dance’s funniest creation.”

Typical of Robbins’ imaginative choreographic style, The Concert is subtitled, ” The Perils of Everybody.” In his program note, Robbins explained his motivation. “One of the pleasure of attending a concert,” he says, “is the freedom to lose oneself in listening to the music.” Although my personal concert experience has not included such dramatic imaginings as those of the characters in this ballet(!), I strongly relate to the idea that music’s greatest offering, especially when heard in a formal setting, is its ability to transport me to other realms, in which my imagination goes wild and often leaves me feeling newly alive. I sometimes look around at my fellow concert-goers in the darkened hall and wonder at the fact that the music, heard by all, is likely inspiring hundreds of unique reveries.