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Long Time

Well a lot certainly has happened since I last posted (including I don’t know how many years of content having been wiped out due to having not accessed the email account associated with this blog for over a year. Fuck you, yahoo!). But let’s start with a clean slate.

I approached the start of this year’s New York City Ballet season with kind of a ho hum attitude, but have enjoyed the performances I have seen so far (just two) very much.

A brisk Raymonda Variations with Megan Fairchild and David Huxley performing cleanly and with finesse. Followed by that oddity, Variations pour une Porte et un Soupir, which is probably good to see every fifteen years or so, with St. Sara enhancing it mightily. DGV, on the other hand, lessens its impact (if it ever truly had any) with age.

I also was not so eager to see Jewels again after so many repeated viewings and was not very optimistic about the casting, but it turned out to be a fantastic performance, that just kept building in momentum. A nice Emeralds, in which the principal men (Stanley, Danchig-Waring) outshone the principal women (Bouder, pleasingly warm, and LeCrone, solid, but letting tension mar her performance) with a boisterous debut by Mejia deftly partnering Segin and the (departing, to Seattle!) Villwock (probably a good move for her though, she looks like a PNB girl) in the pas de trois. I was definitely not expecting much out of Garcia in Rubies, but he surprised, perhaps buoyed by the seasoned Fairchild in an exciting performance and a fabulous debut for Mira Nadon in the “tall girl” part! Then on to a Diamonds, which featured a glowing partnership between Mearns and Janzen. Not sure if they have ever been better; certainly not paired together. Everyone was on fire in the finale and for a brief, brief interlude, all was momentarily right with the world.

Now on to tonight!

Stars Appear

I haven’t seen much dance in this interval between NYCB. I did give in and saw Paul Taylor’s company (liked Danbury Mix the best), but didn’t bother with the Joffrey (who needs to see yet another R&J; didn’t like the gala program), but I did secure some tickets to the opening week of NYCB season. I’m sticking with the All Balanchine program and hoping to see different casts. I think I need a break from those particular Robbins ballets for a while.

The ludicrous preview article about 50th anniversary of Jewels by Judith Mackrell in the Guardian reminded me to check to see if any New York area screenings of Royal Ballet “live” performance next week in London have been added. I also note from the comments section that I’m not the only one who finds Mackrell’s dance writing to be ridiculous--another recent article, for example, inspired by a revival of 42nd Street, was both irrelevant and cribbed from Croce. Re: Jewels, “product placement” certainly seems an overstatement; the current marketing campaigns(s) are far more craven than anything Balanchine might have agreed to--as does its “masterpiece” status. I think the ballet can best be appreciated in the context of the NYCB repertory as a whole. But who cares what I think?

On another note, why do most of the cinemas that show these HD broadcasts in New York always include the Royal Opera, but not the Royal Ballet? It was the same situation in Seattle, where you would be lucky to get one screening of the Bolshoi or the Royal Ballet on a Monday evening. New York should be different, but isn’t anymore, alas. At this point, it looks like the Sunshine Cinema on May 23rd is the only local option. I’ll see what I can manage. Even the distant opportunity of Nunez in Diamonds, and only onscreen, is something to make my heart go dancing on this dreary, rainy morning.

International Subway Ads

As it happens, I didn’t necessarily “boycott” the NYCB Sleeping Beauty out of complete contempt, I simply was in another time and place for most of its run. Where?

In Roma! Where the subway stations featured posters for an upcoming gala in March that will present (mainly Italian-born) "international stars of the dance,” including NYCB’s stellar contributions -- our own ray of sunshine, Tiler Peck, partner extraordinaire and danseur noble in excelsis, Amar Ramasar, and the more hard-to-pin-down Gonzalo Garcia.

Nor did I see Sleeping Beauty at the Teatro dell'Opera di Roma, but I did attend an orchestral concert there that included a dramatically eerie rendition of Charles Ives’ The Unanswered Question (how I would love to see the Balanchine work of the same title this spring instead of crappy Here/Now “festival”) on the program.

I wish I could have hung around for the performance at the Auditorium Conciliazione, among other things. It sucks to be back, although I did enjoy seeing the closing performances of the Winter 2017 season.

Bravi to the corps, who were the true stars of the all Robbins program! Many standouts in Moves. Excellent playing by the orchestra to Glass Pieces under the baton of guest conductor Harrison Hollingsworth (especially since it seemed in rough shape last year); “Akhnaten” was perhaps never better and it also was great to see Maria K. back in top form in the “Facades” section (after a shaky start to the season), as well as in Sunday’s Slaughter on 10th Avenue. Always a pleasure to see Tiler Peck in just about anything, although she has moved way beyond Carousel: A Dance, which has nice music, but always has been trivial. Still, it’s leagues ahead of Thou Swell (which I’ve gone back to disliking) in content and sensibility; a bore fest that the dancers rise above. And while Sterling Hyltin gives a bang-up performance, it’s also a juvenile lead she’s moved beyond. Why doesn’t someone create something more interesting for this very special dancer?

I also dislike the Paul Taylor American Modern Dance subway ads (and ok, these are screen shots here, not the posters themselves), which boast a tagline something along the lines of “this is why we live in New York.” So phony. Who the fuck can afford to live in New York anymore (and is it really worth the price)? Not to mention (although I am), NYCB had a similar ad campaign back in the 1990s.

What A Waste

Apparently Robert Fairchild has left for London to begin rehearsals for An American in Paris. It seems a shame since he had finally been regaining his form as a ballet dancer just to give it up again for that piece of dreck. I mean he was charming and danced wonderfully in it (although not nearly as charming and wonderful as Leanne Cope), but I’ve never cared for the film and the adaptation somehow made it even longer, more trivial, and even more misogynistic than the original. But it was also thought weightier by several critics since it was situated more specifically in post-WWII Paris and had Holocaust survivors and (more openly) closeted gay character(s).

Ah well, the 2017 winter season is rapidly becoming a blur, what with multiple casts of the same program. Teresa Reichlen still is holding steady as the star of the season. Sara Mearns is beyond criticism of any kind (especially since she is all too often the target of some haters who really should keep their asses over at ABT). Of the debuts, both Kretzschmar and Peck fell short in different ways as the Sleepwalker, but both have promise. With her sunny disposition, Peck is really cast against type here, which is fine as a stretch, but in this case, is the experiment worth it? Other than the goons, Prodigal does not seem in the greatest of shape, especially for the Son, in this transitional moment. Of the three I saw, Ulbricht (not a debut) was the best, but too obvious; De Luz (as well), not in prime condition; and Huxley, good in the first half, but less believable in his suffering stage. As Siren, Kowroski, also was tentative technically; Reichlen, I’ve already noted; and the extremely attractive Miriam Miller showed guts in her debut, but was more like a mean girl out of The Bachelor than an archetype. She’s been given a few important featured roles, but this is the only one I’ve had a chance to see. I have never noticed her among the corps. Hopefully Ashley Laracey will be promoted, but seems to being given the Forever Soloist roles, which, nevertheless, she is making the most of, particularly the Swan Lieutenant. The corps was especially outstanding in SL; it was hard not to take notice of the blooming Claire Von Enck looking very Zelda Sayres Fitzgerald-ish (but in a good way); hopefully no one will make that ballet (but surely there must be one already).

I bought some tickets for the closing performances of the season even though I don’t care much for either program.

Midwinter Rant

I can appreciate the argument that it makes scheduling rehearsals (both orchestra and dancers) easier--not to mention marketing--but I still find these repeat programs, even with very different casts, to become a bit of a bore.

And why are some ballets (some great, some merely good, I’ll leave you to decide) seemingly done all the time: The Concert, Glass Pieces, Allegro Brilliante, La Sonnambula, The Cage, and Stravinsky Violin Concerto, for example? And they’re doing some of them (in practically the same combination) in the truncated (i.e. non-Here and Now festival part o the) spring 2017 season! It seems like a long and lonely time since Scotch Symphony has seen the light of the day or In G Major. Just saying.

I’ll be boycotting Sleeping Beauty, so you may not hear from me for a while.

Not a frown further

I had a chance to see the Donmar production of The Tempest over the weekend, the third installment of what is now dubbed “The Trilogy.” I enjoyed it, but thought initially that it was perhaps the weakest of the three productions, with the whole prison conceit getting to be a bit forced. Upon reflection, however, now that we are all living in prison (or, are more conscious of how we always have been), Prospero’s epilogue seemed especially timely and poignant.

But it’s hard to stay in all that elevated a spirit or frame of mind when traveling to and from Brooklyn given the shittiness of public transportation, especially on weekends. Trying to get out of DUMBO following the show had me summoning Gonzalo’s Act V prayer:

All torment, trouble, wonder and amazement Inhabits here: some heavenly power guide us Out of this fearful country!

Thanks especially to the old man of good cheer who materialized out of nowhere only to say we had just missed the bus (which we already had seen pass us by without stopping), “unfortunately” and hobble away into the gloaming like a baleful sprite. But never fear, we did make it out eventually.

#"brooklynsucks #SAWthetempest

Be Nice(r)

OK, I should have stuck with my initial decision to skip the “new combinations” program. Excellent performances in Fearful Symmetries all around, but the ballet (though one of Martins’ better efforts) seemed empty and dull.

There is really nothing to be said about the Lidberg piece, although since he entered the building right ahead of me I was reminded he was a human too and it’s too easy to make cheap comments. Still, he does come across as arrogant in the Playbill article, but, as I said earlier, that might be some problem with nuances in language from a non-native English speaker. I’m more willing to give him the benefit of the doubt on that particular shortcoming than the President.

The dancers looked much happier in the Justin Peck ballet, which I also didn’t like. For some reason I kept thinking it was about rival private school lacrosse teams that had missed the Rockaway Beach Bus and were trying to decide what to do instead.

Looking forward to Claire Kretzschmar’s Sleepwalker!

#"whitepeopleshit

Sucker Punched

I was going to skip the “new combinations” program entirely, but got drawn in by Gia Kourlas’ interview with Justin Peck, which made some claims that his new ballet, The Times Are Racing was a “protest dance” of sorts. We’ll see. The promotional video is kinda underwhelming.

Even less compelling is the film for Pontus Lidberg’s The Shimmering Asphalt, which, at less than two minutes, still seems incredibly long. The multi-talented choreographer (at least no one so far has said polymath) comes across as a pretentious jackass in interviews, but maybe something is being lost in translation. Ah yes, animation mixed with live action dance, what a novel concept, not seen since the days of Gene Kelly. I have liked some of David Lang’s music, so at least there should be something to listen to.

I’ve never been partial to Fearful Symmetries either, but the new crop of principals in the cast is promising.

#newcombinations

Panic in the Streets

The release of the restored version of Julien Duvivier’s Panique (1946) surely was fortuitously timed to coincide with the inauguration of the 45th President of the United States. Since partaking of a screening recently, I have been trying (in vain) to find online the title and/or lyrics to the dark song that is given by a balladeer towards the end of the film. Not likely that it is also the work of Jacques Ibert, who composed this score (as well as the less effective “Circus” ballet in the previously-mentioned Invitation to the Dance). I did, however, stumble across a passage in an essay by Leonard Koos in Dead Ringers that made me proud that I had thought that the town square in this film reminded me of the one in Port of Shadows (1938) and that the movies, in some respects, parallel each other, although this film has a much darker view of humanity (see page 212)!

Not a movie to love, but beautifully made and definitely worth the time.

Size Matters

Somehow the most cheering sight over the past few busy days was Teresa Reichlen in Friday evening’s performance of The Prodigal Son. I’ve seen her in this ballet a few times, but I thought for the first time I caught a new look in the opening movement of the pas de deux (where the Siren and the Prodigal Son stretch towards each other) in which she seemed to be perfectly channeling the dead eyes of Melania Trump. The “anatomy” of this dance video available on the NYCB site has some good commentary by the articulate (in every sense of the word) dancer, who notes that “a sense of detachment is really important for this character.” Indeed, for all who perpetrate evil. Anyhow, in terms of consistency and range, Reichlen definitely is having her moment as a ballerina now (although it’s been that way for well over a year). See her!

I May Never Stop Vomiting

#endofcivilization

The Final Countdown

I don’t usually care for anything written by Gia Kourlas, but the piece on the Rockettes in today’s NY Times she co-wrote with Katie Rogers is an excellent piece of journalism.

Tiny Bubbles

Or wicker baskets?

Ducked in out of the rain early last night at NYCB only to find ourselves penned in on the orchestra level until 30 minutes before show time. Hopefully this was a one-off due to creating suspense or some such about this year’s NYCB Art Series, about which there is not much to say other than it might have been exciting in 1917, not so much in 2017.

Also new this year: higher prices at the bar. The annual Saturday at the Ballet with George “celebration” doesn’t include any kind of a public program this time around (for the first time?). So I guess it’s a big “fuck y’all” from TPTB, in keeping with the promise of making America great again.

Performances last night seemed a bit uneven, so I won’t comment for now. 4th ring closed and the rest of the house crowded in together to create some sort of illusion.

Not so short stories

The aftermath of a busy holiday weekend finds me looking forward to this evening’s opening of the NYCB 2017 Winter Season, but a little sleepy too. The estimated 2 hours and 38 minutes running time makes it tempting to leave at the second intermission since I’ll be seeing this program multiple times, but it also looks like it’s the only chance I will have to see Reichlen as the Firebird. We’ll see. In my pre-season casting musings, I didn’t even dare name Claire Kretschmar as a possible Sleepwalker, but was delighted to see she has been cast (with Zachary Catazaro) next week, along with a host of debuts in all the other ballets on the program.

Saturday saw me braving Brooklyn yet again to see the revival of The Beauty Queen of Leenane at BAM, mainly because I had been so impressed by Marty Rea as Joxer in Juno and the Paycock at the Gate last year. He did not disappoint, displaying versatility and range. I enjoyed the play much more this time, but perhaps my expectations were too high the first time (I saw it in the West End in late 1996), when it seemed too sitcommy and contrived. Now it seems more resonant and touching. Maybe because I’m older? Maybe because I’ve been to Ireland now?

I attended my first anti-Trump rally in preparation for next Saturday. Should one critique a rally? This one definitely lacked star power, but looks more impressive in the pictures posted by National Nurses United on the group’s Flickr page than it felt in the moment.

And yesterday felt a bit like a real old time New York day. First, having coffee in a cafe, where it seems the same older Upper East Side lady brings her dog Rocco (?) every day, in spite of the no pets policy. Then, boarding the cross town bus to attend a free lecture on the fascinating Valeska Gert at the Jewish Film Festival.

Crazy for the blue, white, and red (and yellow fringe)

Urgh. I was intending to write about a completely different topic, but then stumbled across another gem by Hilton Als while trying to check out some upcoming “goings on about town” (and kudos to the reader who recently got her letter in protest of Als’ sexist review of the Sweet Charity revival published) and just couldn’t let it go this time. In his preview of a January 21st event at La MaMa (why there?) in celebration of the show’s Off-Broadway premiere almost 50 years ago at the Public Theatre, Als notes that his own “introduction” to the show was made through the 1979 film.

More likely his only experience, it seems. No, the infamous nude scene did not come at the end of the show; it was during the first act closer, Where Do I Go. And why in the world would Galt MacDermot’s music remind anyone of the “controlled disarray” of Sonic Youth unless s/he was a tone deaf poseur with no taste?

I may return to that subject (poseurs), which was related to my intended one in my next post. Or not.

The photo above of the original Broadway cast wasn’t taken by Martha Swope, who, sadly, just passed away.

Hope you have an inspiring MLK weekend!

Casting Up

For opening week of NYCB winter season. As usual, my initial reaction is to feel a bit underwhelmed. Yay, to Sara Mearns in Swan Lake. There are indeed debutantes in La Sonnambula, but they’re of a somewhat predicable variety: Tiler Peck as the Sleepwalker (okay, I love to see her in anything and it should be a good dramatic stretch, but she seems in danger of being overused, especially in partnership with hubby); Chase Finlay as the Poet (blech; more Little Lord Fauntleroy than Romantic Poet); Rebecca Krohn should do well as the Coquette. No debuts in either Prodigal or Firebird; always happy to see Maria Kowroski or Teresa Reichlen as the Siren, but meh on Daniel Ulbricht as the Prodigal, though he should be leagues better than the disappointing performance Daniil Simkin offered during ABT’s fall season. Ditto Veronika Part. Did not understand the raves her Siren received. So much for Russian superiority.

Borderline Shy/Wild

Yes, I watched the “Happy New Year” episode of Ab Fab on new year’s eve for probably the 300th time. Still not ready to do an epic Gilmore Girls post (is it really worth it?), but since strange connections seem to be multiplying, maybe it’s better to handle in bits and pieces anyway.

For example, before heading home that very evening, I had caught an early screening of Things to Come (L’avenir) before it disappeared. I liked the movie, although perhaps not as much as I had anticipated. Don’t know if it had to do with the film itself or the viewing experience, which was definitely effected by the stench of urine emanating from at least one audience member (possibly more). Anyway, the central character, Nathalie, has an epiphany of sorts while observing a breathtaking panorama somewhere in the Rhône-Alpes.

Having seen it so recently, it was hard not to hark back to the moment in the “Fall” episode from Gilmore Girls: A Year in the Life, in which Lorelai, frustrated at being denied both her chance to hike the Pacific Crest Trail and her morning coffee, finally turns around and notices the fucking landscape around her, which in turn, leads to one of the revival’s few genuinely moving scenes.

And of course Lorelai’s pronouncement at the end of the “Summer” episode that she needed to “do Wild” sounded so much more Edina Monsoon than Lorelai Gilmore (and Jennifer Saunders probably would have had the sense to wrap up the whole overextended Wild schtick much more quickly than does Amy Sherman-Palladino). Some things are funnier (or at least better) heard about than actually shown (vide Rory’s one night stand with a Comic-Con Wookie).

The whole Wild sequence, like much of the GG revival, felt quite stale (but it was nice to see Stacey Oristano, Bunhead’s Truly Stone, above center, in a cameo), forced, and not true to character. For example, Lorelai totally would have been movie Wild; Rory, maybe book.

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