Freespace, Free Dance Ad

freespace small(Dance Insider Principal Sponsor Ad) The Star-Ledger’s Robert Johnson calls Donna Scro Samori  / Freepace Dance “astonishing and wonderfully gratifying.”  For info on classes and upcoming performances, click here. Above: Freespace Dance artistic director Donna Scro Samori and Omni Kitts, as captured by Lois Greenfield. Photo copyright Lois Greenfield. (To advertise your dance program, performance, audition, or product on the Dance Insider, please contact publisher Paul Ben-Itzak at paulbenitzak@gmail.com . Subscribe to the DI by Friday, December 8 for just $29.95/year, and receive a free one-month Home page ad.)

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100 ans, Danielle Darrieux, et on a toujours soif de vous*

darrieux coverDanielle Darrieux in Max Ophuls’s “Madame de…,” playing at the Cinematheque Toulouse Thursday. Image courtesy Cinematheque Toulouse.

By Paul Ben-Itzak
Copyright 2017 Paul Ben-Itzak

I’ve spent the past month or so in the company of the most charming, droll, drop-dead gorgeous, glamorous *and* down to earth, alluring, funniest, romantic, and timeless of French actresses — the one who formed the mold for all the others who followed. Since Danielle Darrieux died at the age of 100 on October 17, I’ve been catching up on some of her films, from Henry Koster’s 1938 American comedy “The Rage of Paris,” in which the 21-year-old Darrieux plays a New York chorus girl who poses as a Parisian femme du monde to bag a millionaire through the 1958 “Drole de Dimanche” and “La Vie a Deux,” the latter a series of sketches about troubled marriages. I haven’t yet had time to re-screen Jacques Demy’s 1967 “Les Demoiselles de Rochefort,” the musical in which Darrieux, portraying the mother of Françoise Dorléac and her real-life sister Catherine Deneuve (whose model she may have been, although Darrieux is smarter), was the only cast member whose voice wasn’t dubbed, the actress also being such an accomplished chanteuse that not only did she sing, but her singing often set off the plot. (And when I say she sang, I don’t mean that she was another one of those French actors who thinks s/he can sing, a la Gerard Depardieu in his new album covering Barbara. I mean that if she wasn’t an actress she could have been a full-time singer; the sheer warmth and beauty of her voice even went against the high-pitched ((Frehel)) or morose ((Piaf)) tonalities that were the mode when she came up. Grover Dale, our colleague who played opposite Darrieux in Demy’s film, told the DI and AV, “It was apparent that Danielle was a wise and melodious woman. What a privilege it was… just being in the vicinity of her music.”)

Unfortunately, the only film I’ve screened which seems to be part of the  Cinematheque Toulouse’s tribute, running through December 13, is Max Ophuls’s 1953 “Madame de…,” a 19th century melodrama in which she cheats on Charles Boyer’s dignified general with Vittorio de Sica’s caddish baron, which screens in the French Midi city Thursday. What that film has in common with all the others — besides Darrieux’s blood-warming singing — is that she inevitably succeeds in re-conquering a man she’s betrayed, rejected, or otherwise disappointed: James Mason as a traitor she’s double-crossed, who can’t help smiling at how he’s been out-foxed at the end of the 1952 “Five Fingers”; Douglas Fairbanks Jr., who falls for her anyway after spending most of “The Rage of Paris” trying to unmask her before his enchanted best friend, the millionaire (and in which film, like any good comedian, Darrieux’s not afraid to show herself at unflattering angles, as when she gets stuck in a collapsed window, leaving only her pajama-covered butt projecting into the room); Bourvil as the estranged husband who finally relents after spending most of a “Drole de Dimanche” plotting to kill her (there’s a droll scene in which a very young Jean-Paul Belmondo, pursuing the couple in a roadster with Bourvil’s landlord to try to derail his plot, pulls out a trumpet to mimic a police siren to get the car ahead of them to pull over); and most of all a heartbreaking Boyer, who finally challenges de Sica’s baron to a duel not for cuckolding him, but for abandoning Darrieux and sending her into a mortal spiral. At one point Boyer’s general (whose own cheating, it should be pointed out, is one chain in a series of seemingly chance events sealing his wife’s doom), agonized by her growing distance from him and apparent determination to let go of life, tells her, more with regret than rancor, “I’m not the figure you’ve made me out to be.” As an actor, part of Darrieux’s gift was to make all her partners better than they were. (If Boyer was always a deft comedian, I’ve never seen him so poignant; he almost steals the show, his character’s fate seeming just as tragic as hers — and it’s clear that being a helpless witness to Darrieux’s demise sets this off.)

Darrieux Madame de ballroomDanielle Darrieux and Vittorio de Sica in Max Ophuls’s “Madame de…,” playing at the Cinematheque Toulouse Thursday. Image courtesy Cinematheque Toulouse.

For her part, Darrieux was as brilliant a comedian as she was a heartbreaking tragedian. If her desperate, eyes-shut refrain “Je ne vous aime pas, je ne vous aime pas” while pounding her head against the door of her mansion as de Sica parts on the other side, meant to convey the opposite of “I don’t love you,” is devastating, her impeccable rhythm in a fracas with her lover in “La vie a deux” is also an example of verbal repartee and physical timing that should be required viewing in every acting class.

In the one film I haven’t yet had the courage to watch in its entirety, “Crime doesn’t pay,” yet another of the formulaic ‘sketch’ films that were popular in Europe in the early 1960s, Darrieux, still ravishing at 45 and having derouted yet another male who would have had her hide, ends the film with a semi-deliriius, flirtatious, luxuriant “J’ai soif” from her bed. 100 ans, Danielle Darrieux, et on a toujours soif de vous.*

PS: Darrieux isn’t the only grande dame of French cinema we’ve lost this past year. Jeanne Moreau, Michelle Morgan (at the age of 97), Emmanuelle Riva and, most recently, Anne Wiazemsky, one of Jean-Luc Godard’s muses, 70, have also disappeared. (To hear an audio broadcast, in French, of Wiazemsky’s autobiographical story “Mon Enfant de Berlin,”  click here.) All these deuils are enough to make one regret that the State no longer throws national funerals for departed giants of the theater, like the mass procession for Sarah Bernhardt. (Whose name pops up in “Madame de …” when Boyer, having confirmed Darrieux’s infidelity but refusing to discuss it, proclaims, “Tonight we shall speak only of Sarah Bernhardt.”)

*100 years, Danielle Darrieux, and we still haven’t got enough of you.

 

Vanishing Acts: Waiting in Limbo with Maguy Marin & Lutece

marin umweltCompagnie Maguy Marin in Maguy Marin’s “Umwelt.” Photograph by and copyright Christian Ganet and courtesy Theatre de la Ville.

By Paul Ben-Itzak
Copyright 2015, 2017 Paul Ben-Itzak

PARIS — One of the endurance tests of a work of art is its malleability over time. When I first saw Maguy Marin’s “Umwelt” 10 years ago in its Paris premiere at the Theatre de la Ville – Sarah Bernhardt, if the choreography was dense, the dance’s spirit was still unrelentingly slapstick, with nine performers taking turns surging rapid-fire — alone, paired, or in triplets — from the opening between three lateral walls of mirrors, le tout, mirrors and humans with their various props (baby dolls, turkey drumsticks, army helmets, guns, aprons, foliage, blonde wigs, laboratory jackets, pills, buckets of dirt…) buffeted about by wind machines as they engaged in everyday human interplay and gestures ranging from kisses to left hooks, with the occasional flashing of buttocks and genitals tossed in to remind you it was, after all, European modern dance. (And to ensure the ‘unfamily friendly’ label from the constipated directors of the Joyce Theater; who needs the NYPD — which swooped down on Anna Halprin’s frolicking performers at the Kaye 50 years ago — when the pre-censoring is done in-house?) Even the bombastic score — played by a single strand of twine which crossed the downstage from one spool to another, caressing the strings of three prostrate electric guitars en route — couldn’t perturb the frothy demeanor of the movement. What outraged me was that where no one had walked out of the same theater during a Wim Vandekeybus spectacle the previous week which projected graphic images of children being tortured and killed, 40 spectators fled “Umwelt,” the more optimistic work. On Friday December 4, though, at the opening of the reprise of “Umwelt” on the same stage, I started sobbing at the first appearance of the performers. With their bright pedestrian outfits and variety of human shapes and ages, in their frantic running back and forth, fighting against the torrential currents of the wind and lost in the confines of the buckling rows of mirror-wall centurions, they seemed to be the innocents killed November 13, discombobulated and disoriented over what had just happened to them, trapped in this antechamber between existance and the afterworld like Captain Kirk hovering between two dimensions, juggling the detrius of their lives on Earth until we the survivors could set things right. At the moment, the verdict is still out, as we too seem to be hovering like Kirk between two worlds — or at least two worldviews, that of trepidation and fear and that of persevering hope.

To receive the complete article, first published on December 11, 2015, subscribers please contact publisher Paul Ben-Itzak at paulbenitzak@gmail.com. Not a subscriber? Subscribe to the Dance Insider & Arts Voyager for just $29.95/year ($99 for institutions gets full access for all your teachers, students, dance company members, etc.) by designating your PayPal payment in that amount to paulbenitzak@gmail.com, or write us at that address to learn how to pay by check. Subscribers receive full access to the DI/AV Archive of 2,000 exclusive reviews by 150 leading critics of performances and art on five continents from 1998 through 2015. You can also purchase a complete copy of the Archives for just $49 (individuals) or $109 (institutions) Contact Paul at paulbenitzak@gmail.com.

Taking Dance Education Higher

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Witness: At Artcurial Photo Auction ‘Eye Feel Photographie,’ Context is Everything

small photo artcurial, JOHN STEWART, ALI'S FIST@Artcurial

small photo artcurial, GAO BROTHERS, GOODBYE TIANANMEN @ArtcurialTop: John Stewart (1919-2017), “Ali’s Fist — Chicago,” 1977. Silver gelatin print mounted on dibond, 49.21 x 49.21 inches.  From an edition of five. Signed with certificate of authenticity on verso. Artcurial pre-sale estimate: 18,000 – 25,000 Euros. Bottom: Gao Brothers (Zhen and Qiang Gao), “Goodbye Tiananmen,” 2007. Chromogenic proof, 31.5 x 39.3 (image) and 33.4 x 41.3 (sheet) inches. From an edition of 10 examples. Signed, dated, and numbered in the lower margin at left. Pre-sale estimate: 2,500 – 3,500 Euros. Images copyright and courtesy Artcurial.

By Paul Ben-Itzak
Text copyright 2017 Paul Ben-Itzak

At a time when pictures on auction are more likely to be worth (or at least valued at) thousands of dollars than a thousand words, tonight’s sale at Artcurial in Paris, Eye Feel Photographie, goes against the grain by priming meaning over money, with work at pre-sale estimates that are (relatively) modest and messages that are huge, even as current contexts make many of them troubling, particularly a Helmet Newton nude with sado-masochist and blatantly misogynist overtones and a Michel Comte nude of former French first lady Carla Bruni taken for a 1993 safe sex campaign, but also a Dennis Hopper photograph of the 1965 Civil Rights march from Selma to Montgomery.

To receive the complete article, with many more photos, subscribers please contact publisher Paul Ben-Itzak at paulbenitzak@gmail.com. Not a subscriber? Subscribe to the Dance Insider & Arts Voyager for just $29.95/year ($99 for institutions gets full access for all your teachers, students, company members, etc.) by designating your PayPal payment in that amount to paulbenitzak@gmail.com, or write us at that address to learn how to pay by check. Subscribers receive full access to our Archive of 2,000 exclusive reviews by 150 leading critics of performances on five continents from 1998 through 2015. You can also purchase a complete copy of the Archives for just $49 (individuals) or $109 (institutions) Contact Paul at paulbenitzak@gmail.com.

 

Dance Insider Sponsorship Opportunity

freespace for adDance Insider Principal Sponsorship Available: The Dance Insider Principal Sponsor will join Principal Sponsors Freespace Dance (above) and Slippery Rock Dance in sharing for one year the very top spot on this Dance Insider Home page — the longest-running Home page in Dance Journalism. You get that top spot for four months (where the Nutmeg Ballet image is now on top of our Home page); when you’re not in that spot, you get a recurrent ad on the Home page. For details, please contact publisher Paul Ben-Itzak at paulbenitzak@gmail.com .

Hear them breathe: Brookoff up close

matt image smallCrashing through the membrane: I still remember the first intimate ballet showing I was privileged to see, in Joffrey Ballet co-founder Gerald Arpino’s no-frills basement studio near the Church Street Safeway in San Francisco. The intake and exhalation of breath, the contours of the leg muscles and the grasping of hands right in front of you; there’s nothing like it for appreciating the hard work and honesty that goes into dances rigorously created and earnestly performed. Even moreso when the choreography is built around connections: of partners, of circles (evoking the primordial dances around a fire so eloquently described by Curt Sachs) — of the delicate digits of the pianist to the expressive hands and torsos of the dancers and the musicality of the dancemaker. New Yorkers will be gifted (much as I protest the recent lazy perversion of our language which turns nouns into graceless verbs, trampling the correct and more elegant versions in the process — right? — this term seems to ring just here) with such an opportunity Saturday in Brooklyn, when Mathew Brookoff and his Brookoff Dance Repertory Company occupy the Duffy Studio of Brooklyn’s Mark Morris Dance Center from 5 to 6 p.m., variously occupying Schoenberg’s Six Little Piano Pieces and a Schubert Impromptu in the veteran choreo’s anything but impromptu duet entwinings. (I plead for an exception for that one from Messieurs Strunk & White.) In addition to these new sculptures in motion, Brookoff also expands his recent group work “Fracture” (above) from six to 12 dancers. Free and open to the public. Pictured at the rear, from left to right: Andrew Harper, Tiffany Mangulabnan, and Jordan Miller; in front: Ali Block, Amy Saunder, and Brian Gephart. — PB-I (inspired by Harris Green)