Crashing 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)
New York City Ballet’s Ask la Cour with, left to right, Rebecca Krohn, Jenifer Ringer, and Ashley Bouder in George Balanchine’s “Serenade.” Photo ©Paul Kolnik and courtesy NYCB.
Copyright 2010, 2017 Harris Green
NEW YORK — City Ballet broke with several traditions by beginning its new season with four weeks of early fall performances (September 14 – October 10). The traditional opening-night gala was delayed until the middle of the fourth week so seats that first evening could go for the special introductory prices of $50 and $25. Repertory included such novelties as the New York premiere of Benjamin Millepied’s recent “Plainspoken” on October 7 and revivals of Peter Martins’s rarely performed “Grazioso” (2007) and “The Magic Flute” (1982). Also out of the ordinary was an aggressive merchandising campaign built around a posh 9-by-12-inch booklet filled with studio portraits of principal dancers which was available for the taking in the theater lobby. Photographer Henry Leutwyler filmed everyone in casual poses and garb a la People Magazine. Most of the men are sporting the scraggly beards the guys insist upon growing between seasons. Daniel Ulbricht, however, is not only clean shaven, but the one dancer whom Leutwyler captured performing an actual step: a soaring 180-degree split leap, with ballerinas Teresa Reichlen, Sterling Hyltin and Sara Mearns seated on the floor behind him. (Yes, seated.) Letters to the editor and postings online promptly deplored the devastation such informality wreaked upon the dancers’ images as golden, gifted beings, so unlike us folks out front. Frankly the only dancers’ images that matter to me are those they create onstage.
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Maria Kowroski in Balanchine’s “Mozartiana.” Photo copyright Erin Baiano and courtesy Dances Against Cancer.
Sterling Hyltin and Amar Ramasa in Balanchine’s “Who Cares?” Photo copyright Erin Baiano and courtesy Dances Against Cancer.
Alex Wong in Rachael Poirier’s “747.” Photo copyright Erin Baiano and courtesy Dances Against Cancer.
Juilliard Dance students in Nijinska’s “Les Noces.” Photo copyright Rosalie O’Connor and courtesy Juilliard.
Story Copyright 2011, 2017 Harris Green
New Editor’s Note by & copyright Paul Ben-Itzak
(Editor’s Note, 1-31-2017: This piece, comprising reviews of performances by and of the Juilliard School, the School of American Ballet, American Ballet Theatre’s Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis School, Venti Petrov’s “El Cid” — an epic tale which in part concerns Spain’s Christians *and* Muslims banding together to repel foreign *military* invaders — and a star-studded Dancers Against Cancer benefit with performances by Maria Kowroski, Daniel Ulbricht, Matthew Rushing, Alex Wong, Sterling Hytlin, Amar Ramasa, and others in work by Balanchine and others, was first published on June 24, 2011. Serendipitously re-viewing it this morning for inclusion in the DI Archives, I was struck by how both Harris’s text and the accompanying photographs, while neither written nor shot with this intent, formulate an eloquent aesthetic response to Donald Trump’s attempts to exclude from the United States a myriad of immigrants and refugees, beginning with an executive order last Friday. ((Among many other pictorial and textual elements in this story, following Mr. Trump’s logic, neither Stravinsky nor Balanchine, as citizens of a country besieged by Bolshevik terrorism, would ever have been admitted to France, let alone the United States.)) The new headline above, thus, as this note, are my entire responsibility and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of either the critic or the photographers. For continuing coverage of the national and international political, legal, and community response to Mr. Trump’s efforts, check out the daily broadcasts of Democracy Now. — PBI)
NEW YORK — Because off-Broadway theater has long proved essential to this city’s artistic life, “off-Broadway dance” should not be considered a patronizing term for what is offered away from City Center and the gilded confines of Lincoln Center when major companies are between seasons. One reason I would hesitate to apply the term to recent spring offerings of the Juilliard School’s Dance Division, however, is that this institution’s renovated home, the Irene Diamond Building, is not only on Broadway but a stunning steel and glass addition to the neighborhood. Another is that the program “Juilliard Dances Repertory” (March 23-27), by including Bronislava Nijinska’s rarely seen but historically essential 1923 setting of the Stravinsky powerhouse “Les Noces,” made a stunning contribution to our artistic life out of all proportion to its occasionally raw, unflaggingly dedicated performance by 34 students. (For more on this ballet as interpreted by the Paris Opera Ballet, see Paul Ben-Itzak’s Flash, elsewhere in these DI Archives.)
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American Ballet Theatre in Alexei Ratmansky’s “Serenade After Plato’s Symposium.” Rosalie O’Connor photograph copyright Rosalie O’Connor and courtesy American Ballet Theatre.
Copyright 2017 Harris Green
Photography copyright Rosalie O’Connor
NEW YORK — American Ballet Theatre’s fall season at what many of us will always refer to as the “New York State Theater” was a frequently rewarding two weeks. Along with a world and a local premiere, the repertory included one work each by Balanchine, Alexei Ratmansky and Twyla Tharp.
Only Frederick Ashton supplied two ballets. His exquisite “Monotones I and II,” conducted by David LaMarche, looked more at home in the smaller theater than it had in the Metropolitan Opera House. ABT had no difficulty casting it with six dancers who all exuded presence and authority. “Symphonic Variations,” however, was generally a dreary affair that shouldn’t be blamed entirely on a secondary cast. It was jolting to find Ashton denying his ballerinas the exquisite subtleties they could achieve with wrists and fingers by decreeing that at one point their hands be merely a rigid continuation of their arms, with the palms facing down.
And yes, I realize I have just committed An Arrogant Reviewer Error by giving a flaw a percentage of space in the review greater than the percentage of time the flaw occupied in the performance, but you should have seen those hands.
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Moira Shearer in Michael Powell & Emeric Pressburger’s 1948 “The Red Shoes.” (1948). Courtesy MGM
By Harris Green
Copyright 2008, 2016 Harris Green
Originally published on December 18, 2008. Frederick Wiseman’s latest documentary profiles the New York neighborhood of Jackson Heights.
NEW YORK — Those New Yorkers who immodestly presume they live in the Dance Capital of the World had, for a few weeks this fall at least, good reason to believe they were living in the Dance Movie Capital of the World. On November 4, the ever-reliable SoHo triplex Film Forum broke the long drought of motion pictures about ballet by presenting the U.S. theatrical premiere of Frederick Wiseman’s 2-hour, 38-minute documentary, “La Danse: The Paris Opéra Ballet,” then showing two days later a gloriously re-mastered print of Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger’s beloved 1948 high-camp classic, “The Red Shoes.” New Yorkers had been subsisting on such parched fare as Robert Altman’s “The Company” (2003), which even Altman seemed to have lost interest in before it was finished, and Nicholas Hytner’s “Center Stage” (2000), which sank under the dead weight of clichés. (Eight years passed before anyone risked a sequel, “Center Stage: Turn It Up,” and that one went direct to DVD.) Stephen Daldry’s “Billy Elliot” (2000) shouldn’t count because it painted a truer picture of Mrs. Thatcher’s England than it did of a dance class. Not surprisingly, Film Forum found itself besieged by capacity crowds for both ‘Shoes,’ which ended its scheduled two-week run on November 19, and “La Danse,” which is in its sixth week as this report is filed, and has since opened in Los Angeles and Chicago.
Our ballet-challenged film reviewers spent much of their space hailing Wiseman for his 40-year career as an objective observer who never editorializes and scrupulously exercises his considerable power as film editor. He was duly hailed for these qualities in “La Danse,” his 35th documentary (there have been two fiction films), but no movie reviewer I read prepared balletgoers for what Wiseman captures as his camera roams the corridors, stairwells, studios and stages of the Palais Garnier for 12 weeks (in the fall of 2007). Some of the world’s most gifted and beautiful dancers are shown stuck in a predominantly Eurochic repertory that debases their artistry as heedlessly as it wastes their energy, yet the ever-objective Wiseman doesn’t seem either bothered by or aware of it.
For a New Yorker, a year of POB’s assiduously advanced, flavor-of-the-month fare would be as enervating as attending a City Ballet season devoted almost entirely to Diamond Project commissions.
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