Recently, I participated in a very animated discussion with two close friends about buying cereal. Our deeply intellectual debate pitted name brand against the generic with the former emerging victorious, 2:1. I voted with the winning group because most of the time, I am partial to name brand products. Like many, I believe that the name brand is better. It is safe; it provides what consumers expect; little risk and few surprises. However, last week, I began to question my loyalty to name brands while watching the Bolshoi Ballet’s La Bayadère at Zellerbach Hall. Early on in the performance, I realized two things. First, brand names may appear to be superior, but at the same time, their perfection can be disappointing. Second, the culture surrounding this particular performance was not the culture of art or even the culture of ballet, it was the culture of branding.
The artists of the Bolshoi Ballet are phenomenal dancers, plain and simple. But, the regimented perfection of the company is problematic and frankly, boring. From the beginning of the ballet, the corps looked sanitized, far from the colorful and vivacious characters from La Bayadère. This was most apparent in the core or torso because their upper bodies were deathly silent and still. Arms are connected in the back; therefore, when arms move, the back and torso must respond in kind. Limbs are not just attached appendages; they reflect the amazing construction of the human body. That is one of the most exciting things about dance, seeing the connection between the hips/legs, and arms/back. If there isn’t a commitment to whole body movement, the dancers look like marionettes. It makes me incredibly sad to see dancers of such high technical quality so restrained in their movement. And the artistic staff does not realize that by creating a strict regiment of dancers, mistakes in rhythm or choreography actually stand out more. The eye is immediately drawn to any movement that looks even slightly out of place. If there was more individuality in the corps de ballet, no one would even notice these very minor differences.
To be fair, San Francisco audiences are a unique bunch. My experience is that they are somewhat cynical and not easily impressed. There has to be a whole lot more than 32 consecutive fouettés to garner excited applause from them. And, as a typical San Francisco audience member, I was shocked by my fellow patrons during the Bolshoi’s performance. The theater hall immediately exploded in cheers when the two main characters stepped onstage. They had yet to do anything, but were met with thunderous applause simply for showing up. This greeting was nothing more than the expectation of their brand name, the Bolshoi Ballet. What was discovered in the three hours that followed was that the ‘brand’ only partly lived to its reputation. As the two principal dancers did begin dancing, it was obvious that Svetlana Zakharova as Nikiya deserved all of the audience’s early acclaim. She delved into her character, took physical and emotional risks, resulting in a performance steeped with abandon. Her first variation was full of sinuous upper torso movement and I was absolutely mesmerized by the incredible arch of her feet. Unfortunately, Nikolay Tsiskaridze’s Solor did not meet the expectation of the Bolshoi name. His opening diagonal jétès were technically beautiful, but he was not commanding at all in his role. He displayed absolutely no authority. His turning variation in Act II was again technically brilliant, but had no character depth. And, it did not help that the costumer decided to dress him in a ridiculous puffy-sleeved lavender outfit. This strange choice did not assist the audience in seeing a strong, masculine persona. The primary male role in a narrative ballet like La Bayadère is driven by character, not technique. I would have much rather seen a dancer who provided insight into Solor’s soul, instead of one who the directors think is the best turner and jumper. The audience was so intoxicated and captivated with the Bolshoi as an entity, but as the ballet came to a close, it was clear that the brand name was not everything I expected it to be.
During the original cereal debate, I should have remembered that the wisest of the three participants was the one who extolled the virtues of the no-name brand. She believed that it was just as good if not better than its fancy competitor. I think when it comes to ballet, the same is true.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Friday, May 22, 2009
Diablo Ballet-Lesher Center for the Arts
Diablo Ballet has discovered the elusive formula for building successful repertoire: accessibility plus creativity. Increasing the viewership of professional dance is of utmost importance right now. The financial survival of dance companies depends on it. Even when the economy is good, arts organizations struggle to stay afloat, so when economic times are hard, dance faces even more significant peril. The front line in this battle is the audience, which leads to a difficult debate on accessibility. Presenting popular works may seem like a win-win for everyone involved. The audience likes what they’re seeing, they buy more tickets, the company can pay its bills, the dancers get their salaries and the next season becomes possible. Yet, there is a strong opposition who fear that by catering to spectator interest, choreography and repertory will suffer. Diablo Ballet has shown that this need not be the case with dance that is creative and challenging while remaining accessible.
The Diablo Ballet’s weekend performances at the Lesher Center for the Arts in Walnut Creek provided something for everyone. The program began with KT Nelson’s The Escaping Game, which celebrated all aspects of youthful energy; from the exciting fun to the alluring flirtation to the vulnerable nervousness. The movement really conjured Twyla Tharp’s Deuce Coupe for me, but The Escaping Game was much better. There was a clearer fusion of ballet and modern esthetics than in Tharp’s piece, because Nelson seamlessly built the movement as one continuous stream of consciousness rather than a chunky juxtaposition of the two. And, there were particular moments that exploded off the stage. The first was the men’s diagonal sequence at the end of the 2nd section. They moved from upstage left to downstage right in absolute, exhilarating flight. The second was the accelerando sequence at the end of the piece where the speed of the lifts and dips increased along with the music until they were of true abandon. This piece was funky and cool, but still incredibly thought provoking. It showcased the images of youth which were fascinating on their own, but also reflected what we give up when we choose to leave our youth behind.
For those viewers who prefer the more story-telling side of dance, the Diablo Ballet also presented Julia Adam’s new work, The Little Prince. It had all the aspects of narrative ballet with a cast of interesting characters and a story of their interactions. The stand-out moments were the animals: the sheep, the fox and particularly Mayo Sugano’s snake. Adam clearly did her research on how each of these animals move and created choreography for the dancers that was incredibly accurate and visually engaging. Every narrative ballet has some version of the grand pas de deux, which often manifests itself as the relationship between two of the main characters. The dance between Edward Stegge as the Prince and Erika Johnson as the Rose was as grand pas de deux as you can get. It really was the connection between those two characters expressed through connective movement.
This evening featured two very different types of pieces in one engaging program. Diablo Ballet’s decision to pair two contrasting works on the same program was a smart idea. They had two contemporary works, but with very different form and content: one conceptual, one narrative. This speaks to a larger audience because there is really something for everyone. And, it also allows those who gravitate towards one type of dance to be exposed to another. Maybe they will find themselves pulled to an unfamiliar form of dance that they little experience with. Accessibility plus creativity opens doors for the audience and in return for the company.
The Diablo Ballet’s weekend performances at the Lesher Center for the Arts in Walnut Creek provided something for everyone. The program began with KT Nelson’s The Escaping Game, which celebrated all aspects of youthful energy; from the exciting fun to the alluring flirtation to the vulnerable nervousness. The movement really conjured Twyla Tharp’s Deuce Coupe for me, but The Escaping Game was much better. There was a clearer fusion of ballet and modern esthetics than in Tharp’s piece, because Nelson seamlessly built the movement as one continuous stream of consciousness rather than a chunky juxtaposition of the two. And, there were particular moments that exploded off the stage. The first was the men’s diagonal sequence at the end of the 2nd section. They moved from upstage left to downstage right in absolute, exhilarating flight. The second was the accelerando sequence at the end of the piece where the speed of the lifts and dips increased along with the music until they were of true abandon. This piece was funky and cool, but still incredibly thought provoking. It showcased the images of youth which were fascinating on their own, but also reflected what we give up when we choose to leave our youth behind.
For those viewers who prefer the more story-telling side of dance, the Diablo Ballet also presented Julia Adam’s new work, The Little Prince. It had all the aspects of narrative ballet with a cast of interesting characters and a story of their interactions. The stand-out moments were the animals: the sheep, the fox and particularly Mayo Sugano’s snake. Adam clearly did her research on how each of these animals move and created choreography for the dancers that was incredibly accurate and visually engaging. Every narrative ballet has some version of the grand pas de deux, which often manifests itself as the relationship between two of the main characters. The dance between Edward Stegge as the Prince and Erika Johnson as the Rose was as grand pas de deux as you can get. It really was the connection between those two characters expressed through connective movement.
This evening featured two very different types of pieces in one engaging program. Diablo Ballet’s decision to pair two contrasting works on the same program was a smart idea. They had two contemporary works, but with very different form and content: one conceptual, one narrative. This speaks to a larger audience because there is really something for everyone. And, it also allows those who gravitate towards one type of dance to be exposed to another. Maybe they will find themselves pulled to an unfamiliar form of dance that they little experience with. Accessibility plus creativity opens doors for the audience and in return for the company.
Tuesday, April 07, 2009
San Francisco Ballet-War Memorial Opera House
I was worried that I had run out of things to say about Mark Morris. When you’ve seen one choreographer’s work multiple times and perhaps even the same piece more than once, it can be difficult to have a fresh perspective. Yes, one could comment over and over again about his musicality, genius casting and whimsical imagination but that’s a bit boring. Thankfully, San Francisco Ballet’s evening of Mark Morris brought to light something that I rarely notice in his work: an overwhelming sense of stability and security. This thread wove through A Garden, Joyride and Sandpaper Ballet embellishing the joy and fun of Morris’ ballets with a sense of calm, a feeling of safety and a gentle protective force.
The first offering, A Garden, was like watching a ballet class with its technical feats and dynamic physicality. But what I noticed most in the piece was the dancers’ continual return to 1st position while their palms reached towards the ground. This simple shape indicated the stability that comes from beginnings. In ballet, standing in 1st position is the absolute foundation. Morris developed very complicated and technical choreography throughout the ballet, which all culminated in the dancers returning to this moment of stillness in 1st position. Everything in dance comes from these opening positions. Dancers, teachers and choreographers tend to forget that their stability rests in where they began.
The middle piece, Joyride, was one of the new works commissioned last year for SF Ballet’s 75th anniversary season. This piece was ripe with numerous types of movement: robotic, angular, fluid, staccato, serpentine, all with a splattering of martial arts mixed in. It was a very interesting mixture of many different movement styles, but again, it was the recurring statuesque moment that is seared into my memory. For Joyride, the dancer stood with one foot pointed and crossed in front of the other, while one hand was gently placed on the hip. This very quiet and peaceful pose evolved out of incredibly difficult and sometimes wild movement sequences. Not only did this position provide a cadential break in the movement, but also it showed the absolute control and stability of the dancers. They could be moving at 100 miles per hour and then morph into a statue of calm in an instant.
The final piece of the evening, Sandpaper Ballet, is my favorite Morris work. It simply celebrates movement in space, while reminding us that dance is a community of individuals who work together to create art. Dance artists sometimes forget that. During Sandpaper Ballet, all of the dancers return to a squared matrix on the floor after each section; a most blatant moment of clarity. Morris’ ingenious concept for all the dancers to work together to create a formation on the stage illustrates the security and strength of that community. Each dancer returns to that square, whether they were in the preceding section or if they are to perform in the proceeding section. The ballet really becomes about the large collective, not small couplets or individuals. It is a community effort.
It isn’t very often that I leave the ballet comforted by what I’ve seen. But, these tranquil, yet very tangible moments that Mark Morris choose to inject into his work really created this safe feeling, a welcome surprise.
The first offering, A Garden, was like watching a ballet class with its technical feats and dynamic physicality. But what I noticed most in the piece was the dancers’ continual return to 1st position while their palms reached towards the ground. This simple shape indicated the stability that comes from beginnings. In ballet, standing in 1st position is the absolute foundation. Morris developed very complicated and technical choreography throughout the ballet, which all culminated in the dancers returning to this moment of stillness in 1st position. Everything in dance comes from these opening positions. Dancers, teachers and choreographers tend to forget that their stability rests in where they began.
The middle piece, Joyride, was one of the new works commissioned last year for SF Ballet’s 75th anniversary season. This piece was ripe with numerous types of movement: robotic, angular, fluid, staccato, serpentine, all with a splattering of martial arts mixed in. It was a very interesting mixture of many different movement styles, but again, it was the recurring statuesque moment that is seared into my memory. For Joyride, the dancer stood with one foot pointed and crossed in front of the other, while one hand was gently placed on the hip. This very quiet and peaceful pose evolved out of incredibly difficult and sometimes wild movement sequences. Not only did this position provide a cadential break in the movement, but also it showed the absolute control and stability of the dancers. They could be moving at 100 miles per hour and then morph into a statue of calm in an instant.
The final piece of the evening, Sandpaper Ballet, is my favorite Morris work. It simply celebrates movement in space, while reminding us that dance is a community of individuals who work together to create art. Dance artists sometimes forget that. During Sandpaper Ballet, all of the dancers return to a squared matrix on the floor after each section; a most blatant moment of clarity. Morris’ ingenious concept for all the dancers to work together to create a formation on the stage illustrates the security and strength of that community. Each dancer returns to that square, whether they were in the preceding section or if they are to perform in the proceeding section. The ballet really becomes about the large collective, not small couplets or individuals. It is a community effort.
It isn’t very often that I leave the ballet comforted by what I’ve seen. But, these tranquil, yet very tangible moments that Mark Morris choose to inject into his work really created this safe feeling, a welcome surprise.
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