Sunday, October 27, 2013
Wheeldon's Cinderella is visually arresting and aesthetically pleasing. The sets and costumes by Julian Crouch are among the production's main attributes. Wheeldon shows himself off as a choreographer with a promising gift for narrative ballet -- his Cinderella never becomes maudlin. The production values are high -- this looks like an old-fashioned fairy tale ballet. There's even imaginative use of puppets. I saw many parents with kids.
Saturday, October 12, 2013
Sunday, June 9, 2013
Sunday, June 2, 2013
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
There is absolutely nothing wrong with this kind of showboating in a ballet like Don Quixote. The choreography (a mix of Petipa and Alexander Gorsky) has long been a staple of ballet galas for its bravura requirements. Gorsky's choreography was designed to be a mix of folk dance and classical ballet at its most flamboyant. But (and here's the key): the performers have to look like they are having fun when doing these tricks and playing to the crowd. Last night's performance had this weird mix of every gala trick in the book along with a grimness that made the evening strangely joyless.
Saturday, May 25, 2013
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
But that's real life. In ballet, passion is eternal. When two former lovers meet in ballet, the world stops. Hearts collide. And most of all, women bend backwards in a swoon (see above picture) over and over again, to accentuate the point that passion is, indeed, eternal. John Cranko's Onegin is a lush, romantic adaptation of Tchaikovsky's already lush, romantic adaptation of a famous Russian poem. It needs lush, romantic dancers to maximize the drama and romance, and tonight at the ABT, it certainly got the performance of a lifetime in the pair of Diana Vishneva and Marcelo Gomes, who I'm sure made more than a few hearts flutter.
Saturday, May 18, 2013
I once read a biography of Renata Tebaldi entitled Voice of An Angel. The book was filled with beautiful pictures of the legendary soprano, along with a fairly comprehensive outline of her life that for once wasn't simply filled with tomes about how much Tebaldi loved her mother and the adoration "big Renata" engendered in the Metropolitan Opera audiences. Yet after reading the book Renata Tebaldi the person still felt strangely two-dimensional and distant. It was probably the intention of the great lady herself -- she was always a private person.
But read Mrs. John Claggart's Sad Life, the blog by Albert Innaurato, and suddenly the great soprano becomes not just "Tebaldi" but Renata, a flesh and blood woman full of warmth, humor, and wit. "Mrs. John Claggart" is the Henry James of the opera world -- sharp, dense, insightful, sometimes verbose, but always profound, and able to hint at the darkness beneath the surface. He's seen everything and everyone but his reviews and blog entries are not exercises in predictable name-dropping and fanboy shilling. Instead they are adventures that capture both the thrilling excitement and depressing banality that can exist in one evening at the opera.
Read his story of his visit to La Scala and behind the scenes look at a doomed Forza production, and you'll learn about how an opera is really produced. But more importantly, you'll understand what opera singers and conductors are really like - flawed, sad, but ultimately sympathetic people.
Sunday, May 12, 2013
Baz Lurhmann's adaptation of The Great Gatsby opened this weekend to mostly negative reviews from the critics. The criticisms were familiar: it was gaudy, it was tacky, it celebrated the very excesses F. Scott Fitzgerald's classic novella chastised. The romance between Gatsby and Daisy was sentimentalized, the prose of the novel was awkwardly worked into the script. And so on and so forth.
Of all the criticisms I've read, I think only one really holds water: Luhrmann does sentimentalize the romance between Daisy and Gatsby in a way Fitzgerald never did. The Daisy of this movie (played with a porcelain delicacy by Carey Mulligan) is not the "careless people" Daisy of the novel. It's telling that one of the most famous lines about Daisy ("her voice is full of money") was dropped. Luhrmann certainly turned the Gatsby/Daisy connection into something more beautiful than Fitzgerald intended.
But otherwise, I thought this was an entertaining, faithful adaptation of Fitzgerald's novel, and it will make many viewers read the novel again, or for the first time. No, the movie doesn't quite capture the hard, cynical edge of Fitzgerald's prose. It comes closest with the portrayal of Tom Buchanan (Joel Edgerton), a brutish, racist man whose only appeal is his old money and social stature. But Luhrmann absolutely convey how beneath decadence, there can be a profound melancholy and emptiness. You can see this every year while watching the award shows -- the starlets weeping crocodile tears of "happiness" while repeating the same acceptance speech over and over again. You can see it in every college frat party that starts off with beer and girls aplenty and ends with people stumbling home drunk and puking. Lurhmann's filming of Gatsby's famous parties is masterful. The loud soundtrack (a mix of modern music by Jay-Z, Beyonce, Lana del Rey, Sia, and other artists), the party scenes (filmed in 3D), the colorful frocks serve as a wonderful backdrop for the introduction of Jay Gatbsy.
When Gatsby (Leonardo DiCaprio) finally appears onscreen, he does so with the same twinkly smile that won hearts in Romeo + Juliet (also a Baz Luhrmann feature) and Titanic. But there's now creases under that smile. Fitzgerald's Gatsby is deliberately opaque -- all his mannerisms are supposed to add to his mystique. DiCaprio fleshes out Fitzgerald's outline in a way that's faithful to the book (he does a wonderful job affecting an international accent as he calls people "old sport"), but he also takes some acceptable creative licenses. This Gatsby has a desperation, even menace that Fitzgerald's character did not -- when DiCaprio is onscreen, you sense that despite the smile and the charm, this is a man at the end of his rope. DiCaprio has been repeatedly snubbed by the Academy Awards because in recent years he's chosen some very deliberately "actor-ish" projects (J. Edgar Hoover being Exhibit A) to mixed results. He's at his best when he's just a variation on "Leo" -- oozing charm with a hint of melancholy and desperation. He was "Leo" in What's Eating Gilbert Grape, Romeo + Juliet, Titanic, Catch Me if You Can, The Departed, Django Unchained. There was a wonderful lack of pretense in those movies. In this movie, he's again just "Leo", and that's wonderful.
I also can't understand the criticism of Tobey Maguire's Nick Carraway. Yes he's the dull straight man, but that's what Nick is in the novel -- a bystander and observer. Yes, the framing device of Nick being in a mental ward is ham-handed, but it's also a tribute to the real-life F. Scott Fitzgerald, who did end his life as a broken alcoholic. It is true that Lurhmann neglects the Nick/Jordan Baker (Elizabeth Debicki) romance but all screen adaptations have to streamline the subplots. I'm more grateful that the awful sleaziness of the Tom/Myrtle affair was kept intact, including the penthouse-converted into whorehouse party that Tom takes Nick to in the beginning of the novel. Actually, for every scene that Luhrmann missed or didn't get right, there are so many where he's pitch perfect. The climactic confrontation between Tom and Gatsby captured all the anger, desperation, and confusion that Fitzgerald depicted.
At the end of the day my criteria for judging a screen adaptation of a novel is, "Will viewers get it?" Lurhmann's film isn't perfect, but I think viewers will "get it." It's not like all those Jane Austen movie adaptations that turn Austen's sharp social satires into swoony romantic comedies. Luhrmann understands the essence of Fitzgerald's novel. Sometimes the execution isn't perfect, but you leave the movie understanding The Great Gatsby. I even like how sometimes Lurhmann simply types up the more meditative lines of the novel right onto the screen -- it's a little awkward, but it's an acknowledgment that a movie can only do so much. The audience in the theater was silent at the end of the movie -- bowled over, perhaps, by the uncompromising bleakness of Fitzgerald's story. And Fitzgerald's novel is as fresh today as it was in the 1920's. The idea that the American dream is really an American nightmare is one that rightly still makes people squirm. "So we beat on, boats against the current, borne ceaselessly into the past."
Sunday, May 5, 2013
Of the four ballets, the one I was most curious about seeing was Ivesiana. It's not a regular in the City Ballet repertoire. It's a rather weird ballet, with three extremely dark, even sinister sections and one section ("In the Inn") that seems more Broadway than anything. As a result the ballet lacks the usual Balanchine cohesion and in fact does seem like a hodgepodge of vignettes set to Charles Ives music, as the title would suggest.
Saturday, April 27, 2013
Our family dog Cricket passed away on April 10. She was two days shy of her 15th birthday. She went suddenly and painlessly, just lay down and never woke up. Sweet and obedient to the last, minutes before she died she had gone outside to go to the bathroom.
We first saw Cricket in an animal shelter when she was a puppy. She was in a litter of 6, but she ran to the bars of the cage and started wagging her tail frantically. Our family decided that she was the one. At the time she was still too young to be adopted, so we called the shelter almost every day to see when she'd be ready. We talked about almost nothing else. I still remember the day I came home and my dad said "Look inside" and there was Cricket, in a cardboard box. She ran up to me and started licking me and it was love at first sight.
Cricket had no special talents -- she never was good at learning the tricks beyond a few basic ones like "shake hands," and "roll over." But one trick she did learn was when I told her to wag her tail, she wagged it. Over the years, I'd tease her by asking her to wag her tail when she was sleeping. When I did this she sighed, and then lifted her tail slowly for one quick wag, before falling back asleep.
Cricket's main trait was her almost ridiculous sweetness. If Cricket had been a person, people would have either been confused that someone could possibly be that nice or convinced that she must have been a real fake, to be that nice. As it was, she was a dog, and everyone knows that the average dog is about 1000x nicer than the average human. She didn't have a mean bone in her body, and wanted to be friends with the whole world. She remembered people too. When she went to the vet's office, she ran around the office greeting her old friends, all of whom squealed "Cricket!!!!" She never lost her joie de vivre -- even towards the end of her life if a kid said "doggie" she wagged her tail and panted in excitement. When visitors came to our home she hogged their attention until they spent more time cooing over her than doing anything else. People who said they weren't "animal people" were won over by her charm offensive. Once my elderly aunt visited. They were all going out for a walk in the park. Everyone was already in the car, but my aunt was still in the house, tying her shoelaces. Cricket jumped out of the car and ran back in the house to wait for my aunt. My aunt never forgot this moment. Even my cranky cat Pumpkin learned that Cricket was harmless and the two of them got along.
One time I got some very upsetting news. I was in my room and Cricket heard me on the phone. By then she was old and arthritic and had difficulty climbing stairs. But she must have heard that I was upset, and she lumbered up the stairs into my room, and just stood by the doorway. She didn't let anyone enter -- she knew that when I'm upset, I need my space. She just stood guard for what seemed like hours and growled at anyone who tried to enter my room. It was the only time I ever heard her growl.
RIP Cricket. Someone who was unconditionally kind left the world. Unconditionally kind beings are irreplaceable.
Sunday, February 24, 2013
Ashley Bouder has been dancing Aurora for a longer time, but she and Tiler Peck actually have a lot in common in that the challenges of this role hold no terrors for them. The confidence they exude from the minute they enter the stage never leaves, not for a split second. They are princesses, but both exude an unpretentious aura, as if they were the girls-next-door-who-happen-to-be-the-greatest-dancers-in-the-world.
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
Sunday, February 17, 2013
The role of Aurora calls for a delicate balance between the coltish youthfulness of the first act and the regal serenity of the wedding scene. The dance steps still challenge even the most secure ballerinas. But from the moment Tiler Peck bounded onstage in a series of pas de chats and coupe jetes, we knew that this Aurora had no fear. And her smile -- dazzling, but without a hint of archness or self-consciousness -- instantly made this Aurora lovable.
Saturday, February 9, 2013
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Saturday, January 26, 2013
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
January 22 is Mr. B's birthday, and what better way to celebrate Mr. B's birthday than another triple bill of Balanchine/Tchaikovsky works. Last night plenty of NYC balletomanes braved the sub-zero temperatures to see this wonderful performance.
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Monday, January 7, 2013
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