When the Curtain Falls

Edgar Degas -- Ballerina, Seen from the Back

There’s the old saying, attributed to General Douglas MacArthur, that “Old soldiers never die, they just fade away.” In the world of ballet, you can substitute “dancers” for “soldiers” and “pirouette” for “fade” and it’s just as true.

Last night’s Career Transition For Dancers annual gala, held in New York City, with a scheduled appearance by the former Russian étoile Natalia Makarova, brought home that very point. Having witnessed her at the summit of her career, in what many call a “Golden Era” of ballet in the late ’70s and early ’80s, I realized I hadn’t thought about Makarova in years. And then I recalled some of her colleagues then also at the peak of their fame, like the American ballerinas Cynthia Gregory and the once-wunderkind Gelsey Kirkland, and wondered…what happened to them?

Of performing artists, ballet dancers have the most limited time in the spotlight. Unlike opera singers, for example, who are allowed to grow older (and heavier) but whose voices continue to thrive, dancers face the toughest of careers, longevity compromised by the reality of finite physical endurance. Compounding the irony is the fact that artistic maturity finally catches up when the legs don’t have as much left to give.

Margot Fonteyn

A poignant reminder of the fickleness of this most beautiful yet treacherous of avocations is the sad end of the legendary Margot Fonteyn, who died (in dire financial straits) at a hospital in Panama in 1991. Laid to rest in a pauper’s grave, it was a tragically unfit closing act for the great — some consider greatest — ballerina of the 20th Century; one would think she could have been accorded a less ignominious goodbye as a Dame of the British Empire. (Sic transit toe shoes, so to speak.) Her equally illustrious partner, Rudolf Nureyev, fared better, stylishly buried at a Russian cemetery in Sainte-Geneviève-des-Bois near Paris, in a tomb draped in a mosaic of oriental carpet.

Mikhail Baryshnikov and Natalia Makarova, 1974

There are some exceptions to the fade-away rule: Mikhail Baryshnikov, of course, who went on to other endeavors after ballet superstardom, via work with modern-dance troupes and the eventual creation of the Baryshnikov Arts Center, as well as appearances in movies and on television. In Miami, New York City Ballet alumnus Edward Villella forged a world-class ballet company which magnificently carries on the traditions of his mentor, choreographer George Balanchine.

But exceptions they are. Fortunately, an organization like Career Transition, founded in 1985, recognizes the special needs of those less famous, and helps to assist in that difficult grand jeté to a post-performance life.

A Tale of Two “Juliets”

The evolution of the Miami City Ballet into the world-class company on display in its current season-ending production of Romeo & Juliet (left) has been wondrous to behold for local dance fans who have witnessed the troupe’s artistic growth first-hand since its beginnings 25 years (!) ago. It also reminds that there are certain ballets, and Romeo & Juliet is one of them, where you must clear your mind of things come before as you approach any new performance.

For many balletomanes, Margot Fonteyn and Rudolph Nureyev (below) are unmatched in the title roles, familiar to most from the 1966 film with England’s Royal Ballet. (Much later, Italian ballerina assoluta Alessandra Ferri and partners including Julio Bocca.) But not to digress into a discussion of dancers too much; MCB’s choice of the John Cranko choreography for the story of the doomed Shakespearean lovers is an interesting one.

Being far more familiar with the Kenneth MacMillan version, I was struck by some differences between the two, especially in the key moments of the “balcony” pas de deux and the finale. Fonteyn’s joyful run down the steps for her encounter with Romeo in the balcony scene is not easily erased from memory; there’s no staircase in the Cranko rendition, however, as his choreography has Romeo bringing Juliet gently down from the loggia above.

Likewise, Cranko’s interpretation of the final act in the burial crypt is minimalistically subdued compared to the hammier MacMillan counterpart (but as far as dramatic impact, MacMillan has the edge). Romeo’s choice of suicide (dagger or poison?) also varies; the former in Cranko, the latter in MacMillan. The one constant: a glorious Prokofiev score.

Anyway, what’s wonderful, as in anything related to the arts, is discovery and fresh analysis just when you think you’ve got something covered.

Second Lives

I’ve always been fascinated by creative personalities extending their channels of expression beyond what they’re most known for (see an earlier entry) and this past week brought news of two not-so-young talents continuing to do just that. Paul McCartney joins the world of the dance with the New York City Ballet and a ballet score to be called Ocean’s Kingdom, that will premiere at Lincoln Center’s New York State Theater (ok, now called the David H. Koch Theater) this fall. NYCB ballet-master-in-chief Peter Martins will provide the choreography. (Martins & McCartney; neat ring to it.) It’s described as a fanciful love story in four acts, with the earth and ocean realms intersecting as settings. Just another niche to tackle for McCartney, 68, who’s already branched off into classical music, poetry, painting, and even children’s literature.

And across the pond, the lesser-known musical dimension (surprise to me) of actor Anthony Hopkins, 73, will be showcased in a UK tour this summer that will include an original piece written for the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra, as well as compositions from his films August and Slipstream. His most recent foray into music was “Venetian Medley,” featured along with Jorge Drexler’s score in the Ivory-sans-Merchant film, The City Of Your Final Destination (2010).

(The endeavors for both McCartney and Hopkins related to the arts for sure, which is why the Nabokov literature-and-science mix seemed so interesting. Which reminds me: Alexander Borodin, a composer I noted as one of the worst in history, had a parallel life as a chemist — he should have given up the day job).

Of Swan Queens and Stuttering Kings

Demons of the Dance: I had heard that Darren Aronofsky’s psychological “thriller,” Black Swan, was an all-or-nothing proposition: either you loved it or hated it. It was a little of both for me. Some of Natalie Portman’s performance I loved; some not so much. As the (mentally) unbalanced ballerina Nina, she captures the rudiments of the visual vocabulary remarkably well for a non-dancer; the skinny silhouette is dead-on, and the beautiful face doesn’t hurt. And she is quite gripping in certain key scenes. (Still, the furrowed brow – and the sighing that seemed a supplemental soundtrack to the Tchaikovsky score – are distracting.)

She plays a girl/woman haunted by a duality of personality that echoes the White Swan/Black Swan roles in Swan Lake she is picked to perform by a demanding artistic director (Vincent Cassel), despite misgivings about her ability to portray the darker character. This launches an (inner) exploratory journey with descents into madness and gore that the hate-it crowd would cite as over the top. (Like Fatal Attraction, but the stalker here is the hidden side of Nina’s own self). Winona Ryder has a more or less cameo appearance as a fading ballerina, a reminder of what a shame that she’s had a dearth of parts since her shoplifting follies of several years ago, and I barely recognized Barbara Hershey, who plays Portman’s mother and frustrated former dancer (with a couple of screws loose herself).

I actually think Aronofsky was having some fun with all this, and if I’m not mistaken, I don’t remember another major theatrical film release dealing with the world of ballet since 1977’s The Turning Point. Maybe an unintentional by-product of this movie will be a renewed interest in the art, which has steadily declined over the past few years.

All Hail Colin Firth: The King’s Speech, directed by Tom Hooper, is in itself not terribly memorable, but one will long recall the king with the stammer, George VI, as a result of Firth’s performance. He should be a lock for the Oscar this year, and kudos also to Geoffrey Rush as the miracle (word) worker, and a sweet (and subdued) Helena Bonham Carter as the future, beloved Queen Mum.

Chorus Lines

The marvelous little gem of a documentary, Every Little Step (2009), is a behind-the-scenes look at the casting for the revival of A Chorus Line on Broadway in 2006. (This year marks the 35th anniversary of the show’s debut). More importantly, it’s a tribute to the visionary choreographer Michael Bennett, and how he planted the seeds for what became the longest running show in Broadway history at the time.

It’s worth watching for Jason Tam’s highly moving audition for the role of Paul, with the monologue that won Sammy Williams a Tony in 1976; original footage of a stunningly sinewy Donna McKechnie as Cassie, dancing to “The Music and the Mirror”; and her successor in the revival, Charlotte D’Amboise, daughter of champion of dance (and New York City Ballet alumnus) Jacques D’Amboise, sharing some moments with her aged dad that are touching reminders of passing the torch.

Though the final production apparently did not live up to the original, this film (currently on Encore) is an illuminating portrait of the often harsh vicissitudes that constitute a dancer’s life.