Suzanne Farrell: the “Concerto Barocco” spiral
I’ve seen the wonderful Balanchine ballet “Concerto Barocco” many times, but never with Suzanne Farrell, one of the greats. Despite the poor quality of the footage of her in the video later in this post, it is extraordinary to watch. Farrell eclipses the other half of the solo pair, but not in an egotistical show-offy way. Her technique is secure and her extensions are high—but never in the service of “Look at me, see what I can do!” And never in the service of mere steps.
What Farrell specialized in was flow. “See, see how this dance goes, a dance in which ‘I’ disappear in deference to it?” is what she is saying. The tempo in “Concerto Barocco” is sometimes very fast, but Farrell seems to have all the time in the world. Never rushed and never too slow, always part of the music, she is doing what seem to be the only steps that can possibly be imagined to match the music, to become the music.
The words that come to mind when watching Farrell dance are “luscious,” “luxuriant,” “unique,” and even “private.” That last is a paradox, because although the performer is on the stage, she doesn’t seem to be aware of an audience. Dance is a private ritual between Farrell, the music, and God.
You think that last bit is an exaggeration? I wrote those words before I read this review of Farrell’s autobiography (although I had read her book when it first came out, about twenty-five years ago), which contains the following Farrell quote:
From early on Farrell appears to have regarded her career as a sort of divine mission, a destiny that was sent to her and that, consequently, we would all simply have to acknowledge and cope with. Never does she seem to have felt that she was dancing for the audience. “I dance for God,” she said, “who gave me the gift of dancing.” She also danced for Balanchine. As for the public, “We’re stuck with each other,” she told the critic Holly Brubach. “You’re stuck looking at me, and I’m stuck being out there in front of you.”
It is doubtful that any dancer has ever worked harder than Farrell””and with a disinterestedness such that, free of the lower forms of vanity (need for compliments, fear of looking foolish), she was never deterred from moving toward her chosen goal.
Farrell was a self-possessed loner who came from a family with a remarkably determined mother who overcame all hardships, as did Farrell. Those hardships included the isolation that came with promotion at a very young age (still in her teens):
But once Balanchine began to concentrate on her more and more closely, and cast her in more and more roles, to the exclusion of other dancers, she found herself utterly friendless. In the book she tells the terrible story of how the dancer Patricia Neary, whom she liked and had roomed with on tour, not only had to give up to her her role in Concerto Barocco but had to teach it to her as well. Neary taught it, through her tears. “I learned the ballet but lost a friend.” Farrell says. Soon she had none left to lose.
It’s well worth reading the whole article. If you do, you’ll understand a lot about Farrell, although she will remain a mystery.
But you’ll understand a lot more if you watch her dance:
As the years have gone by, ballet has become more athletic. You can often feel the dancers’ muscles working and the physical effort, even if it doesn’t look strained. But Farrell managed staggering technical feats with a total absence of visible athleticism. Her dancing seemed like water pouring—fluid, and with no effort at all. Watch this series of arabesque penché promenades (arabesques with the upper body close to the ground and the leg very high, while circling around on the standing leg) that last for about a minute, with particular attention to the final one. No one else can make this look so easy, so beautiful, or so meaningful:
There aren’t many renditions of this ballet on YouTube to compare it to. But here is a good version of the same passage (by the illustrious Russian company, the Maryinsky). But to me it doesn’t even begin to measure up:
The Russian dancer is good, and she’s strong. But you never know why she’s doing any of this, except that it’s in the choreography, so she does it. She doesn’t go into the actual penché in the earlier promenades, either; perhaps she’s conserving her energy.
Farrell doesn’t worry about things like that. Farrell is saying something like, “Here’s what the music tells me to do; my front leg unfolds high, high, to the sky. And then the opposite; my back leg goes up, up, up. And as I turn around, my upper body leans in a slight spiral, so that it looks as though I’m being pulled around and around by some irresistible outside force. That force propels me forward when the leg goes up, and around in the circling arabesque, but something keeps leading me and pushing me, and I must follow it.”
You see the spiral effect? No one else does that.
Nor would I expect anyone else to. Farrell is Farrell, the only Farrell that’s ever been or that ever will be. I first saw her as a teenager in the 60s (both of us were teenagers, that is, although she’s older than I). She retired in 1983, has had two hip replacements (and came back briefly after one of them), and is still going strong as a teacher.
Here is the entire ballet featuring Farrell:
While dancing the same passage, I can see that Suzanne Farrell seemingly without effort achieves a lightness of being and fluidity of movement that the Russian dancer lacks. It’s interesting how the same choreography can come alive when danced by one dancer and seem relatively uninteresting when danced by another. Farrell’s performances were hard to match when she was dancing, and now in retirement, thanks to videotape, they still hold up extremely well, especially when compared to today’s newer crop of dancers who frequently appear more obviously athletic and much less ethereal.
Neo, you have a sublime and precious talent that I unfortunately do not have the words to describe. The same thoughtful, informed and keen analytical mind that you bring to things political/social begins to glow and expand in an amazing way when it is put into the service of your love and understanding of ballet. Suzanne Farrell was only a name to me until I read these insights into her character and her dancing. Only someone who has danced herself could be so subtle, so sharp, so… sure-footed in a verbal description of things so physical, so real, and yet ineffable. Thank you for this!
Ralph Kinney Bennet:
Thanks so much! [blushes]
Ralph said it much better than I could, but I can second it!
I seldom will comment on your fine dance notes, and don’t watch the long sections of video, but do like the short ones.
I love dancing more than watching dance. I’m far more enthusiastic about ball room dancing and, especially, wild rock dancing. Where I strive: “to become the music.” Not so much as the only steps for that music, but rather, my steps to that music, as I feel, at that moment. Because I don’t really practice nor choreograph, I’m sure it’s not so great — but I do have the unsophisticated enthusiasm that some break dancers have.
Please keep writing well about the things that interest you.
Maybe school choice? And Trump’s pick for Sec of Edu?
thanks for another great post. Farrell most definitely slows down time.
How does the partnering influence the sense of a force pulling/propelling the ballerina? there’s an obvious leading motion by the male dancer…
Ben David raises a fascinating question, and we’d love to read your thoughts on it. How do partners affect certain famous dancers’ performances (and, to be fair, any dancer’s performance)? I would guess, Neo, you will have to “go to the tapes” for a while, but I know that Ben and I (for two) will anxiously await your answer.
What a lovely piece on Suzanne Farrell, Neo! (Not to mention a wonderful break from politics….) She was truly a great, great American dancer. Non pareille.
I never forgave Peter Martins for the manner in which he kicked Farrell out of the NYCB. I went back to the NYT to see if it was as bad as I remembered, and it was:
http://www.nytimes.com/1993/08/04/arts/city-ballet-breaks-off-its-long-relationship-with-suzanne-farrell.html
“[Farrell] was told of her dismissal in a telephone call from Patricia Turk, the company’s manager. Mr. Martins declined to comment on the action, which was reported yesterday in Newsday and The Daily News. ‘Deeply Hurt’
Miss Farrell said yesterday: “I was surprised and deeply hurt to receive a telephone call from the company manager informing me that I had been fired from New York City Ballet, although she didn’t use the word ‘fired.’ She said it was because the company was currently operating with a deficit and I was doing little or no work for them. This is true, and it has been a source of unspeakable grief to me for the past three years that I have not been allowed to serve ballet, which is my love, in the company that has been my home for nearly 25 years. I never dreamed I would live to see the day when I didn’t work for New York City Ballet.”
…
“Many people have yet to accept that Balanchine is gone,” Mr. Martins said in an interview in 1988. “I think it’s extremely narrow-minded to constantly refer to the past. And to those people who say, ‘Oh, it wasn’t like this then,’ my response is: ‘Lay off, stay out of our hair. We’re here, we’re surviving, we’re doing fine.’ “
Ben David; Ralph Kinney Bennet:
Partnering affects everything a dancer does while being partnered, and can even affect the mood of the whole performance. Some partnerships are renowned and legendary and the chemistry is great; some don’t work well at all. And then there’s everything in-between.
Almost ten years ago I wrote this post about partnering in ballet. I may write another sometime.
Certain dancers who are not household words (for example, Ivan Nagy of American Ballet Theater; watch the last two videos in this post) were renowned for their partnering abilities. Anthony Dowell of the Royal Ballet was another.
I got to see Ms. Farrell teach a 2-hour master class to teens and tweens last year. The students were not first rate, not by any stretch, but Suzanne was patient, polite and and very good at instilling a few basic thoughts into how the students should approach certain moves. She did not perform any moves but she looked like a prima.
As much as I love ballet, I had little idea who she was. When I tell other ballet fans I saw this class, they light up and tell me how lucky I am.
Of course, Neo, you were already “there.” I just read your 2007 post re partnering in ballet. Fascinating and illuminating. Thank You. After reading it I reread the Farrell post and your observations re “athleticism” reminded me of what made the superb Sonja Henie so great as a skater. She was a three time Olympic gold medal winner, and yet, in her Hollywood films she never looked “athletic,” but rather, vivacious and beautiful. I don’t think any female skater since, and there have been some great ones, has ever matched that combination of sheer physical prowess with an effortless air and a soft and flowing beauty. And her male partners certainly showed those qualities of subtle strength so important in ballet.
Ralph Kinney Bennett:
Well, there was Peggy Fleming. Of course, that was quite some time ago, too. The jumps she does here don’t have the difficulty of today’s jumps, but apparently the skates were different. Everything she does looks effortless. And check out the spin at the end (she starts it very slow and then builds momentum to an extraordinary degree):
Ah, Peggy Fleming! Thanks, Neo. That final spin is amazing; almost unbelievable. But take a look at some of the Henie vids. There’s one on YouTube titled “Absolute Best,” and see spin after spin, done, when she was along in years, I might add. You are the better judge, I’m sure, and maybe it’s just because I’m an old timer, but I believe Sonja was truly in a class of her own when it came to effortless beauty.