They certainly are thin; the quintessential ectomorphs, with elastic limbs and extreme grace. Their lean bodies and long legs in proportion to height make them look tall, but I began to wonder whether they really were. After all, I know that ballet dancers often look much taller onstage than they are (see the discussion in this post). Maybe the same is true of rhythmic gymnasts such as this champion:

Well, it turns out that rhythmic gymnasts really are tall, relatively tall. Not as tall as basketball players, but taller than other gymnasts – who tend to be very short. Here’s the explanation:

One of the most important physical quality a rhythmic gymnast must have is a slim and stylish body. According to Spanish ex gymnast Susana Mendizábal, rhythmic gymnastics must be tall with long limbs, narrow trunk and hips and very thin. With an average height of 5 ft 4 in and weight of 94.8 pounds stereotypical canon for rhythmic implies Gymnasts’ thinness is usually genetically determined.

That height combined with that weight makes for a very thin person. And some of them are as tall as 5’9″ – the Wiki entry for the gymnast in the video you just watched claims that she is that tall.

Also:

Taking away all of the figures and using common sense, rhythmic gymnasts that achieve elite also tend to be taller because as a lot of the routines involve throwing and catching it’s easier for them to retrieve the apparatus as their limbs are longer. The longer the reach and the strides, the less effort you have to do to perform a routine.

I find them quite amazing.

[NOTE: In my previous post on short ballet dancers, it’s so old that the YouTube videos have disappeared. One of the short dancers I discuss in the post is Daniel Ulbricht of the New York City Ballet. He seems to be retired from performing and is now teaching. There aren’t a whole lot of videos of him on YouTube, but I thought this one shows off his high jump.

Unfortunately, there’s a dark background and he’s wearing dark tights, which sometimes makes it hard to see the full height of his jumps.]

The post Are rhythmic gymnasts tall? appeared first on The New Neo.

I absolutely loved Villella, and it was partly because of the way he looked, as well as the fact that he exuded a sex appeal that was different from the Apollonian quality of Baryshnikov and the exotic aura of Nureyev. I also happened to once take a class from Villella when he was in his 40s, and I can safely say that his magnetism was even more marked close up and personal.

Is he forgotten these days? Perhaps, at least somewhat, and certainly with young people. There aren’t even that many videos of him in his prime. The other day I was looking for some and found, among other things, a video of him doing “Tarantella,” a short and frenetic dance choreographed for him by Balanchine although not one of my favorites. In the video, it first shows Villella doing the two short solo variations, then Baryshnikov doing them, and then a series of other later dancers doing the same thing.

Fascinating, including the comments, only a few of which liked Villella and many of which criticized his loosy-goosy manner and casualness, especially his relaxed upper body. But what they didn’t get is that the piece was originally made for him and the carefree happy-go-lucky style was intentional in this piece and it’s something that has been lost with modern dancers. It’s very playful. Even Baryshnikov, who may have been the greatest ballet dancer of all time, doesn’t quite pull it off for this particular ballet. Let’s just say that Baryshnikov gives us the intense Russian version, very perfect but not the original artistic vision.

Here’s the clip. Unfortunately, the quality of the video for Villella and Baryshnikov is poor. Villella is shown until 1:54, and then Barishnikov, and then the rest of them. But I think despite the poor quality of the first two, it still shows what I’m talking about. Note also that as the years go by, the tempi get slower and slower, although never slow:

Here’s a short Villella documentary. The still thumbnail at the beginning gives you some idea of why so many women (me included) were drawn to him. It also has a few very short excerpts from Tarantella that are in color and of much better quality than the previous ones. He narrates some of this documentary; I think he was in his early 80s at the time, but he’s 89 now:

The post A tarantella for Edward Villella appeared first on The New Neo.

A while back I read that Cagney’s stiff-legged dancing in that film was an imitation of Cohan’s idiosyncratic dance style, and I started to wonder whether there was any film of Cohan dancing or singing. He died in 1942, so there should be something of the sort.

Not much, as it turns out. But a bit.

First, here’s Cohan singing “Over There” in 1936, when he was 58 years old:

And here’s Cagney singing the same song in the movie. He only sings a small part of the song, but gives it the same high energy. The movie was released in June, 1942 (Cohan died in November of that year, but apparently saw the movie). That was well -into WWII, although “Over There” was a song from WWI. But you can see why it meant so much at the time.

The following is the only footage I could find of Cohan dancing (it’s Cagney singing in the background, though). It’s about a minute long:

This is Cagney doing much the same number in the film “Yankee Doodle Dandy.” They’re both playing FDR, by the way, wearing a top hat:

I think you can see how well Cagney captured Cohan’s style. There were quite a few similarities between them: both had backgrounds in vaudeville, both were of Irish ethnicity (Cagney mostly, anyway), and both were relatively short (5’6″ for Cohan and 5’4″ for Cagney).

You can feel the playfulness and energy practically blast off the screen in both versions. Those were different times, weren’t they?

The post Cohan and Cagney appeared first on The New Neo.

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In the meantime, I think I’m just going to post something that has nothing to do with politics, and then go take a walk.]

Walk like an Egyptian and run like a ballerina:

The greatest practitioner of the ballet run was Galina Ulanova, whose ballet heyday with the Kirov and then the Bolshoi was during the 1940s and 1950s. She was the child of two ballet dancers and felt she never had a choice about ballet, but she certainly made the best of it. She was unique as a dancer and as an actress, earning praise such as these statements:

Sergei Eisenstein: “Ulanova — cannot be grouped together with, compared to other dancers. In terms of what is most cherished, By the very nature of her secret…She belongs to a different dimension.” …

Margot Fonteyn: “I cannot even begin to talk about Ulanova’s dancing, it is so marvelous, I am left speechless. It is magic. Now we know what we lack.”

But it is this comment by dance critic Arnold Haskell with which I most agree:

My memories of Ulanova are, to me, a part of life itself, bringing a total enrichment of experience. To me, hers are not theatrical miracles but triumphs of human spirit. Where Pavlova was supremely conscious of her audience and could play upon its emotions as upon an instrument, Ulanova is remote in a world of her own, which we are privileged to penetrate. She is so completely identified with the character she impersonates that nothing outside exists.

But it’s running we’re talking about here. Ulanova originated the role of Juliet in the Prokofiev ballet, and it featured this famous run. Here Ulanova is running to Friar Lawrence’s cell in desperation. I believe she’s in her forties in this clip:

The post Running in ballet appeared first on The New Neo.

Osipova may come closer than most dancers of today do to Plisetskaya’s athletic jumping and “attack,” and in fact may surpass her jumps in height. But I prefer Plisetskaya. Of course, every dancer is different and we don’t want duplicates – although I think I’d make an exception in the case of Plisetskaya.

There is something very naturalistic in Plisetskaya’s movement and flow, although ballet choreography is anything but natural. Nevertheless, she seems to be free in her movements, departing from strict style in order to convey something of the character’s personality. Here, that something is joyful abandon, and I think the key to what she does – and what Osipova does not do – is that little head and upper body dip that Plisetskaya makes as she runs into her preparation for the leap. Osipova keeps her regal ballet posture right through, and it gives the movement a somewhat stilted although beautiful effect. It’s subtle, but that’s what I see.

There are longer clips of each dancer doing the same variation. You might notice other things – for example, as is very common with today’s dancers, Osipova dances somewhat more slowly, which I think takes away from the dramatic effect but allows for more posing and her technical perfection as well as her jump’s height

Here’s Plisetskaya in a somewhat longer clip that shows more of her acting ability and upper body freedom and fluidity; the variation in question begins at 3:47:

The post Osipova versus Plisetskaya appeared first on The New Neo.

Neo, have you seen the video of Alysa Liu’s skating at the Olympics? I am so impressed by her dance/ movement, and I can’t describe why it seems different, and wonderful. I would be interested in hearing your informed opinion, as I have come to appreciate the art of dance to some extent from the videos and comments that you have presented over the years.

First, the video (it can’t be embedded, but this will lead you to it on YouTube):

Many things combined to make Liu’s performance golden. One was, of course, that she skated what’s called a “clean” program in the technical sense, meaning that she made no obvious errors (or even subtle ones, as far as I can see, although I’m no skating expert). That was absolutely necessary.

But some of the other skaters did the same. And anyway, her special qualities weren’t just technical. Liu skated with remarkable fluidity and ease. That requires an ability to be somewhat relaxed at the same time you’re marshaling all your finely-honed physical forces. It’s a quality even some of the best skaters (or dancers or other performers) lack, and it’s something that helps the audience relax as they watch. They trust that she will do well and not give them any cause to feel tense. And her radiant smile helps, too.

But Liu has another special quality, which for want of a better term I’ll call unity. It comes from a very solid core – the center of the body from which all movement emanates – and it means that the movements of every part of the body are integrated into a seamless whole. There are no unincorporated parts, no herky-jerky movements. The head, hands, arms, back, every cell of the body is always part of a seamless whole that the watcher’s eye reads as satisfyingly one.

That can’t really be explained, although I just tried. Baryshnikov had it more than any other human being I’ve ever seen, before or since. The man was incapable of making a false move.

With Liu, it also helped that her music was fun: Donna Summer. Many of the other skaters used music that was extremely uninspiring.

The post What is it about Alysa Liu? appeared first on The New Neo.

I was fortunate enough to see him dance many many times in person.

I also once stood next to him for about ten seconds. We were both in flat ballet slippers, and I have to say that although his height has been variously reported as 5’5″ or 5’6″, I suspect he might actually be more like 5’4″ because he seemed to be exactly my height.

No matter. The man is a giant.

The post The incomparable Baryshnikov appeared first on The New Neo.

For starters, I thought it would leave out Fernando Bujones and I was prepared to criticize that. But there he is at #10. On the other hand, the clip used isn’t of Bujones at his best.

Peter Martins, #9, was a good dancer but I wouldn’t put him in the top 10. Whatever; he’s #9 here. Note something I’ve long noticed, which is that his head is large in proportion to his body. And yet the total effect is pleasing.

Massine, #8? I certainly don’t think so. Plus the AI voice (I think it’s AI; not certain) mispronounces “Russe” in “Ballet Russe.” Massine was better known for his choreography at the time, but even that isn’t performed all that much in more recent years. However, the film The Red Shoes is his most lasting work; he dances in the film, too, and you can see his eccentric style.

#7, Serge Lifar? No way.

#6 is another choreographer, Anthony Tudor. Why is he on a list of great dancers?

#5 Vladimir Vasiliev. Good choice; I wrote about him here, with videos that show his gifts better than the “10 greatest” clip does.

#4 Erik Bruhn, good choice but again the video clip isn’t the best.

#3 Vaslav Nijinsky. There are no films of him; the few seconds of movement in this video is AI. And the mispronunciations continue.

#2 Nureyev. Of course. Not one of my personal favorites, but he absolutely belongs high on the list.

#1 It was inevitable that Baryshnikov would be #1, and rightly so. Plus, he is one of my personal favorites.

If the video is considering choreographers too – which it certainly is – the absence of Balanchine is a glaring error.

Also, I would substitute Anthony Dowell of the Royal Ballet for Lifar. And why not Edward Villella for Peter Martins?

And the short compilation of clips at the very end shows off some of the dancers better than the main segments do.

The post The 10 greatest male ballet dancers of the 20th Century appeared first on The New Neo.

Here are just a few:

Could I Have This Dance for the Rest of My Life
For a Dancer
Dance Me to the End of Love
Don’t Forget to Dance
I Hope You Dance
Dance With Me
Oh Very Young

One of the very very best dance-as-metaphor song is “The Dance” by Garth Brooks. Here he is at the beginning of his career. It’s very intense, especially the expression in his eyes:

The song’s lyrics have different meanings to the listeners. Some relate it to the pain of illness and death ending a happy relationship. Others (and I’m in this latter group) see it as describing a once-promising love gone sadly wrong, with all the pain and heartache that entails.

Brooks says it’s his favorite of all his songs, but you may be surprised that he didn’t write it. Here’s songwriter Tony Arata, who tells the story of writing the song here:

The theme – of deep appreciation for even a relationship that has an unhappy ending – is not uncommon in poetry and song. For an example of the latter, we have Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” which celebrates what Cohen called the broken Hallelujah:

There’s a blaze of light in every word
It doesn’t matter which you heard
The holy or the broken Hallelujah …

… And even though it all went wrong
I’ll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah.

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