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:

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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.

The post Songs with dance as metaphor appeared first on The New Neo.

But what I wanted most of all, I think, were the red boots that featured so prominently in Russian (and I believe Ukrainian, which was part of the USSR back then) dance. In that part of the world, the pyrotechnics of dance belong to the men. The women and girls are there for decorative charm, grace, lightness, and speed. But oh, the boots!

The post Red boots appeared first on The New Neo.

And I’ll throw this one in, too. Pretty racy for 1953:

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Attack isn’t necessarily hostile, although it sounds that way. However, it’s aggressive in the sense that it’s a harnessing of energy in which the entire body moves very quickly and as one. It’s sharp and incisive, almost like a karate chop although not destructive. I’m talking about the lead dancer:

You may have noted that although his fellow dancers are doing the same steps, they don’t have the same attack.

The post Dance: it’s the attack appeared first on The New Neo.

Suzanne Farrell may have been the most unique of all – that is, I’ve never seen another dancer who reminds me of her in the least. The closest would be Galina Ulanova, who shares the interior-ality (is that a word?) of Farell’s presentation as a dancer; that is, the sense that she is lost in her own world and not performing or posing. I’ve seen interviews where Farrell has been asked whether, when she was growing up, she wanted to be a ballerina, and she has answered that she only wanted to dance. She is a highly unusual person.

There is a documentary about Farrell made in 1996, about seven years after she retired from her performing career, a career that began when she was a teenager and the New York City Ballet was under Balanchine’s direction. He was about forty years older than she was and became enthralled with her, not just as a dancer but in the romantic sense. They had a complex relationship that was never sexually consummated and which Farrell discusses in the documentary. I think that even in the film’s first few minutes you can see why she enchanted Balanchine so.

Unfortunately it’s not possible to embed the video, but you can watch it here. You don’t have to see the whole thing to get the flavor, although I certainly watched it in its entirety. Watch as much as you like.

Farrell also has said that you reveal your personality when you dance. That is very very true. It’s revealed in a million ways both subtle and unsubtle. The audience may not be able to describe or list them, but the audience perceives them. A dancer is relaxed or tense, self-centered or not, risk-taker or cautious – but it’s all there for the world to see. Farrell herself always seemed relaxed, in her own dreamworld but it was not at all about her, and a physical risk-taker. Although she was never flashy or show-offy, she nevertheless knocked people’s socks off.

Another thing Farrell said in another interview was that a dancer must fascinate the audience even before the dancer starts to dance. Just standing still onstage, he or she must fascinate. The strange and uncanny thing is that Farrell did exactly that, although I don’t know how she did it. Even when she was dancing as part of a group, which she didn’t usually do, one could always spot her not just through her looks or body proportions but through her unique and riveting – that is, fascinating – quality of movement.

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