A March Bon-Bon: San Francisco Ballet Dances Coppelia

March 8 San Francisco reintroduced its Pacific Northwest Ballet co-production of Coppelia, the George Balanchine-Alexandra Danilova ballet premiered at New York City Ballet in 1974. Staged by Judith Fugate, Before going into detail about designer, the Leo Delibes’ music and etc., let me say that it was memory lane. That effervescent path has been trod by anyone remembering The Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo and Danilova in Swanhilda’s shoes and Frederick Franklin as the roving-eyed Franz Some San Franciscans will remember Ruby Asquith in the Willam Christensen production. In addition, a small cadre of dancers danced in the Ballet Celeste production mounted by Merriem Lanova who had danced in the Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo version and passed it along to her young charges, touring it through the United States and Hawaii. Carolyn Carvajal was one such veteran, remembering what remained and what was new, courtesy of Mr. B.

Roberta Guidi de Bagno has given the production pastel prettiness without being goopy or stretching costumes beyond a logical take on Galacia’s folk qualities without becoming too specific. No sequins, feathers and the like. Coppelius’ attic studio is cavernous, Randall G. Chiarelli giving it just the right slightly gloomy light, neither daylight or well illumined, just as Acts I and III are suitably sunny.

Cheryl  Osseola’s extensive program notes provided the audience with Coppelia’s background, E.T.A. Hoffman, the 1870 production created by Arthur Saint-Leon, Franz’ role en traverstie, ultimately Enrico Cecchetti’s revival with Franz becoming danced by a male. The lifts between Franz and Swanhilda are definitely twentieth century additions.

Carolyn remarked that the mime and plot remained untouched. The ensemble dances were different; I remember Robert Lindgren and Sonya Tyyven leading the czardas in the final act, the ensemble dances being broken up into the first and third acts and Yvonne Chouteau in Act III’s Prayer solo. Balanchine has combined them.

Tuesday saw Frances Chung as Swanhilda, Vitor Luiz as her Franz and the superb debut of Pascal Molat as Coppelius. If the program notes mention Chung’s strangeness with mime, she has moved far beyond it to a sparkling, clear ability to convey traditional query and delivery. She is one of the company’s sparkling allegro dancers; there was an almost Fonteyn-like propriety in her delivery, yet still very much Chung. Small wonder she holds an Izzie award for individual performance.

Luiz makes a believable Franz, unforced classicism, unmannered presentation and partnering impeccable. Molat’s elderly doll maker hobbles across the town square with acute accuracy of age and arthritis. His attic scene with Swanhilda’s impersonation of Coppelia was masterly; delusion and elderly excitement.

For those unfamiliar with the plot, it concerns Swanhilda, a spirited young village girl, and her boy friend Franz who also has his eye on Coppelia, a beautiful creature who is wheeled onto a balcony by her maker, Dr. Coppelius. This makes Swanhilda and Franz quarrel. In a twilight excursion, Coppelius is roughed up by Franz and friends, losing his key. Swanhilda and her friends find the key and venture into the Coppelius’ workshop at Act I’s curtain. In Act II, the girls discover the toys and the inanimate Coppelia. Coppelius returns, chasing the girls out; Swanhilda remains assuming Coppelia’s clothing. Franz, meanwhile, attempts to reach the doll via the aid of a ladder; intercepted by Coppelius, he is drugged by wine. Coppelius attempts to bring Coppelia to life using Franz’ life force, pouring over a huge book of spells. Swanhilda plays along with Coppelius, becoming more life like, only to destroy his fantasy and to flee with Franz.

Frances Chung and Pascal Molat in Balanchine’s CoppÈlia. (© Erik Tomasson)

Act III sees the dedication of the bells, announced in French language banners in Act I. Many wedding couples. Coppelius is seen, heart-broken, with his doll in his arms; Swanhilda and Franz also get married, and several celebratory dances ensue. In this production, a bevy of young students perform a charming dance, impossible for the old touring production. The Ballet Russe production provided recompense to Coppelius; here he is pushed aside all too rapidly.

The Act III divertissements featured Sasha de Sola as Dawn in a costume with golden tracery; Sofiane Sylve’s Prayer was cloaked in blue chiffon with touches of grey; four Jesterettes and finally Discord and War led by Jennifer Stahl and Hansuke Yamamoto, laden with spears, Greek-style plumed helmets and garments of black and silver metallic touches, perpetually leaping with one leg raised to waist height, moving in circles and linear patterns. The dominant note in this finale was twenty-three students in pink tutus, led by Lauren Strongin, in the Waltz of the Golden Hours, the same number commencing the January 2016 Gala. To me it took away from the earlier variations danced by de Sola and Sylve, rendering them more divertissements than sweet, evocative variations.

The Waltz is an inducement to students, and, probably, parents. Balanchine and Danilova undoubtedly had memories of similar use of students in the Imperial Ballet Academy in St. Petersburg. Used to the pared-down version, I found the yards of pink tutu a bit distracting to this French-born bon-bon. Like La Fille Mal Gardee, created in 1789 in Bordeaux by Jean Dauberval and the 1837 premiere of Giselle of Jules Perrot and Juan Corelli, these three durable ballets share French ancestry, however much layers and modifications may have ensued. Vive La France!

The Mia Documentary

San Francisco Dance Film Festival opened its 2015 series at the Jewish Community Center’s Kanbar Hall, Monday, October 5 with the documentary
“Mia,” the life and accomplishments of Mia Slavenska. Slavenska died in 2002, believing she had been forgotten though she was lionized at the Ballet Russe Celebration in New Orleans in 2000 and subsequently interviewed for the wonderful Geller/Goldfine production Ballets Russes. This documentary was created by Mia’s daughter Maria Ramos and film-maker Kate Johnson. Their choice of signage seems geared to a television screen and smaller viewing space than the Kanbar.

While the documentary has been aired earlier on television, the chance to see it again was memorable, not just because of her life, but with the inclusion of three dance critics active during the height of Slavenska’s appearances: Jack Anderson,  who for many years co-edited the Dance Chronicle quarterly. Anderson also was one of The New York Times dance critics for many years, a poet who also authored The One and Only Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo.

George Dorris served on the editorial board of Oxford University Press’ six-volume The Dance Encyclopedia, and contributed to the English publication Dancing Times. George Jackson covered Washington, D.C. for Dance News for many years, as well as writing periodically for The Washington Post; he now writes for the website danceviewtimes.

Newspaper accounts from Mia’s early years were quite amazing. She clearly was sure-footed technically and her debut elicited adoration from the audience. As a young adult, she created quite a stir for her advocacy of expressionist dancers like Harold Kreutzberg and Mary Wigman, causing a non-renewal of her contract with the Zagreb Opera House.

Mia and her mother left Croatia, went to Vienna, managed to get Mia into the cultural branch of the 1936 Olympics, which she won. Moving to Paris, Mia found an impresario who changed her name from Corak to Slavenska and got her into the film Ballerina with Yvette Chauvire and Janine Charrat, who played the young girl crippling Slavenska. The French title was Le Mort de Cygne.

The unexpected death of her impresario triggered Mia’s signing with Leonid Massine and the Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo where she languished because of a large roster of ballerinas. Here the documentary fails to credit her leading role in Marc Platt’s choreographic debut, Ghost Town, worth at least a photograph.

Also missing was Mia’s decision to spend nearly two years with Vicenzo Celli, the major Cecchetti teacher of the time. and the three seasons she was artistic director of the Fort Worth Ballet. Nor did it touch on the relationship Mia and Rozelle Frey enjoyed, and Frey’s studio where Slavenska periodically taught.

A significant portion of the film concerns Slavenska’s own ensemble, which, for a time, was profitable. Expanding the number of the ensemble proved fatal, causing them to lose their home. A good part of this footage centered around Slavenska and Franklin’s portrayals in Valerie Bettis’ A Street Car Named Desire. Tennessee Williams told Slavenska she was his best Blanche de Bois. Slavenska earlier enjoyed considerable acclaim, dancing Anton Dolin’s Pas de Quatre with Alicia Markova, Natalie Krassovska, and Nora Kaye. An excellent passage of her dancing with Royes Fernandez does not credit him as her partner.

With the fiscal disaster of the Slavenska-Franklin Company, Mia turned to teaching although she spent two seasons as the ballerina at the Metropolitan Opera, concurrently. When she left New York City for Los Angeles, she taught privately and for some years both at UCLA and CAL Arts before her retirement. The retirement years were spent writing her memoir, a copy of which was deposited at the Jerome Robbins Division of the New York City Public Library.

Slavenska attended the Ballets Russes Celebration in New Orleans in 2000; there she was one of the big draws, and is a featured dancer in the Geller/Goldfine documentary Ballets Russes. Unfortunately, she died before the documentary was released.

The film finishes with the touching evidence of the estime with which she is regarded in Croatia. A plaque is embedded in the wall of the house where she was born, and her ashes were interred in a ceremony led by Dido Bogdanovich, the artistic director of the Opera Ballet in Zagreb.

There is only so much footage can cover in an hour’s length; Ramos and Johnson have forged an excellent narrative with just enough actual dancing to fill out what largely are pictures and copies of articles, With this length of time, it only states the environment fostering her, a mother from a prominent family which lost its status and fortune following World War I, a modest father who was a professional pharmacist. Still Brava, Brava, Brava.

2014 USA IBC Requirements for Round I

In subsequent blog entries, brief notes will be appear about renditions for the Round I junior and senior classical requirements. I’m posting the requirements from USA IBC’s Website with the thought it will provide quick reference; there are eight sessions in Round I.

Discrepancies seem to occur in what was learned; the music also tended to drag in places unnecessarily; I didn’t ask whether there was a master recording which the dancers were required to use. The guidelines indicated these selections were to be used in the video application; and, apparently, applicants admitted to the competition also were required to perform the same pas de deux or variation in Round I. Couples comprised of a junior and senior entrant were required to dance the Junior Selections. Male competitor competing as a soloist may select either variation.

For Juniors: couples must perform the entree, male and female variations and coda. Male partner must dance both male variations.

Giselle: Peasant Pas de deux<>

Composer: Frederick Burgmuller
Choreography: Jules Perrot/Jean Coralli

1st, 2nd Male Variation; Female Variation; Coda

Flames of Paris: Pas de deux

Composer: Boris Asafiev
Choreography: Vasili Vainonen

Male Variation; Female Variation; Coda

Coppelia: Wedding Pas de deux, Swanhilda and Franz, Act III

Composer: Leon Delibes
Choreogrpahy: Arthur Saint-Leon

Male Variation; Alternate Male Variation; Female Variation; Coda

Paquita Variations, Act III

Composer: Ludwig Minkus
Choreography: Marius Petipa

White Pearl Variation from Ocean and Pearls – Little Humpback Horse

Female Version; Male Variation

Tango or Harp Version (by Drigo from Schneitzhoffer’s La Sylphide)

Celeste Variation (from Tcherepnin Pavillon d’Armide)

Male Variation from Pas de Trois from Le Diable a Quartre

Grand Jete Variation

Sleeping Beauty, Act III

Composer: Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky

Choreography: Marius Petipa/Enrico Cecchetti

Pas de deux: Princess Florine and Blue Bird; Male Variation; Female Variation; Coda

For Seniors: The same rules applied for senior couples as juniors in the video application and Round I.

Giselle:

Composer: Adolphe Adam

Choreography: Jules Perrot/Juan Coralli

Pas de Deux, Act II, Giselle and Albrecht; Male Variation; Female Variation

Variation of Giselle, Act I

Don Quixote

Composer: Ludwig Minkus

Choreographer: Marius Petipa

Espada ; Bridesmaid Variation

Grand Pas de Duex, Wedding, Kitri and Basilio

Male Variation; Female Variation; Coda

Swan Lake

Composer: Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky

Choreography: Marius Petipa/Yuri Grigorovich

Grand Pas de deux, Act III (Black Swan); Male Variation; Female Variation, Alternate Female Variation; Coda

Esmeralda

Composer: Cesare Pugni

Choreography: Jules Perrot Nicholas Beriosov/Alexander Gorsky

Grand Pas de deux: Esmeralda and Froliol Male Variation; Female Variation; Coda

Flower Festival of Genzano

Composer: Edvard Helsted

Choregraophy: August Bournonville

Pas de deux;Male Variation; Female Variation; Coda

La Fille Mal Gardee

Composer: Peter Ludwig Hertel/Riccardo Drigo/Johann Armsheimer

Choreography: Paul Taglioni/Marius Petipa/Lev Ivanovb/ Alexander Gorsky

N.B. The original ballet was created by Jean Dauberval in Bordeaux in 1789; some dancers credited him in their variation printouts.

Male Variation/Female Variation/Coda

Menlowe Ballet, November 15

Menlowe Ballet had what I counted as its fifth performance November 15 at the Menlo Park-Atherton High School Auditorium, a spacious stage, appreciably raked seats, with some futuristic qualities to its ceiling and lobby. Outside, a food truck allowed us to wolf several bites before the program began.

Artistic Director Michael Lowe once again invited an area choreographer to contribute to the program, titled Lineage. A wise move, it enabled dance lovers with memories to revisit choreography not current in any company’s repertoire. Last fall it was Betsy Erikson; the spring performance I did not see featured Viktor Kabanaiev; this fall season featured Ronn Guidi, Oakland Ballet’s founder with his Trois Gymnopedies to Erik Satie’s memorable, limpid composition, and the pas de deux in his reading of Sergei Prokofiev’s Romeo and Juliet. Lowe himself was featured in a reworked Serei and an extremely clever tribute to two versions of Maurice Ravel’s Bolero, the Bronislava Nijinska and the Marc Wilde versions, mingled with his own inventive comments.

Before further comments, let me say the company has accomplished several strategic moves promising a healthy history: Lowe as choreographer, Sarah-Jane Measor as his associate with Julie Lowe as Ballet Mistress have formed a healthy trio and Lisa Shively as executive director. They have the Menlo Park facility as a home theatre; judging from last night’s attendance, a healthy and enthusiastic audience of dance lovers, parents and students. Measor’s direction of Menlo Park Academy of Dance assures a steady stream of students. Between her and Lowe’s invention their inclusion in choreographic offerings is not only stellar, but skillful.

Serei seemed to have been expanded since I first saw it in 2012. Again featuring a koto preface played by Mariko Ishikawa, it evokes the memory of an Asian woman reflecting on various aspects of past lives. I guess Mariko Takahashi’s skillful performance suspended on the silks was designed to convey an ability to see into her past lives, danced by Mariko Ishikawa, Lauren Mindel Julie Giordano, and later by Aurora Frey, Coreen Danaher, Emily Kerr and Megan Terry. Gregory de Santis proved to be an attentive partner, his samurai qualities gentler than the usual two-sword swashbuckling swagger. I was put off by the use of the shakuhachi to singularly strong, almost strident choreography. The shakuhachi was used for meditation and begging by Zen Buddhist monks, allowed for secular performance only with the Meiji Restoration of 1868. Aurora Frey and Damon Mahoney appeared in a glittery unitard appearance in the Kingdom of Koi; this seemed to my questionable memory to be an addition to the original choreography. But the use of the students and their formations spoke well of Measor’s abilities.

Trois Gymnopedies, staged by former Oakland Ballet principal Joy Gim, featured Coreen Danaher, Emily Kerr and Jacob Kreamer with the white unitard costumed by Mario Alonso. Ronn Guidi’s choreography spoke to the correctness of Enrico Cecchetti, particularly in the port de bras and phrasing. I would like to see all three dancer explore the flexibility of the torso, creating a fuller rubato between culminating postures to the musical phrase.

The balcony scene from Ronn Guidi’s Romeo and Juliet was staged by Abra Rudisell, herself a most memorable Juliet. Friday night’s Juliet, Terri McGee-Kelly was shy, introverted, minimally responsive to Gregory de Santis’ thoughtful, if adolescent ardent Romeo. McGee-Kelly’s shoulders and upper torso were simply mute to love’s surging emotion, though Guidi’s choreography depicted those incredibly precious movements with sensitivity and understanding.

Tribute, Michael Lowe’s incorporation to two interpretations of Maurice Ravel’s Bolero, was an amazing “kitchen sink” inclusion of styles and habits managing to work to that relentless score, played by musicians Angelo Bundini, Philip Brezina, Allison Lovejoy, Tarik Ragib , Rob Reich, Paul Stinson and Carolyn Walter. Ronn Guidi later remarked that Lowe caught the essence of both Nijinska and Wilde in addition to Lowe’s own comments. These additions included sauntering, gymnastics [Lowe trained as one], floor stretches, groupings, pitos [finger snaps] swiveling hips, solo variations. Something happened concurrently all over the stage, bare except for the circular table [Nijinska] and barre [Wilde], bringing the evening a rousing finale.