Ah, Giselle!

Please, please, please look at this wonderful series of photos of American Ballet Theatre's Giselle, performed this week at the Metropolitan Opera House: 

‘Giselle’ - The New York Times > Arts > Slide Show > Slide 1 of 15

The great ballerina Nina Ananiashvili, who has a lot on her professional and personal plates, showed us what talent, sensitivity, technique, and long experience can bring to the iconic role of Giselle. Now in her forties, she can still, as do the best of them, convey the ardor and naïveté of a young girl in love. She looks great, too. This from a dancer who is a national hero in her native republic of Georgia, director of the newly re-formed Georgian State Ballet, and a wife and mother to boot. 

Mme. Ananiashvili (this traditional honorific is still used for divas and major ballerinas) was fortunate in her leading man. José Manuel Carreño, one of Cuba's gifts to us and surely one of the world's handsomest men, was her partner last evening. With José Manuel, one always has the feeling that the ballerina is in the safest and most considerate of hands. And he nailed every dance aspect as well, with seeming effortlessness. He makes every ballerina look good, whether she needs extra help or not. (The photos in the slide show depict the equally talented and handsome Angel Corella, who did the first performance. ABT is particularly rich in great male dancers.)

Ananiashvili's technique remains solid. I have never really cared for the famous series of sautés on one pointe in Giselle's Act I solo—to me, it's a stunt step that doesn't really belong in a Romantic ballet— but she makes them look as good as they possibly can. Mainly, this dancer goes far beyond technique, and the memory that lingers is the wonderfully fluid, supernatural-looking use of her upper torso, shoulders and arms. But look at the photos. The photographer Erin Baiano, a new name to me, has really captured the salient moments of this great and charming old ballet.

Gillian Murphy, as the icy Queen of the Wilis, Myrtha, turned in her usual fine and serious work. (I wrote a profile of Gillian, a lovely and modest young woman, for Dance Magazine some time ago.) She can meet any challenge that almost any ballet throws at her. 

Giselle is one old chestnut that fully lives up to the number from A Chorus Line, "Everything Is Beautiful at the Ballet." It stands the test of time better than any older classic ballet, having the most felicitous combination of subject, scenario, music, and choreography (as much as we can know of the original, dance being such an ephemeral art and no video recording available in the 1840s). Certainly, everything was beautiful last evening. Old lithographs came to life. The legendary 19th-century ballerina Carlotta Grisi, the original Giselle, is shown at the top in an 1844 lithograph by Challamel.

Further re Giselle, I'm reminded of a puckish friend who decided that if Giselle were an opera (actually, there is one based on the same material—Puccini's early Le villi), one of the arias, set to the famous "daisy-petal" theme, would go: "I'm Giselle (la di da); I'm not well...."

Whatever became of...?

It's been about four years now since I took this photo of a lovely little girl playing violin extremely well in front of the Catherine Palace at Tsarskoe Selo, outside of St. Petersburg. I still regret not slipping her a few coins, which was, natually, the reason she was out there playing. At least it was a beautful early-summer day. One of many regrets. Did slip a few coins to other pretty little Russian children on this trip, which was part of an excellently organized "Russia by River" tour from Moscow to St. Petersburg. I still wonder what will become of this obviously talented child. Would she receive scholarship help to study at one of Russia's many excellent music conservatories? (Even in the darkest and most repressive years of the Soviet era, Russia still produced world-class players; they have one of the truly great musical cultures.) Would she meet the right mentors who could set her on the path to a professional career? At least she was already accomplished enough to be able to play for her own pleasure for the rest of her life. 

Having worked as an editor at a prominent music conservatory, I'm aware of the great numbers of talented and accomplished musicians who are not able to make careers as performers. Fortunately, this school also has courses to prepare students for other aspects of music, e.g., the business and managerial areas. You have to want a musical career "so badly you can taste it" and be willing to slave at relatively menial jobs until you get a break. If you get a break.

This little Russian girl put the finishing touch to a lovely day for a tourist in Russia. I think that she was playing Tchaikovsky. A safe bet, anyway.

   

Overheard at the Turner Show

A very extensive show of J.M.W. Turner's paintings is now on view at New York's Metropolitan Museum. I've had the good fortune to see many of these previously, at the Tate Britain, the National Gallery, and the Victoria and Albert Museum in London. The show is too large to take in on one visit, and I plan to return. To cite just one painting, you can't look at the masterpiece The Shipwreck too often; it's an experience comparable to listening to Beethoven. 

Tate Collection | The Shipwreck by Joseph Mallord William Turner

When contemplating the painting shown above, I could not, of course, help thinking of Sherlock Holmes's final struggle with Professor Moriarty at the top of the Reichenbach Falls. Though not a Baker Street Irregular, I am just as saturated with Holmesiana as most literate English speakers. As I was standing there, I heard a voice behind me murmur, "Moriarty." Amused, I turned around and said, "I was thinking the same thing. You can never hear the name 'Reichenbach' without Holmes and Moriarty coming to mind." The speaker and his companions smiled broadly.

It's a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood(s)

When it's a nice day in New York City, it's a Nice Day in New York City! Here's the fabled Chrysler Building (also immortalized once again in today's New York Times crossword puzzle) as it looked on the morning of June 25, 2008. Note the totally cloudless sky, not normally the case in NYC. As regards the building, my dentist, the unofficial mayor and biggest fan of the building, has his offices in the Tower Suite. Thus, when one sits in his chair, one usually has a sweeping view of New York Harbor, the Statue of Liberty, Ellis Island, et al. It's too bad to have to visit him on a cloudy day. I'm also fortunate not to have had any real dental problems, making visits both painless and pleasant, as a rule.

Now, what better activity on such a day than to pay a visit to the "Moore in America" display of 20 Henry Moore sculptures at the wonderful Botanical Gardens in the Bronx? Just a 20-minute ride on Metro North, and there you are. The sculpture shown above is one of the artist's renderings of a favorite theme: mother and child. The setting is absolutely perfect for large sculptures, and the art and venue enhance each other. You can read about a similar exhibition, including all of the same works and then some, held recently at England's equally magnificent Kew Gardens:

http://www.abbycronin.co.uk/pdfs/1202777470.pdf

And, of course, there are the botanical treasures to be savored. The conifer collection and, as seen above, the Rockefeller Rose Garden, are only two of the delights to be found in the Bronx. Don't agree with Ogden Nash's

The Bronx,

No thonx.

at all on this score. And then there are the lemurs, newly housed at the Bronx Zoo. Gotta see these babies! Their name, once used as the title of a PBS documentary, means "spirits of the forest." 

Bronx Zoo

"When a ghost and a prince meet...."

The reviews of this year's Shakespeare in the Park production of Hamlet have not been favorable. I was thinking about the many interpreters of the Dane I've seen—certainly many of the world's greats. Truly memorable were Richard Burton in the "rehearsal" production directed by John Gielgud; Ralph Fiennes a few years back; and, more recently, the beautifully voiced and profoundly artistic work of Simon Russell Beale. Mr. Russell Beale overcame his unlikely physique, drawing in and moving the audience at Britain's Royal National Theatre as much as if not more than any Hollywood-handsome type could. Although—I certainly enjoyed seeing the marvelous-looking Mr. Fiennes—those eyes!—who also has the talent and voice for the part. And no one is better at sheer vulnerability than he is.

So, I was hoping that the latest outing might be worth a visit, though I'm really not up for standing in line for anything. There are too many great presentations in NYC for which you don't have to queue up. This year, the Public Theater is offering an online lottery for some of the tickets, and I thought it might be fun to register and try to get a pair, but now I'm not sure I want to bother. I guess my favorite curmudgeon, John Simon, has warned me off:

John Simon Bloomberg Hamlet

I've been to other Shakespeare in the Park Hamlets over the years. Quite a number of years back, Stacy Keach essayed the part. I don't remember too much about his performance, but at one time I remember he was quite a respected classicist before his British drug bust and apparent fall from grace. At any rate, what I liked most about the performance was the enjoyment conveyed by two giggly teenage girls sitting behind me. They proved the real purpose of Shakespeare or any other fine theater, when one burst out at the end of an act: "I can't wait to see what happens!"

I was also reminded of Howard Dietz's wonderfully clever lyrics to Arthur Schwartz's delightful melody "That's Entertainment" from the movie version of their show The Band Wagon. The magazine Time Out New York quoted it without attribution last week when listing the current production. And then, just by chance, last Sunday afternoon Schwartz's son, Jonathan, the doyen of the Great American Song Book, played Judy Garland's wonderful rendition on his weekend public and satellite radio show. What a voice! What diction!

"When a ghost and a prince meet/And everyone ends in mincemeat."

A&P Heir and Me—and Many Others

The "good grey" New York Times almost always has something to spark one's imagination or memory—in addition to the important news of the day, of course. In yesterday's edition there was an obituary of the A&P heir Huntington Hartford, who managed to squander the family millions most efficiently while probably having a lot of fun doing so:

Huntington Hartford, A. & P. Heir, Dies at 97 - New York Times

The obit reminded me of an experience, evidently common among my young female contemporaries, in my college days. HH had built his hideous Gallery of Modern Art,  one of Edward Durrell Stone's more unfortunate creations, on the south rim of Columbus Circle. The art in there was pretty bad, since HH, as you can read in the Times piece, eschewed any of the then currently respected trends. I paid a visit to the windowless gallery one day and was accosted by an older, well-dressed man who asked me how I liked the pictures. I don't remember my reply, but he then confessed that he was the owner of the gallery and tried to pick me up. I managed to scoot away and later had an amusing anecdote to tell my girlfriends: "Huntington Hartford tried to pick me up! Ha ha!" Sometime later, my mother informed me that a friend of hers had actually bragged (the woman was a rather naïve provincial) that HH had tried to pick her daughter up in his gallery. My mother, highly amused and slightly more worldly, said, "My daughter, too!" Apparently every reasonably attractive young woman of the era was fair game. Perhaps HH had even built the gallery to attract new feminine possibilities. Certainly a classier joint than a pickup bar at any rate, windows or no.

Epilogue: In September 2008, after a reported $90 million renovation, the building is scheduled to reopen as The Museum of Arts & Design. I think it's supposed to have windows this time.

PDA in the NYT

The clever theme of today's New York Times crossword puzzle was "PDA," which appeared in the middle of the grid. The two PDAs in question were "public display of affection" and "personal digital (or data, which didn't fit) assistant." I'm definitely not a fan of the former, but love anything to do with the latter, being a technophile. (I always say that my life didn't really begin until I went online.) 

Well, despite my aversion to this rather icky type of display, I remember that I was, admittedly, quite enchanted by same on my first visit to Paris, many years ago and counting. Weaned on various nouvelle vague films featuring Jeanne Moreau and/or the late Gérard (sigh) Philipe, but coming from the basically puritanical U.S., I was thrilled by my various glimpses of couples embracing and locking lips on virtually every street corner or under every tree in the various parcs. It was indeed "just like the movies." My romantic phase could last only just so long, however. What looked—or maybe even still looks—great in Paris or Rome just doesn't cut it here in NYC, especially if you're doing it while sitting in front of me at the theater. Like many another bodily function, it just doesn't translate into public behavior. I'm allowing for the greeting of a loved one at an airport or similar situation, but keep it short or get a room! 

A couple of people who post on "Rex Parker's" delightful NYT crossword blog seem to agree with me. It's like a lot of other behavior that pays no attention to the sensibilities of others, e.g., not cleaning up your dog's poop or discarding rubbish in the street instead of in a bin. In the subway the other evening, a person (who looked out of it anyway) threw rubbish on the train tracks even though he was sitting right next to a rubbish bin. Well, if you want to live in the Big City, you have to put up with a certain amount of unattractive—or even illegal—behavior, but I do draw the line at PDA.

As far as Paris is concerned, it does have its reputation to live up to. I'm reminded of a scene in Cyrano de Bergerac in the Brian Hooker translation. Cyrano is trying to detain the Comte de Guiche from entering Roxane's house while she and Christian are being married. Cyrano claims to have recently fallen from the moon and not to know where he is. The Comte, after many attempts to get past Cyrano, blurts out: "A lady is waiting!" Cyrano replies: "Ah! So this is Paris!"