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1HERSA1 F037 The Sydney Morning Herald JANUARY 29-30, 2011 SPECTRUM 37 Review by Valerie Lawson Dance APOLLO’S ANGELS: A HISTORY OF BALLET Jennifer Homans Allen & Unwin, 608pp, $59.99 Elevating ... the choreographer George Balanchine working with his dancers; the Russian ballerina Tatiana Riabouchinska in Le Coq D’Or; the Australian Ballet’s Mr B! A Tribute to George Balanchine. The evolution of ballet from etiquette to art took place against a background of political, social and economic upheaval. Bound for heaven, step by step J ennifer Homans sees the art form of ballet with the cool eye of an academic but under- stands it with the muscle memory of a former professional dancer. With this rare combination of skills, she has written a landmark history of ballet covering 400 years, from the French court of Henry II and Catherine de Medici in the 16th century to the death of George Balanchine in 1983. Homans illuminates, analyses, contextualises and always asks why – why did this kind of dancer emerge at this time or that ballet at that time and why should we care? Unlike so many histories of dance, the book sets its subject within its era, not in a vacuum pack in which nothing else exists. Free of jargon and postmodernist references, Apollo’s Angels is not just for the cognoscenti who write for themselves and their close circles. That’s not to deny its intellectual rigour (Homans holds a PhD in modern European history from New York University), and those who have a firm grasp of performing arts history will find many new insights. The scope of her book is the way in which ballet evolved within the European political, social and economic landscapes of the West, from the beginning in Italy, then France, when ballet was a form of etiquette rather than art, to certain key moments in history, among them the production of The Sleeping Beauty that reopened the Royal Opera House in Covent Garden after World War II. This event, said the economist and balletomane John Maynard Keynes, was a way of “declaring peace, so to speak, by restoring again this frag- ment of civilisation”. Throughout her book, Homans weaves her themes of ballet as a civilising force and of the way dance was considered to elevate its parti- cipants. Angels enter the picture in the mid-16th century when the son of Catherine de Medici, Charles IX, established the Academie de Poe ´sie et de Musique, whose members thought humankind could move closer to the angels – to celestial harmonies – by dancing. But then, as now, there were dark angels hovering around ballet. Catherine de Medici was one. The grace and elegance of the extravag- ant spectacle Ballet Comique de la Reine came at the same time as savage civil and religious conflicts, such as the murder of Huguenots in the St Bartholomew’s Day Massacre, in which de Medici played a major role. Even today in popular culture, ballet is imbued with the idea of white and black, innocents and dark angels. This summer’s cult movie is Black Swan, in which Natalie Port- man stars as a ballerina whose vir- ginal innocence is pitted against a black-hearted rival. In Apollo’s Angels, the narrative springs most vividly to life in Russia, when Peter the Great came to power in 1689. Transforming himself into a European, he dispensed with rituals of Russian life, took fencing and dancing lessons, wore Western clothes, shaved his beard, encour- aged his courtiers to speak French and imagined himself as a latterday Louis XIV, the king who had danced in the role of Apollo. This led, in turn, to the promin- ence of ballet in St Petersburg and the creation of the twin pillars mark- ing ballet’s place as an imperial Rus- sian art, Swan Lake and The Sleeping Beauty. Homans writes with the insight of a performer about the way in which the corps de ballet in Swan Lake is an ensemble created by Tchaikovsky’s music and how the choreography of his collaborator, Marius Petipa, made dancers “move like courtiers with chest open and a light, high centre of gravity” in The Sleeping Beauty. Homans’s analyses of key dance works of the past two centuries are profound, among them La Sylphide, Giselle,Balanchine’s Apollo and Agon and Jerome Robbins’s West Side Story. She cruelly dismisses the British choreographer Kenneth MacMillan and idealises Balan- chine, the choreographer whose work she knows best as a student and a former dancer in both the San Francisco Ballet and Pacific North West Ballet. Her book concludes with an elegy to the end of ballet, to a time when, the author believes, we no longer believe in ballet’s ideals, when we are sceptical of elitism and skill, when ballet audiences wallow in nostalgia and when today’s artists are “unable to rise to the challenge of their legacy”. All highly debatable and, no doubt, grist for the advance publicity mill. Ballet has always been about to die but there is always someone who manipulates it back to life. Homans’s description of the dan- cers in Frederick Ashton’s Les Ren- dezvous, choreographed in 1933, reminds me of the work of today’s resident choreographer at the Royal Ballet, Wayne McGregor. “They break the rules as fast as they make them . . . at times the steps double back on themselves with tricky changes of direction punctu- ated by generous bends through the torso, leaving the impression of pressing urgency and languid suspension at the same time.” McGregorexactly. Today’s choreographers are absent in Apollo’s Angels. It will take a new Homans in 40 years to deliver the verdict on both them and the elevating art of ballet. Valerie Lawson is the Nancy Keesing Fellow at the State Library of NSW and is writing a history of ballet in Australia. Equinox tides, Orion’s beach, Jervis Bay Walking the beach, the first time for a year, there’s evidence of storms, of bladderwrack and kelp. The year’s been hard — not much achieved, new grip of age, slow ache of bone — now seaweed, algae, turtleweed, some littoral, impedes my feet; augophylum delicatum, sea lettuce, as we used to say, fading, cured under salt. Seagrass, funnelweed, burnt sticks, here dumped aloft like fallen flags, marking last night’s wet advance; each buffet from the pulsing tide heaped neptune’s necklace, coralline, all ramparts in a chain of marks, new-floated flotsam higher still, these creeks excited, stirred with salt, the ocean’s fingers snaking onto land. But samphire holds the higher ground, despite the roar, the dunes endure, and each and every sweeping wave, starts me dancing, on the strand: the next one won’t be quite as high, the water will retreat, it must; recall the day, the night, the moon, repeat each step to equinox: the promise brought by tides. Margaret Barbalet Poem
Transcript of 29/01/2011 1HERSA1 F037dancelines.com.au/wp-content/uploads/2011/02/Apollos-Angels-Vale… ·...
1HERSA1 F037
The Sydney Morning Herald JANUARY 29-30, 2011 SPECTRUM 37
Review by Valerie Lawson
DanceAPOLLO’S ANGELS: AHISTORY OF BALLETJennifer HomansAllen & Unwin, 608pp,$59.99
Elevating ... the choreographer George Balanchine working with his dancers; the Russian ballerina Tatiana Riabouchinska in Le Coq D’Or; the Australian Ballet’s Mr B! A Tribute to George Balanchine.
The evolution of ballet from etiquette to art took place against a background of political, social and economic upheaval.
Bound for heaven, step by step
J ennifer Homans sees the artform of ballet with the cool eyeof an academic but under-
stands it with the muscle memoryof a former professional dancer.With this rare combination of skills,she has written a landmark historyof ballet covering 400 years, fromthe French court of Henry II andCatherine de Medici in the 16thcentury to the death of GeorgeBalanchine in 1983.
Homans illuminates, analyses,contextualises and always asks why– why did this kind of danceremerge at this time or that ballet atthat time and why should we care?Unlike so many histories of dance,the book sets its subject within itsera, not in a vacuum pack in whichnothing else exists.
Free of jargon and postmodernistreferences, Apollo’s Angels is not justfor the cognoscenti who write forthemselves and their close circles.That’s not to deny its intellectualrigour (Homans holds a PhD inmodern European history from NewYork University), and those whohave a firm grasp of performing artshistory will find many new insights.
The scope of her book is the wayin which ballet evolved within theEuropean political, social andeconomic landscapes of the West,from the beginning in Italy, thenFrance, when ballet was a formof etiquette rather than art, tocertain key moments in history,among them the production ofThe Sleeping Beauty that reopenedthe Royal Opera House in CoventGarden after World War II. Thisevent, said the economist andballetomane John Maynard Keynes,was a way of “declaring peace, so tospeak, by restoring again this frag-ment of civilisation”.
Throughout her book, Homans
weaves her themes of ballet as acivilising force and of the way dancewas considered to elevate its parti-cipants. Angels enter the picture inthe mid-16th century when the sonof Catherine de Medici, Charles IX,established the Academie de Poesieet de Musique, whose membersthought humankind could movecloser to the angels – to celestialharmonies – by dancing.
But then, as now, there were darkangels hovering around ballet.Catherine de Medici was one. Thegrace and elegance of the extravag-ant spectacle Ballet Comique de laReine came at the same time assavage civil and religious conflicts,such as the murder of Huguenots inthe St Bartholomew’s Day Massacre,in which de Medici played a majorrole. Even today in popular culture,ballet is imbued with the idea ofwhite and black, innocents and darkangels. This summer’s cult movie is
Black Swan, in which Natalie Port-man stars as a ballerina whose vir-ginal innocence is pitted against ablack-hearted rival.
In Apollo’s Angels, the narrativesprings most vividly to life in Russia,when Peter the Great came to powerin 1689. Transforming himself into aEuropean, he dispensed with ritualsof Russian life, took fencing anddancing lessons, wore Westernclothes, shaved his beard, encour-aged his courtiers to speak Frenchand imagined himself as a latterdayLouis XIV, the king who had dancedin the role of Apollo.
This led, in turn, to the promin-ence of ballet in St Petersburg andthe creation of the twin pillars mark-ing ballet’s place as an imperial Rus-sian art, Swan Lake and The SleepingBeauty. Homans writes with theinsight of a performer about the wayin which the corps de ballet in SwanLake is an ensemble created byTchaikovsky’s music and how thechoreography of his collaborator,Marius Petipa, made dancers “movelike courtiers with chest open and alight, high centre of gravity” in TheSleeping Beauty.
Homans’s analyses of key danceworks of the past two centuries areprofound, among them La Sylphide,Giselle, Balanchine’s Apollo andAgon and Jerome Robbins’s WestSide Story. She cruelly dismisses theBritish choreographer KennethMacMillan and idealises Balan-chine, the choreographer whosework she knows best as a studentand a former dancer in both the SanFrancisco Ballet and Pacific NorthWest Ballet.
Her book concludes with an elegyto the end of ballet, to a time when,the author believes, we no longerbelieve in ballet’s ideals, when weare sceptical of elitism and skill,when ballet audiences wallow innostalgia and when today’s artists
are “unable to rise to the challengeof their legacy”. All highly debatableand, no doubt, grist for the advancepublicity mill.
Ballet has always been about todie but there is always someone whomanipulates it back to life.
Homans’s description of the dan-cers in Frederick Ashton’s Les Ren-dezvous, choreographed in 1933,reminds me of the work of today’sresident choreographer at the RoyalBallet, Wayne McGregor.
“They break the rules as fast asthey make them . . . at times the stepsdouble back on themselves with
tricky changes of direction punctu-ated by generous bends through thetorso, leaving the impression ofpressing urgency and languidsuspension at the same time.”McGregor exactly.
Today’s choreographers areabsent in Apollo’s Angels. It will takea new Homans in 40 years to deliverthe verdict on both them and theelevating art of ballet.
Valerie Lawson is the NancyKeesing Fellow at the State Libraryof NSW and is writing a history ofballet in Australia.
Equinox tides, Orion’s beach,Jervis BayWalking the beach, the first time for a year,there’s evidence of storms, of bladderwrack and kelp.The year’s been hard — not much achieved,new grip of age, slow ache of bone — now seaweed,algae, turtleweed, some littoral, impedesmy feet; augophylum delicatum, sealettuce, as we used to say, fading, cured under salt.Seagrass, funnelweed, burnt sticks, here dumped aloftlike fallen flags, marking last night’s wetadvance; each buffet from the pulsing tideheaped neptune’s necklace, coralline, allramparts in a chain of marks, new-floated flotsamhigher still, these creeks excited, stirred withsalt, the ocean’s fingers snaking onto land.
But samphire holds the higher ground,despite the roar, the dunes endure, and eachand every sweeping wave, starts me dancing,on the strand: the next one won’t be quiteas high, the water will retreat, it must; recallthe day, the night, the moon, repeat each stepto equinox: the promise brought by tides.
Margaret Barbalet
Poem
