Robert Fairchild is Ready to Break The Rules
In his final bow at New York City Ballet, during what should have been a heroic conclusion to a celebrated ballet career, Robert Fairchild slipped and fell. His reaction? To lie down flat on his back like he meant to do it. Then start cracking up at himself.
"He's such a ham," says his sister Megan Fairchild, with a laugh. "He's really good at selling whatever his body is doing that day. He'll turn a moment that I would totally go home and cry about into something where the audience is like, 'That's the most amazing thing ever!' "
Fairchild admits that he kind of loves it when things go wrong onstage: "It's such a high!" Mistakes and slipups give him an excuse to come up with his own script in the moment. And, more often than not, they usually mean he was taking a risk. "I would rather try and fail than not try," he says.
He's applied that same philosophy to his career: Last fall, he decided to leave life as a ballet star behind to find out what possibilities might lie in musical theater, TV and film. In the course of our conversation, he repeats the same sentence over and over, like a mantra: "You never know how far you're gonna go if you don't jump." This is his jump.
His New Gig-To-Gig Career Has Changed Who He Is As An Artist
Fairchild is taking on any challenge that interests him. Photo by Jayme Thornton
Today, Fairchild is cobbling together a career built on whatever projects pique his interest: working on a one-man show; choreographing for Broadway Dance Lab; playing modern dance icon Ted Shawn in an upcoming film adaptation of The Chaperone, written by "Downton Abbey" creator Julian Fellowes. Over the holidays, Fairchild choreographed his own performance as the monster in Mary Shelley's Frankenstein off-Broadway. In February, he flew to Los Angeles to audition for TV pilots.
This new chapter in his career has puzzled some longtime fans. Only 30 years old, he still has several years of strong dancing left in him. But that's part of the point. "If you're dancing on film, that image lasts forever," he says. "You want to be at the top of your game."
Gigs outside of NYCB had been piling up ever since his Tony-nominated performance in Broadway's An American in Paris. After leaving the show in early 2016, he appeared in A Chorus Line at the Hollywood Bowl, Oklahoma! at London's Royal Albert Hall and Kiss Me, Kate for New York City's Roundabout Theatre Company. Fairchild felt simultaneously disconnected from NYCB and too restricted by it to say yes to all the projects he wanted to do.
What's more, he'd changed as a performer. Not only had he fallen in love with singing and acting, his Broadway experience had transformed his approach to dance. "I wanted to find a story in everything I was doing. I was thinking, Why am I doing these steps? What am I saying?" he recalls. "That's my favorite thing, to tell stories."
Yet in a company where Balanchine reportedly said, "Just go and do, and don't think so much about it," Fairchild's new strategy had mixed results. Eventually, he says, he felt like he didn't belong there anymore.
Getting Back To His Original Dreams: To Be Like Gene Kelly
What his fans at Lincoln Center might not realize is that this career change is simply getting Fairchild back on track to fulfill his original dreams. He explains by telling me about a fourth-grade assignment: "In it, I wrote, 'My special place is on Broadway because there's this guy named Gene Kelly and he's a dancer just like me. And I want to be just like him someday, and I also want to be in a movie.' "
Fairchild had fallen in love with Kelly through a VHS tape of Singin' in the Rain, and became the kind of kid who—despite school bullies—would find a way to turn book reports into tap presentations. "Robbie would spend four hours a day choreographing by himself in our living room every weekend," says Megan, who's three years older.
(Despite the siblings' dual success as NYCB principals, neither of their parents had a dance background—mom was a dietitian in a Salt Lake City hospital, dad was a habitat manager for Utah's wildlife resources.)
Fairchild was a jazz and tap kid growing up. Photo courtesy Fairchild
It was Megan who instigated Fairchild's detour to NYCB. When he was 15, she convinced him to attend a summer at the School of American Ballet to polish up his classical technique. To everyone's surprise, he fell in love with it, worked his "butt off" and joined the company.
What he lacked in ideal legs and feet he more than made up for in movement quality and presence. Christopher Wheeldon, who choreographed on him at NYCB and directed him in AAiP, says Fairchild's bold performance quality reminds him of dancers of a bygone generation, like Jacques d'Amboise and Edward Villella. "Not a refined, princely technique," he says, "but a raw, masculine theatricality, a real American male dancer style. Exciting, stage-devouring dancing."
What's propelled Fairchild through any new challenge, from ballet to Broadway, is his intense drive. "He just wants to keep on digging deeper and deeper and deeper," says acting coach Joan Rosenfels.
When he was in full rehearsals for AAiP while also performing with NYCB, instead of taking his Monday nights off, he'd book semiprivate lessons with Rosenfels. He continued to take her open class throughout the AAiP run. "There he was, starring on Broadway, and he'd cheer everybody else on," says Rosenfels. "He'd stand up and scream 'Bravo!' like we were at the ballet!"
Life Outside The Ballet Studio Has Its Benefits
Robert Fairchild performs Gene Kelly's Ballin' the Jack in the Dance TV program of the 2014 Vail Dance Festival. Photo by Erin Baiano
Fairchild's retirement was announced less than three months after word broke that he was ending his high-profile marriage to fellow NYCB star Tiler Peck. But Fairchild maintains that the two life changes aren't related. "We are constantly changing variables in a constantly changing world," he explains, adding that his years with Peck were "incredibly special." But he needed to make a career change, and the timing, he says, was coincidence.
Today, he is exploring life outside of ballet. Now that his body isn't constantly fighting off injury, he can spend hours at museums without his back aching. He can walk around New York City without worrying about overworking his calves. He goes to the theater most nights of the week—plays, musicals, dance ("I've realized I love going to see the ballet!")—and has particularly devoted himself to friendships now that he has the time.
Yet he stays ready for whenever the right casting call comes his way by keeping up with singing and acting classes, and giving himself barre in his apartment building's yoga studio (sometimes with his sister, who lives nearby).
Although he's focused on performing opportunities, he's full of ideas for creative projects, including an animated movie. With endearing enthusiasm, he pronounces: "You gotta cast a wide net. Maybe you'll catch something." Then he catches himself dreaming out loud, and sort of apologizes for his optimism, adding, "Who knows? Maybe it won't happen. It's just an idea."
The thing is, however, he's got that special something that makes him succeed more often than not. "You cheer for him," says Rosenfels. Through a combination of his charm, his graciousness and, yes, his natural good looks and of course his talent, he has a way of getting people on his side, rooting for him.
"The game for me right now," he says, "is just to be ready at any point for when the right opportunity comes along. It's kind of really thrilling."
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You can see them in "Fosse/Verdon" episode one. Michelle Williams, playing Gwen Verdon, wears them with a cool, retro, forest-green jumpsuit. Tucked beneath a mop top of tousled Gwen Verdon locks, Williams sports a pair of discreet and tasteful onyx drop-earrings—the dancer's favorites. Verdon wore them all her adult life, according to her daughter Nicole Fosse, a co-executive producer of the FX series that puts a spotlight on a great woman of American dance.
"I have very little memory of my mother wearing other earrings. They were her Gwen Verdon earrings," says Fosse, speaking by phone from her home in Vermont. "She's wearing them in 99 percent of the pictures of her performing."
The way we create and consume dance is changing every day. Now more than ever, the field demands that dancers not only be able to perform at the highest level, but also collaborate with choreographers to bring their artistic visions to life. Dancers who miss out on choreographic training may very well find themselves at a disadvantage as they try to launch their careers.
Four years of lectures, exams and classes can feel like a lifetime for college dancers who have their sights set on performing. So when a professional opportunity comes knocking, it can be tempting to step away from your academics. But there are a few things to consider before putting your education on hold.
We've all been there: You see the craziest/most beautiful/oddest/wildest clip of a dance on Facebook and you simply have to see more.
But do you actually get yourself to the theater and sit through a 90-minute performance? The consensus, at this point, typically seems to be: No.
There is no clear correlation between a company's social media campaigns and how many seats they fill in the theater. That doesn't mean social media isn't, of course, vital. It simply means that "social media campaigns operating without other marketing campaigns don't cut it," says Rob Bailis, associate director of Cal Performances at UC Berkeley. "But campaigns without social media are far worse off."
It's not often that a promising choreographer gets to stage work in a world-class theater, on a skillfully-curated program with professional dancers, and with the possibility of winning a substantial cash prize. But at the McCallum Theatre's Palm Desert Choreography Festival, that's been the status quo for over twenty years.
Since Shea New, the festival's artistic director, founded the festival in 1998, she's worked tirelessly with McCallum's director of education and festival producer, Kajsa Thuresson-Frary, and stage manager and festival production manager Joanna Fookes to build a festival that nurtures choreographers, highlights high quality work, powerfully engages the local community and cultivates an audience base for dance in the Coachella Valley. The trio is backed by a strong team of professionals at McCallum and the brilliant volunteers from the local and national level who serve as adjudicators.
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Since the project was first announced toward the end of 2017, we've been extremely curious about Yuli. The film, based on Carlos Acosta's memoir No Way Home, promised as much dancing as biography, with Acosta appearing as himself and dance sequences featuring his eponymous Cuba-based company Acosta Danza. Add in filmmaking power couple Icíar Bollaín (director) and Paul Laverty (screenwriter), and you have a recipe for a dance film unlike anything else we've seen recently.
One of the country's top arbitrators has decided to reinstate Amar Ramasar and Zachary Catazaro to New York City Ballet. The former principals were fired last fall for "inappropriate communications," namely graphic text messages.
The dancers' union, American Guild of Musical Artists, fought the termination, arguing that the firings were unjust since they related entirely to non-work activity. After a careful review of the facts, an independent arbitrator determined that while the company was justified in disciplining the two men, suspension was the appropriate action and termination took it too far.
A woman passes three men in the street. The men pursue her. They thrust their pelvises at her. They continue to pursue her after she slaps one's hand and walks away. They surround her. She glances around at them in alarm. One snatches her purse (to review the Freudian significance of purses, click here) and saunters off with it, mocking her. She tries to take the purse back, and the three men toss it over her head among each other. They make her dance with them. Each time she indicates "No," the men try harder to force her submission to their advances.
This is all within the first 10 minutes of Jerome Robbins's Fancy Free, a 1944 ballet about three sailors frolicking on shore leave during World War II, beloved by many and still regularly performed (especially during the last year, since 2018 was the centennial celebration of Robbins's birth). Critic Edwin Denby, after the premiere with Ballet Theatre, called it "a remarkable comedy piece" and "a direct, manly piece."
When you're bouncing between hotel rooms without access to a kitchen, eating a pescatarian diet can be challenging. Stephanie Mincone, who most recently traveled the globe with Taylor Swift's Reputation Stadium Tour, told Dance Magazine how she does it—while fueling herself with enough energy to perform for thousands of Taylor fans.
Choosing music for your first-ever choreography commission can feel daunting enough. But when you're asked to create a ballet using the vast discography of the Rolling Stones—and you happen to be dating Stones frontman Mick Jagger—the stakes are even higher.
So it's understandable that as of Monday, American Ballet Theatre corps de ballet dancer Melanie Hamrick, whose Port Rouge will have its U.S. premiere tonight at the Youth America Grand Prix gala, was still torn about which songs to include.
What is an acceptable request from a choreographer in terms of nudity? On the first day of shooting All That Jazz in the 1970s, Bob Fosse asked us men to remove everything but our jock straps and the women to remove their tops. His rationale was to shock us in order to build character, and it felt disloyal to refuse. Would this behavior be considered okay today?
As much as audiences might flock to Swan Lake or The Nutcracker, ballet can't only rely on old war horses if it wants to remain relevant. But building new full-lengths from scratch isn't exactly cheap.
So where can companies find the money?
Today—April 16, 2019—marks what would have been Merce Cunningham's 100th birthday. As dancers from Los Angeles to New York City to London gear up for Night of 100 Solos (the marathon performance event being livestreamed today), and as companies and presenters worldwide continue to celebrate the Cunningham Centennial through their programming, we searched through the Dance Magazine Archives to unearth our favorite images of the groundbreaking dancemaker.
The entrancing power of Instagram can't be denied. I've lost hours of my life scrolling the platform looking at other people documenting theirs. What starts as a "quick" fill-the-moment check-in can easily lead to a good 10-15 minute session, especially if I enter the nebulous realm of "suggested videos."
My algorithm usually shows me professional ballet dancers in performances, rehearsals, class, backstage and on tour, which I quite enjoy. But there are the other dance feeds that I find myself simultaneously intrigued and horrified by: the hyper-elastic, hyper-extended, gumby-footed girls always at the barre doing developpés to six o'clock. There are the multiple turners, the avid stretchers and we can't forget the endless balancers.
This parade of tricksters always makes me wonder, What else can they do? Can they actually dance?
The pleasure of watching prodigies perform technical feats on Instagram can be tinged with a sense of trepidation. Impressive tricks, you think, but do they have what it takes for an actual career?
Just look at 18-year-old Maria Khoreva, who has more followers than most seasoned principals; in videos, her lines and attention to detail suggested a precocious talent, and led to a Nike ambassador contract before she even graduated from the Vaganova Ballet Academy. Still, when she joined the Mariinsky Ballet last summer, there was no guarantee any of it would translate to stage prowess.
As more states legalize cannabis, it seems the sales pitch for cannabidiol—or CBD—gets broader and broader. A quick internet search turns up claims that CBD helps with pain, depression, acne, arthritis, anxiety, insomnia, heart disease, post-traumatic stress, epilepsy and cancer. But the marketplace is unregulated, which makes it tricky to find out what CBD actually does.
A bright disposition with a dab of astringent charm is how I remember Brock Hayhoe, a National Ballet School of Canada schoolmate. Because we were a couple years apart, we barely brushed shoulders, except at the odd Toronto dance party where we could dance all night with mutual friends letting our inhibitions subside through the music. Dancing always allows a deeper look.
But, as my late great ballet teacher Pyotr Pestov told me when I interviewed him for Dance Magazine in 2009, "You never know what a flower is going to look like until it opens up."
One night. Three cities. Seventy-five dancers. And three unique sets of 100 solos, all choreographed by Merce Cunningham.
This incredible evening of dance will honor Cunningham's 100th birthday on April 16. The Merce Cunningham Trust has teamed up with The Barbican in London, the Brooklyn Academy of Music in New York City and the Center for the Art of Performance in Los Angeles for a tri-city celebration.
The best part? You don't have to be in those cities to watch—Night of 100 Solos is being live-streamed in its entirety for free.
When George Balanchine's full-length Don Quixote premiered in 1965, critics and audiences alike viewed the ballet as a failure. Elaborate scenery and costumes framed mawkish mime passages, like one in which the ballerina washed the Don's feet and dried them with her hair. Its revival in 2005 by Suzanne Farrell, the ballerina on whom it was made and to whom Balanchine left the work, did little to alter its reputation.
Yet at New York City Center's Balanchine festival last fall, some regretted its absence.
"I'd want to see Balanchine's Don Quixote," says Apollinaire Scherr, dance critic for the Financial Times. "It was a labor of love on his part, and a love letter as well. And you want to know what that looks like in his work."
Even great choreographers make mistakes. Sometimes they fail on a grand scale, like Don Quixote; other times it may be a minor misstep. Experiment and risk help choreographers grow, but what happens when a choreographer of stature misfires? Should the work remain in the repertory? And what about a work that fails on some levels but not others?
After the horrific March 15 terrorist attacks at two New Zealand mosques, the music and arts community sprang into action to plan a way to help victims and their families. A series of resulting concerts, titled "You Are Us/Aroha Nui," will take place in New Zealand (April 13 and 17), Jersey City, New Jersey (April 17) and Los Angeles (April 18). Proceeds from ticket sales will be donated to the Our People, Our City Fund, which was established by the Christchurch Foundation to aid those affected by the attacks.
Throughout 2019, the Merce Cunningham Trust continues a global celebration that will be one of the largest tributes to a dance artist ever. Under the umbrella of the Merce Cunningham Centennial are classes and workshops, film screenings and festivals, art exhibitions and symposia, and revivals and premieres of original works inspired by the dancemaker's ideas. The fever peaks on April 16, which would have been the pioneering choreographer's 100th birthday, with Night of 100 Solos: A Centennial Event, featuring a total of 75 dancers in three performances live-streamed from London, Los Angeles and New York City.
Cloud & Victory gets dancers. The dancewear brand's social media drools over Roberto Bolle's abs, sets classical variations to Beyoncé and moans over Mondays and long adagios. And it all comes from the mind of founder Tan Li Min, the boss lady who takes on everything from designs to inventory to shipping orders.
Known simply (and affectionately) to the brand's 41K Instagram followers as Min, she's used her wry, winking sense of humor to give the Singapore-based C&V international cachet.
She recently spoke with Dance Magazine about building the brand, overcoming insecurity and using pizza as inspiration.