Xaivier Le Roy
Xavier Le Roy and his dancers performed at The Kitchen.
Katrin Schoof, courtesy The Kitchen
Xavier Le Roy
New York, New York
October 918, 2002
Reviewed by Gia Kourlas
Xavier Le Roy's Giszelle opens and closes with the familiar music of Adolphe Adam's score. Apart from that, it has little in common with the Romantic ballet. In the solo, one of two presented at the Kitchen, Le Roy's approach is like a man interested in a woman for only one reason. But it's not as dirty as it sounds: He's just after her icon status.
The French choreographer, a former molecular biologist based in Berlin, conjures hallucinogenic worlds through dance. No matter how riveting the final effect, however, Le Roy achieves his goals using simple means. As his solos unfold, there are moments in which your own body can't help but react to the dips and turns, as if a floor has dropped from beneath you. The amazing part is that Le Roy doesn't rely on technology; the body is his tool.
Le Roy created Giszelle for the astonishing Hungarian dancer Eszter Salamon in 2001. The solo places Salamon in a seemingly impossible position: interpreter of two thousand years of cultural icons. But she succeeded in unraveling the evolutionary process right; as sinewy as a tiger about to pounce and as delicate as a trailing, pink silk scarf, Salamon transformed herself from an apelike creature to Rodin's The Thinker to John Travolta's disco stance in Saturday Night Fever. She delivered a moonwalk worthy of Michael Jackson, then lounged seductively on the floor, mimicking Brigitte Bardot in Le Mépris and asking a series of questions (in French), relating to body parts: "Do you like my knee? Do you like my leg?"
For the most part Le Roy subversively placed Salamon facing the back of the stage, not the audience. The dancer captivated us with her flair for motion but kept us emotionally at a distance. In the more intimate second half, Salamon returned to the stage wearing a black wig and carrying a large, plastic, plaid bag, to perform, by all appearances, a disconnected work: The B Side of Giselle (or, Parts We Had Planned Not to Show. In it, discarded props, including a small stool, and text by Kathy Acker offered a clever look at Le Roy's choreographic process. Clearly, the task-based movement pointed toward his interest in Judson Dance Theater, but The B Side is more than just a conceptual ride, academic or otherwise: Le Roy creates a world out of scraps that is theatrically concise and brimming with absurd surprises. This is another display of bodily metamorphosisclearly Giszelle's relativeyet somehow more personal. At one point, Salamon climbed into her bag and zipped it up, inching and rolling her way across the floor. In this ordinary shopping tote, she transformed herself into a charming animal.
A similar yet even more bizarre transformation marks the 1998 solo, Self-Unfinished, which Le Roy performed during the second half of his run. He began by sitting at a table, his arms and legs crossed casually; as audience members settled into their seats, Le Roy, neither combative nor bored, stared back. When he finally moved, it was to walk decisively to a boom box placed on the floor; he turned it on, but nothing happened. Returning to his chair, he rose upright in stiff, robotic movements. Hilariously, each mechanical gesture was paired with a creaking sound that he made with his own mouth.
The meat of Self-Unfinished occurred when Le Roy slowed the pace, rendering his movement practically imperceptible; he removed his button-down shirt, pants, and Converse sneakers to reveal a long, black, knit dress. Pulling the skirt over his head, he doubled over, eventually resting on his shoulders with his head tucked underneath and his legs hidden from view. With his arms flopped loosely to either side of his torso, he became a frog. And like Salamon's bag creature, Le Roy's reptilian form had a personality. In a feisty fit, he crawled under the table and, with all his might, kicked off the top.
After this grueling experience, Le Roy calmly dressed, arranged the table and chair and walked to his boom box. He pressed play, and this time a song, Diana Ross's "Upside Down," filled the formerly silent stage. As the apt words sank in ("Upside down / Boy, you turn me / Inside out / And round and round"), he disappeared from the space, leaving us to wonder: Did we see it, or did we dream it?
But Le Roy, who performed Self-Unfinished at the Kitchen in 2000, is himself the dream. His complex, visceral dances resemble a stream of photographic negatives, speeded up or slowed down, depending on the context. For both the body and the mind, it is a thrill. He is a thinking choreographer who knows that the possibilities of movement are endless.
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.
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.
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?
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.
Get Dance Magazine in your inbox
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.
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.
The Ballet Memphis New American Dance Residency, which welcomes selected choreographers for its inaugural iteration next week, goes a step beyond granting space, time and dancers for the development of new work.
This is huge news, so we'll get straight to it:
We now (finally!) know who'll be appearing onscreen alongside Ariana DeBose and the other previously announced leads in Steven Spielberg's remake of West Side Story, choreographed by Justin Peck. Unsurprisingly, the Sharks/Jets cast list includes some of the best dancers in the industry.
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.
What's next for the dance world? Our annual list of the dancers, choreographers and companies that are on the verge of skyrocketing has a pretty excellent track record of answering that question.
Here they are: the 25 up-and-coming artists we believe represent the future of our field.
At six feet tall, Jesse Obremski dances as though he's investigating each movement for the first time. His quiet transitional moments are as astounding as his long lines, bounding jumps and seamless floorwork. Add in his versatility and work ethic, and it's clear why he's an invaluable asset to New York City choreographers. Currently a freelance artist with multiple contemporary groups, including Gibney Dance Company and Limón Dance Company, Obremski also choreographs for his recently formed troupe, Obremski/Works.
Last night at Parsons Dance's 2019 gala, the company celebrated one of our own: DanceMedia owner Frederic M. Seegal.
In a speech, artistic director David Parsons said that he wanted to honor Seegal for the way he devotes his energy to supporting premier art organizations, "making sure that the arts are part of who we are," he said.
It's a bit of an understatement to say that Bob Fosse was challenging to work with. He was irritable, inappropriate and often clashed with his collaborators in front of all his dancers. Fosse/Verdon, which premieres on FX tonight, doesn't sugarcoat any of this.
But for Sasha Hutchings, who danced in the first episode's rendition of "Big Spender," the mood on set was quite opposite from the one that Fosse created. Hutchings had already worked with choreographer Andy Blankenbuehler, who she calls "a dancer's dream," director Tommy Kail and music director Alex Lacamoire as a original cast member in Hamilton, and she says the collaborators' calm energy made the experience a pleasant one for the dancers.
"Television can be really stressful," she says. "There's so many moving parts and everyone has to work in sync. With Tommy, Andy and Lac I never felt the stress of that as a performer."