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winter 2001- 2002

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"...when a company marks its 50th anniversary, as the National Ballet of Canada is doing throughout its 2001/2002 season, rather than sigh of apprehension the more
natural response is a sigh of relief.
'We made it!'"

 



50 Seasons of Celebration

The National Ballet of Canada Turns 50

By: Michael Crabb


For ordinary mortals turning 50 can be a disquieting experience. You know you've passed the halfway point of sentient existence. You find yourself lingering over ads for hair treatments and rejuvenation creams. The distinction between an RRSP and RRIF suddenly assumes more than academic significance. There are only so many Nutcrackers to be endured.

Ballet companies, of course, are not ordinary mortals. In a very human sense they remain forever young. So, when a company marks its 50th anniversary, as the National Ballet of Canada is doing throughout its 2001/2002 season, rather than a sigh of apprehension the more natural response is a sigh of relief. "We made it!"

As befits a large performing arts organization that has survived periodic perils to celebrate its demi-centenary, the National Ballet marked the historic event with a special November 11 performance in Toronto attended by some 200 company alumni. After a dazzling display by the dancers of today, the old-timers joined them on stage for a triumphant bow amidst a cloudburst of white and gold balloons. There had already been loud cheers when the images of former stars and directors appeared in a video tribute compiled by veteran producer Norman Campbell from half a century's worth of Canadian Broadcasting Corporation television archives.

James Kudelka, the company's current artistic director, was not even born when the then 30-member troupe gave its debut performance. So when he fell to his knees to present a bouquet to 80-year-old founding artistic director Celia Franca, the crowd went wild. Dame Celia - well, if she were still in her native land she would be a "Dame" by now - is rumoured to have growled at Kudelka, "Lower."

Afterwards everyone filed out into the Hummingbird Centre lobby for coffee and birthday cake amidst much hugging and kissing, photo snapping and autograph signing. Two ladies whose presence might have added a welcome touch of vitriol to the love-in - founding National Ballet School principal Betty Oliphant, no friend of Franca's, and ousted ballerina Kimberly Glasco, no friend of the National Ballet's - were notably absent. So, it was altogether a happy event and a momentary opportunity to forget the fact that Canada's biggest ballet company is once again beset by the kind of financial problems that have so often bedevilled its past.

Thankfully, the situation is not as dire as the days when Franca would have to make appeals for money from the stage or telephone rich board members to rescue the cash-strapped company on tour. Even so, the fact that the company still has trouble making ends meet is a sobering thought in this time of merry-making.

When Kudelka's immediate predecessor, Reid Anderson, took the helm in 1989, he had close to 70 dancers and a budget that in real terms was worth almost double today's. The economy was booming. Everyone was doing lunch and the National Ballet Company and the Canadian Opera Company were poised to build a ritzy new Moishe Safdie-designed theatre with massive government backing. Then the economy soured. Ontario's new New Democrat government pulled the plug on the ballet-opera house, corporate fund-raising became an increasing challenge and governments everywhere turned their attention to reducing debt.

Anderson did a spectacular job of holding things together and his infectious enthusiasm proved a boon to private fund-raising efforts. During his watch, private giving - notably by the National's "Care Bear" Walter Carsen - underwrote a host of new productions and helped the acquisition of splendid new headquarters in 1996. Today the diminished company rattles around in its spacious premises. Even Anderson, however, had his limits. When Ontario's new Tory government slashed arts funding in the middle of the 1995/96 season, Anderson threw in the towel and left to head the much better supported Stuttgart Ballet.

Kudelka, whom Anderson had brilliantly wooed back into the National fold, bravely accepted the challenge of keeping the company alive and so far has done remarkably well, despite the fact that his current 50-dancer troupe is scarcely large enough to stage the larger works in the repertoire. Even so, the National still has trouble adjusting to the new fiscal realities. By 2000 its accumulated deficit was close to $4 million Canadian on a roughly $16 million annual operating budget.

Encouragingly, the company has managed to stem the flow of red ink and even posted a modest surplus on its 2000/2001operations, but it is sailing very close to the wind. When Celia Franca, invited to Toronto from London, England by a determined core of local ballet patrons, launched her fledgling 30-member troupe on the cramped stage of the Eaton Auditorium, November 12, 1951, she certainly hoped it would be for the long haul. Even Franca, however, could scarcely have imagined all the twists and turns, seemingly insurmountable hurdles and recurrent crises that would have to be negotiated before the company could begin to feel confident of its permanent place in the Canadian cultural landscape. Franca quit in 1975 under less than happy circumstances. She had formally resigned the artistic directorship a year earlier. Having carefully groomed her associate, David Haber, to succeed her, Franca was looking forward to a continuing artistic role in the company.  Haber, however, although a man of great artistic discernment and administrative ability, was neither a former dancer nor a choreographer. He was immediately seen as Franca's stooge and fell victim to backroom politics before ever having a chance to prove himself.
Thwarted by the machinations of her enemies, Franca severed all remaining formal ties with the company and moved to Ottawa. "As far as I'm concerned," she told me at the time, "the National Ballet can take a running jump." Happily Franca's wounds healed quickly, in no small measure because of the salving diplomacy of Alexander Grant who, after an illustrious career with Britain's Royal Ballet, arrived as artistic director in 1976. From Grant's perspective, Franca was the National Ballet's equivalent to Ninette de Valois. He would not brook direct interference but he did make sure she felt valued and honoured.

The company continued to perform her production of The Nutcracker and Grant persuaded Franca to perform a number of memorable character roles. From being the company's mother she retired into the role of affectionate granny. Although the National Ballet no longer dances Franca's Nutcracker - the most enduring of several full-length classics she staged for the company over the years - her enormous contribution to its artistic evolution is fully acknowledged and her relations with the company are entirely cordial. The fact that Kudelka now leads the National in many ways symbolizes the extent of her achievement. Kudelka is a Canadian whom Franca hired as a dancer in 1972 after his graduation from the National Ballet School she'd founded 13 years earlier. He is also its principal choreographer. The seed sown by Franca has put down deep indigenous roots.

Rather than mark the 50th anniversary with one blowout gala bash, Kudelka has programmed the entire season as a statement of what the company was and is. John Cranko's Romeo and Juliet, which in 1964 ushered the company's move from Toronto's 1,500 seat Royal Alexandra Theatre to the cavernous 3,200-seat O'Keefe (now Hummingbird) Centre, was chosen to tour Western Canada early in the season and is returning to Toronto this February. Act III of Rudolf Nureyev's opulent staging of The Sleeping Beauty, the work that in 1972 launched the company's long and sometimes controversial association with the Great Defector, is also being given in a mixed bill in February. Works by George Balanchine, which in significant quantity only joined the National's repertoire in the post-Franca years, are represented during the season by Apollo and Mozartiana. Kenneth MacMillan, whose choreographic impact on the company has at best been marginal, was
represented with a November revival of his bittersweet Solitaire. Feld, another passing influence, will see his 30-year-old Intermezzo packaged in a May programme with Voluntaries, the work of a far more signficant figure in National history, Glen Tetley. It was Alexander Grant who first brought in Tetley.


For the next several years Tetley ballets, revivals and new works, became an important component of the repertoire. Tetley himself served effectively as part of the triad that ran the company after the untimely death in 1986 of Erik Bruhn, who had succeeded Grant three years earlier.  Recognition of Frederick Ashton, the influence of whose choreography did much to expand the overall expressiveness and musicality of the company's dancing during Grant's tenure, is also paltry - only Monotones in February. More regrettable is the complete omission of anything by Bournonville. The National has a handsome Bruhn staging of La Sylphide and remains the only North American troupe to have produced, again under Grant's leadership, the full-length Napoli. It has inexplicably been mothballed for years. Equally the works of Antony Tudor, a major contributor in the National's early years, are nowhere to be seen.

Carping about repertory choices for a milestone anniversary season is, perhaps, churlish given that the National is already stretching itself to the limit. The company of almost 70 dancers that years ago could count on appearing at The Met in New York or Covent Garden in London can nowadays scarcely afford to leave home. The company has not danced in London since 1987. When it returned to New York in 1998 after a decade-long absence, it was to City Center not The Met. It lost a mountain of money. The costs of touring, placed in the context of the company's perilous financial situation, mean that even in its 50th anniversary season there will only be about 90 performances. Compare that with the 39-year-old, 72-member Australian Ballet's 180 annual performances.

Thirty years ago the National was dancing close to 200 shows a year. As this edition goes to press, a plan to tour a 14-dancer Concert Group through Atlantic Canada later this season hangs in the balance, waiting on government funding. It is to Kudelka's great credit that he has refused to allow adversity to dim his artistic vision. The nasty Glasco affair, when it seemed Kudelka might quit, has blown over. Instead of moaning about what has been lost, Kudelka has focused on how best to utilize what remains and has embarked on a process of renewal. He has a canny sense of the need to adjust to changing audience tastes, particularly those of younger audiences, has blown away the cobwebs that can often accumulate in the corners of a classical ballet repertory company and has injected a spirit of artistic adventure.

As a programmer, like other directors before him including Franca, Kudelka is enough of a realist to accept the need to offer inconsequential crowd-pleasers such as the recently revived Ronald Hynd Merry Widow, which launched the hometown season in October. Kudelka has countered the artistically retrograde effect of such money-spinning confections with his own imaginative new stagings of such classics as The Nutcracker, Swan Lake and most recently The Firebird. He has been brave in the championing of tyro choreographers within the company and has offered abstract works of his own that excite audiences through the brilliance of their musical intelligence and choreographic invention. Kudelka's most ambitious production to date, The Contract, will be unveiled in May as the culmination
of the anniversary season. It's his first completely original evening-length dramatic ballet and with typically Kudelkian improbability and bravery will somehow combine elements of the life of Canadian evangelist Aimee McPherson with themes drawn from Browning's Tale of the Pied Piper.

Despite financial hardships, the National Ballet today is a remarkably vital artistic institution. Kudelka has wisely surrounded himself with capable associates, including Karen Kain, the former company prima ballerina who retired in 1997 and Valerie Wilder, a former company dancer and now the company's long-serving and able administrative boss.  Even so, without increased government support - a mere 30 per cent of its operating budget comes from the public purse - the company's chance of regaining a conspicuous position on the international dance scene appears limited. Many of the former dancers who gathered in Toronto for the nostalgic alumni weekend in early November remember the days when Canada's largest ballet company travelled the world. The dancers of today can only dream about it.

It is not their loss alone. The National Ballet of Canada is arguably a more artistically

vital and interesting company than it has ever been. It can stand tall and proud among the best internationally. It deserves to inhabit a larger realm and the world deserves to see it. <end>

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"The Academy is not a star factory, but that is often forgotten today."



A conversation with Altynai Asylmuratova
Artistic Director of the Vaganova Ballet Academy
in St. Petersburg


By: Marc Haegeman
In January 2000 Altynai Asylmuratova succeeded to the late Igor Belsky as Artistic Director of the Vaganova Ballet Academy in St. Petersburg. Just 39 at the time of her appointment, Altynai Asylmuratova was still performing as the senior ballerina of the Kirov troupe and also regularly appeared as a guest artist with various companies around the world. However, by accepting these new responsibilities it became clear that her dancing career would take a different course, and a lot sooner than was expected.

Yet, even if this turn of events may have surprised more than a few, surely nobody will have harboured any doubts as to whether Altynai Asylmuratova is the right person for the job. One of the most gifted and internationally acclaimed ballerinas of her generation, Asylmuratova has been widely recognised as a supreme exponent of the Vaganova School. Born in Alma-Ata, Kazakhstan, into a family of dancers, she trained at the Vaganova from 1970 to 1978, graduating from the class of Inna Zubkovskaya, renowned for her attention to beauty and grooming. Upon graduation she joined the Kirov Ballet, soon giving that company the face as well as the soul it needed during the last quarter of the 20th century.

Now, almost two years after her appointment as Artistic Director, I thought it rewarding to talk with Ms. Asylmuratova about her work and her first experiences at the Academy. With its history of over 260 glorious years and continuous generations of talented artists on its roster, the Vaganova is one of the world’s most illustrious ballet schools. It is the cradle and the guardian of St. Petersburg classicism, and has as such been defining for a large part what the dance world has always valued and cherished as the “Russian style”. It is also a very complex organisation with a Soviet mortgage trying to survive in a difficult period of transition. Ushering that venerable house into the new century, indeed presents more than a challenge.

Notwithstanding her busy schedule at the Academy Ms. Asylmuratova gracefully consented to give this interview for Dance International.

MH: Ms. Asylmuratova, how would you characterize, briefly, the importance of the Vaganova Academy for Russian ballet in general, and for the Maryinsky Theatre in particular?
AA: If I had to put it in one word I would say professionalism. When you consider just the Maryinsky Theatre, the Academy and the ballet company have always been closely linked. They are in fact one institute. All the way through history there has been a continuous exchange of people and talent. The Academy gives the ballet company most of its dancers. Teachers who worked at the Academy continue as repetiteurs or give class in the company, while retired dancers of the Kirov Ballet continue as teachers in the Vaganova. It’s really like a chain. Our basic principle has always been to teach from hand to hand, or from leg to leg if you prefer. It’s not possible to learn from a book alone. You need people with experience to hand down our traditions from one generation to the next.

MH: How did you became artistic director of the Vaganova? Was this your own decision?
AA: No, I didn’t think about it really. It just happened, as people from the Academy invited me to take the position. I always had the most profound respect and admiration for our School and what it represents as an artistic institute. Of course, I had no experience for this kind of job, but I think I can say I know something about my profession [smiling]. I didn’t accept it for the sake of my career, but I did it because I love the arts – it’s more than anything an emotional matter. I admit that I hesitated for some time, because I had no idea what it was and wondered whether I would be able to handle this “big machine”. There are actually two sides to the coin: I remember the School from my own days as a student there and I know almost all the professors, which to some extent makes it easier for me; but on the other hand, I wasn’t really prepared for it. Yet in the end I considered that I could do something for the Academy, maybe not much, but still something good.

MH: I sense that you encountered several problems at the Academy. Can you tell me something about those? AA: Well, it’s like life you know. I want to obtain the best in everything for the Academy, but just as in life it’s not possible to achieve the ideal. Moreover, the situation of the School is linked to the general political and economical situation in this country. But to remain within the limits of the School, yes, there are some problems. Our own, small problems. You see, when you work with a teacher who has been around for 30 or 40 years, he or she will tell you immediately what has been lost and why.

MH: For example what has been lost?
AA: When you watch a video tape of dancers of the old generations, for instance Galina Ulanova, Marina Semyonova, or a bit later Natalia Dudinskaya, you can see a certain coordination of body and arms, a musicality - you might call it ‘singing with the body’ - and above all an emotional depth to the dancing which no longer seem to exist today. The technique was present alright, but it was never there just for the sake of technique. The accent was first and foremost on emotion. However, now it’s all about high legs. I consider that a serious problem. All we seem to think about today is how high the legs can go, but there is hardly any concern anymore about form, plastique, harmony, and about what’s coming from inside, about soul. That’s something we lost.

We also need to work on our feet. Graduates from the Paris Opera Ballet School are perfect in this respect. Their feet are a true delight. Even though our School has always been famous for arms and upper body, I think it should be possible to enhance our feet. It’s not even a question of changing the methods of teaching, we just need to switch the accents.

When I became director I found out that lessons in French and music had been dropped at the School. Two essential things for a dancer: all ballet terms are in French and we work our whole life with music. Yet, they were no longer obligatory. I have already reinstated them.

MH: It’s a well know fact that in recent years the Maryinsky Theatre accepts more and more graduates from other schools than the Vaganova Academy. What do you think of this development?
AA: That’s a sad evolution. It’s necessary that School and Theatre remain close together. The thing is that not every graduate can be immediately ballerina or premier danseur. We all know it takes time for people to develop, yet now the Theatre wants graduates who can immediately tackle Don Quixote or Swan Lake. The Theatre wants “stars”. What we deliver, however, is a good professional base. We provide just the material for different theatres and once the students graduated it is up to these theatres to use them, to work with them. The Academy is not a star factory, but that is often forgotten today. We have students with different personalities and of various abilities. Of course, there will always be a talent that stands out, but in any case, no matter how talented or physically gifted, when they leave the School they are not ready yet for the very top. They are not stars. If you take famous examples from the past like Ulanova, she, too, began with small roles and she developed slowly, step by step.

MH: Or like yourself?
AA: Yes, I was in the corps de ballet for four years. Maybe that was way too long, who knows, but still I feel it’s necessary to go through all the steps. The corps de ballet is like a school as well. Moreover, a dancer needs guidance all the time. It’s important to have a repetiteur.

This phenomenon of the young stars is also worrying. Dancers of twenty are behaving like big stars, thinking they can do everything already. That’s not the right mentality. Not everybody is able to handle this star status. It’s only the most intelligent ones who can get away with it. And on another level it’s worrying because these young stars at the Maryinsky are seen as examples by the students, while in fact they shouldn’t be.

MH: Isn’t the famous style of the Kirov Ballet at stake with the increasing recruitment of non-Vaganova trained dancers?
AA: Quite. And it’s so obvious. We have a course for dance teaching at the Academy and when people from other schools come here to teach or to learn to teach, you can immediately spot the difference. Theoretically it’s the same, but in practice it’s so different. Especially the arms and the coordination, which are unique in our School.

MH: Many people see you now as a teacher. But do you actually give classes or teach?
AA: Right now I do give class, but that’s only a temporary situation because one of our teachers is in Brazil for three months. Of course, it would be better not to interrupt the courses, but we have to do it for financial reasons and we give teachers the opportunity to do guest contracts abroad.

I like to teach and would be interested to guide a dancer. My own repetiteur Olga Moiseyeva, who worked with me during my whole career in the Kirov, gave me a lot of important things and I want to hand this on to a new generation. It’s interesting and I love working with young people.

MH: Some of your old professors are still at the School today. How does it feel to work with them now?
AA: Good! [laughing] In the beginning it felt very strange really, also for them I guess, but they never let me feel it. I try to keep a good spirit in the School. Also, I didn’t arrive as director of the School with the idea of making a big splash. These people have been there for so many years. They know very well what it’s about and I don’t want to stir things up. I just want to give them the opportunity to work in comfortable surroundings. If I have some disagreement, I try to work it out the quiet, diplomatic way. That usually gives the best results. Even if it’s not always the easiest way, because you know that artists are not normal people. They are very emotional, sometimes downright weird, and you need to find the right way how to deal with these many different characters. Artists remain children for their whole life and have to be encouraged and cajoled all the time. But for me it’s the result that counts. I don’t believe in this continuous shouting and screaming to obtain results. It just doesn’t work. Yet if you do it just once in a while, when it’s really needed, it makes more impact.

It needs a lot of diplomacy and you have to realize that many of the professors in the school are old people. I respect them a great deal. The work they are doing is invaluable and without any prospect of fame or fortune. Nobody knows them. The repetiteurs in the ballet company are famous, but who knows any of the professors of our School? Everybody knows Moiseyeva, Kurgapkina, and people like that, but hardly anybody can name a professor of the Vaganova Academy. And yet it’s a much harder and ungrateful job than to work with a soloist in the company. It’s very monotonous, sometimes boring. Our professors work like 40 years in the School and get nothing for it. They don’t have a car, a house, just nothing. Still they continue the tradition because they love ballet. And that needs all our respect.

MH: How is the financial situation of the Academy?
AA: I don’t want to say much about that, because I cannot say anything good about it [smiling]. Of course, we try to find some extra possibilities, for instance by sending a teacher to Brazil or Japan for a few weeks or a couple of months. But it’s a difficult situation, because each teacher has his or her own class and cannot be missed for an extensive period at the School. When a teacher is absent for two or three months, one can already see it. It’s not right. But sometimes it’s necessary.

MH: The Vaganova is famous for academic dance. Do you also pay attention to contemporary dance?
AA: Yes, some years ago Igor Belsky introduced a modern dance class and I think it’s a good development. We recently found a good teacher for this section and I like the results so far. It’s strange, but when you do contemporary dance it helps for your classical training. Sometimes young people feel too constricted in classical ballet, yet modern dance allows them to open up and to relax their bodies, so it has a benign effect on their classical training. And of course, our students need to be ready for various choreographies.

MH: Do you think that classical ballet still has a future in the 21st century?
AA: Yes, of course, classical ballet will always be there. By contrast, contemporary is good for two or three years, and it already became old-fashioned. But Sleeping Beauty, Swan Lake, … these ballets will exist forever.

MH: I understand that your new position at the Academy directly affects your career as a ballerina.
AA: Right. I decided to quit dancing. It’s not possible to do both jobs. Moreover, I am a woman and I have my family, my daughter. And when I do something I cannot do it half and half, it needs to be done all the way. I really cannot divide my life between School, Theatre and home.

It’s no tragedy. It’s normal. And I decided to go in a quiet way. No goodbye, no grand gala or anything – I didn’t want that. It’s quite Russian, you know: it’s like when you are invited to some place and you just leave without saying goodbye [smiling]. © Marc Haegeman, 2001 then a break. I like the rhythm of it. No two days are alike. It keeps you moving! <end>

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