J’ai retrouvé une photo où je dansais Balanchine, not easy car mon partenaire de danse Charly faisait plus d’1 m 90, imaginez comme c’était facile pour les pirouettes sur pointes en me tenant à lui (rire). Les autres variations je les ai dansé avec Laurent un peu moins grand(rire) qui danse avec Sheila maintenant sinon c’était des variations en solo, c’était mieux(rire).
By The New York Times
Amar Ramasar was 11 when he first saw ballet. It was a video of the New York City Ballet dancers Heather Watts and Mel Tomlinson, in Balanchine’s radical 1957 ballet “Agon,” the dancers clad in minimal leotards and tights, performing spiky, extraordinary movements to Stravinsky’s astringent score. Mr. Ramasar, an outgoing, talkative boy from the Bronx, knew right away what he thought. “That’s the ballet I want to dance, and that’s the company I’m going to get into,” he said.
Mr. Ramasar, 33, danced that role in “Agon” twice this season, a part he has performed since 2011. He has been a principal at City Ballet since 2009, dancing a remarkably wide range of roles, and has long been a favorite for the creation of new ballets. But it is relatively recently that Mr. Ramasar has entirely come into his own, showing a new technical refinement and polish that have embellished the dynamism and muscular attack of his dancing.
Reviewing Justin Peck’s new “Rodeo” in The New York Times in February, Alastair Macaulay wrote, “Mr. Ramasar, who in the last two years has become an endearing and central artist at City Ballet, seems to carry whole sections on the tide of his immense good humor and large-scaled prowess.”
The path from the Bronx to Lincoln Center was not an obvious one. Mr. Ramasar’s father, a former Marine who worked as a computer technician, is of Trinidadian-Indian ancestry; his mother, who was a nurse, is from Puerto Rico. “No one knew anything about ballet in my family,” Mr. Ramasar said in an interview backstage at the David H. Koch Theater, where City Ballet performs. “My father didn’t prevent me from doing it, but he didn’t make it easy.”
Mr. Ramasar is tall with an athletic build and a ready smile. He retains his boyish eagerness and enthusiasm, and it’s easy to imagine him as an active, engaging child who was the storytelling champion of his elementary school and a prizewinning debater. When he was 10, a music teacher suggested he audition for TADA! Youth Theater, which selected children from schools in the five boroughs to perform in original musicals. Two out of 300 children auditioning in the Bronx were picked; Mr. Ramasar was one. His mother, working full time, couldn’t take him to the rehearsals at the Henry Street Settlement on the Lower East Side, so Mr. Ramasar learned how to use the subway by himself, commuting daily to rehearsals after school.
It would be hard to find a ballet audience member who isn’t entranced by George Balanchine’s Serenade. Set to Tchaikovsky’s Serenade for Strings Op. 48, the piece has become something of an icon for the Balanchine style. In the view of critic Edwin Denby, it is Serenade that earns Balanchine the distinction of heir of the Russian Imperial ballet tradition. “It is a completely beautiful ballet,” he says, and stands as emblematic of Balanchine’s technique:
His style is classical: grand without being impressive, clear without being strict. It is humane because it is based on the patterns the human body makes when it dances; it is not—like romantic choreography—based on patterns the human body cannot quite force itself into.
Denby ascribes an organicism to Serenade—it’s a ballet that is seemingly “just right.” This quality is echoed by dance critic and historian Nancy Goldner, who reports that as a child she thought that the ballets she saw on stage had not been created by any individual—that they had simply existed in nature for all time. She is convinced that it was Serenade that helped instill such a notion in her mind.
This mythic allure of Serenade is easy to understand, for the ballet offers much in which both seasoned balletomane and dance neophyte can delight: the fluidity of the steps, the iconic transformations of the corps, the energy underlying Balanchine’s classical technique. What makes Serenade an especially exemplary Balanchine ballet, however, is not just its style and latent musicality but its lack of an explicit narrative. The ballet “tells its story musically and choreographically, without any extraneous narrative,” as Balanchine maintained, and seems to foreclose any discrete dramatic, erotic, or narrative possibilities. This does not mean that there is no story to Serenade—just no characters or discrete plot. As Balanchine explained in his “Marginal Notes on the Dance,” music and dance supply their own story:
Music is often adjectived as being too abstract. This is a vague and dangerous use of words and as unclear to me as when my ballets are described this way. Neither a symphony nor a fugue nor a sonata ever strikes me as being abstract. It is very real to me, very concrete, though ‘storyless.’ But storyless is not abstract. Two dancers on stage are enough for a story; for me, they are already a story in themselves.
There is, then, a story of sorts in Serenade, just no libretto with a specific hero and villain and setting.
Not surprisingly and somewhat ironically, however, this allegedly story-less ballet has in fact been the subject of a voluminous number of stories with heroes, villains, and very specific settings. In fact Serenade seems to have more stories to tell than any other by Balanchine, stories that both inhere in the ballet itself and are also implicitlyintertwined with its history and continued life in the repertory. Everyone has a story to tell about Serenade, or sees some kind of story in the ballet.
Denby, like many other critics, can’t seem to help himself, calling the ballet a “kind of graduation exercise” in which “the dancers seem to perform all the feats they have learned.”5 He reaffirms that there is in fact no story, but nevertheless, “there seems to be a girl who meets a boy; he comes on with another girl and for a while all three are together; then, at the end, the first girl is left alone and given a sort of tragic little apotheosis.”
Indeed, if the ballet doesn’t relate an explicit plot, there always “seems” to be some story at work in Serenade, it’s just that no one can agree on what it is, even as they must assiduously reassert its “storyless” status. Like Denby, Goldner manages to have it both ways by maintaining that Serenade consists of a story, but a story stripped bare: “a narrative of sorts is going on, but there is no motivation, depiction of character, or other characteristics of traditional narrative to tell us where we are. The things that happen in Serenade just happen.”7 In this sense, the storyless quality of Serenade reinforces its organicist and “just-right” qualities, the feeling that it has existed for all time, much like an ancient ritual or myth.
If Serenade conjures these mythic qualities in and of itself, the ballet also figures prominently in a mythic institutional narrative in its capacity as the so-called first ballet that Balanchine created after coming to America in 1933. This “first in America” status has stuck to the ballet as insistently as any Homeric epithet and overshadows all other stories ascribed to or told about the work. Although it is technically true that Serenade was the first completely new ballet created by Balanchine in the United States, its special status in the repertory was not in evidence at the piece’s inception in 1934. In fact, the “first in America” discourse surrounding Serenade emerged only several decades after its first performances. In the pages that follow, a review of sources close to the creation of the ballet and comparisons with more recent dance history and scholarship will demonstrate how the “first in America” story of Serenade emerged retrospectively as a kind of myth of origins.
J’ai découvert la méthode Balanchine par un professeur de New York, j’avais à peine 10 ans.
Petite introduction de la méthode Balanchine
La méthode Balanchine est une technique du ballet qui a été développée par le chorégraphe russe George Balanchine. Il l’appliqua à la School of American Ballet, l’école qu’il avait créé à New York en 1934 , pour former les danseurs de sa compagnie, le New York City Ballet (1948). Il ne s’agit pas d’une véritable méthode d’enseignement étudiée pour la formation des enfants, comme pourrait être la méthode Vaganova, mais plutôt d’une technique qui vise à certaines qualités de musicalité, rapidité, dynamisme et pureté de lignes, permettant d’aborder l’esthétique néo-classique du grand chorégraphe.
Petit mot for me du Professeur lors d’un cours
Je suis convaincu que la Vérone de la Renaissance et le Londres élisabéthain avaient en commun le sexe et la violence. Ce qui les rapproche singulièrement de notre époque. Rudolf Noureev
Élevée au rang de mythe, la pièce la plus jouée de William Shakespeare – avec Hamlet – a dû attendre le XXe siècle pour être transposée en ballet. C’est Serguei Prokofiev qui, le premier, eut l’idée d’en écrire une partition, chorégraphiée par Leonid Lavrovski, en 1935. Son magnifique Roméo et Juliette inspira ensuite de multiples versions, dont celle de Kenneth MacMillan créée par Rudolf Noureev et Margot Fonteyn en 1965.
Inscrite au répertoire du Ballet de l’Opéra de Paris en 1984, celle de Rudolf Noureev reprend en grande partie le ballet qu’il avait créé à Londres en 1977. Suivant scrupuleusement la partition de Serguei Prokofiev, elle-même fidèle au drame de Shakespeare, le chorégraphe a étoffé le rôle de Roméo, « jeune garçon qui devient homme » disait-il, face à une Juliette passionnée qui, à peine sortie de l’enfance, entre elle aussi tragiquement dans l’âge adulte.
Dans les somptueux décors et costumes d’Ezio Frigerio et Mauro Pagano inspirés de la Renaissance italienne, il parvient à rendre le raffinement et la sensualité du drame élisabéthain, mais aussi toute sa cruauté.
Sur scène, la mort rôde, comme omniprésente, entre les deux familles dont la haine va entraîner le sacrifice de cette passion amoureuse et juvénile. Jouant sur la symbolique des couleurs et les différents leitmotive de la partition, il en fait une tragédie historique et flamboyante.
Balanchine Family Saturdays, New York city Ballet
Balanchine’s Christmas Miracle
Je l’ai dansé casse-noisette, j’étais une petite mirliton…très beau ballet.
Casse-Noisette, Chorégraphie Rudolf Noureev
Quand Tchaïkovsky revient au pays de l’enfance, l’enchantement et la nostalgie envahissent sa musique, mais les cauchemars et les peurs aussi. Au retour de cet étrange voyage au pays de l’imaginaire, il composa un de ses plus fabuleux chefs-d’oeuvre : une musique d’un lyrisme et d’une invention incomparables, rêveuse et parfois inquiétante, où tournoient des mirlitons, des flocons de neige et mille fleurs.
l’institut culturel de google capture en numérique l’Opéra National de Paris…