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Though I'm not in a position to go, I've just read the initial responses to San Francisco Ballet's London appearance and I felt a sort of "me, too" compulsion to post some of my "notes" (from prior viewings in prior seasons in San Francisco) about Mark Morris' "Sandpaper Ballet" as a sort of preview for those who haven't seen it before.<P>“Sandpaper Ballet”: choreography Mark Morris; music Leroy Anderson; costumes Isaac Mizrahi; Lighting James F. Ingalls; premiered San Francisco 4/27/99.<P>Renee Renouf writing for ballet.co.uk suggested that “Sandpaper Ballet” confirmed Morris’ choreographic genius for ballet. I can only suppose that she meant genius for ballet versus that for modern dance (of which answer, the monumental “l’allegro, il penseroso, ed il moderato” suffices). Surveying past reviews it seems that it is something of a lightweight—“cheeky,” “delightful,” “great fun,” etc – in other words not quite worth serious thought; or, paraphrasing literary critic, Terry Eagleton, on serious academic pursuits, if a work of dance (or literature) is going to be taken seriously it would first be necessary to make, “the whole affair rather more intimidating and dispiriting.” As Eagleton does, I would like to suggest otherwise: “Sandpaper Ballet” is as worth discussing in detail as any other ballet that ends in madness and suicide.<P>Consider, for example, the ballet’s beginning. The lights dim and the orchestra begins. After a few seconds, we recognize the familiar tune, “Sleigh Ride.” But, this tune familiar from years of Christmas commercialism does not bring up the curtain. This song functions as the overture to full evening ballets and opera does—it gets everybody to sit down and shut up. This “sit down” function is why, I think, the overtures to “Giselle,” “Coppelia,” and “Sleeping Beauty” begin with such crescendos. But, the use of “Sleigh Ride,” a winter holiday tune in the middle of spring (premiered in April) also alerts the audience to expect the unexpected. Morris is saying that ordinary things will be used in extraordinary ways.<P>His plan is immediately implemented as the curtain rises to reveal the ensemble in Mizrahi’s fanciful white and green costumes. These are white unitards but with a green band across torso, trunks, skirts, and arms like a green swath. The green arms in particular look like long evening gloves but salamander green in color. The ensemble is dressed identically—no hierarchy of principals, soloists, and corps--the emphasis will be on choreographic invention rather than on individual performance (though there will be plenty of opportunity for that). The extreme bodily legibility reminds me of Suzanne Gallo’s best designs for Merce Cunningham’s company.<P>“The Typewriter,” the first dance introduces three important ideas. The ensemble are assembled in neat rows and columns and as the music plays they move from position to position along an imaginary keyboard. With the “carriage return,” a dancer must rush from the back row to an empty spot at the front like the carriage returning to the beginning of the line, or like getting to the last seat in musical chairs. Morris is pointing out the pleasure of movement games. But, these games don’t necessarily rely upon the dans d’ Ecole. This is a post-Judson Church lesson—non-dance movement--walking, turning, running, and standing are also legitimate. However, play and games aren’t as simple as that. During the second melody, the dancers step broadly, warily, watching each other as if ready to pounce, reminding us that ballet often shows an element of rivalry with characters watching each other waiting their turn to dance centerstage—precedents-- “On the Town,” or even “Giselle” peasants pdd, or “Swan Lake” Act I pdt.<P>Though the faultiness of my memory prevents a more indepth look at more of the ballet, I would like to point out that repeatedly, the ballet emphasizes traditional themes and makes contemporary allusions. For example in the third section, “Trumpeters Lullaby,” returns to the more traditional theme of romance and fantasy. A boy dances alone across the stage with superb brisé voles. He is looking for something or someone. He finds nobody. But, when he holds his hands before his eyes, a small ensemble brings onstage a girl held aloft. When the trumpet melody returns, she dances his introductory variation across the stage. The piece ends in companionship. Tina Leblanc danced this on the original cast and I always thought her wonderful in this section. “Balladette” is another take on the romance theme and was what I always imagined represented the residue of the ballet blanc in this work. This is an adagio pdd for a wide eyed girl and boy. He carries her in slow circles. They sit, legs entwined on the stage. It is a romantic’s idea of young love: pure and chaste and perhaps innocent in a sticky sweet way. I always liked Julie Diana in this part. 20th century dance put paid to that sort of romantic feeling, but it’s nice to visit it once in a while.<P>No doubt fresh insights will come from more viewing (a big *hint* to London readers). Here are a few more: The contrast between the all girls’ “Jazz Pizzicato” and the rivaling boys’ “Jazz Legato” again highlights rivalry as a general ballet theme. Think a little along the lines “Agon” or of the rival gangs in “West Side Story.” Tina Leblanc again was a standout as was David Palmer (alas, now dancing for his own company in Miami)—pure attitude and insouciance. In “Fiddle Faddle” there are allusions to Balanchine’s “Rubies” though the music is definitely not Stravinsky—think of the business and vivre of “Rubies” but redone for a cast of ducks and geese (to steal a phrase from Pauline Kael)—more neo-Looney Tunes than neo-classical. A girl (Megan Low) skips in and out of the wings setting up and defeating expectations that she is about to do something flashy—drawing attention to the ease with which ballet audiences are manipulated.<P>Leslie Young was wonderful as “The Girl in Satin” doing a slinky little dance that is a little ballroom and a little ay carumba. When the dance is over and she must return to her place in the ensemble, Leslie is pure attitude while the other girls look at her as if saying, “what’s her deal.” It’s the sort of thing you can imagine Moyna and Zulma saying to each other as Giselle wilts Myrtha’s rosemary. Could this be a humorous allusion to the final moments of the “Andante” movement of “Serenade” when the girl who walks in late finds her place in the ensemble?<BR> <BR>Finally, the parade ground maneuvers alternating with Busby Berkeley-like shenanigans of the concluding “The Syncopated Clock” again alludes to the Judson Church choreographers’ inquiry into the definition of dance—is it enough to have interesting movement patterns (like the band at a football half time show) or is dance something more? Is it out of place to observe that in the Busy Berkeley quotations of “Syncopated Clock,” the men spanking each other is performed in manner guaranteed to bring a smile to even the most tortured face.<P>Well, those are all my “notes” on one of my favorite works by San Francisco Ballet. I notice that the casts aren’t quite the same as I have seen, but with a company with such high caliber principals, soloists, and corps, I have no doubt that new revelations will continue to be seen in London.<P>[This message has been edited by Jeff (edited August 13, 2001).]<P>[This message has been edited by Jeff (edited August 13, 2001).]<p>[This message has been edited by Jeff (edited August 15, 2001).]
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