© Penguin 2005 Fonteyn in Quotes:     Her first NY performance remembered by those who were there. Margot Fonteyn by Meredith Daneman Published by Penguin Books Ltd on 4 August 2005 ISBN: 0140165304 Two views on Meredith Danemens's Margot Fonteyn book Helen Bishop Alex Martin Margot Fonteyn in Ballet.co Legends section Order the book from www.dancebooks.co.uk reviews by Alex Martin

The programme was not a very good one - Les Sylphides, Le Roi Nu (a rather indifferent ballet by de Valois, to music by Jean Francaix I believe) and the last act of Casse Noisette. Fonteyn danced in Les Sylphides, mazurka and pas de deux, and some of the music from this ballet, likewise Casse Noisette, was familiar - but I didn't quite know what to make of it all, as this was my first contact with live dance, and in fact my only other contact with dance of any sort had taken place in the cinema, while watching Fred Astaire (who else?) and, I think, the equally marvellous Nicholas Brothers.

However, being at that time rather 'arty' myself I started to attend some ballet performances whenever I could afford it (seats in the gallery were ninepence 'early door' and sixpence 'late door' - to me a fortune) and later the harsh necessity of leaving school and taking a job as a very junior clerk with a stockbroker gave me more pocket money, and I was thus able to attend every performance right up to the beginning of the war, and so able to recognise the dancers and their individual qualities.

Fonteyn seemed at home in the Ashton ballets, very sentimental in Les Sylphides, and when performing in the classics rather terrifying in her lack of technique, especially in Swan Lake. I felt the role should have been givn to Pamela May, a dancer with a more 'hard edged' line, and I was delighted to see that she would be dancing the second act of this ballet at an up-coming Saturday matinee. Of course I was there, and was puzzled by my disappointment in the performance .....WHY was it, that this dancer, stronger technically and cleaner in line, had not pleased me as much as Fonteyn?

Up until 1939 the Vic-Wells company had only danced twice per week, but I seem to remember that plans were announced to increase the number of performances, starting in September of that year. Adolf Hitler however, had other ideas, and I, finding London without dance, started taking lessons, later joining a small touring ballet company, and early in 1946 auditioned for, and was accepted by, the Sadlers Wells Ballet Company at the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, and for nearly three years I had the un-paralleled joy of watching Fonteyn at close quarters.

She was, there is no doubt, a very remarkable person. She had a tremendous sense of resposibility, a fantastic sense of what was due - never late for rehearsals, no scenes, no hysterics, no demands, no airs - but many graces.
 

Softback book cover. Release is 4 August 2005
© Penguin 2005

There were still many weaknesses however. Of the three rather drab Swanildas offered in 1946 she was decidedly the best by far, but even so it was danced with what one critic called "Fonteyn's mirthless smile", and it didn't have much fun to it. In "The Rake's Progress" as the Betrayed Girl she was still slightly sentimental, and unable to achieve the dry styalisation that the choreographer had had in mind, and in the Massine ballets she seemed absolutely swamped, and watching her in "The Three Cornered Hat" one began to wonder what it was that Karsavina had had, and that Fonteyn didn't - or was it that Diaghilev had had a hand in the casting? Swan Lake was infinitely stronger, especially the ballroom scene when she danced Princess Odile - a role she referred to as Princess Odol (an english toothpaste) - but nothing could compare to with what she brought to "Symphonic Variations" - a something more than herself.

And then of course, there was that little ballet called "the Sleeping Beauty", which was for me and the rest of the company, three hours of un-limited joy when it featured Fonteyn. I remember two performances especially clearly. The first was on the occasion of her return from guest appearances with Roland Petit's company in Paris, the first time that she had danced with another major company. Petit had created for her an ideal role as a cat-woman in "Les Demoiselles de la Nuit" and she had had a tremendous success in this part. She returned to dance "The Sleeping Beauty" with a renewed confidence, a new make-up and renewed success, and she dazzled us all.

The second, and completely over-whelming performance took place sometime in the spring of 1948. Her Act ! was so absolutely astounding that we all asked each other "WHO is in front?"..................it was of course, Sol Hurok, 'casing the joint' for possible American performances. (In passing I think that it is a dreadful tragedy that there is no visuual record her complete performance in this particular production).

Shortly after this I left the company, but my contact with it remained, and my ex-fellow dancers told me that prior to her New York appearance no one dared to speak to her for at least three days, so dreadfully responsible did she feel, knowing that a company stands or falls depending on the quality of its ballerina.............yet once on stage in New York she delivered, oh how she delivered - would to god I had been there.

I was at the first performance of "Daphnis and Chloe" and I remember thinking that she was working too hard, conscious of her desire for the success of the ballet. It seems to have taken her time to 'settle in' to a part, and I was then reminded of the first performance of "The Wanderer" in the early forties. In her early days she was terrified of being lifted high, yet her entrance was in first arabesque, held high above their heads by three male dancers, holding her 'supporting' leg. Her fear was apparent, yet it seems that she never thought to ask for it to be altered, and she went on to give a performance of great brilliance.

Oh how she could surprise one...........In "Tiresias" she had a longish dance with four men, which began with them sitting on the ground in a circle around her, with their legs spread wide. She was incredibly sexual, lascivious even, and I found myself in the dressing room after, asking "WHO was that girl with the four men?". "Fonteyn you fool" was the reply.

At another time a less happy conversation had taken place in that same dressing room. All London knew that Fonteyn had been ill, and there was even talk that she might never return to dance. I had asked how she was, and everyone looked utterly miserable, and I was told that she had been at a rehearsal, and had walked from the room with a male dancer supporting her on either side, and she continually asked them, while giggling, which foot did she have on the floor...

Alas I missed her triumphant return in "Apparitions" - perhaps just as well, for I might have made a fool of myself and cried for joy. Apropos of Tiresias, she said that her husband asked her to no longer appear in that ballet, because of the above-mention ed dance. Other of her sayings that I remember:

"I think I will put my feet in the gas oven ...and then I come on and smile and do a few steps, just to keep things going."

"I really believe that if people knew how very difficult dancing is, rathetr like bull-fighting actually, they wouldn't enjoy watching it quite so much".

I once reminded her of the latter remark, and she said with a smile "Oh, I really must have been having a bad day". She disliked any suggestion of praise. I had asked her about the Ashton gala, which she had organised, for example, which bit of "Horoscope" had they done? She told me that it had been the 'Moon's' dance, and went on to tell me that they had had great trouble with Katie Willow's dance from "The Lord of Burleigh" as there had been so many different versions choreographed, and she admitted, with a tinge of self-reproach, that she had had even more trouble remembering her solo from "Nocturne" and I, in my foolishness, began to say "Oh, I remember the angle of your back in those opening arasbesques...." and the subject was quickly changed.

When she was on her book tour she came to Cleveland, and I asked her how on earth she found time to write her autobiography..............."Well" she said, "I took three months off from touring. Imelda Marcos told me that I absolutely should. She made me. You know, she's a very determined woman". And apropos of Imelda Marcos I remember a time when an action of Fonteyn's (in conjunction with Ms. Marcos,) really, really threw me.

It was a Miss World, or Miss Universe or Miss Galaxy contest, scheduled to take place in Manilla, and I, never having visited the Phillipines, idly switched on the television, hoping for at least one view of Manilla. The judges were being announced, and the first name was that of Margot Fonteyn, who rose and bowed.

"Never an idle moment" might have been one of her guiding principles - as President of the Royal Academy of Dancing she went over the syllabus with a fine toothcomb, completely revised it, and came up with something sensible and productive. I asked her how this came about. "Well, I was sitting there in a meeting one day, and somebody said something about 'arabesque saute' - now HOW many people do you know who can do a good arabesque saute?" (I nearly said "Well, there is YOU," but bit my tongue) - and she continued "So something had to be done about it".

The last time I ever spoke to her was at a small party in Cleveland. She was touring, and to my intense amazement, I found us in a corner, discussing the technique of turning, as if we were a couple of equal-level dancers at the usual party, when dancers do that usual thing.

Somebody - an American dancer - once said to me "I really believe that you are in love with Fonteyn". I probably was, and always will be. So, it seems, was everyone else who ever knew or worked with her, even slightly. I do know that she was, and still is, the main influence in my life, and whatever good qualities that I may have achieved and am proud of, come from her example.

As a dancer she was unique in her ability to rise to absolutely any occasion, and to invest many of her roles with what one can only call instinctive genius. As a person she was open to all (perhaps to a fault) treating everyone as an equal, and refusing to hear asnything derogatory of anyone she knew, springing immediately to their defence.

When I heard of her husband's death, I cried out "Oh no!" knowing what sadness it would bring her.

When I heard of her death I cried.