© Cambridge University Press Book Details Graham Watts dance reviews

The Companion starts with a lengthy chronology, covering some 727 years (1279 to 2006), which looks impressive but, on closer inspection, turns out to be partial and unbalanced, particularly when it comes to charting the twentieth century. The last reference to the UK is Nureyev’s ‘Romeo & Juliet’ for London Festival Ballet in 1977 and the last reference to the USA is Balanchine’s revisions to ‘Mozartiana’ in 1981 – did nothing else of interest happen here in the last 30 years? On the other hand, there are 4 references to Kylián alone and nearly 20 to ballet in Denmark over the past quarter-century (i.e. since the last reference to anything of interest in the UK or USA); ‘La Sylphide’ – wonderful iconic ballet though it is – merits 14 references (half of which are in the last 30 years), which is four more notations than all the work of Rambert, De Valois, Cranko, Ashton and MacMillan combined. Altogether it seems a strange balance of priorities and – if the jingoism can be excused – the paucity of reference to the development of ballet in Britain is inexcusable in a work that emanates from Cambridge.

Once you get beyond the amusing imperfections of the chronology (and at over 20 pages, this takes a while), the essays that follow are a remarkable tour de force through the evolution and development of ballet, giving much more than enough evidence (if such is needed) that this is a subject worthy of serious scholarship. It certainly isn’t a complete history since there is plenty that falls between the cracks of the individual contributions; it certainly isn’t encyclopedic, since there is no mention of many of ballet’s greatest contributors (Ailey, Dowell, Franklin, Grigorovich, Guillem, Grey, Kirkland and Ratmansky all fail to trouble the index); Cunningham, Nureyev and Robbins get just one reference each (the same as Bob Hope and Hitler), de Valois, Fonteyn and MacMillan a mere two; the Companion doesn’t seek to give a full theoretical framework of the ideas and concepts through which the art form has evolved; and it’s certainly not something that will help anyone to become a dancer or choreographer.

In terms of actual intent, there are two references early on to what any good companion should be: the first claims that this book is to ‘accompany you when you go to see a ballet’ and then that it will be ‘a reliable escort during a first encounter with ballet’. Although I wouldn’t recommend taking this volume to a dance venue since – at just short of 400 pages, it’s quite a hefty tome – and I certainly wouldn’t suggest it to a newcomer to ballet, because it’s a hard, academic read, which requires a significant prior knowledge of dance to appreciate.
 

Nevertheless, it is an invaluable source of extra knowledge and great enjoyment to any balletomane and should surely be in any ballet library worth the name. If you intend to own only a handful of books about ballet then this should certainly be one of them. In fact the overall quality of the 24 essays is so good that it’s essentially 24 small books wrapped up in one cover: these encompass an eclectic (though by no means exhaustive) range, covering the earliest codified dance; through the revolutions of the eighteenth century and the triumphant rise of disciplined ballet technique; the ascendancy of the romantic movement, including specific essays on Bournonville (by Anne Middleboe Christensen) and Petipa (by Lynn Garafola); through to a final section on the twentieth century, which includes a generous two essays on Balanchine (by Matilde Butkas and Juliet Bellow, the latter concentrating on Mr B as an agent of deconstructing classicism).

Although sometimes the apparently laissez faire editing allows essayists to trip over each other, the generally free flowing style of the book (not to be confused with its sometimes turgid prose) enables their collective contributions to cover a massive range with specific grouped contributions on codifying and notation, choreography and narrative, technique and training, the orchestra and music (there’s an excellent essay on Tchaikovsky’s ballet scores by Thérèse Hurley). There are even specific essays on ‘The Nutcracker’ and on ballet’s twentieth century reach into China and Cuba.

Not all of the essays are well written or comfortable to read, which is why I baulk at the idea of this being a reliable companion for the first encounter with ballet, but Ivor Guest’s foreword shows how to balance scholarliness with good writing and his lead is picked up by others – I particularly enjoyed the easy style of Mark Franko’s brief history of baroque dance, Tim Blanning’s piece on John Weaver’s importance to the early development of dance in England and Garafola’s examination of the Golden Age of Russian ballet.

There’s no doubt that ballet and dance are one of academia’s poor relations, still not taken anywhere near seriously enough in the grander universities worldwide; but ballet is an ever-evolving art and I don’t believe that it is possible ever to know more than 1% of all there is to know on a subject that changes day-by-day; if you no nothing, or very little, then this book is not the place to start; if you’re ready for it, this Companion will definitely make a small dent in the 1%!