 |
|
September 28, 2006
Lac To Basics
Pre-Rupes
I’m relearning Odette/Odile for some shows in Aldeburgh, wiping away twenty years of accretions.
Back in the early eighties, I began work on what is now Madame Galina The New Forces’ Sweetheart with Odette’s mime, rehearsing with Stella in the foyer of the Royal Opera House during curtain up. Nowadays I work to backing CD’s. Back then my accompaniment was Alex and Harold calling one another stupid, big cows in the stalls buffet, Irene Garfield BA Hons dishing out bananas from her shopping bag on wheels and threatening to draw a picture of anyone else who laughed at her to take to house management, and Heather Pearl mounting banshee guard over the foyer ladies’ loo. Washing her tights at a sink, she would shriek at anyone she didn’t recognise,
‘This loo is for bona fide ballet lovers only."
Shades of ‘This is a local shop. For local people.'
When she had finished her laundry, she would go into the stalls circle to ‘help’ the dancers.
‘From my mind,’ she explained, ‘I help them to move, and to avoid falls.’
She never forgave herself for being away from the Opera House the night Wendy Ellis fell and broke both her wrists during Fille.
But you know, I struggled for two years or more to be able to finish the thirty-two fouettes. I’d give them a good go four times a day, at home and in the foyer, get to sixteen, usually, and conk out. A few times I made it to nineteen and once to twenty-four, but never to thirty-two. And one night, when Heather was out in the foyer telling us about her affair with Anthony Dowell, I had another try at them. I got to nineteen, had another go: sixteen, had another go: ten. Knackered, I gave up.
‘Do them again,’ Heather said, ‘and spot on me.’
‘I can’t,’ I said, ‘my leg’s had enough.’
‘Do them again. You’ll get through them this time.’
I did. And I did. Touch wood, too, I’ve done thirty-two fouettes ever since. Ask the marines…
Red letter days. And here I am relearning Odette. The main thing I’m doing just at the moment is working out a version. I used to do the run, split jump, and the arabesque posees stuff with the back bend and jerky head movements.
‘She’s preening delicate feathers,’ Stella would correct, ‘not shaking most of Loch Ness out of her ears, please.’
Now, I’m keeping it simple. First arabesque, drop into fourth, and small head movements. It’s what Fonteyn did. And if it was good enough for her…
Like prose, as I was explaining to Rupert Farquharson, an extremely gifted young writer I know: not using longer words when shorter ones will do. For example, I told him, when I recently edited the written content of burlesque male stripper Sexecute’s website, the first thing I did was change,
‘If you have a fantasy-based scenario you would like to discuss, contact the above telephone number with your query’
to
‘Whatever your fantasy, ring and ask.’
Margot would have been proud.
 |
 | ||||||||
|
| ||||||||
|
| ||||||||
|
| ||||||||
|
| ||||||||