Dance through a Different Lens

It was thrilling for me to walk into Auditorium Theatre last night, not as just a spectator, but as press. Maybe I shouldn’t admit that I get as excited about these baby steps as I do, but, shoot, it felt pretty amazing to walk up to the media table and accept my free ticket to the opening night of the Joffrey Ballet’s Othello, and receive my press kit. This is the kind of thing I’ve always wanted to do--write arts reviews. The magazine for which I’m reviewing the production may not have the largest circulation figures, but if I can combine my two greatest loves—dance and writing—I feel more than lucky. Getting to view the ballet at no cost, getting published, and getting paid a little to write the review? That's a pretty successful venture in my eyes.

I walked into the gorgeous theatre (Auditorium Theatre doesn’t get old for me), got situated, and looked around. I’d gotten dressed up, as I always do for the ballet. Looking around, it occurred to me that I’d done so entirely for myself, since it's probably a rarity to meet a man who’s both single and straight going to see the ballet. Needless to say, I soon tired of people-watching and opened my folder. I was not expecting the 15 pages of press materials they gave me, but I quickly realized that out of all those pages, there were only about four sentences that would be relevant to my review.

It wasn’t long before I was surrounded by writers, which was a comforting experience. I sat next to an older woman who writes a weekly column for a paper in South Chicago. She started telling me how her best friend used to dance for Balanchine, which is more than just a little impressive (and this friend danced with Nureyev and Margot Fonteyne). Too bad her friend wasn’t with her. The woman herself, however, has interviewed dancers and choreographers including Ruth Page, so I was kind of impressed by her, too. She expounded on the history of the Joffrey for me, telling me about the modern years (which, in her opinion, were the “dark years"), the advent of live orchestra music at Joffrey performances, and the general evolution of the Joffrey Chicago. She certainly made me feel as though my knowledge were limited.

But then I asked her if she used to be a dancer. She chuckled, said she’d taken about a month of classes, then gave up when she found out how difficult it was. She took one look at me and asked me if I was a dancer. I told her that I used to be, and she flattered me by saying that I look like one (this is one compliment I will never tire of hearing). I shared a little bit about my dance background and told her that I still take adult classes at the Joffrey, as often as I can. Then it appeared that maybe she was a little impressed by me.

Anyway, it was amusing to me that, during the ballet, I discovered I can write legibly and in straight lines without looking at my notebook. I filled up several pages with notes, in the darkened house, unable to see any of it, and not wanting to take my eyes off the dancing. I was happy to find that I could read it all afterward. Some of the writers around me took no notes, but, as in the classroom, I can’t imagine being without them.

Anyway, the ballet was beautiful, and I think you should go see it. But if you want to know the details, you’ll have just have to read my review. :) Which I haven’t written, yet, and probably should be writing right now. But I’m not feeling the pressure of the deadline yet and I’m clearly behind on the blog.