Over the course of my revived interest in both classical ballet and modern dance, I realize that I have written accounts of the choreography of Frederic Ashton, George Balanchine, Jerome Robbins, and Martha Graham. This morning I was struck by what I feel has been a serious sin of omission on my part: I have not yet written anything about the work of Anthony Tudor. Tudor came “up through the ranks,” dancing originally with Marie Rambert in 1928 and then moving to New York in 1940 to become one of the major figures associated with what is now American Ballet Theatre.
One of Tudor’s most enduring achievements was also one of his earliest works as a choreographer, “Jardin aux lilas” (lilac garden). It would not be too great of an exaggeration (if it were exaggeration at all) to call this the most intense quarter-hour of choreography that has even been created; and, as its Wikipedia page (citing David Vaughan’s entry about this ballet in the International Encyclopedia of Dance) declares, it is “considered to be the first of the genre of psychological ballets.” Traditionally, ballet narratives involve a woman and a man that eventually find happiness and let you know it by dancing a grand pas de deux. More often than not, there is a third figure in the narrative that comes between the woman and the man. “Jardin aux lilas” ups the ante, so to speak, with the entanglements of two women and two men.
Only one of these has a name: Caroline. The ballet is set at a garden party, which is probably taking place on the eve of her marriage. When the curtain rises, we see her with The Man She Must Marry; and it does not take long for even the most casual viewer to realize that not all is well in the garden. Each of them carries uncomfortable baggage. For Caroline it is the dancer identified as Her Lover. For her future husband it is the woman identified as An Episode in His Past. Tudor uses the music of Ernest Chausson’s Opus 25 “Poème” for violin and orchestra as the “engine” to advance the complex entanglements of these relations. (Some of the most intense emotions unfold during violin cadenzas.) There is also a small corps of wedding guests that provide a backdrop of “proper behavior” to complement the tension of those entanglements. The whole thing culminates in the stately procession of all four of the characters side-by-side, placing Caroline between her future husband and the man she still loves.
As may be expected, mere words are a poor substitute for the complex inventions of Tudor’s choreography. The good news is that it does not take long to find a complete performance in a video on YouTube. The bad news is that there is no background information about any of the performers. The file was posted on June 24, 2019; and, in all probability, it is an “unauthorized” video of a performance by American Ballet Theatre. Back when I had contacts at the Dance Notation Bureau (I was supervising a graduate student whose thesis amounted to “word processing” software for Labanotation), I knew that such videos were a valuable tool for notators and tended to be given don’t-ask-don’t-tell treatment. Even in that context, I realize that I may be spilling beans that will result in this video being taken down from YouTube.
[Note: Anyone that knows any of that background information, particularly the names of the four leading dancers, should feel welcome to provide anything useful by submitting a comment to this article.]
Regardless of shortcomings, however, I feel obliged to advise all readers to take a look at this video while they can. Anyone who has never seen this ballet should strike this iron while it is hot. Mind you, Tudor himself created several more of these “psychological” ballets; and, for my money, he still dominates the market for intense examinations of human nature. Nevertheless, “Jardin aux lilas” was the first one “out of the gate;” and, over the many years during which I have enjoyed performances of both ballet and modern dance, it remains (to mix metaphors) the one ring that rules them all.
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