I’m sure most people will know the Dangerous Liasons story from the film (one of the few times I can hand on heart say that the film is as good as the book, with the brilliant Christopher Hampton writing the screenplay.) Basically it’s nasty French aristos romping around shagging pure and pretty maidens, playing vindictive mind games, fighting duels and generally buggering up people’s lives. No wonder the Jacobins got popular! The book is simply a series of letters between the major characters, all fabulously articulate about the intricacies of motive and intention, and the film extracts the very best verbal performances and sharpens and intensifies them until every exchange of words is a perfect gem, like this between Merteuil and Valmont, the villains of the piece, witty, urbane, amusing, and both out to unsettle and outwit the other:
“It wasn’t pleasure I was after, it was knowledge. I consulted the strictest moralist to learn how to appear. Philosophers, to find out what to think. And novelists, to see what I could get away with. And in the end I distilled everything to one wonderfully simple principle… …win or die.”
“So, you’re infallible, are you?”
“lf I want a man, I have him . . . “
Somehow it’s hard to imagine how that could be danced. Still I’m here now and I promised a review.
I’ve never read a ballet review so not sure what what it is I’m meant to remark on. Costumes I imagine are important, but unfortunately I was high up on the back row and couldn’t make out much detail beyond the villain wore scarlet and black (not that I’d have anything intelligent to say about clothes, but I’m sure an adjective or two would have occurred had I had a better view.) The set though was impressive, a bare white stage, a couple of white chairs and a writing desk, two large mirrors at either side, a large gauze screen that was occasionally employed as a semi-transparent backdrop (behind the scenes shenanigans I was thinking?), four chandeliers that were raised out of sight occasionally (to indicate change of venue perhaps?) and one large glass paneled door at the back of the stage. I can only imagine the story through the film these days and the film set was sumptuous, excessive and often dark, so the stark plain theatre set was a bit of a shock. It did make it easier to concentrate on the dancing though.
There’s a lot of dancing in ballet, isn’t there. Virtually non stop. And it is very pleasurable to watch incredibly talented and meticulously trained people do their stuff. Or just to listen to the delicious thud as twelve people leap into the air, spin in what appears to be a gravity defying fashion, then hit the ground at precisely the same time. There was one bit where one of the guys was sat on a chair and he leaned over to the dancer next to him and seemed to flip her into the air and across his body with just the slightest wrist action. Totally impressive. Also there was a lot of hurling women half-way across the room and dragging them about the place by the heel (it was so much more fun to dump a girl in the Eighteenth Century! Texting is much less dramatic.) The sex scenes too were amazing and I was convinced that ballet can do the naughty stuff much better than novels can. Jerry Hall’s wrong when she claimed bad sex writing was like bad sex in that both were better than nothing; nothing is better by far, leave it to the dancers, they were exquisite! So it was great fun to watch and very impressive . . . but I didn’t really get why one thing followed another or how what I was watching related to the story. For most of the time I hadn’t a clue what was going on or why people laughed at certain moments (I’m still wondering about one of the jokes I missed, but it had everyone in the place guffawing so it must have been a belter) and the only time I really cottoned on to what was happening was when I caught a reference to the film, such as the scene where Valmont spurns Tourval, which was gloriously danced and must be hell for the female dancer, but I still had John Malcovich in my head saying “You have brought me great pleasure, but I simply cannot bring myself to regret leaving you . . . it’s the way of the world . . . quite beyond my control,” as he drags Michelle Pfeiffer by the hair and stamps his foot. That’s my problem. I think in words, and I transform everything in life into little verbal arrangements, not physical movement. I was always wondering what had happened to the dialogue. And my mind kept wandering away from the dancing on the stage to the back story, how these dancers had been chosen to do this, how the director had decided on certain movements for certain emotions.
So at the half time break I was a little bewildered. Word hungry and story starved. I got a pint of Stella and went to stand with the dating crowd who all seemed to come in pairs or small packs. There was just me and my Nokia. Thank heavens for Twitter! I checked in, had a bit of a moan, and again got nothing but derision for my ballet predicament; one guy, a very intelligent cultured fellow telling me to knuckle down and stop wasting his tax dollar. Most people yelling at me to come to the pub . . . I would certainly have been more comfortable. It wasn’t that I wasn’t enjoying it, I just didn’t know what to think about what I was seeing. And the outside world still seemed negative.
I did go back in for the second half. Enlightenment never came. Looking around the audience though I can honestly say I’ve never seen a more gripped, rapt, transported bunch of people. Obviously the ballet worked for them. It wasn’t a stereotypical demographic either (though I have no idea what a stereotypical ballet audience is, I don’t know anyone who goes regularly, never have.) Painfully white and overwhelmingly middle class I suppose, but nobody who wouldn’t have fitted in down the Grove later.
After the applause had stopped and we filed out of the theatre I was still trying to make sense of the experience. It would have been good to have had someone to talk it over with and I did dally with the dating idea, but the longer I dithered the more I felt like an intruder. Anthropological observation probably wasn’t appropriate and I didn’t feel comfortable just tagging along for a free glass of Pinot. Maybe I’m a snob. It just seems a bit contrived to me, a tad artificial. I don’t use a microwave or eat out of tins and prepackaged dating seems to be just like that, at the convenience end of the market. Not that I’m decrying dating (and of course I am single and looking for a tall, dark, nerdy neurotic for mutual torment and episodes of existential despair; you know where to find me ladies) but I can’t see how it could possibly be amusing when all the ambiguity and mystery has been removed and your intentions are a plain as the name badge on your jacket pocket. Doesn’t the dating ritual then become obvious, explicit, almost contractual, and how can anyone flirt under those circumstance? Flirting is a bit like idleness:
“There is no fun in doing nothing when you have nothing to do. Wasting time is merely an occupation then, and a most exhausting one. Idleness, like kisses, to be sweet must be stolen.”
How can dating be fun when it’s organised, when there’s someone with a clip board in charge, anxiously enquiring “are you enjoying the flirting yet?” Could you imagine Valmont at a dating event?
Anyhow, I gave the daters the slip and thought about the ballet all the way back home. Did I enjoy it? Yes. Would I rush back? Probably not . . . but that’s more about my own limitations. I can appreciate the artistry and the effort but it doesn’t connect emotionally. Given the choice of the book or the film the ballet wouldn’t be an option. Perhaps that is a class thing, though I have no great animosity any more, and I’m certainly glad its there, but it’s a bit like the church; I don’t understand why you’d want to go there but I’d defend anyone’s right to indulge in a bit of elaborate daftness if that’s what gets them through the day. When I got home however it was straight to the bookshelves. Fortunately for me my favourite form of cultural expression is best enjoyed in solitude in the comfort of an arm chair, with a glass of wine in one hand. Also, oddly enough, that tends to be my solution to the dating problem too.
Love the post Phil, not sure I would care for the single mingle going on, but I do love ballet. For some reason I hadn’t quite twigged Dangerous Liaisons was a ballet – I don’t get into Leeds much. I do find it very easy to be transported by the music and dance though…but that’s just me, I did ballet as a teeny girl, my grandparents rented ballet’s on video for me, and that’s where my love came from.
If I’d known that I would have invited you along to compare notes and explain what the heck was going on. It might have been fun going to the other event with someone else too . . . everyone else had gone with a mate, and I hadn’t thought of that. I’m so out of touch with popular culture. High culture too, obviously.
“I think in words, and I transform everything in life into little verbal arrangements, not physical movement.”
And therein lies the problem in having writers review the visual arts, in writing. Both incline the reviews to review only the elements that such works can share with writing, such as dialogue and story, when these can be far from the important things if not non-existent in film for example. I can’t begin describe or give an opinion something visual or audio to someone without at least as much use of gesticulation and sketches as of speech – the speech itself also tending towards the abstract.
I totally agree. Though some writers do manage to convey image and physicality beautifully, Adrian Stokes on art or ballet, or A J Liebling on boxing . . . Liebling was a verbal genius, a real writers’ writer, and you can hardly imagine the guy even managing to climb into the boxing ring let alone throw a punch but he managed to convey all the skill and the pain of a boxing match perfectly. He was a genius writer though. Maybe that’s the problem.
Wow!
Great piece. Great.
Congratulations.
Fantastic post Phil. Glad we can enjoy it second-hand through your brilliant writing, as I wouldn’t fancy actually having to experience it! Nice one.
I think there’s definitely a play in the dating stuff, it just lends itself to comedy . . . maybe I could do some participant observation and pass it off as research? Hmm, there’s a thought. The ballet will take some getting used to though.
Sounds like a great idea. I think they call it a ‘rom-com’?
Sorry.
Well…stranger research has been done. Just ask Pete Townshend.
Wonderfully worded review Phil.
I suspect if Emma had been successful in trying to convince me to write this it would have carried much the same sentiment, albeit far less eloquently worded!
S
I didn’t realise that people turned up in pairs and packs to that sort of thing . . . though now we know!
Perhaps you would have made more sense of the ballet than I? Enjoyable but definitely something to indulge in moderation . . . maybe once or twice a lifetime.
I wouldn’t know. Can imagine a lot of people would go to that kind of event for a laugh and in packs. They can smell those left standing alone with only Nokias for company and move in for the kill I reckon. Probably a good job you escaped while you could 😉
I doubt I would have made any more sense of the ballet than you did, not something I’ve ever experienced. I’d probably appreciate the visual aesthetic and have admiration for technique and choreography/production etc. but I suspect I lack the culture to appreciate it fully. Like you said, I think I would have felt like a cultural intruder. I’m paranoid enough that I’m being mentally judged when I do my food shopping, hahahaha
Actually we should organise a trip of ballet innocents led by someone who has a clue. Wonder if Northern Ballet could provide a gentle introduction for oiks like us? I don’t see why we should feel like intruders in our own city . . . and where the hell do you shop? I suggest Morrisons in Hunslet. People who shop there are genuinely paranoid. Just don’t look ’em in the eye over the fresh fish counter.
Great review Phil, you’ve actually tempted me to go and see the ballet.
It’s one of those things I think one should experience in life…if only to say you have been. And the dancers sounds pretty impressive.
Michelle
The dancers were fabulous. I can’t imagine how they did half the things they did. And the music was perfect. If you go take someone who’s been before so they can explain what’s going on, when to clap, when to laugh, when to leave . . . that’s where I went wrong.
I really enjoyed this piece Phil.
I think it’s a shame you felt excluded from the piece. Maybe you could remember that the choreographer would have been as clueless as you at first as to how to translate the themes and narrative of the film into movement.
He may have used tools such as using the emotions described within the text and the rhythm of the text to generate material. Perhaps he was concentrating on creating a certain atmosphere with the movement. Or maybe the movement generated just looked pretty and was purely made to fill the time up! unfortunately lots of choreographers do this.
I believe that contemporary dance/ballet is not a puzzle to be solved. The important thing about it is your reaction to it. Good dance, for me, provokes a reaction which cannot be explained or justified, it is something more emotional I suppose. When I watch or perform in a good piece I feel as if I can taste the intention behind it, but not completely explain why. If I could verbalise it, I’d be a writer like you and not a dancer with sore muscles.
At least you gave it a go! And went BACK in the 2nd half. Good on you. You might like Matthew Bourne’s all male production of Swan Lake which is a bit of an old production now (1990’s ) but very powerful. No idea if its touring – but it must be on somewhere….
Of course I went back! I do want to learn . . . it was an experiment really. I like the idea of trying something that’s a little out of my comfort zone. I’d love to get the dancers reading a Paul West novel though. Now that would be interesting.
iPhone 5 is predicted for being an enormous step forward, technologically talking. You can find rumors circulating which the iPhone 4S will continue to exist alongside the iPhone 5