American Masters (1985–…): Season 29, Episode 4 - American Ballet Theatre: A History - full transcript

If you're a dancer

and you stand at the barre
every morning

in these positions

which have been prescribed
for over 400 years

and you go through
this ritual...

it's a ritual of repetition.

It's a ritual
of physical discipline.

You have to focus purely
on the body,

on what's going on inside you.

And as you do that,
you sort of end up letting go

of all of the other noise
in your mind.



And so there's a kind of
pure concentration.

It does release something in you

that is very hard to describe.

But it's a kind of freedom.

You lose yourself,

and then you have a kind of
transcendent experience,

if it works.

McKENZlE:
Ballet comes out of

sort of a basic
soul of humanity.

It's a basic form
of communication.

Before we knew how to speak,

we communicated
in physical expression.

There's a gift in the art form
that is akin to sort of

a religious belief in
a higher power or something.



There are certain things
in the performing arts...

In all the fine arts...
That move people,

that strikes a much deeper,
more resonant place in the soul.

It is that connection
to creation.

Ultimately, that's what it is.

That someone
has created something

that resonates this deeply.

There's something
very, very intimate

that's being shown to you.

There's something
deeply impersonal about it.

You're not being told anything,
right?

There are no words.

And yet, there's some kind of
deep intimacy.

It's something we all experience
every day.

You know, you meet somebody,

and, without saying a word,
something happens.

We call it chemistry.

Well, that's what
a dance performance is.

It's that chemistry.

But not the chemistry
of sex or love.

The chemistry of art,
of something physical happening.

The chemistry of dance.

Hi, Jule.
How are you?

I never met Lucia Chase.

But I have a very strong opinion

about the fact that this woman
wanted this company to exist.

That a single, private citizen
was determined

that a ballet company
that performs classical works

should exist in this country,

and not as the vehicle
for a choreographer,

but simply because she felt

that the American public
should see classical ballet.

And this nation
needed to have that.

And who does that?

You've made the transition

from dancer to administrator
and the head of a company.

How did you do that?

Well, I never dreamt
of running a company,

had no thoughts,
especially in those days,

of anything but "What roles
am I gonna get?" like everybody.

And I never dreamt
of doing this.

But when they said
would I step in?

I guess maybe I'm a busybody,

and enthusiastic people say
I'm an optimist.

I say you have to be.
You're dead if you're not.

Lucia was
a very determined woman.

And what I knew of her,
nothing got in her way.

If she had an idea,

no matter what kind of effort
or what kind of financial cost,

she was going to do it.

I mean, one woman,
it was on her shoulders,

that really
Ballet Theatre started.

The DNA of any company
remains, to an extent,

present in its formation always.

And the DNA of Ballet Theatre

was fundamentally endowed
by Lucia Chase,

who wanted to form
a great international company

in America.

"The best of ballet
with the best of dancers."

In '39,
there was really no place

for ballet dancers to work
in New York

except in the Roxy Theatre,
the Music Hall,

and musicals or the opera.

You say,

"Speak about your memories
with Ballet Theatre."

They are so alive in me.

It's the beginning
of my life as a dancer.

Ballet Theatre,

it was the first professional
ballet company

that was made
in the United States,

and we were all part of it,

so we were very excited
about it.

Ballet Theatre, like
almost all ballet in America,

owes a lot
to the Russian dancers

who came here
after the Revolution

and settled in the 1920s
and '30s.

It was called Ballet Theatre
and not American Ballet Theatre,

but it was an American company
from the start.

There was no European company
like it.

And one reason, among others,
was that it was not

a one-choreographer company.

The amazing
choreographers and dancers

who established this system...

Tudor and Fokine

and Nijinska and Massine

and Robbins, Balanchine
making ballets...

De Mille.
You name it.

Every single choreographer
of importance in 20th century,

they made their mark

in this first decade
of existence

of American Ballet Theatre.

All of us knew that
we were in the hands of masters.

We would work for two hours
with Mr. Fokine on Carnaval.

Then we'd go to another studio

and we would work
with Antony Tudor.

And then after two hours there,

we went to another studio
with Madame Nijinska.

We just went
from one to another,

and you just threw off
that cloak,

put on another.

It was madness!

We couldn't understand it.

But it was so exciting.
We were so alive.

It was full of life!
Full of future!

Full of everything
that was growing.

It was like...

beautiful flowers were growing
all over, you know?

It was the future,

and it was the future of ballet
in America, actually.

We were doing the future
of ballet in America.

Ballet's an art form
of deep tradition.

But it's also an art form
that's just always new.

It always has to be new.

Because the tradition
is shallow, actually,

in terms of the ballets
that we remember and know

and because the dancers are now.

McKENZlE:
It's the ephemeral nature of it.

It's only alive for as long as
a living, breathing human being

is actually performing it,

functioning, doing it.

And when they're not doing it,
it doesn't exist.

The ephemeral quality
of dance and of ballet,

the fact that we don't have
a solid history,

that we don't have direct access

to dances that were made, you
know, hundreds of years ago...

the fact that
it's not written down,

and if it is, it's secondary.

There's something very profound
about that.

I think that is at the heart
of the art form.

And so I think the idea
of presenting

very classical renditions
of classical works,

as, for example, the
American Ballet Theatre does.

The Nutcracker, Swan Lake,
Sleeping Beauty, Bayadère.

And on the other side
presenting modern work,

I think that's a kind of way
of trying to express

what ballet's tradition is.

That it is both rooted
in deep tradition

and always departing from it.

McKENZlE: Thanks. Thanks.
Thank you.

Can you give it just a tad
of a pique after the...

This is beautiful.

As you go up
for the tendu flèche,

don't just throw your head back,
but let it go.

Mm-hmm.

McKENZlE: You learn
your first Swan Lake

from somebody
who did it before you,

who learned it from someone
who did it before them.

And then at some point,

someone else who did it
from yet another time

will add a layer to it

and add some more color
and texture.

That's it. Good.

The great joy is to take
these modern-day dancers

with this 150-year-old work

and watch them meet
in the middle.

Okay. Good. Thanks.

As a dancer, you do
the steps that were invented

by the bodies and minds
of the past.

So, when you do the step,

this is our way
to talk to the past,

because you're actually
channeling those bodies

through the steps,
through the choreography.

That's a really wonderful thing
about ballet.

Because you're not alone.

You're supported
by all this spirit.

You can call them spirits.

Ballet is a beautiful system.

Doesn't really need translation.

Don't need to be
specifically Russian or French

to say things that people
in every corner of the world

will understand.

But, of course, as an art form,

it originated in Italy
and then flourished in France.

Okay. Can we move on?

For the adagio, we're going to
start with the arms in first.

Opening on three.

Chassé forward

in a grand port de bras.

Six. And tendu.
Close in fifth.

Let's have it in three groups.

And... two.

Effacé with plié.

The language
of the ballet is in French.

Change to attitude.

It all began there
with Louis XIV.

You know, you go anywhere
all over the world,

you still do battement,
tendu, grand battement,

pirouette, tour en l'air.

I mean, it's the language
we speak,

and it all comes from France.

McKENZlE: An amazing thing
about the art form

is that every time a dancer goes
on a stage,

they are, in a sense, channeling
the whole history of ballet.

Ballet grew out of

the European courts
of the 17th century.

Before dance was an art form,
it was really an etiquette.

It grew out of the social life
of the people at court.

How do you move when you're
in relation to the king?

How do you offer a hand?

How do you pass down the street?

How do you live in your skin
in daily life?

Starts to become codified
in a way.

Really, where this takes hold
the strongest

is in the court of Louis XIV.

And this is a court that is
rule-bound in the extreme.

Because rules
are a form of power.

And that's how Louis ordered
his court

and established his authority.

Think about the révérence.

You bend your knee and you bow.

What is that?

That's a sign of humility

to somebody of higher authority
than you.

That's also a step in ballet.

It's also a bending
of the knees, the plié.

It's a preparation to jump,

but it's also a sign
of humility.

And Louis himself was
a terrific performer.

He would be.
He was king, right?

Don't forget, this is the moment
when men are the great dancers.

This is before the ballerina.

And so ballet was created

in order to express masculinity,
power, strength,

physical precision, control.

Because you don't want to lose
control if you're a nobleman

and especially if you're a king.

The key thing that got codified
in Louis' court

was the five positions...

The basic ABC's or building
blocks of the art form itself.

They're the same five positions
that dancers use today.

And they really designed these
positions as the measure of man.

So that there's a geometric
and mathematical precision

to the proportionality
of the body

related to
the positions themselves.

All of this comes out of
the European Renaissance.

And it's the idea that we're
going to go back to antiquity,

back to a sort of
idealized version.

And we're going to create
an art form

that expresses
the geometric beauty

and proportionality
of the human body.

So it's not just a set of rules.

It's Leonardo.

It's Michelangelo.

It's "How do you measure man?"

How can you mix
these art forms...

Poetry, music, dance...

Into a single art form

that's going to somehow capture
what it means to be human?

And what's interesting
about all of this

is that although it developed

in this courtly,
aristocratic context,

it's actually a radical idea.

Because anybody can do it.

If you're willing to stand
at the barre every day

in order to stabilize yourself,

in order to practice
these steps and positions...

And most courtiers were...

You, too, can become more noble.

And not just more noble
as in social class,

but as a person.

A more noble person.

Someone who has raised
him or herself up

towards the angels and God.

You can leave some of
your bestiality behind

and transcend up
the great chain of being

if you can control
your own physical and emotional

and spiritual being.

I do think that there is
something very basic

about the simplicity of the
organization of the human body

that ballet represents.

What they ended up doing was
creating a system of movement,

based in a particular
social structure of the time,

that outlasted the historical
moment that invented it.

So that when you get to
the French Revolution in 1789,

that's key,

because this whole
balletic art form

was really invented
in the French court.

And it was synonymous
with kingly power

and with royal authority.

So, when that's challenged

and much of the anger
and violence

is directed at the king

and he's beheaded,

what's going to happen
to this art form?

Well, it has to change.

Because the very things
that it idealized

are now completely in question.

So, what happens at this time?

The male dancer
starts to become discredited.

Partly, that's the influence
of popular culture

and things that enter
into ballet at this moment

because it's being exposed to,
as it were, the people.

And the male dancer
is really hated

by the time you get
to the early 19th century.

And into the vacuum comes
guess what.

The ballerina.
Women.

Women, who hadn't been valued
in the same way

as stage performers,

are suddenly thought
to express something

that people
are very interested in,

which is dreams
and the irrational,

a kind of ethereality,

a sense of the supernatural.

So, instead of dying,

the art form is reinvented
in this new form.

Just think of the ballet Giselle
and La Sylphide...

Both dances that were invented
at that time...

The sense of a woman as a ghost,

as something
both beautiful and spiritual.

And so the development
of pointe work

and of being on your toes

turns out to be very,
very important for that.

Because if you think about it,

what does it mean for a woman
to stand on her toe?

It means that her contact
with the earth

is probably the size
of a nickel.

In all other ways, she's flying.

She's off the earth.

So that this sense
of being elevated,

made into spirit matter,

is tangibly expressed,
paradoxically,

through pure physical strength.

And that's the whole point

of these spiritual,
ethereal creatures

that the Romantic
ballet creates.

McKENZlE: Do the first step
and do the first join

up until you do
the... sissones.

One of the great pleasures
of my life

is dealing with these classics.

Because they're called classics
for a reason,

and they've existed
through so much time

and they've been passed down
through so many artists

and hence through so many lenses
and interpretations.

So I get up every morning

and, at some point,
deal with Swan Lake...

This sort of epic portrayal
of the human condition.

You can't get away from it.
It is ballet.

I mean you have to
understand that what you see

is only a part of it

and behind the scene
there is a lot of work.

But, I mean, as physically,

mentally it's very challenging,
too.

There are so many times

that, you know, I'm in my
dressing room with my dresser.

I don't want to go out there.

But, you know,
there's no other way.

You just have to go out there
and dance.

And, you know,
it's very nerve-racking,

but once the curtain goes up...

And I love the feeling
of the wind blows into you.

It's like you're there.

It feels "Now I'm home."

Is it feeling okay?

Yeah.

The Black Swan
is such a fun role,

because she's seducing
the prince

and she's scheming.

And it's just a lot of fun,

because I don't consider myself
that way in real life.

So it's great
to just go there onstage.

McKENZlE: They have to find
this amazing balance

between the confidence of,

you know,
"I've trained to do this.

I've done my 10,000 hours."

And the idea of "I'm not doing
the best I can do."

And, as with every artist,
there is a moment

between that balance
of confidence and insecurity

that lurks that monster
that says,

"They're all going to find out
I'm no good."

All dancers are sensitive.

And you have to be, in order
to put yourself out there

and to be observant of the world

and to bring that to the stage,

what we know about characters
and characterizations,

and bring that to life.

The Russians are key.

Because the Russians,
after Peter the Great,

famously start to import
European culture

into the Russian court.

And so they become more French
than the French.

And they start importing
French ballet masters.

And one of the French
ballet masters they import

is Marius Petipa,

who comes to Russia in the 1840s

and stays there
until the early 20th century.

And he basically mounts
French ballet

on the Russian court,

and then, finally, he starts
to work with Tchaikovsky.

And that's the key moment
for ballet,

is when Petipa and Tchaikovsky
are put together.

In a ballet like Swan Lake
or The Sleeping Beauty,

the music is fuller,
more dramatic,

more instrumentally complex

in ways that, as a dancer,

you have to move differently
to that music.

Russian ballet
is like St. Petersburg.

It's European but huge.

It's just like you took
the seams

out of the French tradition

and made it even grander,
even bigger,

even more voluminous.

It's French Romanticism
in ballet

fitted to a Russian
imperial court.

A ballet like Firebird
is also very important.

What made it so radical,
in a way,

was Stravinsky's score.

But it's also
the kind of movement

that bodies are allowed to do
on stage.

Fokine really changed that.

Firebird is the emergence
of something sensual,

sexual almost,

foreign.

She's from another world,
but it's an earthly world.

And Firebird takes Paris
by storm.

There's an absolute fascination
in Western Europe

for this Eastern art form,
which seems, to them,

to capture something vital,
something real.

She's not an idealized
ethereal form.

She's a exotic bird.

It's like this contrast

of being extremely wild
and animalistic,

but at the same time having to
have a sense of control.

I mean, Herman is there as Ivan

to capture me and to tame me.

She's a firebird,
but there's something about her.

I've never seen anything like it
before,

and all I want to do
is touch her.

And every time I try to do that,
she tries to fly away.

That's when you see
those moments.

The great thing

about what Alexei has created
with the choreography

is that it's a struggle.

The choreography is a struggle,
and the story is a struggle.

So, it's, like...
That has to be there.

So you can't rehearse it to
the point where it's too easy,

which is what we do
as ballet dancers.

When
the Russian Revolution comes,

the art of classical ballet
is remade

to become the symbol
of the Soviet state.

The other effect of the
political turmoil and upheaval

is that Russian ballet comes
back to the West.

Ballet in the West, at that
time, had really diminished.

And when Russia
starts to collapse,

people start leaving.

And ballet comes back to Europe.

And then it starts to seep

into Britain, Germany, Italy,

and especially America.

Not just
as the old imperial ballet,

but as something new
at the forefront of modern art,

bringing the most radical edge
of Russia.

So that you have the roots
of American ballet

really in the collapse
of the Russian empire

and the phenomenon of exile.

You've got Anna Pavlova

and other Russians
who've fled Russia

during the Revolution

end up in America
and they go on the road,

and they do these shows
across America.

Swan Lake, Firebird,

and other ballets that had
tremendous appeal to people.

So there's this kind of diaspora

of Russian teachers
and European teachers then,

who sort of seed ballet
in America.

Ballet was everything
that America hated, in a way.

It was aristocratic.
It was etiquette.

It was a kind of court form.

It's everything

that we fought the Revolution
not to be part of, right?

If anything, it came
from Catholic culture.

The Puritan strain in America
was very suspicious

of this kind of...

"You put all these bodies
onstage.

Isn't it too revealing?"

But at the same time, ballet
was everything America wanted.

You know, so it had this sort of
European culture.

It had this sensuality.

It had a sense of form
and etiquette.

And America was a great leveler,

so it took ballet
and made it something new,

something different,
something American.

When I first came here with

Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo
in 1938,

We were the only touring ballet
company in America.

There was a company
in San Francisco,

the oldest ballet company
in America.

But we were alone, touring,

and I remember thinking,

"Well, there should be something
else going on here."

Then we came back in '39.

And, suddenly,

there was something about
a Mordkin ballet.

And then the next thing I know,

they were sort of
gathering dancers,

and it was now going to be
called ballet theater.

Mikhail Mordkin was a dancer

in the Bolshoi in Moscow.

And he was Anna Pavlova's
partner, and he settled here.

And he had a small company.

Among his pupils was
Lucia Chase.

Richard Pleasant was involved
in the management,

and it was his idea to say,

"Hey, let's have
a big ballet company...

Not a small ballet company."

A company with a wide range
of dance with separate wings,

American choreographers,

classical ballets,
mainly from the 19th century,

and they also invited
Anthony Tudor,

who was then an unknown English
choreographer.

Lucia Chase bankrolled
the company.

She became the patron,

and Mordkin was sort of
left behind.

And that company became the core
of American Ballet Theatre.

I had been studying
with Mordkin,

and one day in 1939,
Richard Pleasant said,

"We're beginning a company
in the fall,

and I think you might be
interested to audition for it."

Before I went to Ballet Theatre,
we would do show work...

Tap dancing
and all that sort of thing...

But we were desperate to do
ballet work.

Nora Kaye said to me,

"Anthony Tudor, the English
choreographer and dancer,

is with Ballet Theatre,

and he's giving some classes
just for a small group,

but he invites you
to take a class with him.

I said, "Wonderful!"

And after I finish class,
he said,

"Could you come to the office?"

I said, "Of course."

So we went to the office,
and he said,

"Would you like to sign
your contract?"

And that was it.

And that's how
I got into Ballet Theatre.

Opening night,
it was at the Center Theatre,

which is a theater

that was opposite
the Radio City Music Hall...

No longer there.

And we did Sylphide.

And Karen Conrad started leaping
onstage.

She had phenomenal elevation
and great technique.

And it's the first time,

even in the wings,
we heard the audience gasp.

And we all knew
by the end of Sylphide

that the company had
really made a big impact.

Then we did a ballet called
Great American Goof.

And it was quite avant-garde
because there was dialogue.

And the audience took it
as something very new.

Then we finished with
Voices of Spring,

which was Mikhail Mordkin's,

and we suddenly realized

that it was a very special event
in dance in America.

We knew that,
and we were apart of it.

We knew that we were learning

to be dancers
who could create characters.

We could do beautiful things,

and we sensed that,
at the end of that,

the audience had discovered us.

We just sensed that.

In the beginning,

everything was more or less
improvised.

Richard Pleasant left after
a year for financial reasons.

Very soon after, they came under
the management of Sol Hurok,

who was a huge
commercial producer.

But then Lucia Chase sort of
gained control and took over.

When our director
was drafted and went to war,

they said, "Would I step in?"

I said
"Well, I wouldn't do it alone."

But I'd just met Oliver Smith,
young scene designer.

And I said if Oliver
would do it with me...

He looked like a good person...

We could do it for a year.

So we just leapt in
and we changed things

and we broke with Mr. Hurok,

who was horrified and never
anyone had broken with him.

But, you know, rush in
where angels fear to tread.

Lucia Chase always
wanted to be a dancer.

She was a strange woman,

quite different from anyone else
who formed a company.

She loved dance.
Dance was very special to her.

She had very little taste,
but that didn't really matter.

I remember watching Lucia
in the hallways,

and she was very quiet,
very strong.

And what I noticed about her

was she wasn't afraid

to have extraordinary talent
and personalities around her

that weren't necessarily
easy people to deal with.

All the great choreographers,
the great dancers.

And, yet, she was able to bring
this company forward

and to bring incredible
creativity, incredible talent.

It changed the dance world
in so many ways.

It changed America.

The story of ballet
in the 20th century

is really the story
of the confrontation

between Russia and America.

And you can see it
on many levels.

You could see Russian dancers
coming and touring America.

Then you can see Lucia Chase
starting Ballet Theatre

and sort of struggling
with the Russians

to make an American company.

So she brings in Fokine,
a Russian.

She brings in Tudor,
an Englishman.

She's got Jerome Robbins,
an American,

but of Russian extraction
and roots.

And the company takes on
a direction that is...

You know, it's Agnes de Mille.

It's trying to redefine

a Russian tradition
in American terms.

And, you know,
how boring would it be

if it stayed an imperial art?

And it couldn't stay
an imperial art.

How could you do that
in America?

And so once again
it's reinvented,

because the form
is incredibly flexible.

Well, it's a diversity of styles

that is its style, I think,

and people learn
from each other.

It's not like trying to make
all the dancers the same.

And, of course,
the Ballet Theatre of 1940s,

this is an incredible time,
so inspiring.

The sheer amount of masterpieces

and of new ballets produced
by that time

is quite amazing.

I mean, the cream of the cream

of the choreographers
of the time.

Everybody who produced
important works,

they were working
at Ballet Theatre.

McKENZlE: If you have to talk
about four people individually,

you'd have to focus on
Antony Tudor, Agnes de Mille,

Jerome Robbins,
and on George Balanchine.

Those four choreographers
really defined

what the objective
of this ballet company

was going to be.

ABT, right from the start,
opened it up to everything.

It couldn't have been
more American.

Because what did it do?
It experimented.

It experimented with
"How far off the beaten track

could this codified art form
go?"

And it succeeded,
and it created a new thing.

What was distinctive
about Ballet Theatre

was that Miss Chase
would take anything

and give you complete freedom

to move into the area
in which you moved.

Everyone in Ballet Theatre
working,

whether it was the Spanish
group, Fokine, anyone,

they were left to move
into their own area.

Look at her.
My God.

The person
who contributed most largely

to the DNA of Ballet Theatre,

apart from Lucia and Pleasant,

was Antony Tudor.

He was brought over

when they were trying to form
the various wings.

They turned to Agnes de Mille,

who had worked in England.

So Agnes said,
"Get us Antony Tudor.

He's by far the most important
choreographer in England."

McKENZlE: Tudor would become
the artistic conscience of ABT.

He was the first person to say,

"You know, I think I'm going to
make a ballet about real people,

people who wear clothes,

not about fairies
and elves and birds."

He's got a dark side,

and he's interested in
the dark side of human nature.

He's interested
in mourning and death,

and rape and murder,

and the feelings
that go unexpressed.

He made a ballet

about a massacre
in the Second World War.

So, you know, this is
a kind of expansion

of the subject matter of ballet

in a major way.

McKENZlE: Tudor used a mining
accident in rural England

in the late 1800s,

where an entire village
lost its children

in a mining accident.

It was this huge tragedy.

And he took "Songs on the Death
of Children" by Mahler

and using these songs
as a backdrop,

he created this work

that was a communal gathering
to grieve and go forward.

It's a ballet about mourning.

He wanted the deepest emotions

to be not expressed, but mined.

He was very interested
in what was left inside

and how you might excavate that
in movement.

Tudor's pursuit was
to take essential truths

and put them in circumstances

that were more familiar
to people.

So, take the girl
out of the white dress

and put her in a dress

that a woman at that time
could afford to purchase.

Don't give her
the fancy, pretty hairdo.

Her expressions should be clear
and direct,

more like a human conversation.

So, you extend your hand,
you extend your hand.

You don't extend your hand.

Tudor was succinct
and almost pedestrian

in a beautiful kind of way

so that it would be
understandable

to someone coming home
from World War II

and going to the ballet.

In his ballets, you get
this deep kind of tension.

It's what's not said
that he's trying to express.

And the dancers were really
sort of interesting people,

who were interested in that,
I think, as a problem,

in how to do that.

So you get someone
like Nora Kaye,

you know, one of
his greatest interpreters,

who can kind of rally
that tension in her body

and understand how to work in a
way that brings the ideas he had

in a ballet like Pillar of Fire

to life.

Pillar of Fire
is a very dark story

of a young girl sort of
coming of age and wanting love

and then finding
the wrong person.

Hagar.

She's desperately lonely
and stifled by her environment

and just wants love
and feels she's been rejected.

And in a moment of desperation,
she turns to the man next door,

who's basically a pimp.

Shame and guilt ensue.

But at the end,
the man she originally loved...

Who she thought
he didn't love her...

He accepts her for who she is,
for what she's done,

and just embraces her.

It's a legacy of Tudor
and Lucia Chase,

Nora Kaye,
and the history of ABT

and so we need to bring that
back to life,

to be faithful
to what Tudor wanted,

but also to make it our own.

I want to feel like everything.

It's all, actually,
an exercise in restraint...

To have it under the surface

and just to let the steps
communicate the feeling.

The steps themselves,

have that weight to them,
you know?

It's less about hitting
a perfect turn

or hitting the right arabesque,

but more about
the internal feeling of it all

that will shape the step.

Tudor wanted us to be people,

human,
and have, you know, history

and what did they do before
and what do they do after?

Where do they come from?

It's more about being
as human as possible

and letting our emotions speak
through the movement.

Agnes de Mille was
a very important figure

in the development
of American dance in general,

both in musicals and in ballet.

She's the one who had
the democratic view

within American dance,

and she felt that dance drama
should tell a story

and that it should be
dance drama.

She wanted to do

what she thought came
out of American material.

You can see that

in a ballet that American
Ballet Theatre put on in 1948

called Fall River Legend.

This is a real-life case
of Lizzie Borden

who in Massachusetts
at the turn of the century

took an ax and killed her father
and her stepmother.

And it was very dramatic,

and it works
only when the dancers know

how to express that drama.

And it isn't done
through the face.

It is done
through the entire body.

Miss De Mille, one critic
has commented about your work

by saying it was
"full of fire, even funny,

and entirely free of swans."

- You don't recall that perhaps.
- No.

It is free of swans, though,
that I can guarantee.

- Why?
- I like swans,

and I like
the pure classic ballets.

I like the abstract ballets.

I would very much like to do
ballets like George Balanchine.

I can't.
That's a fact.

McKENZlE: She got
this incredible commission

to do this American work,

in one of the great platforms...
The Ballet Russe.

And she was very daring
to take this subject matter...

The Wild West.

This is the story
of a little cowgirl

who was forbidden to ride
with the men

because she was always underfoot

and causing them
a peck of trouble.

But she persisted

because she was so much in love
with one of them.

McKENZlE:
She was one of the few people

that was interested
in taking a dancer

who has this command
of their body,

and it is their expressive tool,
and then tell them,

"I don't want you to use
your ballet training.

I want you to use your heart,
your mind."

So it creates a dynamic

of simple, simple
human interaction.

We get out to Los Angeles

where the rehearsals start,

and she starts showing us
broncos and bucking

and all this.

It was an unknown style
of dancing to all of us.

And the Russians said,
"This is not dancing."

And I said,
"I didn't say it was,

but this is what you're going to
have to do."

It was, of course, the intent
to develop new forms,

new styles, new experiments.

And I don't mean
just the idiom of the dances.

The whole ballet of Rodeo,
I think,

is very American,

and there is this in the music.

The collaboration

between Agnes and Copland
was incredible.

The most wonderful thing about
it was that it was rhythmic.

It made a big difference to the
way we approached the ballet.

Opening night at the Met

and these boys took the stage

like what they were...
Young stallions.

And those men
never moved like that.

I'll tell you when they hit
the stage that night,

there was a roar from the house.

There really was.

We really didn't
realize what she was doing

until the opening night

and how the audience
responded to this ballet.

It's interesting to see

how a choreographer
would take a vernacular

and study something
and be so focused

on trying to create something
that captured the wild rest.

You know,
we're talking campfires

and, you know, wide-open plains

and cowboys who are tired and
hungry at the end of the day.

They don't get much of a chance
to dress up and be with ladies.

And the ladies in the city

don't get much exposure
to coming out to the ranch.

There had never been
anything like that in ballet

on the ballet stage.

And it's incredibly poignant.

You know, there's something
about the tomgirl.

She's in love with the notion
of being in love

with this particular guy,

who doesn't have the time of day
for her.

And, you know, how universal
is that theme?

You know, forget cowboys.
Forget era.

It's so quintessentially
American.

A dancer speaks with their body.

You speak with the vocabulary,
with the language,

of the person's work
that you're dancing.

So, Jerome Robbins has
a totally different voice

than Agnes de Mille
or Antony Tudor.

And the dancer's work
is to speak clearly.

Robbins is one of
the most important

American choreographers
of the 20th century.

He's so complicated.

And he's got a very expansive,
curious mind.

So, what he brings to ballet

is an incredible sort of
visceral American sensibility.

He's interested in the street

and how people move and
what's happening on the street.

He's going downtown.

He's watching all the movements

in contemporary dance
and contemporary art.

And he's trying to understand

what it is that the Russians
brought to America...

This kind of idealized art
of ballet.

And what an American like him...

Jewish, homosexual...

And what's he going to do
with it?

And I think what he ends up
doing with it

is he manages to strip away

the etiquette
and the imperial trappings

and make a kind of American
vernacular out of the movement.

By taking the simple structures
of ballet

and using them to express,

in a kind of American prose,
street life.

I didn't know Jerry
very well in those days,

but I remember,
we were somewhere at a party,

and I member him
playing the piano

and I said, "Oh, Jerry,
that sounds so good.

I would love to choreograph
something sometime."

That was that.

Then one time, I was invited
somewhere for a drink,

and there was Jerry
and Lenny Bernstein,

who was then up-and-coming.

And they were talking about
a ballet, about Sailors.

And I thought, "Well,
that sounds interesting."

It took Lucia and her mind

to understand what
Jerry was doing and push him.

Oliver Smith, Jerry Robbins,

and Leonard Bernstein
did Fancy Free.

They're, all three of them,
early 20s,

and it was their first ballet.

And Fancy Free was wonderful and
I went to the dress rehearsals.

I was very keen to do
the girl with the red bag,

but Jerry didn't ask me to.

He was tired of dancing

in Russian costumes and boots

and wanted to dance
about America today.

So he did Fancy Free,

which is about three sailors
on leave in Times Square

during World War II,

and he did it
during World War II.

And he knew, he said,
that they were afraid

because they might not
come back.

It can't fail.

The action's built
into the movement.

The movement is so right,
expressively.

On the other hand, only ballet
dancers, not modern dancers,

can dance it

because it involves
a lot of virtuosity.

They came to Covent Garden,

and I saw them in 1946.

And I saw every performance.

They were remarkable.

They had Jerry Robbins.

Jerry had done his first ballet
in 1944, Fancy Free.

It was a quite incredible
first ballet,

rushed out of the starting gate
like a rocket.

Suddenly, America had
a homegrown choreographer.

And by 1946, they were ready
to take on the world.

I was in the audience
that opening night.

And talk about an effect
that it had,

on not only the company,

but on the ballet world
at large.

It was an important step,

and I'm sure Lucia was ecstatic
about the whole thing

because it was Jerry who came
along with the idea of doing it,

but she furnished
the wherewithal.

And that night,
we all stood up, we cheered.

It was just incredible.

It really was quite remarkable.

Theme and Variations,

which has no plot,
was created by George Balanchine

in 1947
for American Ballet Theatre.

McKENZlE: Balanchine came from
the Imperial Ballet of Russia.

He was actually in Petipa's
production of Nutcracker.

He was a child
in the family scene.

So he actually was there.

Balanchine realized

that it was
the great Petipa tradition...

The tradition
of Sleeping Beauty...

That ballet was in danger
of losing.

And Balanchine made
this great leap forward,

which was backwards,

to retain
ballet's classic spirit,

which was the important thing.

McKENZlE:
As time went on, of course,
he made his career in the West.

And the point that

Theme and Variations was
created was 1947.

And I think that this was

his homage
to imperial classical ballet.

It's been referred to as
"the niece of Sleeping Beauty."

There's no story
in Theme and Variations.

There's no grand scenery
or sets.

It's just like 20 minutes
of the pure classical dancing

that was the foundation
of the Sleeping Beauty

and that spectacle.

He just boiled all that down
to its pure essence

in terms of dance.

It's Balanchine's view

of 19th century and Tchaikovsky

as seen through
20th-century eyes.

And what you see there
is choreography

that you're not going to see
anywhere else,

that every 20th-century dancer
now has learned to execute,

but the 19th century didn't
partner like that,

nor did they dance as fast,

nor were there steps
necessarily this intricate,

although they had
intricate steps of another kind.

Theme and Variations
with Mr. B, like they call him.

It was a duel.

He kept putting
more difficult steps,

and he will go...

You know he has a habit
with his nose,

going... like this.

He said,
"You think you can do it?"

I'd say, "Yes, Mr. Balanchine.
I will try. I will try."

And he made it so difficult!

Each time, and I will do it,

and each time, and I will try,
and I will do it

and I would work and work
and work and work.

What I love about doing
Balanchine's work is that

there's no direct story line,

but, of course,
there's all kinds of story

and layers and drama
and romance and shapes

and all that more abstract sense
of storytelling

that's just not literal.

He brings abstraction to ballet.

What he does
is he strips away everything.

So you don't have a set.
You don't have a costume.

You have practice clothes

that suggest the body
in its simplest form.

And then he puts them on stage
with no story.

And, of course,
there's a lot going on,

and there is an emotional story
to almost all of his ballets.

Because, as he said,

the minute you have
a man and a woman on the stage,

you've got a story.

But it's all stripped
to essentials.

And what you're left with

is rhythm, movement,

and a kind of expression
of the people who are dancing.

So it's very, very important

who the dancers are
in a Balanchine play.

So, by taking away the story,
by taking away the set,

by taking away the costumes

and leaving us just
with the people doing it,

you end up with something
extraordinarily intimate.

But it's not
as if you're hearing

someone's deepest life story.

It's more that you're watching
a human drama

that is being told
in its most sort of naked form.

And, yet,
he hasn't lost the decorum

or the sense of the science
of behavior towards others

that's the core
of classical ballet.

So, there's both
a recognition of the roots

and a reinvention of the form...

which meant adapting it
to the individual body

and making that individual body
clearer about itself...

so that you have a way in which

the technique is expressing
the person

without any kind of
expressionistic overflow.

It's not, "Here I am."

It's, "This is how I move"
in the clearest possible way.

And Theme and Variations
is a great example of that

because it's a dance in which

pure technique becomes
a way of becoming yourself.

People say, "Oh, Balanchine,

he didn't want anybody
to express themselves.

It was, "Don't think.
Just dance."

Well, the point of that

is that if you can get rid
of yourself, your ego...

The "Here I am"...

You can actually reach
something deeper

and express something deeper
about who you are.

That doesn't have to do
with acting.

It has to do with being.

So he was able to bring

the kind of simple, direct,
unadorned prose approach

to ballet.

The clarity that is
so representative

of American culture

to this art form
that had come from

a very different origin
and place.

I also think

that Lucia Chase
was very firm about

not keeping Balanchine
when he worked in the '40s

in American Ballet Theatre,

because she did not want, again,
a one-choreographer company,

and she knew Balanchine
could not function

unless he was the boss

and the company was
only his creative instrument.

And she said,

"Then it would be just
a one-choreographer company."

She felt there wouldn't be
this healthy rivalry.

Her feeling was,

the more dance there is,
the better for dance.

There has always been a
nomad quality to Ballet Theatre

that no other company
has ever had.

It's the only great company
in the world

that doesn't have
its own theater.

It's quite unusual
in the dance world.

Sets it apart.

It was during the war.

We'd get on a train
after a performance,

and there were several cars
full of soldiers.

So, after they'd finished
in the dining room,

there wasn't much left for us.

We had no dining car
on that trip,

and so we had no food.

So the train stopped
in this little town

and we went to the supermarket

and we got food
to make sandwiches.

We did all one-night stands
in those days.

We would do two weeks
in San Francisco,

two weeks in Chicago.

Then we would do like
three days in Cincinnati

and three days in Cleveland.

We brought ballet

to every little podunk city
in the country.

I remember we played
Zanesville, Ohio.

And the only other visiting
company to Zanesville

before Ballet Theatre

was the circus.

We brought ballet to America,
actually.

There we are, waiting in
a train station for our train,

reading the review
from the night before it.

And that's Fernando and
Alicia Alonso and Lucia Chase.

The look on Lucia's face
doesn't look good, does it?

It looks like
it was a bad review.

Could have been.
Who knows?

Lucia?
Oh, she was something else.

She was... She was really
a wonderful person.

She was very warm,
she loved dancing,

and she just had
such great respect

for the art and for the people.

But she could put you in
your place, too, if she needed.

And if somebody asked for a role
that she didn't think of it,

she would say,
"Oh, you must be joking,"

or something like that.

So she could be very direct.

She considered
the dancers in Ballet Theatre

her family.

She really did.

She loved
every single one of us.

It was her life.

It was her life
besides her boys.

It was very important to her.

I would like
to tell you something.

With the growing
of Ballet Theatre,

the audience of
the United States grew with us

into the love of ballet.

So we all grew together.

The ballet in North America
grew together

with the Ballet Theatre.

When I first saw the company,

they were at Covent Garden

and they were playing
in a very grand theater.

Most of them
had never been abroad.

This was 1946.

The idea of transatlantic travel
in 1946 was very exotic.

These kids had never been
anywhere.

I mean, certainly never been
to Europe.

And there they were,

and they had
this kind of spirit.

In the '50s,

there were tours sponsored
by the State Department.

I mean, this is really what got
American Ballet Theatre

on their feet.

And they would go to Europe

and they'd perform across
this ruined continent,

bringing this growing
American art form.

And they were part of the
project of rebuilding Europe.

"American"
was put in front of our name

because we were doing a tour

that was underwritten
by the United States Air Force.

And that was in 1950.

We were ambassadors.

We flew cargo planes.

It wasn't a regular plane.

We had to wear parachutes.

Here's some pictures of us
in the plane.

We flew to Berlin.

We were cargo.

We did a lot of touring.

We used to be gone
for six months at a time.

We were the second company
that was allowed

behind the Iron Curtain.

It was very exciting for us,

and a little apprehensive,
you know?

What will it be like?

It was so much fun because, you
know, they had just seen Rodeo

and they loved the whole dance.

The audience was so warm.

You know, they can't talk to you
in the language,

but they say, "Dance! Dance!"

And of course,
you've got the Cold War,

which is fueling
the whole thing.

So that the cultural debates
between Russia and America

that are taking place

are taking place in music
and in ballet, largely.

At New York's
Metropolitan Opera House,

crowds wait around the clock
to see Moscow's Bolshoi Ballet.

During the late '60s and '70s,

there was a huge advance
of interest in dance in America.

American Ballet Theatre

has grown in every way in size.

When we did Swan Lake in '67,

we had to have more dancers.

We grew to 70 dancers.

We can do this exciting,
full-length Swan Lake.

American Ballet Theatre
was especially fed

by this cultural Cold War.

The great defections
of both Baryshnikov and Makarova

in the '70s become extremely
important events

for the company,

both artistically
and in terms of the dance boom,

which really was a boom.

McKENZlE:
It really took off

when Mikhail Baryshnikov
defected.

There was
an incubation of talent.

And all these amazing
partnerships were formed.

Cynthia Gregory,
Fernando Bujones.

Erik Bruhn and Carla Fracci,
who teamed up.

Gelsey Kirkland defected
from City Ballet

when Misha defected from Russia.

By the end of the '70s,

here was a company that had

not a definitive Giselle

or a definitive Swan Queen.

They had 5 or 6 of them

that were literally ruling...
Reigning, you know, the world.

It was an amazing and unique
moment in our history.

And, I think, in ballet history.

Part of what's going on
is the crossover

between traditional ballet forms

and all of the things that are
going on in popular dance

and in modern dance.

And, you know, Twyla Tharp,

who comes out of
such a different world

from Baryshnikov.

But once again, here you've got
Russia and America

in this kind of
creative collision.

And Baryshnikov,
he's part of that.

He's got such curiosity,
he wants to work with everybody.

And he especially wants to get
away from, eventually,

these old Russian classics,

which is where he came from.

He danced himself right into
the furthest precincts

of American modern dance.

And he left some of that
at Ballet Theatre,

that sense of
"Let's break down the borders.

Let's bring everybody in.

Let's see what happens."

McKENZlE: When I had only been
in the company 6, 8 months,

Lucia promoted me
to principal dancer.

And immediately afterwards,

announced that she was leaving
the company,

her tenure would be over.

All during this period,
the late '60s and '70s,

no one knew who was going to
replace Lucia.

When, of course, the board went
away and appointed Misha,

that was a great tragedy
for her.

Ballet boards can be very,
very tough.

Very often the people
who are going

are the last to know
of their departure.

Yes, she'd stayed too long
at the fair.

She was doing really
what needed doing,

but the company
needed to be taken

in a different direction.

And, in 1980,
Misha was made director.

Mikhail Baryshnikov

is one of the greatest dancers
of the 20th century in ballet.

He raised the standard
of dancing in ABT.

And so, as a model of dancing,
I think he was incomparable.

When he took the
responsibility to be director,

the level of excellence rose
dramatically.

By watching him,
everyone became better.

It was just very clear
that he had expectations,

because he had such huge
expectations for himself,

and the company really needed to
reflect his level.

He shifted the paradigm.

Because he uniformed the corps.
The corps was gorgeous.

And I remember sitting
in the audience

and watching La Bayadère

and just seeing that corps.

It moved me to tears.

And before Misha,

you know, there were
all different shapes and sizes

in the corps.

And when Misha
finally became director,

the corps in itself became
a star.

Misha did instill
a new kind of discipline

in the company,
which was valuable.

And he made use
of the technical ability

and he certainly instilled
a company style,

whereas before there was more
a company spirit.

And I think he instilled
that style,

which, when he left,
to a very large extent remained.

And it was left to Kevin,
I think,

to restore
something of the spirit.

And now I think the company,
with any luck, has both.

Bare mike!

1... 2... 3... bah!

1, 2, 3.

1, 2, lifting.

1, 2, 3.

Okay?

You can feel the energy.
You know?

You too.
Love you.

Okay.

We can do it,
we can do it, we can do it.

Go!

Whoo!

Sound. Go.

Whoo!

Thank you.

McKENZlE:

She's not moving!

In order to be a dancer,

which means
you need to be a performer

and you need to be
a perfectionist,

there is always

this very predictable mix
of humility and hubris.

They've got to have
such confidence

to get out there
and believe they can do this,

but at the same time,
there's an insecurity

that, you know,
the bar is so high,

that perfection level
is so high,

the ideal thing
is so unattainable.

Yet, you know, having obtained
even a portion of it

is something to be
enormously proud of.

They struggle with that.

Good, Jules.

Yeah.
But you dug in and went for it.

You couldn't get
two more different men

than Baryshnikov and McKenzie.

Misha's from Soviet Russia.

Kevin's from Vermont.

He's the youngest
of 11 children.

He's an American male dancer.

So they're definitely
going to lead in different ways.

Kevin allows you freedom to set
your own expectations, in a way.

I think he always understood

how much pressure dancers put
on themselves anyway.

And that that can be itself
a burden and a block

in your process as an artist.

And he freed us of that,
when he came,

and he was so human
and understanding

and wanting us all
to find our own way.

Another thing
that Kevin has done,

as the current director,

is that he has brought back

that stylistic integrity
to different ballets

and has told them basically,

"You can't dance this
the way you danced that."

And the difference
with Ballet Theatre today

is that it not only does
more full-length classics,

but it also has mixed bills of
new works and the shorter works.

The company is made up of people

who specifically want to dance
a very mixed repertory.

And the dancers who join today
really seek out a company

that requires extending
their talents

in a way that they might not
in a one-choreographer company.

The problem for dancers

is how to excel
in all the styles

that they're asked to dance.

Every generation
of dancers and choreographers

make their own mark.

And it goes faster and faster,
you know.

If you look back five years,

you already see
the difference in style

of performing or choreographing.

Of course,
the world is changing so quick.

Some people think
that the classical ballet

is not capable of adapting

to the changing reality outside
of the studio and the theater.

I've read that the ballet...
Classical ballet... is dying.

There's, like, a funeral now.

But I don't feel that way.

I'm very optimistic about
the future of classical ballet.

I think dance is essential part
of human nature.

The classical ballet speaks
about the beauty, the harmony.

And it's a very sophisticated,
complicated system,

shaped by hundreds of dancers
and choreographers of genius.

So it's worth preserving.

Don't look down.

Come on. Very good.

Brush. And lower.

Good.

When you're having
a good day in dance class,

it's like... it just makes
everything feel so good.

Yeah, it's like...

Point the foot yes?

One, two. Right, four.

Single, single.

Together.

And flex.

What is the step called, again?

Balletico.

Let's try all together.
We'll do a few times.

Ready?

Left, two.
Right, four.

Single, single
Together. Cross.

I think that the most
natural thing for people

is to dance, to laugh,
to breathe.

Dancing is an expression
of the happiness of life.

It's like laughing.

You laugh with your mouth.
You laugh with your body.

You enjoy every moment.

All right. Okay.

Will the smartest girl in ABT

remember which year I stage
for the first time Shades.

Huh?
Somebody can tell?

Huh?

She needs diploma.

Okay.

You know, when
you're standing at the barre

in this first position

and going through
these exercises,

you're very much alone
in your body,

but you're not alone
in the classroom.

You're there with other people.

It's a kind of community.

And you're, each one of you,

individually, separately
alone, together,

doing this.

There's something about
the collective endeavor of it

that's very much a part of it.

I mean, that's what a class is
and that's what a company is

and that's what a performance is

at its best.

You're all there,

and yet there's
this something very individual

going on, as well.

You know, when I was younger,

I used to think of it
almost as a religion.

And I think I'm not the only one
who's described it that way...

because you had the sense that
you were part of a congregation

of people
who were practicing this faith.

You had to believe in it.

No, it didn't have a god,

and it's not
a religion, of course,

but it's an art,
and you are in service to it.

And if you're really an artist

and you're standing
in first position every morning

and engaging in that struggle
with your body,

to the point
where it's not a struggle,

trying to get there,

you can't really find that
many other places.

Years ago,

Natasha Makarova
wrote me a note,

before my debut in Bayadère.

And she left it
on my dressing table

before the performance.

And it said, among other things,
"Dear Julie,

Someone once said
beauty can save the world.

What a great responsibility
you have on your shoulders."

And that has resonated with me
for all these years.

It's not politicians
or scientists or technology,

but beauty and humanity,

which is so clear in dance,

is the closest that we can get
to that salvation, I think.

I think that's what we all,
at the end of the day,

want to believe
and want to know,

is that it's okay, because there
is that goodness inside of us.

Because we all know
there's so much not.

But as dancers, we don't even
address that as artists.

It's not in our stories.

It's not what the people,
when they come to the theater...

They don't want that.

They want the other,

that reassures everyone
that when the story's over,

that there was
something beautiful

and good and worthwhile

inside all of us.

My happiest memory
with Ballet Theatre?

Oh, there were many happies.

It's difficult.

It's the feeling

that you're doing something.

You're doing art.
You're creating.

You're creating not only...

You're creating your life
as an artist,

and you're creating a company.

You're part of a company...
A proud company.

It's one of the great
art forms of our country,

when you think of what it says
about our nation...

that it's cultured,
it has tradition,

it has daring visions
of new works.

There are many organizations,

but this is one that really
represents the art of dance,

around the world,
that's American.

It's so indigenous to who we are

and what we fight for, I guess.

Wow.

It's amazing to be involved

in celebrating
the history of this company.

I came to ABT for the first time
when I was 16,

in the summer intensive.

I joined the company
when I was about 19,

went through the Studio Company.

So it's been my dream, from
the time I knew what ballet was,

to be a part of this company,

because I knew
the diversity of it

and the diversity
of the ballets they do.

And the fact that we have
"theatre" in our name

sets us apart from so many other
classical companies.

ABT is all of those things
and always has been.

I think the roles we're given,
it's so diverse.

I think, also, to be a black
woman and to be a part of it

is even more special.

And the fact that this is
the only company

that has had
African-American women make it

beyond the corps de ballet

definitely kind of set that road
for me

and made it seem more tangible.

And I'm just so proud to be a
part of this company's history,

because it is American and
it represents what America is

and I am that.

You want me to tell you
what ballet feels like?

If you were a bird,
flying freely.

It feels like that.

Like, if all of a sudden,

you're just looking at the world
from up,

and just going through
everything and everyone.

And feel
that you belong to everyone

and everybody belongs to you.

I think "transporting"
is the key word.

I think dance has that power.
It can transport you.

It mirrors the experience the
dancer's having at the barre.

It's so direct

that everything else falls away
for those moments.

So that the audience, I think,
enters the concentration

and the experience
of the movement

and the beauty and the music

and the visual aspect,
the design.

The being in a group together,
being alone in your seat.

All of those things.

The audience mirrors the dancer
in that way.

We are, in a way,

the conduits of
all the aspects of humanity,

all of our different faces,
all of who we are.

And that's where the art is.

It's in that transference
between dancer and audience...

Between the mover
and the watcher.

I sometimes think
that every time you see a dance,

you're seeing the arc of a life.

Because it has a beginning,
it has a middle, it has an end,

and then it's gone.

I mean,
that's what a dance does.

It marks the passage of time,

defines time and space.

So that when you've got
a human body

moving through that arc
and defining time, physically,

it is like the arc of a life.

And it has that kind of
ephemeral quality.

And I think that's part of
what makes ballet so powerful,

is that you can't hold on to it

in the same way
that you can't hold on to life.