Louisiella
Louisiella@Gmail.com
I really like ballet. Normally if I “like” something I’m completely obsessed with it for a while, then get over it. My interest in ballet seems to have developed in a way that I can only assume is how normal people get interested in things, gradually, rationally and over a lifetime. I’ve had the good luck to see some of the most wonderful productions at the Royal Opera House in London and recently saw Giselle as part of their latest season. Giselle is the ballet I’ve been dying to see in recent years. Giselle herself is a female character with more than a little of the Ophelia about her. We probably guess it’s not going to end well when she enters in Act I; innocently plucking at flowers but also frequently stifling a swoon to show us that she’s of delicate health. She’s seduced by a stranger to the village, who soon turns out to be not simply an anonymous neighbour but in fact an undercover prince, and an engaged one at that. The dramatic revelation when it finally comes is too much for Giselle, who, after losing the plot and dancing with invisible partners and picking some invisible flowers, succumbs to her weak heart and dies. In Act II her grave is visited by a group of female spirits, eternal jilted brides who died before they were married and now haunt the nighttime woods to wreak sinister revenge on unsuspecting wanderers. The spirits raise Giselle from her grave to join them, only to chance upon Giselle’s double-crossing prince, who is visiting her grave site to make amens for his wrongdoings. The group surround him in their somber white veils and enchant him into a dance to the death. Giselle though, forgiving her prince and determined that he should avoid this fate, helps him dance until it’s time for sunrise when the spirits disappear, taking with them their newest arrival, Giselle.
Ballet is completely ordered, it might often seem spontaneous and impulsive if done well, but the rigid hierarchy, choreography and symbolism behind these most traditional of dances mean that there’s never a toe out of place. The storyline usually involves a relationship between a man and a woman but it usually also features a community which one or both of the characters belongs to. The ballet company works like tiers of a wedding cake, groups will perform dances, usually in decreasing numbers and with increasing technical feats until all previous performance is distilled into the final dance between the two principles. Their final dance can be seen as the essence of the ballet.
Ballet is at its most beautiful when at its most sorrowful and I suppose that’s what makes Giselle such a great ballet. The dance as a lament is hardest to do, both from a technical point of view since it is often set to slower music and requires greater physical control and balance and also from an emotional performance point of view because technical genius is nothing if you can’t move people.
I don’t know any ballet dancers, in fact I don’t know anyone who knows any ballet dancers. Are there not many of them? What are they like? I just can’t fathom the mindset you’d need to train like the hardestcore athlete 80% of the time then spend the remaining 20% on stage acting like your heart is breaking with centuries-old orchestration as your soundtrack and magical landscapes as your surroundings.
Sidenote: I loved the 1948 film The Red Shoes when I was little. Its the kind of film that I was encouraged to watch and yet secretly thought they clearly had no idea of the contents of the film because it was so disturbing and insane.
The Red Shoes.
Of all the singing voices I’ve ever heard, without doubt my favourite one is Harry Nilsson’s. I just think it’s the best.
Nilsson was ever-present on the peripheries of events that shaped popular musical history throughout the sixties and seventies. He was Lennon’s partner in crime during the eighteen-month-long Yoko-less period John called his “Lost Weekend”. Both Mamma Cass and Keith Moon died in his London flat. If I’m not selling it, just remember, it’s all about the voice.
Starting his career working night shifts in a bank while writing songs during the day, in 1967 he was propelled to recognition by The Beatles claiming him as their favourite performer. His seemed like a talent never quite fully realised, if only because he’d never stick to anything for long enough. Genre-hopping through each record; silken re-interpretation of arranged standards one minute and hard-rock gut-wrenchers littered with “fuck you” lyrics the next, fans often recoiled in bafflement from offerings that seemed like the result of too much time spent down the pub with Lennon. Which was probably the case. Nilsson obstinately kept a sense of humour throughout his work, which although admirable, was often half the problem (Nilsson once invited a coachload of senior citizens to his recording studios in London to sing backing vocals on a track dealing with the fear of aging entitled “I’d Rather be Dead” nice).
As a result of the critical confusion he so encouraged, many of his more unusual works have been dismissed as “oddities”, purposely forgotten in favour of his more middle of the road, commercial output. Which is a shame because I love that stuff. In 1971 Nilsson put out a record called The Point! which no one has ever heard of. To be fair, it is an acid-fuelled concept album telling the story of a small boy called Oblio and his trials and tribulations at being the only member of his town not to have a pointed head….. But the songs are actually brilliant and Nilsson’s three-octave voice soars like crazy. I even love the music that he wrote for Robert Altman’s much derided musical version of Popeye. I’ve been surprised at the amount of times I’ve had to rely on YouTube because people just think I’m making this shit up. Anyway. It’s the voice.
Harry Nilsson- One
I think about Billy Liar a lot. It’s the kind of comedy that you secretly know is a tragedy. Inventions of fantasy which slowly become just as imprisoning as the conventional monotony they were designed to distract from. Tom Courtenay is truly amazing in this film.
I have a serious weakness for French pop music. The fact is that I automatically think pretty much anything French is cool, coupled with the fact that French pop idols have this tendency towards the bizarre which I find impossible to resist.
I first saw a Mylène Farmer video on TV in Paris many years ago, and it totally blew my mind, I’m pretty sure it’s the only music video that attempts to present it’s star looking like she’s stepped out of the pages of a 90’s Vogue whilst participating in a riot in what appears to be a concentration camp. That song turned out to be Désenchantée, which in 1991 proved to be such a massive hit it propelled Farmer to insane levels of fame. But only in France. Specialising in Madonna-style pop with highly political and provocative lyrics my favourite video of hers is this one directed by Luc Besson for a song called Que Mon Cœur Lâche.
Next is the pop-virtuoso Mathieu Chedid, super-talented performer, composer, producer and collaborator. Mostly performing and releasing work under the pseudonym -M- his music is a curious mixture of disco beats, absurd guitar solos and trip hop psychedelia. Seeing his stage show a few years ago was the closest thing I’ve ever come to experiencing mass hysteria. People literally going nuts for a man flying through the air playing a pink guitar. The man is an all-out superstar. But only in France. I’m seeing him again this year in Paris and I can’t wait to see if that experience is equalled or surpassed. Here he is performing Je Dis Aime.
