A NIGHT OUT AT THE BALLET
Or, How Things Can Change When You're Not Paying Attention!

By The Perfesser

Hello, loyal readers! Long time, no yadda, as the Ivory Tower has been particularly cozy of late and the research has been long and arduous. But even a dedicated Perfesser such as myself—for I am the only Perfesser I know of—needs a break, and so it was with great relief that I dislodged the felines from my lap and went to a performance of Don Quixote by San Francisco Ballet.

The ballet was all that and a bag of codpieces. Beautiful costumes, spectacular dancing (especially during the joyous wedding of the final Act), and exceptional musculature were all on display and enjoyed by yours truly. Pablo Piantino made for a funny Sancho Panza. The two leads, Kristin Long as Kitri and Gonzalo Garcia as Basilio, were superb and joyful in their roles. Moises Martin showed great flair as the Matador. Cervantes would be proud of this interpretation of his classic novel. The score was mighty fine, too.

If only the entire experience were as fine, however.

I must admit that it’s been a long time since I’ve seen a full-length ballet. Sure, I’ve seen repertory pieces—I’ve not yet metamorphosed into a full-time Philistine—but not a ballet where the entire two-and-a-half hours of dancing were devoted to the telling of one story. So I beg your indulgence with my curiosity about a strange pirouette of events.

As I said, me. Full-length ballet. Long time. So it was quite a shock to see the dancers taking bows within the scenes themselves. I’m used to dancers taking bows after an act, maybe after a completed scene, and definitely after the entire ballet ends, but in the middle of a scene? Because they danced a pas de deux or did a solo? This rates a separate bow beyond that taken after the full act has been danced?

Now, I’m not begrudging the dancers their due. They did a magnificent job and deserved a vigorous clapping and “Bravo”-ing. After the scene/act/ballet was over. Not in the middle of a scene where it disrupts the narrative flow and impacts my unfettered indulgence in spectatorial pleasure. It's as bad as if Hamlet himself took a bow after giving his first soliloquy. "Thank you, thank you! I have nine total of these speeches, so keep those hands warmed up."

Anyway, this is the part where I ask my balletomane readers to jeté out of the woodwork and school me in the modern ballet. If this is something audiences (or, perhaps, strictly American audiences) have come to expect, please do let me know so I can skip the live performance and catch the video in the comfort of my Tower and shut my yap about my latest peeve because I found the constant bowing very distracting. Lord knows it’s annoying enough as it is being in an audience that feels compelled to clap after every single divertissement.

Speaking of the audience: Quit your yammering during the performance. Just because the acting is being done solely with the body and not the voice, nor are there any lyrics to the music, does not give you license to jabber on about your boring lives and the boring lives of your boring friends and boring family while I am trying to take in the full majesty of this great art. It’s flat-out rude, you swine.

Unfortunately, I’ve noticed this trend happening in the movies and at music concerts where there are lyrics to go along with the melodies as well. Why anyone would pay $9 - $100 for a seat, $5 - $20 for parking, a mini-fortune on beverages and food, and then proceed to chit-chat with each other about mundane details during the entire film/concert/ballet/whatever baffles me. You know, you can tell your best friend Sue about how much your crazy Aunt Martha drank this time during intermission. Or after the show’s over. Or preferably over the phone in the comfort of your own home, which is much cheaper than spending a walletful of money on a live event and incurring the wrath of a Perfesser with a keyboard and a grudge.

Finally, to the parents of the giggly teenaged girls at the same performance of Don Quixote I attended: Teach your kids about etiquette, for goodness sake! School them in the general costume of the danseur. Yes, I realize they are only teenagers and entitled to their immaturity, but for the love of all that is holy, let them see a picture of penis ahead of time so they won’t get so giddy at the sight of a man in tights! Tell them that they will be seeing well-defined gluteal muscles that deserve to be treated with quiet respect and awe, not childish pointing and tittering. And if that fails, at least impart the good sense to them to hold it in during the ballet and guffaw and squeal all they want when they’re back in your car on the way home. Seriously. Grow up.

Ah, I feel better, and I know the cats are happier that I’m not brushing their coats quite so hard. Perhaps I will venture out to the ballet again...when my blood pressure can handle it. Until next time, I remain, as always…The Perfesser.

To learn more about America's first professional ballet company, visit: http://www.sfballet.org/

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