Ну вот, а статья из Globe and Mail - от 26 января 1985 года - довольно любопытная: о том, как Константин ставил танцы для постановки "Фауста" Гуно. Причем подошел к этой задаче серьезно и со всей ответственностью (кстати, меня повеселил рассказанный в той же статье анекдот о том, как Баланчин тоже ставил некогда танцы для "Фауста" - и что из этого вышло). И получилось, судя по статье, что-то весьма интересное. Хотя в другой статье в G&M, которую я не стала сохранять, эту постановку и танцы Константина распушили и раскритиковали, ну да ладно, ему не привыкать. Забавно, что по моим ощущениям критики в Globe and Mail вообще отзывались о работах Константина с большим скепсисом, чем критики в Toronto Star. Но с другой стороны - у меня нет отзывов в G&M о более ранних балетах Константина (то есть - о большинстве его работ; у меня есть доступ к номерам G&M от 1985 года и далее), может, тогда та же Дейдре Келли из G&M была к Константину более благосклонна. Хотя она и в этой статье настроена вполне благожелательно.
Dancing to the devil's tune
According to the Faust legend, hell is a state of mind. But ask any of the 12 dancers employed for the Canadian Opera Company's production of Charles Gounod's opera about the man who sold his soul for profit and pleasure and they'll tell you it's more like complete physical exhaustion. For the past month, the COC dancers have been subjected to the strict demands of the National Ballet's resident choreographer, Constantin Patsalas. And, with Patsalas goading them through tricky choreography that looks much like the devil's own, the dancers push on, for when Faust opens at O'Keefe Centre tonight, it should look as if all hell is breaking loose.
Contributing to the illusion are two dances created by Patsalas for the production, the Kermesse waltz in the first act and the Walpurgis Night ballet in the third. In the past, these sequences have been cut from the COC version, because with them Faust is more than three hours long, and because the company must foot the bill for dancers and a choreographer to do the sequences justice. Also, some directors feel uncomfortable using a ballet score that was not a part of the original production. Ten years after Faust premiered in 1859, the Paris Opera adopted it for its repertoire. Gounod was then commissioned to add a ballet in the third act, something which was de rigueur in operas of the time. Apparently, he had few objections, for his ballet music for the Walpurgis Night sequence is melodic and rhythmic and, according to Patsalas, is easy to dance to.
In choreographing for the opera, Patsalas has been careful not to create dance just for dance's sake - it would only look out of place in an opera which tends to take itself seriously. His main task has been to see that the ballet moves along with and enhances the dramatic development. Explains COC general director Lotfi Mansouri, "Choreographing for the opera is difficult. The dancing has to interweave with the dramatic action, but appear seamlessly integrated into the scene it's heightening." In Faust, the ballet is not meant to be just a pleasant interlude. It is supposed to highlight the drama by means of plot and theme development and characterization.
But some choreographers Mansouri has worked with have not been interested in helping the opera achieve its ends. They have used Faust as a forum for their choreographic talents without regard to the music, sets or director. The most extreme case that comes to Mansouri's mind involves the late George Balanchine, who worked with Mansouri on a production of Faust at Geneva's Grand Theatre in the early seventies. Balanchine locked himself in a room with his dancers and would not let anyone see what he was doing until the night of the performance. Mansouri says the result was an abstract ballet that had no visible relationship to the opera.
Patsalas, on the other hand, enjoys working with an operatic company. Yet he concedes it's more difficult than working for the National Ballet, largely because of the restrictions the opera puts on a choreographer - limited space (much of the dancing has to be on a 16-foot revolving table, the basic element of the set) and a motley crew of dancers, most of whom Patsalas has never worked with before. Yet, while few of the dancers have a strong background in classical ballet, Patsalas says he is satisfied they are giving him their best. "As long as the will is there, I don't mind that they don't always do the steps perfectly. Their emotion, involvement and conviction make up for the lack of the ideal." Before he began choreographing for Faust, Patsalas collaborated closely with Mansouri so as to understand how the opera was to be conceived. He also did intensive research into the Faust legend which included a second reading of Goethe's epic drama. What he discovered was a story that had more to do with philosophy and less with devils and witches as the libretto by Jules Barbier and Michael Carre seems to suggest.
In the text of Gounod's opera, the Walpurgis Night is introduced by the note, "Witches having a sabbath." Patsalas feels that one can take much freedom with a scene so loosely described and so he choreographed it in a highly imaginative manner.
The scene begins with devils and other underworld creatures revelling in the mountains. Accompanied by Mephistopheles, Faust arrives but is soon frightened by the gross obscenity. Mephistopheles assuages his fears by promising to transform the ugliness into a world of exotic courtesans. He fulfils his promise, but the beauty he creates is nonetheless the work of the devil.
Patsalas underscores the duplicity by showing the corrupt underbelly of Mephistopheles' charms. He does this by demonstrating how the beauty created by the devil eventually has to dissolve again into ugliness. But the transformation is shown to be slow and subtle, for, believes Patsalas, this is how deviltry works.
The Walpurgis Night ballet starts with an image of The Three Graces. Gradually, that image changes to one which is less pristine, more demonic as the women reveal themselves to be witches. Other such transformations follow. A tender and ethereal pas de deux gives way to a raunchy solo performed by a semi-nude woman beneath a dress of veils. When she strips and stands naked on the platform, the others are incited to engage in wild, orgiastic sex.
The dancers run feverishly on stage, their arms undulating and stretching in unison. Each face is screwed in a knot of concentration. Over the music in the rehearsal hall, Patsalas shouts, "Beautiful!" A moment of perfection has been won at the cost of a few beads of sweat.