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A
halogen blue arc widens and covers the floor. It is a
stage. At the center, a still figure is perched on a
chair. Up close, he turns out to be a boy framed by a
swath and contraption of ghostly draperies of blue and
gray and bone white. Our vision comes close to this
other vision (we are not aware of the camera moving in).
The boy is a young man—lean and almost thin, wearing a
white jacket and pants, a black coat slung on his
shoulder. He comes down from the chair and starts to
walk, one foot following the other. The walk continues
and stops. He briskly moves backward and turns around.
Many things happen—and shock us—in that move. The arms
flap and circle the upper torso. The arms are vestigial
remains of wings? His shirt from the back shows two
punctures. Are they where the wings used to be? Are they
the instrument of flight before the fall?
The
artist is Daniil Simkin. He is dancing the dance called
Fallen Angel. It is a dance and a pain. A choreographed
sonnet that is philosophy and poetry. The work
seamlessly puts together acrobatics and aesthetics
liberated from the imagined conflict between the modern
and the classic, and pits the two again against each to
build a tension required by the rigor of creation.
If I am
rhapsodizing, it is because the dance is no less
enthralling. Simkin has chosen to tell us the story of
Lucifer without the condemning catechesis. After the
twirling and leaps, between the falling and the rising,
Simkin proves that rhythm and soul are as old as Lucifer
himself.
But
leaps and pirouettes are not enough. Sometimes, the
viewer demands for the story. Simkin does not
disappoint, for he gives us his own version of the Fall
to the reengineered sound of Mozart.
This
genius is also available by way of YouTube. Daniil
Simkin is a Russian whose family moved to Germany. His
father is Dmitri Simkin, an accomplished dancer himself.
Catch them, as only YouTube can do so, dance a duet to
the music of Frank Sinatra singing “My Way”. The fact
that the dance has been performed to huge applause and
popularity by that phenomenon named Baryshnikov
diminishes not but articulates rather the fact that
other dancers can also do it. And the Simkins do it.
Rarities
are not rarities in YouTube. The site seems to target
the unusual, the marginal, the forgotten divas, the
tortured pianist, bringing them together to dance
together, sing together, even walk on fire together.
I shall
enumerate my favorites: Bette Davis singing “I Wish You
Love” in a Dinah Shore show. She sings some lines,
recites some, but never distorts them. Introduced by
RuPaul, Diana Ross singing “I Will Survive,” with
transvestites who all move and look like her. Katharine
Hepburn as Coco Chanel in the Broadway flop called Coco.
With a vocal range that sounds like it cannot make up an
octave, Kate sings a bit and growls a lot. The fans of
the French designer may complain but who cares, the play
is not about Chanel; it is about Hepburn.
Ella
Fitzgerald must be one singer with the most number of
YouTube entries. Check out her “Angel Eyes,” sung with
her eyes closed – no elaborate movements, no elaborate
pauses, just that stately and transcendental breath
control. She has all her classics covered, too, by
YouTube: different versions of Gershwin’s “Summertime”
and that manic improvisation on “Mack the Knife.” For
sheer fun though, check out her trio...er, duet with
Sarah Vaughan, with the irrepressible Pearl Bailey in
the middle serving as a bouncer and bridge.
The
sopranos and the tenors are all YouTubed. The site is a
virtual cornocupia of divas, without the temperament and
the cancellation. There are many revelations in this
division. Have fun—or pity—with a very young Jose
Carreras singing a Broadway song with Leonard Bernstein
conducting/torturing him. Bernstein stops the tenor
several times because of a phrasing problem but he never
really tells Carreras how to do it.
As in
the real staging of an opera, the YouTube audience can
sound mean and cruel. As Nureyev puts it, people expect
blood. Audiences may root for their idols, but deep
within they anticipate the singer to miss the high
notes, the dancer to leap and tumble. The site allows
people to post comments. The exchange is not for the
faint of heart as music teachers and professionally
trained dancers join the fray and cut to disposable
chunks listeners. The discussions would even carry
technical comments. No one is spared. Kiri Te Kanawa,
for all the vocal agility, is always marked as a singer
with limited instrument! Her diction has been described
as muffled. Surprisingly, Callas fans who may have never
seen her perform may be shocked to see that Callas also
had great flaws, the one being that while she has a
thespic ability not found in most major sopranos, her
voice is second only to her rival Renata Tebaldi.
Lately,
I have been obsessed with the pianists. Not the
“intellectual” contemplative ones but those who can
summon the thunder and offer prayers and threats to the
divine with their dexterity. Vladimir Horowitz is a
favorite. His version of Chopin’s “Ballade in G Minor” a
major obsession. Watch him play as if he is in dialog
with his own devils. When he raises his hands to end the
piece, the applause rises like a flood. He looks to the
audience but you feel his mind is to the other forces of
the Universe that give him the potency to perform and
perform to perfection.
I click
for a replay and pray in my heart that those filing a
suit for copyright breach against YouTube will find it
in their heart to listen to their vision of the art
latent under their cloak of commerce and a bit affected
by this thing called Intellectual Property Rights. |
