A night at the ballet

As you already know I have the greatest husband on earth. Handsome, strong, willing to protect me from bugs, etc. etc. etc.

Well, get ready to be TOTALLY jealous ladies; he goes to the ballet. Back in the day (aka, the ‘90’s) I was a ballerina. Well, more like, I took many classes in ballet, and did something that to the untrained eye, resembled ballet. Not quite as bad as “hippos in Fantasia” but not “opening night of Swan Lake at Lincoln Center” either.

Although my dancing days are done, I still enjoy the ballet more than you average almost-30-something. This is not a trait shared by most straight men. So imagine my surprise and joy when Fat Rock took me to the ballet, back when we were dating. And this was no amateur night. This was front row, center seats to the opening night of Carmen. And if that wasn’t enough, he LIKED it. Nay, he LOVED it. He had favorite dancers for heavens sake!

This was no simple attempt to prove his love to his lady lemur. Oh no. And to prove it, we again attended the ballet. And this one was a true litmus test. THREE world premiere ballets, all created at summer workshop. Those of you not in the ballet know, this is the dance equivalent of avant-garde one artist show at the gallery. Could be great, could be elephant poop on the Virgin Mary.

We head out. Excellent seats in a small college auditorium. We get there early so there is plenty of time for people watching.

There are old people of both the arty and non arty persuasion. You can tell them apart by their attire. The arty are wearing clunky beaded necklaces with their simple dresses. Non-arty? Sunday best with pearls. Oddly enough, this describes the attire of the women AND the men. I kid, I kid! But the men are out numbered 10 to 1.

There are young women of both the young and not so young variety. Apparently the maxi dress is back. This is a dress, strapless or not, that most closely resemble a giant bedsheet. Yes, the 70’s are back and they are angry. Strange hairdos and feathery earrings complete the ensemble. I w as slightly distracted by the girl in the purple strapless dress who appeared to adjust her Junk at every intermission. I never knew girls had Junk to adjust. Live and learn.

Time for the ballet! First an introduction by the artistic director, who bared more than a passing resemblance to “Monk.” Dance #1. 4 pas de deux’s to some Tchaikovsky. Very pretty, very traditional. Only slightly distracted by the GIANT Amazon female in the fourth dance. Seriously, I think if anyone dared to criticize her dancing, she would have jumped off the stage and beat you to death with her pointe shoe.
Dance #2. “Code of Silence.” As stated in the program “Code of Silence is inspired by the tireless efforts of Amnesty International to document human rights abuses around the globe and here in our own country.” Arty, no? It was FREAKING AWESOME. I was on the edge of my seat. I was exhausted by the end of the dance. Brought the house down. Standing ovations for all. Seriously, I’m not sure if it will be added to their usual ballet repertoire, but if you get the chance, SEE it.
Dance #3 “Time Gallery.” Based on time. Choreographed by Mr. Monk himself. This could go either way. Yeah, it went the crappy way. Kind of uncomfortable for us, because the artistic director/choreographer/Monk was sitting right in front of us, taking notes. The costumes were………interesting. Dance #1 had super tight leotards on the girls and boys, every muscle stood out. Hmm. Dancer muscles. Dance #2, Unitards with clocks printed on them. Looked like bubbles were coming out of their……..bottoms. Not the finest moment in ballet attire. Dance #3 red unitards. ‘Nuff said.

A review. 2/3s of the dances were AWESOME. People in coastal NC have interesting interpretations of what is appropriate ballet attire. The artistic director of the Carolina Ballet may, in fact, moonlight as a detective. Amazon ballerina will haunt my dreams.

I love art.

Lemur Queen