N.Y. Export: Opus Jazz, on OVID.tv

t was promoted as a ballet celebration of youth, but it was set to a style of jazz, Third Stream, that was considered old and staid by most hipsters, even when it was new. Yet, much of it still swung, albeit in a more polite and respectable kind of way. That was certainly true of Robert Prince’s score for Jerome Robbins’ classic choreography. Decades later, it is still recognized as one of his greatest works. Filmmakers Henry Joost & Jody Lee Lipes moved the ballet from the stage to ultra-New York locations in N.Y. Export: Opus Jazz, which premieres tomorrow on OVID.tv.

The dancers are indeed young. They look like they could be the 2010’s version of the “kids from Fame,” as we watch them move and kvetsch through the city, on their way to each dance segment. They certainly have talent. Each number has all the grace and energy that made N.Y. Export an international sensation when Robbins toured it for the U.S. State Department. Joost and Lipes shrewdly frame each dance with their roving cameras in ways that emphasize the dancers’ long limbs and fluidly funky movement. Featured soloists like Adam Hendrickson and Georgina Pazcoguin are physically poised and dynamic, but they also have screen presences that further elevate their performances.

N.Y. Export represented Robbins’ next logical step after his chorography for West Side Story. Some of the distressed urban locations chosen for the film clearly evoke that “Sharks vs. Jets” vibe. The film was produced during the late Bloomberg era, when this New York grit held nostalgic charm. Unfortunately, these “reclaimed” abandoned spaces have lost their novelty in 2024.

Regardless, the film still looks and sounds great. Frankly, Robert Prince’s music is due for a re-discovery. The big finale, “Theme, Variations, and Fugue” even has a little old school New Orleans in it. The original LP release of N.Y. Export: Opus Jazz was on Warner Brothers, a major label, but not one with a storied jazz history. Frustratingly, there were no credits for the musicians who actually played the music, which always aggravates us jazz fans.

That is why it is so annoying that the film commits the exact same sin. However, it identifies Eddie Barbasch and Jesse Scheinin as the street saxophonists in the opening non-dancing sequence. The supplemental 15-minute documentary “A Ballet in Sneakers: Jerome Robbins and Opus Jazz” packaged after the closing titles also credits its musicians, including Jay Hassler on clarinet and musical director Conor Meehan on drums. (With the doc included, the entire N.Y. Export presentation barely runs past sixty minutes.)

Tribeca ’22: Nicholas Brothers Stormy Weather (short)

Nobody could match the moves of Fayard and Harold Nicholas. This short documentary [inadvertently] proves it. Although their prime Hollywood musical numbers were often cut out to appease the segregationist South, they eventually received Kennedy Center Honors and a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. They appeared in the clip montage movies That’s Entertainment and That’s Dancing, but strangely, neither selected their most iconic performance. Contemporary dancers look back in awe at their leaping steps in Michael Shevloff & Paul Crowder’s Nicholas Brothers: Stormy Weather, which screens during the 2022 Tribeca Film Festival.

Stormy Weather was a star vehicle for Lena Horne, so there would be no call for cutting out the Nicholas Brothers’ big number. Fittingly, they uncorked one of their greatest filmed performances, culminating with the brother leaping over each other, landing into splits, as they worked their way down a grand, Busby Berkeley-ish staircase. Backed by the Cab Calloway Orchestra, they nailed it in one take, with no rehearsals.

Dancers like Savion Glover give unnecessary explanations as to why their performance is so impressive. Frankly, you can totally get it just from watching them. However, the short film builds up to the contemporary dancers, Les Twins, choreographing and performing their own tribute to the Nicholas Brothers’ Stormy Weather performance—which will absolutely not be a recreation, an important distinction.

Great Performances: Coppelia

Anyone who remembers Bugs Bunny and Elmer Fudd belting out Wagner in What’s Opera Doc? knows classical music and animation are a match made in heaven. Chuck Jones may have brought some opera into cartoons, but directors Jeff Tudor, Steven De Beul, and Ben Tesseur managed to fully integrate live ballet with animation in their hybrid production of Coppéllia (based on a previous Dutch National Ballet staging), which premieres Friday on PBS, as part of the current season of Great Performances.

Obviously, this is not a traditional production of Coppéllia, starting with the new music composed by Maurizio Malagnini. You can still see the Tales of Hoffman source material easily enough, but this Coppéllia is much less dark. In fact, it is downright sunny and vibrantly colorful.

Swanilda now goes by Swan, but you have to read the credits to know. It turns out she and Franz are both quite smitten with each other, but so far, they have been too shy to act on their attraction. He works in the bike shop and she is a barrista, which means she keeps busy, because the whole town’s social life and economy seem to revolve around afternoon coffee. However, things start to change when the mysterious Dr. Coppelius opens his factory. Ostensibly, he is selling haute couture, but he is really manufacturing female automatons. To bring his favorite to android life, he needs to steal the life force of the villagers—and Franz’s mojo is particularly potent.

Although the tone is generally bright and upbeat, many of the production’s retro science fiction visuals look like they were inspired by Metropolis, which makes sense, since the dialogue-free ballet largely functions like a silent film. Malagnini’s score maybe isn’t especially memorable after the fact, but it mostly quite peppy and buoyant. There is even a hint of Raymond Scott-ish whimsy here and there (but just a hint).

The animation (both 2D and 3D) is also quite impressive. Frankly, there are times when it is hard to distinguish the background animation from the cartoon-styled set and prop design, which is actually a great compliment to both.

Tango Shalom: From the Bologna Family

Tango is a little bit sad and a whole lot romantic. Rabbi Moshe Yehuda should be able to relate to it. He is still very much in love with his wife Raquel, but they have recently found themselves strapped for cash. A lucrative dance contest might offer a solution, but his faith prohibits him from touching a woman who is not his wife. Rabbi Yehuda seeks guidance from advisors inside and outside his faith in Gabriel Bologna’s Tango Shalom, which is now playing in New York and Los Angeles.

It seems like everyone in Yehuda’s family needs money from him at the same time, but his teaching just isn’t bringing any in. He even ventures out from his Crown Heights neighborhood in search of paid employment, but to no avail. However, he stumbles across Viviana Nieves’ dance studio. Even though he never tangoed before, he has no trouble picking up the steps through the plate glass window. Nieves is so impressed she invites him in for an unconventional touchless lesson.

Can you believe Yehuda has such natural rhythm Nieves would invite him to be her partner when her ex-lover dumps her at the last minute? Why not? We buy into more outlandish gimmicks all the time, but it will be more difficult for the Orthodox Yehuda to accept it. When he seeks the counsel of the Grand Rebbe, his advice is more than a bit confusing, but it does not completely shut the door on the contest. As he wrestles with the issue, the Rabbi encounters the kindly Father Anthony, the strict but respectful Imam Ahmed, and the playful traveling Hindu mystic Ravi Prajna. Each has something helpful to tell Yehuda, but Prajna might have a solution to his dilemma (which is actually kind of clever).

Tango Shalom is definitely a family affair, for both the Bolognas and Laniados. Gabriel Bologna directs a screenplay, co-written by his instantly recognizable late father Joseph (who co-stars as Father Anthony), with brothers Jos and Claudio Laniado, who portray Moshe Yehuda and his younger brother Rahamim. Plus, Joseph Bologna’s longtime wife (and writing partner) Renee Taylor portrays Moshe’s elderly mother, Deborah Yehuda, while Jos Laniado’s daughter Justine plays his on-screen daughter Shira. In addition, Gabriel Bologna’s wife Zizi composed some of the score. Even the longtime Bologna family friend Lanie Kazan (who co-starred with Joe in My Favorite Year) gets into the act as Leah Zlotkin, Rahamim’s prospective mother-in-law.

All the family connections might make the cynical among us suspicious, but in this case, it leads a good deal of on-screen chemistry. This is definitely a family- and faith-friendly movie that has malice towards none and charity for all. Yet, its spirit of inter-faith fellowship actually makes it rather distinctive in the current marketplace. The humor can be a bit goofy, in a G-rated kind of way, but the tango is legit, thanks to Karina Smirnoff (from Dancing with the Stars). Of course, she is appropriately elegant on the dance floor, but she’s not bad in her dramatic scenes with her Orthodox partner. This might be a family film, but the tango choreography does not water-down the sultriness of the dance.

Dance on Camera ’19: Échappé (short)

Ballet is an elite performing art, enjoyed by kings and czars, but the USSR’s propaganda masters tried to exploit it for their benefit, holding the graceful dance up as an example of Soviet superiority and appealing to its traditional significance for the Russian people. You knew when there was trouble, because state TV would suddenly broadcast Swan Lake. However, their ballet strategy backfired when high-profile dancers defected to the West. It wasn’t just Nureyev. There was also Baryshnikov, Godunov, Makarova, Panov, and the Koslovs. A rising prima ballerina is deeply concerned her brother intends to join their ranks and even more fearful of what steps their handler might take to stop him in Allison Mattox’s short film, Échappé, which screens during this year’s Dance on Camera.

It is 1970. Cold War tensions are mounting, so the stakes are high for the ballet company’s “good will” tour. Nikolai Andreyev is probably their biggest star, but his sister Vera Andreyev’s reputation will probably soon eclipse his. She is also considered much more politically reliable than the long-suspect Nikolai.

Rather awkwardly for Ms. Andreyev, her brother is about to become a victim of her success. Believing her prestige is now sufficient to carry the company, Lionidze, their KGB escort intends to send Nikolai home to prevent any further international incidents (you know, to give one of those private command performances for the Kremlin). This creates a crisis of conscience for motherland-loving ballerina.

Even though Échappé is set during the beginning of the polyester 1970s, it looks terrific thanks to the exquisite lensing of cinematographer Beth Napoli. Frankly, this is one of the best looking films this year, of any length. Beyond questions of cinematic aesthetics, it also helps showcase Martin Harvey’s choreography in a favorable light (so to speak), which patrons of Dance on Camera will surely appreciate.

Leads Olesya Senchenko and Pavel Shatu certainly both look like glamorous dancers, but they also respond well to each other. On the other side of the spectrum, Nikolai Tsankov is deeply sinister, in a slavishly apparatchik kind of way, as Lionidze. Indeed, Échappé is a well-crafted film in all respects, including Mattox’s screenplay. Instead of merely echoing White Crow, Échappé very definitely has its own identity, which really comes into sharp relief when the intelligent ironies of its conclusion are revealed. Very highly recommended for fans of dance and Cold War films, Échappé screens with the documentary Three Dances this Sunday afternoon (7/14), as part of Dance on Camera 2019.

Nureyev, The Documentary

Yuri Gagarin’s manned space flight was a massive PR victory for the Soviets, but they lost nearly all their newly acquired prestige two months later when Rudolf Nureyev defected in the Paris airport. Gagarin only went into space once, but most of Nureyev’s best performances were ahead of him. Jacqui Morris & David Morris chronicle the iconic dancer’s full life and career in Nureyev, which opens this Friday in New York.

Tellingly, Nureyev describes himself as more Tatar than Russian in some of the extensive archival interviews Morris & Morris smoothly incorporate into the film. Of course, he was first and foremost a dancer. For most dance patrons, the real news of their documentary is all the previously unseen footage of Nureyev they discovered, included his performances of Martha Graham and Paul Taylor choreography, as well as hazy footage of the young, unknown Nureyev in Russia. Plus, the film features snippets of original dance that thematically accompanies the ghostly reminiscences of his friends and colleagues.

Morris & Morris do a decent job covering Nureyev’s defection, but it is not the centerpiece of the film, as it is for Ralph Fiennes truly excellent The White Crow. Arguably, for them, Nureyev’s close were-they-lovers-or-not artistic collaboration with British prima ballerina Margot Fonteyn is the central defining aspect of his life. In the process, they cover a fair amount of her life, which is fascinating.

Nureyev the doc also does a nice job explaining the ballet’s significant but somewhat ambiguous relationship with the Soviet regime, including its notorious broadcasts of Swan Lake during episodes of internal strife. Perhaps even more revealing are the details of the French Communist Party’s coordinated campaign to heckle and intimidate Nureyev during his first post-defection performance.However, the film’s third act anti-Reagan biases get rather tiresome (no, Reagan did not miraculously cure AIDS, but nobody has ever cured a virus, to this day.) Still, there are striking time capsule moments, as when Nureyev, at the absolute peak of his powers, takes a two-minute standing ovation on the Dick Cavett Show (anyone under thirty will probably have to Google him).

Of course, the dance is the thing. Morris & Morris vividly illustrate Nureyev’s legendary talents. It is more than just a mere greatest hits package. In terms of cinema, The White Crow is the better film, but Nureyev is still an impressive dance showcase. Recommended for ballet enthusiasts, Nureyev opens tomorrow (6/7) in New York, at Film Forum.

The White Crow: Fiennes Brings Nureyev to the Big Screen

Rudolf Nureyev brought ballet to new heights of popularity when he danced with the Royal Ballet in London and he took The Muppet Show to new levels of prestige when he danced with Miss Piggy. Yet, these career highlights were made possible by the most dramatic episode of his life: his defection from the Soviet Union. Nureyev’s fateful goodwill tour of France with the Kirov Ballet is the focus of Ralph Fiennes terrific The White Crow, which opens this Friday in New York.

Nureyev was born on a Transiberian train car, far away from the Kirov (a.k.a. Mariinsky) ballet in Leningrad (St. Petersburg). Despite the bad timing of being born during WWII, Nureyev’s raw talent and drive would eventually take him to the Vaganova Academy in Leningrad, where ballet master Alexander Ivanovich Pushkin would take him under his wing, as the audiences sees in flashbacks. (Mikhail Baryshnikov would later study under Pushkin as well).

By the time Nureyev reached Paris, he already had a reputation for being the most electrifying dancer of his generation—and for being difficult for his minders to control. Despite attempts to shield him Parisian society, Nureyev quickly befriended French dancer Pierre Lacotte and Chilean expat Clara Saint, the former fiancée of French Culture Minister Andre Malraux’s late son, with whom he enthusiastically partook of Paris’s nightclubs, parties, and after-hours scene. For a while, Strizhevsky, the KGB agent assigned to the Kirov tour, gives Nureyev some slack, but eventually, the liberties he takes become to much for the apparatchik to bear.

However, when Strizhevsky tries to pull him from the tour in the Paris airport, Nureyev immediately senses something is wrong. Refusing to return to Moscow, a conflict of wills ensues, overseen by the quick-thinking gendarmes assigned to the airport, with Saint operating behind the scenes as a liaison to the press and the French government.

The White Crow (a Russian expression meaning something like “a rare bird” and “an odd duck”) is a little over two-hours long, but it feels like it runs less than ninety minutes, because the climatic airport defection scene is so tightly and tensely helmed by Fiennes. This is easily his best film as a director (even though his Coriolanus was also quite good), because his has such a strong aptitude both for the Cold War thriller elements and the dance sequences.

Fiennes gives himself an important assist with his achingly conflicted and humanistic portrayal of Pushkin. Of course, the critical casting coup was real-life Ukrainian-born ballet dancer Oleg Ivenko, who looks and moves like Nureyev (which is saying a lot). He projects the magnetism that had such a potent effect on Nureyev’s admirers, but it is far from a hagiographic portrayal. In fact, he also quite vividly conveys the dancer’s ambition and diva-like arrogance.

Aleksey Morozov is almost as compelling as Strizhevsky, whose desperation to keep Nureyev in the fold and in his shackles is intensely palpable. Adele Exarchopoulos (Blue is the Warmest Color) is rather a dreary, whiny presence throughout the first hour of the film, yet somehow, she snaps to during the crucial airport standoff. The ensemble is impressive, both in their dramatic roles and when applicable, as dancers. Plus, the period production is seamlessly crafted (it is easy to see why it would be hard to keep someone in the Worker’s Paradise, after seeing Paris in the early 1960s).

Nureyev, along with Baryshnikov and Alexander Godunov, established freedom-seeking Soviet ballet dancers were some of the gutsiest, most principled artists during the Cold War. Indeed, it is worth noting Sergei Polunin’s engaging performance as Nureyev’s friend and troupe-mate, Yuri Soloviev, who refused to join the Communist Party, even after Nureyev’s defection, despite the thuggish pressure exerted by the KGB. Fiennes nicely captures the tenor of the times and the passion of Nureyev’s dancing, making it a worthy companion film to Bruce Beresford’s criminally under-appreciated Mao’s Last Dancer. Very highly recommended, The White Crow opens this Friday (4/26) in New York, at the Angelika Film Center.

DWF ’18: Gatha (short)

The despoilment of the nation of Tibet is not merely an environmental tragedy. It also holds religious implications, due to the sacred status of the nation’s many natural wonders. Mount Kangrinboqê is a perfect example. The Himalayan peak is a frequent pilgrimage destination for believers of the Buddhist, Bon, Hindu, and Jain faiths. Two brothers will embark on the arduous trek in director-choreographer-screenwriter Tang Chenglong’s visually arresting and symbolically resonant short film, Gatha (trailer here), which screens today as part of the Spotlight: China! sidebar at this year’s Dances With Films.

As the two brothers slowly prostrate themselves towards Kangrinboqê, we can see the grubby modern world started to intrude on Tibet’s pristine mountains and valleys. However, from a pilgrim’s perspective, the landscape is still wild and unforgiving. They will traverse deserts, forests, and mountain ranges on their pilgrimage. Along the way, they also express the ecstatic joy of their faith through dance. Yet, there will also be sorrow, because that is very much a part of the cycle of life.

Geng Zibo and Chen Shifei dance with the striking strength and physicality, but their grace is just as evident. They are well-served by Tang’s dynamic choreography, which incorporates elements of martial arts and hip hop, but also expresses delight and wonder. Somehow, it evokes ancient mysticism, while still looking really cool and sleekly modern. Geng and Chen perform in natural settings that would dwarf most performers, but they still command the stage. Nevertheless, the staggering power of the Tibetan locales cannot and will not be denied.

Gatha is essentially an allegory, but it is deeply moving. It is also a sensory feast and a superb technical package, with special credit clearly due to “executive director” A Luo, who is also credited with the aerial photography and some of the camera work. This is one of the most ambitious and rewarding dance films in years, but it also serves as a timely reminder of what is at risk in occupied Tibet. Very highly recommended, Gatha screens this afternoon, as part of the Spotlight: Kids from China short film program, during the 2018 Dances With Films.

Polina: Juliette Binoche can Dance

Not much has changed in Russia. The president is a former KGB officer and the Bolshoi Ballet is still the nation’s most prestigious cultural institution. For an aspiring dancer like Polina Oulinov, rebelling against the Bolshoi is like any other Russian rebelling against Putin. Yet, she will risk a brilliant career to pursue modern dance in Valérie Müller & Angelin Preljocaj’s Polina (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Oulinov is not a superhero, but she can endure great physical pain and she was first brought to life in the pages of Bastien Vivès’ like-titled graphic novel. Although she was supposedly never that “supple,” young Oulinov was still admitted to the ballet school of the great Bojinski, a legendary choreographer who ran afoul of Soviet censors from time to time. He is hard on her, but he also helps her find the key to ace the entrance exam for Moscow’s leading ballet high school.

During her teen years, Oulinov steadily develops her art, but she still returns for tutoring from Bojinski. As a result, she easily aces the Bolshoi audition, but a special performance from a visiting French modern dance troupe convinces her to forsake the venerable ballet company to pursue modern dance in Aix-en-Provence. For a while, she makes progress under Liria Elsaj’s tutelage, but her prima ballerina attitude eventually clashes with the troupe’s cooperative ethos. Thus, begins a period of scuffling across France and Belgium.

Evidently, Juliette Binoche really can do it all. A few years ago, she performed in a legit dance production choreographed by Akram Khan, so it makes perfect sense to cast her as Elsaj. In fact, most of her on-screen performance comes through her dancing, which is impressive. Yet, her straight talk to Oulinov also leaves a lasting impression.

Likewise, Anastasia Shevtsova, a member of the Mariinsky, has all the chops you would expect. She is also quite a good screen thesp, making us despise and yet sympathize with Oulinov, in equal measure. Jérémie Bélingard (of the Paris Opera) compliments her perfectly, both in terms of dance steps and romantic chemistry. Yet, it is Aleksei Guskov who really gives the film its soul, even though Müller and Preljocaj have too much integrity for any tearful summation scenes between teacher and former pupil.

In fact, Müller the screenwriter and Preljocaj the acclaimed choreographer share duties at the helm without any apparent Jekyll-and-Hyde effects. They stage the performances in visually interesting ways and bring out the characters’ passion for dance. Their primary cast-members are used quite shrewdly, but they also get a key assist from Yurie Tsugawa and her partner, whose pivotal performance of Snow White is so arresting, we can believe it would send Oulinov off packing to France.

One thing comes through loud and clear during Polina: a dancer’s life is not for the weak of heart or limb. Despite a few melodramatic indulgences, it is a surprisingly honest and even gritty film. Plus, Juliette Binoche has space to show off talents many of her admirers have not had a chance to appreciate. Recommended for patrons of French cinema and modern dance, Polina opens this Friday (8/25) in New York, at the Angelika Film Center downtown and the Lincoln Plaza uptown.

HiFF ’16: Cold Nights Hot Salsa

Don’t tell the Quebecois language police, but you might be able to hear a little Spanish in Montreal salsa clubs. It turns out there is quite a burgeoning salsa scene in the French Canadian city. Victor Contreras and Katia Morales are two of Montreal’s most talented salsa dancers, who have a serious enough chance at the World Salsa Championship to attract a documentarian’s attention. Edwin Gailits follows the partners (on and off the dance floor) as they train and compete in Cold Nights Hot Salsa (trailer here), which screens during this year’s Harlem International Film Festival.

It is easy to see why Gailits thought Morales and Contreras were such an appealing couple. They represent both the new and old conceptions of salsa. Once considered a smoldering couple’s dance perfect for encouraging close contact, it has become style that showcases physical virtuosity. They became a couple through dance and they are good enough to compete on an international level.

It seems like salsa has more competing titles than the sport of boxing, so Contreras and Morales will have several chances to stake a championship claim. As they start to place higher, they try to pick up a few steps from salsa’s royalty: elite champions-turned judges Billy Fajardo & Katie Marlow and the Mambo King godfather of salsa, Eddie Torres.

There is some spectacularly cinematic dancing and a good deal of correspondingly hot music (including a Bobby Sanabria selection) in Cold Nights, but none of it is played live. However, Gailits was arguably a year or two too early. In subsequent tournaments, Morales and Contreras would go on a championship run, but they were still underdogs while Gailits crew was around. They would also miss a lot of off-stage financial drama involving championship impresario Albert Torres’ former organization.

Still, it is rather fascinating to see salsa start to establish itself as a global competitive pursuit. Montreal is still not Miami, but it seems to be well represented at each competition. It is a nice film, but a shorty by feature standards, barely stretching seconds over an hour in total running time. Still, fans of salsa and those who appreciate the music and culture that spawned it should enjoy this intimate account of potential champions finding their voice (in terms of choreography) when it screens this Friday (9/16) at MIST, as part of the 2016 Harlem International Film Festival.

Carlos Saura’s Argentina

If your idea of Argentine music begins and ends with tango that is a great start, but there is a much fuller history to survey. Carlos Saura helped popularize the tango around the world with his Oscar nominated hybrid-musical Tango (the man likes simple titles, at least for international releases). Now he fills in the rest of the mosaic with Argentina (trailer here), a gorgeous performance documentary in the style of his previous Fados and Flamenco, Flamenco, which opens this Friday in New York.

There is no talking in Argentina (well maybe a bit of incidental convo, but that is just for behind-the-scenes flavor), just dancing, playing, and singing. In some cases, the latter is more like chanting. Saura is not fooling around when he goes for the folk roots. Some of the music performed for his camera is not so different on the Pampas or the Andes centuries ago.

Yet, much of the music is also profoundly sophisticated, like the treated piano stylings of Lito Vitale (the film’s musical coordinator), which sound as contemporary as anything you might hear at the Stone on any given night. Saura proves once again, he is the best in the business when it comes to capturing dance on film. In this case he has the added advantage of two wildly cinematic show-stopping numbers. The first features Koki and Pajarín Saavedra swinging the traditional (and usually lethal) gaucho bolas, with double-dutch abandon. Even more energized is the dance and drum circle formed by the Metabombo ensemble. Their moves and grooves are infectious.

Saura’s Argentina is packed with good musically evangelical intentions, but some do not pan out as well as others. Several of the traditional drums have a low, dry resonance that probably hits live listeners in their lower vertebrae, but are clearly difficult to recreate on film. Saura also incorporates tributes to leftist icons Mercedes Sosa and Atahualpa Yupanqui, but their black-and-white archival performances screened on large back walls to dwarf the reverent listeners, creepily evokes Big Brother from 1984, perhaps more rightly so than Saura intended.

The rest of Saura’s Argentina certainly looks characteristically beautiful. This time around, Saura collaborated with Argentine cinematographer Félix Monti, who also lensed German Kral’s Our Last Tango and Robert Duvall’s Assassination Tango, so he certainly knows how to set-up shots on a dance floor. He gives each performance a rich, warm glow in keeping with the look of Saura’s prior performance films. Recommended for patrons of dance and Latin folk music, Argentina opens this Friday (6/17) in New York, at the Lincoln Plaza.

Our Last Tango: Staying True to the Dance

They were like the Vernon and Irene Castle of tango, except at the height of their success they were divorced and barely on speaking terms. María Nieves and Juan Carlos Copes were the toast of Broadway as the lead dancers of the original 1985 production of Tango Argentino and the 1999 revival, but their backstage relationship was rather frosty. Yet, despite the betrayals and resentments, they always stayed true to the dance. German Kral invites the legendary dance partners to take stock of their lives and careers in Our Last Tango (trailer here), executive produced by Pina filmmaker Wim Wenders, which opens this Friday in New York.

Copes and Nieves first met in the sort of tango milonga that used to be at the center of social life for Argentina’s working class. Ironically, tastes were changing just as the couple’s skills reached their peak. However, it turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Sort of using jazz as a template, Copes moved tango from the dance floor to the stage, presenting it as national art form. It worked well enough to get Tango Argentino mounted on Broadway, but by that time he was married to someone younger than Nieves.

Both dancers reflect on their time together, but Nieves clearly gets more screen time (reportedly, Copes temporarily withdrew from the project at his current wife’s insistence, so he has nobody to blame except himself). Nevertheless, Kral keeps the film reasonably even-handed. Clearly, their relationship is too complicated to be reduced down to a few soundbites. Indeed, the extraordinarily talented and photogenic dancers who play Nieves and Copes in dramatic re-enactments (Ayelen Álvarez Miño being a particular standout) do their best to understand and forgive the failings of their characters in conversations that give Last Tango a slightly meta, deeply humane vibe.

There is a fair amount of archival footage of Copes and Nieves as an established act, but some of their most important dances happened before that. Kral integrates those recreations quite smoothly, giving the film an expressionistic feeling. Years of their lives are essentially papered over, but the essence is vividly captured on screen. Eventually, it all builds towards a reunion between the two dancers, but it is almost an anti-climax following the eighty-year-old Copes’ show-stopping feature-spot.

Last Tango is loaded with wonderfully evocative dance numbers, lensed by cinematographers Jo Heim and Félix Monti with the romantic style tango demands. Arguably, it is one of the most visually lush music-related docs since Calle 54, ranking alongside the dance films of Carlo Saura, even with the emotionally charged interview segments. It is an exquisitely sophisticated, deeply satisfying film that deserves to become a word-of-mouth hit. Very highly recommended, Our Last Tango opens this Friday (4/15) in New York at the Angelika Film Center.

ADIFF ’15: Hear Me Move

It is like a South African Step Up film, but its moves combine hip hop dancing and sbujwa. That would be the latest form of South African street dancing, as of about a year ago. It evolved out of pantsula, the relatively old school style that Muzi’s late, disgraced father made his international reputation dancing. Spikiri toured America, but his involvement with drugs killed the legendary dancer shortly after his return. As a result, the high school student promised his domineering mother he would never dance like his father. However, Muzi has his father’s feet and they will not be denied indefinitely in Scottnes L. Smith’s Hear Me Move (trailer here), which screens during the 2015 African Diaspora International Film Festival in New York.

Muzi knows he is a dancer but he has never joined a crew, out of deference to his mother. As a solo performer, opportunities are limited, but he still has to deal with the challenges that come from being Spikiri’s son. However, his father’s old promoter “Shoes” recognizes his potential, inviting his to join the crew he manages, Sbujwa Nation. This does not sit well with some members, particularly their featured dancer Prince. In fact, Prince will soon leave to form his own upstart crew, Ambition.

As Muzi struggles to adapt to the demands of ensemble dancing, Shoes starts to level with him. There is indeed a reason why Prince so resents him. He is the illegitimate son Spikiri never acknowledged. Revelations like that mess with Muzi’s head, but Khanyi helps keep him sort of grounded. She might even be a potential romantic interest if Muzi can get his act together, but that is going to take a bit of time.

As dance movies go, Fidel Namisi’s screenplay makes Make Your Move and Born to Dance look like they were written by Paddy Chayefsky. Seriously, the business with old man Spikiri is just eye-rollingly melodramatic. However, the dancing is suitably dynamic and often very well framed by Smith, who almost always shows us the entire crew in full frame rather than self-defeating close-ups.

The cast is also appealingly young and energetic, particularly Bontle Modiselle, who makes a credible bid for movie stardom as the down-to-earth Khanyi. Mbuso Kgarebe also has the right sort of dangerous charisma for Prince, but the Nyaniso Dzedze just sort of survives as the excessively angst-ridden Muzi.

There is no denying the attractiveness of Hear Me Move’s cast and routines, but the Sbujwa-hip hop synthesis are not as distinctive as the wildly cool taiko drumming fusions choreographed by the awesome Yako Miyamoto for Make Your Move. Still, it has enough of a local spin to appeal to those who appreciate South African street dancing. Honestly, it is rather fun in a slightly cheesy way. Recommended accordingly for dance movie fans, Hear Me Move screens this Wednesday (12/9) at the Bow Tie Chelsea and Friday (12/11) at the MIST Harlem, as part of the special focus on South African cinema at this year’s ADIFF.

Bolshoi Babylon: They’d Better Keep on Their Toes

During the Cold War, America had jazz and the USSR had the Bolshoi Ballet. We won the Cold War, but the Bolshoi still tours internationally, spreading Russian prestige. However, backstage drama took a rather ugly and embarrassingly public turn in early 2013 when Ballet Director Sergei Filin suffered a potentially disfiguring acid attack. Instead of bringing the company together it exacerbated pre-existing fissures, at least according to Nick Read’s Bolshoi Babylon (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Babylon starts with the sort of tellingly ironic intro we always appreciate. According to one Bolshoi insider, Russia has two internationally recognizable name brands: the Kalashnikov and the Bolshoi, but the one-time market leading AK-47 has since been eclipsed by other automatic rifles. That says a lot about Russia in general. Unfortunately, Read and credited co-director Mark Franchetti are generally more content to observe than to probe.

We learn there was already deep discontent with Filin’s tenure as Ballet Director, a post roughly analogous to artistic director. Soon, disgruntled Bolshoi dancer Pavel Dmitrichenko is arrested for the crime and the company quickly divides into opposing factions. Dmitrichenko, a Bolshoi legacy, makes no bones of his resentment for Filin, specifically blaming him for sabotaging his girlfriend’s career. For many, this criticism rings all too true.

Frustratingly, Read shows no determination to get to the bottom of the controversy. Instead, he periodically lets partisans from Team Sergei and Team Pavel vent. Much of Babylon proceeds like Frederick Wiseman’s La Danse, offering us opportunities to watch rehearsals and performances from the wings. That is not without interest, especially for ballet connoisseurs, but it avoids the 800 pound gorilla we hear is stalking through the halls of the Bolshoi Theater.

Frankly, Babylon is a maddening missed opportunity. We are told straight up, as the Bolshoi goes, so goes Russia. It hardly seems coincidental corruption threatens to tarnish the storied ballet at a time when the Putin regime has increasingly tightened its control at home and launched belligerent military campaigns against its neighbors, but Read won’t go there.

There is some interesting stuff in Babylon, but it feels rushed out and provisional. Clearly, the guts of this story remains to be told. As a result, Babylon is primarily for dance fans who want a peak behind the Bolshoi’s curtain than serious geopolitical viewers looking for insight into the powerful and privileged of Putin’s Russia. A disappointing and sometimes repetitive mixed bag, Bolshoi Babylon opens this Friday (11/27) in New York, at the Cinema Village.

TIFF ’15: Born to Dance

It is not just kiwis and hobbits in New Zealand. They also have hip hop. It speaks to working class Maori kids like Tu and his friends, who are looking for their place in society. They have all kinds of moves, but the national hip hop dance competition has long been dominated by Kane’s well-funded, widely-sponsored K-Crew. A grudge match is brewing between them in Tammy Davis’s Born to Dance (trailer here), which screens during the 2015 Toronto International Film Festival.

If Tu does not figure his post-high school life out fast, his Sergeant father will enlist him in the army. He thinks he sees his opportunity when K-Crew, the reigning dance champions, invite him to audition. This is no mere cattle call. For weeks, Tu will travel to Auckland to participate in the long term process-of-elimination tryout. Naturally, he keeps it secret from his own crew, led by his lifelong platonic pal, Vonnie. Only his semi-delinquent buddy Benjy knows the truth.

Of course, Tu has the right stuff, but all the special attention he gets from Kane’s girlfriend Sasha could be a problem. Frankly, she knows he is pretty scummy, but her snobby, absentee parents only let her stay in New Zealand to dance as she wishes as long as she is still part of a winning squad. She therefore needs Kane.

BTD features a ridiculously charismatic cast in a total Arthur Murray dance-by-numbers screenplay. It is a lead pipe cinch Tu and Kane will eventually face each other. Yet, that hardly matters as long as Davis and choreographer Parris Goebel keeps the energy cranked up. There are some cool dance sequences distributed throughout BTD, but nothing tops the wildly inventive moves Tu’s crew uncorks during the first round of the nationals. On the other hand, it is hard to take K-Crew seriously, because most of their routines bring to mind Mike Myers doing Dieter on Sprockets.

Former So You Think You Can Dance contestant Kherington Payne shows more presence than you would expect from Sasha. In contrast, Tia-Taharoa Maipi is likable enough, but a bit of a dramatic lightweight as Tu. However, Stan Walker is the real breakout discovery, demonstrating considerable range and all kinds of dance floor cred as the sensitive bad boy Benjy.

Yes, there are some real moments, but Goebels’ choreography is still not as distinctive as Yako Miyamoto’s taiko drumming and dancing that so distinguished Make Your Move. Nevertheless, BTD has more fire and grit than an army of Step Up clones. The fact that Tu, Benjy, and Vonnie are Maori is very important to the narrative, but it is not belabored to the point of distraction. This is a dance film not a social issue drama. In fact, it is a rather enjoyable one, in an underdog-Horatio Alger-kids from Fame kind of way. Recommended for dance movie fans, Born to Dance screens again tomorrow (9/13) and Friday (9/18) as part of this year’s TIFF.

LAFF ’15: Maiko—Dancing Child

For a prima ballerina, Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake is one of the most demanding ballets to perform. You’ve seen Black Swan, right? Well, try dancing the featured role a few months after pregnancy. Maiko Neshino set out to do exactly that. The question is not whether she has the drive or the talent, but whether she has enough time to rebound physically. Åse Svenheim Drivenes follows Neshino through rehab and rehearsals in the intimate documentary Maiko: Dancing Child (trailer here), which screens during the 2015 Los Angeles Film Festival.

It is almost too much, but the name Maiko really means “Dancing Child.” As is the case with truly elite dancers, her talent was indeed discovered at an early age. Neshino’s family made substantial lifestyle-effecting sacrifices to send her abroad to study. Consequently, she understood quite clearly failure was not an option. At the point the film picks up, she has been remarkably successful, maintaining her position as a principal dancer with the Norwegian National Ballet well into her thirties—and then she finally gets pregnant.

This was something she and her husband always wanted but never knew how to schedule, so they do the best they can. Most importantly, they have a happy and healthy baby. However, Drivenes is far more interested in the comeback process than the pregnancy. Swan Lake is the last significant role Neshino has yet to play, so she intends to honor her commitment, but it would be tough even under the best of circumstances.

Ballet is a graceful form of artistic expression, but those who are not part of its exclusive world will be a bit taken aback by the punishing nature of her training regimen. This is not for the faint of heart. Viewers might also get sick of hearing the same musical passage over and over again.

Frankly, it is a minor miracle the dancers never snap from the mind-torturing repetition.

Of course, the camera absolutely loves Neshino. She is elegance personified, so we can well understand why she has become the face of the Norwegian company, while her Horatio Alger-esque background makes her an even more compelling figure to root for. Drivenes also gives the audience an inside peak into to the training and rehearsal process, sort of in the spirit of Wiseman’s La Danse, but in more economical and contextualized servings.

Throughout the film, everyone makes it acutely plain nothing is guaranteed when it comes to ballet. Although it clocks in at a relatively concise seventy minutes, viewers will walk away feeling they have a good understanding of who Neshino is and what sort of professional and artistic challenges she faces. Recommended for patrons of dance and performing art docs, Maiko: Dancing Child screens this Sunday (6/14) and Tuesday (6/16) as part of this year’s LAFF.

Desert Dancer: To Dance in Iran

“If you’re an artist, we’ll beat you artistically.” Yes, this is what passes for wit with the Basij, Iranian’s Islamist civilian paramilitary militia. Ironically, Afshin Ghaffarian got off relatively easily when a Basij chief spoke those words to him. Had he known Ghaffarian was actually a dancer, he most likely would have beaten him to death (quick, let’s make a nuclear deal with them). Ghaffarian and his friends were among the thousands brutalized by the Basij during the 2009 election protests, but they simply wanted to put on a public performance. Their brief moments of freedom are stirringly depicted in Richard Raymond’s based-on-fact bio-picture, Desert Dancer (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Against all odds, Ghaffarian received clandestine arts education during his elementary years from a courageous teacher. He was a relatively experienced actor by the time he reached college, but his was always fascinated by the strictly forbidden discipline of dance. Of course, youtube is duly blocked in Iran, but when he went online through a friend’s work-around access, he discovered a wealth of performances from the likes of Nureyev and Gene Kelly. Soon he convinces a handful of friends to join his proposed underground dance troupe. Everyone is understandable uneasy when the mysterious Elaheh invites herself into the group, but she turns out to be okay. She also has real technique, having been secretly trained by her former ballerina mother.

Longing to perform in front of a live audience, Ghaffarian and Elaheh will stage an intimate recital for a handful of carefully invited friends in a secluded desert location. Unfortunately, their friend Mehran’s older brother is a junior Basij commander, who is determined to ferret out Ghaffarian’s small ensemble. When another member is severely beaten by the Basij for his reformist allegiances, it puts further stress on the group. Soon Ghaffarian also finds himself be ruthlessly worked over in an unmarked Basij van. However, his fate will take a dramatic turn on the third act.

While the real life Ghaffarian has stressed the film’s thin layer of fictionalization, Raymond and screenwriter Jon Croker are scrupulously faithful to the tenor and circumstances surrounding the ill-fated 2009 Green Movement, as well as the general difficulties of being artistically inclined while living under a repressive regime. Desert is also closely akin to Bruce Beresford’s Mao’s Last Dancer (which won the Astaire Award for best film choreography) for the manner in which it portrays the powerful expressiveness of dance, while also using it as a symbol for freedom. In fact, Akram Khan’s choreography is unusually distinctive and Astaire Award-worthy, incorporating elements of ballet and modern interpretive dance.

To their estimable credit, co-leads Reece Ritchie and Freida Pinto clearly trained hard for their roles, because they do Khan’s steps justice. Frankly, when they are standing still, their romantic chemistry is just so-so, but when they move together, they heat up the screen. There are ably supported by a fine ensemble, particularly including the deeply humanistic performances of Makram Khoury, as Ghaffarian’s old teacher Mehdi, and Bamshad Abedi-Amin as the quietly courageous Mehran. It is also nice to see Nazanin Boniadi, albeit ever so briefly, in a near cameo as Ghaffarian’s progressive mother, Parisa.

Desert vividly captures the ominous atmosphere of the 2009 crackdown, as well as the liberating power of dance. In his feature directorial debut, Raymond maintains a tense, paranoid vibe, but also exhibits an intuitive sense for when to go for the emotional jugular. It is an inspiring story that is undiminished by the real life Ghaffarian’s recently more circumspect rhetoric. Enthusiastically recommended, Desert Dancer opens this Friday (4/10) in New York, at the Landmark Sunshine and the Loews Lincoln Square.

Saura’s Flamenco, Flamenco

Carlos Saura is sort of like the Busby Berkeley of flamenco and other traditional Iberian musical forms, except he stages musical numbers with Spartan elegance. There will be no talking whatsoever, just singing, dancing, and playing in his latest intimate musical performance film. Saura follows up his 1995 art house hit Flamenco with the aptly titled Flamenco, Flamenco (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Saura will not even cheapen his visually gorgeous film with a lot of inter-titles identifying the many accomplished musicians making up his all-star flamenco ensembles. In a way, that is unfortunate for them, because their performances would make converts out of any non-fan who just happened to wander into Flamenco-squared. Indeed, the Flamenco choreography framed by Saura and revered cinematographer Vittorio Storaro is particularly cinematic, emphasizing the dancers’ long vertical lines and their whirling garments.

There is no question Saura is one of the best filmmakers in the world when it comes to capturing dance on film. He also has an intuitive sense of how to best use the inherent tension of flamenco percussion. Although flamenco costuming is traditionally rather modest, several of the younger singers and dancer convey quite a bit of passion through their performances. However, when María Bala steps forward for her solo, the audience is transported to the Andalusian caves.

In terms of quality, Flamenco, Flamenco is remarkably consistent, but there are still notable standouts. Surprisingly, one of the best is a two piano duet for Dorantes and Diego Amador. They both have spectacular technique, but what really distinguishes “Cartagenera y Bulerías” is just the sheer contagious fun they are having playing together.

This time around, Saura’s approach will be somewhat controversial for purists, because he includes several younger, fusionistic performers, such as Rocío Molina. However, when she dances “Garrotín” with a cigarillo clenched in her lips, she looks like she could have been Bizet’s inspiration for Carmen. Yet perhaps the most striking choreography comes on the sacred-themed “Holy Week,” which also stretches our conceptions of flamenco in a different way.

Shot entirely within the Seville Pavilion for 1992 Expo, F-F has a real sense of flowing space, accentuated by Storaro’s swooping camera that often matches the dancers’ dramatic moves. At times, Saura uses gallery motifs for his backdrops, but he often just employs warm primary colors to set-off the performers. Aside from his previous films (such as Tango and Fados), the most logical comparative would be Trueba’s Calle 54, which is high praise indeed. A rich feast for eyes and ears alike, Flamenco, Flamenco is highly recommended for general audiences, whether they think they like flamenco or not, when it opens this Friday (11/21) in New York at the Lincoln Plaza Cinemas.

Make Your Move: BoA Steps Up with COBU

Their motto is: “dance like drumming, drum like dancing.” Founded by Yako Miyamoto, the first Japanese cast-member of Stomp, the COBU dance troupe puts on an amazing live show combining Taiko drumming with tap and hip hop dancing. If they were not already extensively touring through South Korea, they probably soon will be. That is because reigning K-Pop diva of divas BoA plays a member of the COBU ensemble for her English language film debut. She learned her steps well. Viewers will come for the Taiko dancing and stay for the Taiko dancing when Duane Adler’s Make Your Move (trailer here) opens today nationwide.

Let’s admit right from the start the screenplay from Adler, the Step Up scribe is pretty clunky. Whenever you hear the sound of grinding metal it is really just the dialogue. However, for dance movies that is just par for the course. What counts are the moves, which are hot, particularly the Taiko sequences choreographed by Miyamoto. The more traditional Dirty Dancing-esque numbers choreographed by Napoleon and Tabitha Dumo also smoke thanks to the agile footwork of BoA and Dancing with the Stars’ Derek Hough.

BoA plays Aya, the Japanese-born Korean leader of COBU, whose visa will expire in a matter of days. She needs confirmed gigs and a sponsor to stay in the country. Unfortunately her only volunteer so far is Michael Griffiths, her brother Kaz’s creepy majority partner in OTO, a swanky new Brooklyn dance club. He would be happy to feature COBU, but he requires exclusivity. Aya would rather be deported than be beholden to a stalker like him.

Kaz used to be partners in the underground hipster club Static with Nick, but they split on bad terms. Their feud threatens to get deadly when each sends thugs to disrupt each others’ businesses. It is an inconvenient time for Donny leave New Orleans in violation of his parole, hoping to land a dancing gig in his foster brother Nick’s club. However, when Donny sees Aya launch into an unsanctioned impromptu performance in Static, all bets are off. Yes, it is West Side Story in BKLN, but when they are dancing, it all sort of works.

Although BoA is clearly still a bit uncomfortable with English, the camera absolutely loves her. Frankly, she handles her dramatic responsibilities rather well, thanks to a naturally warm screen presence. Hough is a different story, but at least he can dance. (Yet bafflingly, he sports a spit of peach-fizz so ridiculous looking, even the other characters bust on him for it.)

It is also nice to see Miyamoto get some screen time as Kaori, a COBU troupe member. She even gets to start the big climatic dance number with Hough, before BoA and the rest of COBU come in. It’s a show-stopper alright. Although he never shows any moves, Will Yun Lee also brings some professionalism to the proceedings as big brother Kaz.

To recap, the Taiko choreography and the partner dancing in MYM are rousingly entertaining. The plot and dialogue and what they are. Fans of BoA, COBU, Stomp, or the Step Up franchise will definitely dig it. Recommended for those looking for a dancing fix with a garnish of inconsequential romance, Make Your Move opens today (4/18) in New York at the AMC Empire.