Ballet Bloopers – Berlin Ballet – Don Juan – The Sword Fight with Jean Pierre Liegeois

 

In all dance companies we have those that are unique, unusual, and have a stronger flair for the dramatic. Jean Pierre Li-ege-ois was one in the Berlin Ballet. He was a rugged looking guy that was amazing in things such as Maurice Bejart’s “Symphonie pour un homme seul.” He had a face that clearly looked like it has struggled against the forces of evil. He had a very unique look. Something of a cross between a boxer and a face that could convey the tortured existence of humanity.

I remember him dancing with the principal dancer Heibrum Schwaarz in Bolero. They were amazing together. Her tormented temptress whipping the men into a frenzy. And his rustic, wild-eyed, animalistic, masculine playing off each other.

The way that lights play across some faces is extraordinary and Jean Pierre’s face was perfect for such intense looks, and he could drag you into the emotions that so easily played across his face.

He was a “star” in the world of theater, and I believe acting as well.

He was always seen with some starlet on his arm, and he played the role of the “diva” well. Though not as well as Nureyev.

Jean Pierre Liegeois would come and go. I did not know what he was up to when he was gone but based on his personality, I would expect he was guesting with other companies, doing, plays, or doing films. He seemed to appear and disappear consistently.
There were many principals in the Berlin Ballet that did just that, Galina and Valery Panov, Michael Tiett, and Reda Sheda.
We were doing a very modern German version of Don Juan and in it, the women and men were doing sword fighting with real swords.

Of course, everything was choreographed and timed perfectly.

But humanity is not perfect and what can go wrong … will.

In a rehearsal, I am dancing and swinging a sword and I have a specific choreographic sequence to do. Jean Pierre is running around behind me and the scene is designed to be chaotic and like a fight.

Ahead in the scene he is supposed to duck under myself and another dancer crossing swords, high in the air. He is supposed to run through cleverly ducking underneath. But just before that moment I am to slash and counter-parry (a defensive movement by which the fencer goes around the opponent’s blade and moves the opponents blade away), suddenly Jean Pierre is not where he is supposed to be.

I am focused on the person in front of me not the fact that Jean Pierre is suddenly thinking he is to go under.

The result is that my blade slices him on the crest of his nose … hard. Blood is everywhere, clearly, he is hurt. I am pretty sure I broke his nose, or should I say I sliced it across the top.

Of course, everything stops. I am apologizing profusely. I think, “Oh shit! I really hurt a famous person!”

Ice is brought and we get the bleeding to stop. He goes off to the doctor and comes back later in the day with a nose guard and says that the blade sliced through the cartilage on the top of his nose. Not all the way through but more than half the way through.

I feel terrible. Horrified. Deeply upset.

I apologize again and he smiles and says it’s okay and brushes it off.

It seems like a big deal to me, but I don’t want to overreact because … “The show must go on!”

Fortunately, that does not happen again, and I am much more aware of where he is … in every moment … from that point on.
A year later, he has finished performing and is dressed to go out on the town (looking sophisticated and debonair) with this starlet on his arm.
She reaches up and gently touches the crest of his nose where there is an obvious scar and indentation and asks, “How did you get this wound?”

He smiles and with a calm demeanor states in a very masculine, factual, but nonchalant way, “Oh That? It was a fencing accident at an event last year!”

She opens her mouth in amazement and is astonished at his many diverse talents. And expresses that to him while is basks in the glory of the moment!

I had to smile. It was not an outright lie but let’s just say that he told the facts and left the rest … to the imagination of the lovely women.

His mystique intact … they went off to party.
I had to laugh internally because I was the opponent in this “so called” fencing accident. He did not say that it was a woman who gave him that scar!
It was so very … French!
I could tell how often he had answered that question because his timing and syntax were precise and clearly well thought through.
But I saw that I did not need to feel bad for giving him that scar. He was getting a lot of mileage out of that story, and it just added to the ruggedness of his face and the dramatic flair that he clearly loved to engender.

~Suzanne Wagner~