Ballet Bloopers – Swan Lake – The Fog and the Mischief of the Ballet Men Waiting for the Final Curtain Call

 

Everyone that loves ballet has seen the movie, Turning Point, where in the 4^th Act of Swan Lake the swans are under the fog and Leslie Browne comes out of that fog … but she is out of sync with the other swans.
So, (in the movie) the swans come up and then go down only to have her come up when they are down. Now in the movie (If I remember correctly), she has been drinking, and that is why she is out of sync with the other dancers.
But this is a moment that all professional “swans” appreciate in a unique way … because we know how easily that could happen.

You see … the fog is dry ice in the theater. At the beginning of the 4^th Act in this ballet, the swans are in a circle, and they go down into a position where there right leg is extended out, they are sitting on their heel and their body is folded over the extended right leg.
For dancers this is not a difficult position to hold. What is hard is that the gas that comes off the dry ice … is CO2!
Meaning that we cannot breathe under there.
The stage crews are pumping the dry ice in from both sides and before the curtain goes up, we are all breathing as deeply as we can because once we bend forward and are under the fog, breathing is not advised. As it is a highly toxic gas.
Think of the CO2 monitors in your house now.

The effect is fabulous as the curtain opens and there is the visual of deep fog on a lake. As the music begins, the swans rise up together in unison, to the sorrowful wailing sounds that Tchaikovsky so brilliantly composed.
All the swans are sad over the betrayal of Prince Siegfried, who was tricked (by the sorcerer, Von Rothbart) into swearing love to the black swan (Odile) rather than the white swan (Odette).

The only chance for any swan to be freed from the enchantment was to find … true love.
So, the swans are surrounding Odette protectively at the beginning of this act. Because she is devasted and in deep mourning.

Being under the fog is all about breathing a lot before you go under and then holding your breath. Which is difficult to do when you are folded over and crunched in the abdomen. If you need to breathe or do breathe … you try to breathe very little. Because the CO2 makes you light-headed and ditzy.

By the time we come up, every dancer is grateful to take a huge breath before we go down again.
The fog also will flow off the stage and into the orchestra pit.
So, then the musicians get a dose of CO2 and have trouble seeing their music as the fog falls into their area and on their head.
In the 4^th Act of Swan Lake, the men have to wait the entire act to do the curtain call at the very end.
It is really boring to hang out and wait for an entire act to finish when one just wants to go home and put their feet up.
It allows that comedic mischievousness within to try to find something to do.
As the women finish Act IV and head down the stairs. At the bottom of the stairs from the last step to the dressing rooms, the men had collected all our underwear, and had neatly hung them on the rafters of the ceiling going down the hall.
Based on personalities, we all knew who it was, (Bob Arbogast) the lovely soloist male dancer with the boyish smile and unending charm.

In classic fashion, some of the women are horrified and pissed off.
Me, I think it is somewhat funny seeing all the pretty panties hung up so delicately with great care and the (straight) men smiling from ear to ear in anticipation of what came next and how we would react.
It was (of course) inappropriate … but boredom is a bane to dancers, and they were just looking for something to do. And back then we did not have the “Me Too!” movement or metaphor.

I have to back up a bit here and add in that before some previous shows, we had had a man get into the theater that did not belong there.
He had managed to evade the security guys as most of the theater’s security team were older.

This had happened in a morning as we were doing a round of shows. The dancers were set up in the dressing rooms in the basement with our costumes, makeup, and shoes.

All the dancers had come in for company class in the morning and this guy had managed to sneak in. He had been wandering around the theater while the guards were looking for him.

He managed to get in and out without getting caught by the guards.
Remember, we did not have all the cameras in the 1980’s.

After class, the women had gone down to our dressing rooms … only to discover that our underwear were missing.

Yes … It was sort of creepy!

That night as we were preparing for the performance, Steven Smith (the Stage Manager) went on the intercom to say that he knew there had a been an “incident” this morning and that if anyone felt nervous and wanted to use the “safe” at stage level … he would let the dancers put their “valuables” in the safe.

Now, the “funny” to the women in the dressing rooms … was the word, “valuables!”

So, all the women got together (okay I was the instigator of this moment), and we put our underwear in a paper bag and together we tromped up the stairs to ceremoniously give our “valuables” to Steve Smith, who was a very married guy to a fabulous, drop-dead, gorgeous, modern dancer Suzy Smith. We all knew and admired her. She was fabulous! So teasing Steve with this moment was a safe bet!

Up the stairs we go with our paper bag filled with our “undies” and present it to Steve.

He looks at our faces in anticipation and with the coquettish smiles, and he seems a bit … confused.
We hand him the bag and indicate with a look … for him to look in the bag.

He opens the bag and peers in, to see all the “tidy-non-whities” neatly folded up, and turns the color of a red delicious apple.
Then we tell him to put our valuables in the safe and we are going to watch to make sure they are safe and secure.

Which is does quickly.

Then with a satisfied nod, all the women trot down the stairs again to the dressing rooms.

Giggling the whole way.

I love the unique humor that comes from a type of deep familiarity. We share a type of intimacy that is born from many such moments where all of us have worked side-by-side, in the trenches together with each other.
Ballet humor constantly hovers between sensual innuendos, sexual humor, overt passionate expressions, silly “puppy pile” behaviors, and teasing (that is mostly affectionate).

But back to the underwear hanging from the ceiling incident.
Some of the women are pissed off. But remember that this is happening just after the last underwear thief escapade.
It is literally a few days later.
So, it is on the brains of the guys, and it was obviously something deeply discussed in detail among the men in the dressing rooms.
To the point that they had snuck into the women’s dressing rooms and went on a quest for underwear.

The women get unhooked from our swan tutus and I go inside and put on my robe. Then I immediately go out and start grabbing all the underwear off the hangers.
Of course my intention is to ruin their adolescent game and they know it.

Bob Arbogast tries to stop me and says, in a serious tone, “No, each girl has to come and pick their own underwear.”

I know how men think. I know that they want to know, which women have the prettiest underwear.

And that … is going too far!

I smile knowingly at Bob and say, “Nope! That is not how this is going this evening. I am getting all of them off the ceiling.”

Bob tries to interject, and I stop him with one look.

He steps back dejected and knowing that he is not going to get the end result of his little fantasy.

I have to say I love men when their humor is endearing, honest, vulnerable, curious, and in the end respectful.

While this moment was clearly leaning off the edge of respectful. I remind myself that it was the mid 1980’s and rules were not what they are now.

I have to say that when (as a dancer) you live in a world where people are mostly naked except for a few skintight garments and there is so much constant touching of each other. That … as dancers, we do not have the same self-consciousness of those that do not do such a job.

We embrace all things that are … the body. We respect each other because we know the tremendous effort and determination that is required to be in such places. And we are spiritual family to each other as well as a real physical family.

Many of us loved the ballet because it gave us something that our family of origin could not give us and that was a type of emotional intimacy and acceptance of our emotional expressions and of our deepest selves … without needing to apologize or to back up because our emotions made others … uncomfortable.
We will always and forever be family.

That never changes because … we dreamed the same dreams … danced the same ballets … had concern for other dancers … and breathed the same air.
Dance forces us to know others on a level of vulnerability and power, grace and grit, fear and success, and a determination that shows deep compassion.
It is difficult for us to open fully to those that do not understand the depth to which we can go.

We do not understand those that take our personal choices as something personal about them.

Dancers are independent and strong.
We take responsibility for ourselves and expect others to do the same.

To be let into the sacred garden of deep intimacy with a dancer … is an honor not often bestowed on most normal humans.

It is not because we are not willing.

It is because most are unable to respect and cherish such a massive gift or even know what to do with it.

~Suzanne Wagner~

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