The Berlin Ballet – Queen of the Willis

 

Queen of the Willits was not on my list of where I wanted to go … yet.

I was only 19 years old. But I was tall and stately.
I was still trying to adjust to Berlin. I was still deeply unhappy in this cold, dark, and very wet land. I craved to feel the sun on my face and be warmed by the “bigger than life” Texas spirit that I had been raised in.

But I was trying to make the best of everything and my teachers back in Dallas, had told me to stick with it so that I did not look like a flakey dancer jumping from company to company.

During my six week break from the Berlin Ballet I had gone home to Dallas and decided that I probably needed to take a few German classes.

My father had arranged for me to go to some Berlitz courses on my lay-off from dance.

The first three days all the teachers did was talk to me and try to have me respond to what they were saying. They understood that I had not learned German from a book but from listening and conversation.

By the third day, they told me that I had learned a ton of words and that my vocabulary was huge but that I had zero grammar.

I am sure that was true. Some of the German dancers had even started saying to me (good-naturedly), “Suzanne, why don’t you talk so we can laugh!”
I played along because I knew my language skills were haphazard at best.

But if I was going to stay, it was time to dig deep and get some language skills that would help me in Germany.

It had been pointed out to me by the German dancers (in no uncertain terms), that if they were in the US … They would have to learn English. So, it was expected for me to learn their language.

And they were right …

I begin my studies in earnest and by the time I was complete in the Berlitz course, my grammar had improved immensely and I felt much more confident in being able to say the things I needed and to do it with respectful clarity.

I get back to Berlin and Nureyev is performing with us quite a bit that year.

He and I would talk about art and the museums in Berlin (which were fabulous) and there began a small but engaging connection between him and me over art.
We really … never … spoke about ballet outside the theater. We spoke more about architecture, paintings, and the many other amazing museums we had seen in Europe.

While he was a difficult person (to say the least), I always approached him respectfully for obvious reasons. My ego was not attached to thinking I was on his level of expertise and occasionally we would bump into each other at coffee houses and even a few times at the Dalam Museum on our days off.
One day, I was staring at the Rubens when he came up behind me and put his arm around my shoulders saying, “Well look at the skinny dancer looking at the fat women!”
We wandered around and he showed me his favorite paintings and explained things about art that I never really knew.

I felt like “Molly Brown” so interested in the art and the culture of Europe, hungry to learn more and wide-eyed to understand and to have things explained to her by those more knowing and … cultured.

Back in the Berlin Ballet, I am suddenly called into the Director, Gert Reinholm’s office. I wonder if I am about to get fired but to my surprise … he tells me that Rudi, wants me to do Queen of the Willits with him as Albrecht, and Eva doing Giselle.

I am unprepared for that! In fact, I am … stunned!

Of course, I am happy, but I am also terrified.

Now the pressure is on and while I am eager to prove myself, I also feel completely unprepared.

He says that I am to be in the Myrtha rehearsals that day with the dancer who most often did this role.

I do not know what to do or what to expect but I get dressed and go to that studio.
I walk into the studio, terrified and uncertain. The other dancer is in the studio and let’s just say she is not happy.

“Pissed” would be a more accurate term.
Clearly, I am the young upstart that is threatening her position and role.

I immediately recognize the tension in the room and try to downplay my presence.
But my sheer presence is irritating to her.

As I try to warm up and start jumping, something snaps in her and the next thing I experience is that I am being physically and bodily thrown out the studio door.
I literally don’t know what to do. I have never been in such a situation. I am confused. I can clearly see her displeasure on her face, and she is saying things to me in German that I will not repeat because honestly my mind went somewhere else. Now, while my body feels under attack … I sort of gapped out in my head.

When I come to my senses, the door to the studio is being slammed in my face and I am standing on the cold tile floors outside the studio.

That is when Valerie Panov just happens to come by.

He looks at me and says, “Aren’t you supposed to be in that rehearsal?”

I turn to face him flustered, gasping, and stuttering, “Yes! … But she threw me out of the studio!”

He said, “Don’t let her do that. You have to stand up to her and face her! Walk in that studio and tell her that you are not leaving and that you are supposed to be there. You can’t let another dancer push you around like that!”

So, I gather up my courage and walk back in … unsure what I am facing but determined to stand my ground.

She glares at me as I come into the space and I say to her, “I did not ask to be in this role. It was a surprise to me as well. I am not trying to take anything from you. I am required to be here. And I am sorry if that upsets you!”

She turns away from me and continues to warm up looking outside and ignoring me.

Shortly, Goodrun Leban comes in and the tense standoff continues but professional it must be put aside for this moment.

I learn the steps and sequence and I watch the other soloist dancer do them and try my best to mimic her ways, style, flow, and expression.

After all, there will be more time to fine-tune … after I get the basics down.

From that point on, my rehearsals are alone with Goodrun.

Perhaps that other dancer did not want to play and had enough power and clout to say so to Goodrun.

I will never know.
But after that … it was just the rehearsal directress and myself.

This is where the intense methods of the Russian training kicked in and kicked in hard!
In the Russian way of doing things … you do the sequences hundreds of times to gain strength. That way then doing it once on stage … is easy.

I remember going to rehearsals and normally I am not the person who sweats much. But in those rehearsals, I was dripping in sweat from the effort.
I felt like a wet rag at the end of them.

I remember, going back to my dressing room and one of the corps girls said, “Oh my! You are bright red and dripping! Are you alright? What happened!”

And I said that I was in the Myrtha rehearsals with Goodrun and I was sure she was trying to kill me.

I remember Goodrun screaming at me and requiring me to do a sequence over and over again.

When suddenly … I found myself unexpectedly sitting on the floor.

I did not know how I got there, But I was sitting on the floor in a puddle of sweat.

At that point, she said, “Rehearsal …. Over!”

And powerfully with disdain, she walked out of the studio leaving me on the floor wondering what had just happened.

Problem was, I had actually injured myself!

I had over-stretched my cross tendons in my ankle and they were beginning to swell and turn blue.

I think, “Shit! I am injured! What do I do next.”

John Skripek came to the rescue and suggested a physical therapist for me to get some electric stem to take the swelling down and to do some exercises that might help rehab my tendons.

So, now I am in rehearsal injured, but I don’t want Goodren to know because I don’t want to be taken out of the performance with Rudi.
I decide to wear big legwarmers over my ankles to hide the wrapped ankle and foot.
And the days are ticking down towards the performance with Rudi.

I think … “I have to do this! I can’t break down right here in a moment that I am getting a great chance to show what I can do on stage. Rudi took a risk with me, and I don’t want to wreck this chance.”

I get to the day of the performance and to say that I am a bit nervous is the understatement.
After all, I am injured, I don’t want to fail in this moment. But what lies ahead is a complete unknown.
I walk into my first soloist dressing room moment and inside is a huge bouquet with one lily from each dancer in the company with a huge handmade card.
I am beyond touched.
Ballet is a very competitive world and I had never received such a warm form of congratulations and wishes of “Break a Leg! Toi … Toi … Toi, and Merde”.

Lilies were the flowers that Albrecht (Nureyev) brought to Giselle’s grave in the second act and were the symbol of this ballet.

I am looking at the 70 plus flowers and I want to break down and cry.
But that is not how things are done in the theater. One has to keep it together. There is a lot of work ahead and the road is never certain on opening night.
I put my makeup on. I watch a stern, serious, dark, Queen of the Dead, begin to emerge in the mirror.

I have to admit … I kind of liked her intensity and dramatic flair. I liked her darkness and the complexity of her raging emotions as they roll beneath the surface of her pale face and empty eyes.
I go do my warm-up and thank the dancers for their generous wishes and gifts. I try to be very sincere in my thanks. But I also did not want to get distracted for what lies ahead.

It is a big night. After all, Rudi is here and that makes all things more special and unpredictable.

The Queen of the Willis opens the second act, and the scene is spooky and foggy … as the dead float across the stage.
Then I call in the other Willi’s and the dance begins.
The final jumping sequences are long and hard but I feel like I am flying.

I finish my dance only to then call all the other Willis to capture Albrecht and I am now standing in a corner with (of all people) “The God Of Dance …Nureyev” at my feet, begging for his life.

My mind thinks, “Is this real? This is insane! The most famous dancer in the world is dancing (sort of) with me! I feel as if I am in some rare moment where heaven and earth are actually touching.

Rudi is fully in his role, and it is clear that I am to do mine.

We play the ballet game of pantomime, and the ballet is too quickly over.

At the curtain calls, suddenly I am taking a personal moment to bow and receive applause!
That moment seemed surreal and very special.
Even my mother had come out for that particular show … all the way from Texas.
I was happy to share that moment with her, but it did add to the overall, stress in the situation.

In the end, she was thrilled and so was I.

“There are special moments that capture the heart.

There are minutes that become hours that open something new to start.

Rudi gave me a chance to be in the limelight.

He made a request that began something that night.

I will forever be grateful to those that helped that day.

Together they opened a door, and I did not stray.

From the path that laid out in front of me.

That moment was filled with joy and great glee.
I remember feeling more special in that moment in time.

And I touched a potential that now asked me to climb.”

~Suzanne Wagner~