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The wave of excitement and interest engendered by these first-time-ever events gave a new impetus to a whole area of native products that had been just struggling along, depending on the loyal support of a relatively small band of devoted followers. Most devoted (and most scornful of all variants) are the admirers of George Balanchine, whose subtle, complex and frostily abstract ballets are accepted as the best and most inventive of modern choreography. Balanchine's disciples feel that Nureyev and company are old hat. The less sophisticated complain that the Balanchine abstractions, though fascinating, lack emotional substance, and find a long diet of them debilitating.
Then there is the school of dancers who scorn both Nureyev and Balanchine. They dance barefoot, and expression is their watchword. Anyone who does not wear a leotard or Levi's is suspect, and a tutu is anathema. Martha Graham is their goddess, José Limon her consort. But in the general upsurge of interest in the dance, they have moved out of the borrowed high school auditorium, the dingy halls and one-night stands in Manhattan's 92nd Street Y.M.H.A. into engagements at the glittering New York State Theater and Philharmonic Hall.
They are mostly American, but even Europe has felt their impact. Amsterdam's Netherlands Dance Theater, with three U.S. choreographers, has become in its six years of existence one of the Continent's most excitingly creative companies. Under the influence of U.S. modern dancers, John Cranko has made a new place for Stuttgart's Opera Ballet, as Maurice Bejart has at Brussels. Even London itself has taken to the modern dance, with the U.S.'s Merce Cunningham, Paul Taylor and Alvin Ailey scoring one resounding success after another.
Changed Image. But just as there are those who will always prefer Beethoven to Stravinsky, the classic ballet will always keep a central place in the repertory of the dance. And as part and parcel of the classic revival, there has been a resurgence of the male virtuoso.
In its primitive beginnings around some tribal fire, and later in the more elegant surroundings of the courts of Paris, dancing was always dominated by the male. A long line of kings—Francis II, Charles IX, Louis XIII—cut some mean figures on the palace dance floor. King Louis XIV, too fat to solo, founded the world's first ballet company (1669) to carry on in his stead. Only then, for decorative purposes, did women eventually begin to creep into the act. As skirts went up and heels came off, the ladies came more and more to the fore, setting the stage in 1832 for the appearance of Marie Taglioni, a gossamer goddess who took Paris by storm with the neat little trick of dancing on her toes.