I Was a Dancer - Jacques D'Amboise [136]
Before our tour of Japan and Australia in 1958, Balanchine secretly had Karinska make a Swan Queen costume for Allegra, because “I can’t count on Diana,” but insisted that no one tell Diana there was a backup. He didn’t want her to think she had a way out. Allegra did perform the Swan Queen to great acclaim, all over Australia. If Diana performed on that tour, it was in less than a handful of performances.
THE FIGURE IN THE CARPET: THE LOST BALLET
It was rare that I had social time with Diana and Balanchine—he had Tanny to go home to, and before long, Diana and Ronnie were paired. Then unattainable Diana, predictably, became even more an inspiration to Balanchine.
Many of the ballets Balanchine created derived from Lincoln’s suggestions, and Lincoln was a furnace of ideas. The majority were farfetched, but every once in a while, there would be a spark. “George! What about a ballet about a Persian rug?” So came The Figure in the Carpet.
Set to Handel’s Water Music and Royal Fireworks Music, the ballet opens with a vista of dancers, costumed in shades of beige and brown, representing sand in the desert, shifting and weaving in intricate patterns. Balanchine used to suck the thumb of delight looking at the choreography, exclaiming to me, “See? The rhythms of the steps for the corps de ballet—syncopated—and the patterns they move in, are playing with the harmonies in the music. It is so interesting.” I nodded, smiled, and acted as if I knew what he was talking about.
During the course of the ballet the movement of the scenery was choreographed as well. A multicolored carpet backdrop is woven—first the frame, and then various wild, exotic birds, flowers, and landscape motifs were added. Once the carpet was fully woven, a grand tapestry is revealed, with a three-dimensional fountain ensconced at its foot, running the length of the stage. Then the spectacle continues with a series of divertissements and a grand pas de deux for the Prince and Princess of Persia. During the finale, the fountain lets loose its watery spray.
That was the concept. It was to be an hour-long ballet, with Diana and me as the Prince and Princess. We were to be dressed in white and crowned with white plumes—Balanchine invented a pas de deux for us, in the style of Louis XIV’s French court, with lots of little footwork, glissades, gigues, and sarabandes. I recall countless hours attempting to perfect the footwork in my variation. I never had ideal feet for ballet dancing, so it was daunting and exhausting for me to do the busy steps and look good. I often got calf cramps.
When Balanchine finished the pas de deux, he invited our conductor, Robert Irving, to come in to view the choreography. The pas de deux had been created at a certain tempo. Irving (with stuffy British accent) announced, “Oh no, George! It’s way too slow!” Balanchine was peeved—it was awkward to fit the choreography into the faster tempo—but Irving insisted he was right. They got out the metronome and checked the score’s time signatures. Balanchine kept muttering, “Well, you know, maybe a little slower.” Irving put his foot down. “I mean, I grew UP on this, George! I mean, Handel, after all!” The next rehearsal, Balanchine, in a couple of hours, choreographed an entirely new pas de deux for us, to the now faster tempo. Same style, but new steps! And the new version was better!
March 1960. The final weeks of rehearsal for an ambitious spring season. Two new Balanchine ballets were to be premiered, the first on March 29, when we would open with the world premiere of Tchaikovsky Pas de Deux. However, the advance buzz vibrated for the second, the world premiere of Figure in the Carpet. It was scheduled for April 13, a couple of weeks later. Diana was to star in both ballets, and I was her partner.
Thursday. Balanchine finishes choreographing Tchaikovsky Pas de Deux and the finale for Figure in the Carpet. Everyone is keyed up. We open in five days.
Friday, bang! Diana is out. A miscarriage. She informs