The Nutcracker ballet has become a quintessential holiday tradition, though dance companies have been known to put their own spins on the classic tale.
FROM THE ARCHIVE: Whenever and wherever there is music playing, if you look down, you’ll find people tapping their toes. In rock-and-roll retail stores or jazz-fancy restaurants, people move their feet.
FROM THE ARCHIVE: All men are handsome, all women desirable under the spell of that aroused duenna called tango. The dance is a display of confidence, control, and bravura that spices the desire, intrigue, and tension between the sexes. But within the rise, turn, and fall of seductive cadence and throbbing beat lurk inconstancy, faithlessness, and betrayal. Every dance is an affair, never a marriage—and the final note its inevitable death knell.
FROM THE ARCHIVE: On stage, Chan Hon Goh is the quintessential ballerina. A principal dancer with the National Ballet of Canada, Goh is one of the company’s most exquisite classicists. Her ballon, or the lightness of her landings, is legendary.
FROM THE ARCHIVE: On November 12, 1951, the National Ballet of Canada made its debut in Toronto. At the helm is artistic director Karen Kain, one of Canada’s most beloved and honoured ballerinas.
One day, a young ballerina came to Madame Repetto with a personal request. The 22-year-old blonde was about to make a movie and wished for ballet shoes in glamorous red. The young danseuse was none other than Brigitte Bardot; the film was And God Created Woman.
Over the past 15 years, we have spent time with many individuals, and through words and pictures we have endeavoured to reveal truths about them. Herewith, an eyeful of our portraiture.
The curtain rises on Greta Hodgkinson, principal dancer with the National Ballet of Canada. It’s the ballerina’s 20th season with the Toronto-based company, and there she is, lying on her stomach onstage at the Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts, long brown hair braided as tightly as the ribbons on her pink satin pointe shoes, nose in a book.
It’s a rare morning in the Stratford residence of Colm and Donna Feore: both of them are at home. He’s not starring in a Broadway show, making a miniseries in Rome or finishing off a film in London. And she’s not choreographing a movie in Prague, staging an opera in Edinburgh or mounting a musical in Toronto.