Making Stravinsky Look Easy

By Paul Gray

At Mr. B. 's house, Peter Martins puts on a "nice" ballet

Why not design a ballet around Stravinsky's Suite from "L'Histoire du Soldat"? When George Balanchine asked him to do just that last fall, Peter Martins, a principal dancer with the New York City Ballet, thought he knew very well why not. With six pieces of choreography to his credit, Martins, 34, was promising but relatively inexperienced. Even veteran choreographers have found Stravinsky's jagged rhythms and irregular beats difficult, if not impossible to translate into movement. L'Histoire du Soldat, which originated as a theater piece with libretto, has virtually resisted a successful dance setting ever since Stravinsky arranged the music as a concert suite in 1920. Says Martins: "Nobody should tackle such a complicated score unless he is Mr. Balanchine, and he never did." Mr. B. was reassuring: "It's a wonderful score, and you will make nice dances." And adamant: he told the dubious Martins to prepare for a Jan. 29 premiere.

Balanchine was also right. The score is wonderful, and Martins made nice dances. The debut last week at Manhattan's Lincoln Center drew an uncommonly long, lusty ovation from the hard-to-please City Ballet crowd. The applause underscored both Martins' arrival as a choreographer to watch very carefully and a happy addition to the City Ballet's glittering, almost sinfully lush repertory.

It is easy to see Balanchine's influence on Martins' choreography. Mr. B. takes his cue from the music, not stories, and so does Martins. The Russian folk tale that Stravinsky strung his music around has all but vanished in this production. Those who want to can find hints of a soldier and the devil playing tricks on each other, but Martins' eye is squarely on dance as Balanchine sees it: speed, color, pattern, technical brilliance. The 22 dancers who appear in L'Histoire are costumed as visual metaphors of sound, not as characters in a script. The men, in unitards, belts and boots, allude to the recurring martial overtones in Stravinsky's score. During such passages, the women, looking hoydenish in ankle socks, are reminders of dissonance and jazz to come.

Martins has relied on Balanchine's methods but used them creatively. Stravinsky's music marches and prances, waltzes and tangos; formal arrangements suddenly give way to the tinkling of rag time. The choreographer must somehow make the abrupt look fluid. Martins does so by keeping the transitions loose-limbed and larky. He registers a sudden shift in tempo by crooking this dancer's arm or sending that dancer into a modified shimmy. When the music turns Russian, the men magically assume the guise of Bolshoi dancers, arms folded, legs kicking. The whole interlude lasts perhaps 30 seconds.

In fact, Martins has put more onstage in 25 minutes than viewers can absorb in one sitting. If he errs on the side of busyness, as do many young choreographers, the reason is not hard to find. The corps and principal dancers at City Ballet can obviously do whatever he asks. No single dancer owns this ballet, although Heather Watts glides spectacularly through a series of transformations (tango, waltz, ragtime), and, early on, the phenomenal Darci Kistler, who is just 16, does a pas de deux with Ib Andersen that sets the tone for excellence to follow. Blessed with the collaboration of this company, Martins has designed an incandescent ensemble performance.

When he came to City Ballet in 1968, Martins was already an established star with the Royal Danish Ballet. Submerging his personality into Balanchine's vision took tune and travail. "For five years it was hell," he says. Yet the transplanting was a success. The handsome blond dancer became in fact, if not in name, the premier danseur of City Ballet, especially in his ability to partner great ballerinas. But Martins is now numbering his days as a dancer: "When I feel a decline in performance, so help me God, I'm going to quit. I can't predict when that will be--in two years perhaps." The strain of choreographing and dancing regularly, as often as eight tunes a week, has been enormous and consuming. Says Heather Watts, 27, who shares an apartment with Martins in Manhattan: "It is very important for him to do his work; he is completely absorbed by it. And here I am, talking to the cat."

Martins foresees the time when he will direct a major ballet company:

"There is nothing that can stop it. Nothing." But he is annoyed by the rumors that he will eventually succeed Balanchine, who is now 77. "The biggest tribute I can give Mr. B. is not to talk about what will happen when he is no longer here, but to say, 'Listen, Mr. B., you have got something I want, and that is your knowledge. Give it to me, please.' " The teacher has already set his pupil a hard task. Martins' handling of L'Histoire marks an important step in the journey from apprentice to master. --By Paul Gray. Reported by Rosemarie Tauris/New York

With reporting by Rosemarie Tauris/New York

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