15. Ballet

It's possible to argue that no dance genre more seriously underpins ice dance than ballet. For as much as the discipline's social and competitive roots align with those of ballroom dance, ballet is a conventional element of figure skating education as a whole. Lines, general carriage and upper body movement translate fairly fluidly from the floor to the ice.

It's also then an interesting exercise to consider how ballet has itself been directly referenced within ice dance -- and examples might be less prevalent than expected. Because the idea of ballet, especially in its more contemporary form -- port de bras, positioning, a certain perceived quality of soft lyricism -- is so utterly ingrained, it would be too facile to argue that lyrical ice dance programs are themselves somehow demonstrations of ballet. Ballet as a form of dance on floor -- neoclassical, contemporary, modern, romantic -- is basically united by a commitment at base to a shared language of technique. For this writer, then, what might truly define ballet on ice would be a program as crafted by a choreographer with a pure understanding of ballet technique, executed by skaters with above-average knowledge and comfort with said technique. This definition makes actual on-ice ballet very much the exception rather than rule.

With that said, the idea of a ballet program has been an especially popular one in this season of the waltz short dance -- ballet scores providing excellent examples of the fast-tempoed waltz necessary to the Ravensburger, along with well-matched marches and polkas appropriate to the short dance's secondary rhythm. Let's take a look at three teams who committed to three very different approaches to the idea of a ballet program -- with a range of outcomes as faith to a genre goes.

With a short dance set to -- but not portraying -- selections from John Lanchbery's Tales of Beatrix Potter ballet score, Alexandra Paul and Mitch Islam also tackled the year's most dedicated attempt at classical ballet on ice. The couple's efforts were detailed more thoroughly in this Two for the Ice article, but highlight an absolute interest in technical reference, from the skaters' -- especially Paul's -- basis in off-ice ballet and the input of ballet instructor Daria Kruszel:


Sequences such as 0:48-56, 1:21-24 and 2:52-55 clearly intend to reference opening bows, pirouettes and chaînés along with the cabrioles and temps leves touched upon in the article, and are executed well, given the limitations of on-ice action; Paul's foundations are obvious.

While Maia and Alex Shibutani's Coppelia is inspired by Petipa's popular work, ballet here serves as a narrative touchstone:


Although the two worked with ballet performers, including Cheryl Yeager and Alex Wong, there's really no strong technical comparison to be drawn in this program; program choice here is based in story more than classical movement. Similarly, musical selections are matched to the waltz and march rhythms and patterns, not the story strictly presented in the ballet's counterpart moments. But even with that caveat, Swanhilda's dance, as performed by the Royal Ballet in 2000, makes a most interesting companion to the specifics of Maia's masterful (and deeply committed) performance as the dancer-as-doll -- including at 1:54:



Kaitlin Hawayek and Jean-Luc Baker tackled an especially beloved ballet in their decision to draw from The Nutcracker's "Waltz of the Flowers" and "Dance of the Parents." In one program-focused interview this fall, Hawayek and Baker noted that their approach to ballet in this program was more suggestive than literal, with the team -- neither partner heavily trained in the style -- taking a primary role in choreography and coach Anjelika Krylova bringing in her own understanding:


Nods to the ballet concept are evident in moments like the arabesque penchées at 0:36 and 0:42 along with the small jeté lift at 1:09, but the dance, as a whole, is more ice dance waltz and polka with a twist. The hybrid approach, however, is also delivered with considerable charm and poses some useful challenges for the couple's development.

As a useful point of technical contrast, Moscow Ballet presents a partnered take on the "Waltz of the Flowers":


(But here, too, is the parents' dance, as danced by the Royal Opera Ballet, with a courtly dance that is indeed reflected by the ice dancers taking it on.)

But perhaps the most novel balletic concept within ice dance has been the purest. While the idea of the barre played a role in this 1986 exhibition from Marina Klimova and Sergei Ponomarenko, Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir took it to a much more literal level in this 2008 number:


We open with stretches and plies, a modified battement with arms moving through the positions -- essentially, a fairly spot-on condensed ice version of a barre exercise, such as this from the London Russian Ballet School:


It is, of course, another case where faithfulness to a style comes as no surprise given particularly the off-ice background for Virtue, famously offered a spot in Canada's National Ballet School after youthful studies. Moir's solo turn at 1:20-33 demonstrates an appropriate lightness of movement, but Virtue's subsequent sequence from 1:34-41 highlights more in the way of technique, from ballonnés to a few concluding chaînés. The ensuing pas de deux is really a step sequence -- but fluidly connected courtesy of that marriage of dance and skating skill.

For all the classical ballet references found in the current ice dance era -- Meryl Davis and Charlie White's 2012-13 Giselle short dance another inspired by a well-established work -- less obvious have been demonstrations of more modern ballet in a clearly distinct form (though Virtue and Moir's work with ballet and modern dance teacher and choreographer Jennifer Swan might serve as an example). But as lyrical becomes especially prevalent on the competitive scene, a more technically rigorous take, combined with excellence of skating technique, may present itself -- especially if more outside creative forces get involved.

14. Hip-Hop Revisited

In its second installment, long ago at the outset of the 2012-13 season, Step Sequences explored the hitherto relatively unexplored territory of hip-hop on ice. At this time, it was a permitted supplementary rhythm for juniors, accompanying a Blues pattern-based short dance, and examples of its other use were few and far between.

In more recent seasons, hip-hop has taken on a new life at the senior level in capacities both competitive and show, and will be on offer as a supplemental rhythm for senior and, again, junior dancers in next season's Midnight Blues/Blues short dances. We'll take a look at those outings and revisit the off-ice world as well -- recalling still that all on-ice renditions of the genre are essentially adaptations of lyrical or studio hip hop, with an obvious emphasis on that category's basis in choreography rather than improvisation, and its utilization of heavy-hitting isolations and more grounded, rounded movement as its defining elements.

For their 2014-15 free dance to pieces from the soundtrack of 2013's The Great Gatsby, Madison Hubbell and Zach Donohue explored a range of rhythms and accompanying dance styles. Of concern here is their approach to Beyoncé and André 3000's "Back to Black" -- seen from 1:58 to 3:00:


Although this blog has very recently made a point regarding overuse of choreoliteralism, the incorporation of choreographic gesturing within the difficult twizzle sequence is a nice, and technically tricky, touch, obviously reminiscent of the lyrical hip hop approach ("and your tears dry" at 2:25-27). While the couple have excellent flow, carefully incorporated upper body isolations mean this movement actually doesn't pose significant trouble to their interpretation -- though it really wraps at 2:44, with the subsequent transition movement returning to a more general skating vocabulary.

While the choreography is unrelated, it might be useful to take a look at choreographer Miguel Antonio's "Back in Black" studio piece as a complement; it is also interesting, however, as a demonstration of the genuine closeness that exists between commercial hip-hop and a fellow trained genre like jazz. Many of the harder hit moments are less grounded and staccato than snappy -- a product of choreography or dancer?



Also last year, Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir tried their hand with an exhibition to Usher's "Good Kisser," completed with the aid of hip-hop instructor and choreographer Samuel Chouinard in addition to choreographer Marie-France Dubreuil:


Interestingly, this number happened to come on the heels of a very popular Dave Scott hip-hop routine from So You Think You Can Dance's eleventh season in 2014, featuring Tanisha Belknap and Rudy Abreu:



While it's difficult for skaters like Virtue and Moir to wholly adapt their usual fluid movement to the more staccato aspects of hip hop, they do some solid work in the stand-still sequences here, with Moir particularly strong; where some hip-hop essence is lost, of course, is again in the many moments of greater ice coverage. But Dave Scott's routine, though a strong entry to Dance's body of hip-hop work, itself relies to an apparent degree on the other-genre strengths of its two dancers -- one a heavily cross-trained contestant who classified herself as a ballroom dancer, the other a cross-trained contemporary dancer.

And Dubreuil students Kayla Charky and Simon Dazé, junior competitors for Canada, also tackle a hip-hop segment in their largely classic R&B-based 2015-16 free dance to "Ain't No Sunshine," "Try a Little Tenderness" and "Otis." While Kanye and Jay-Z's track drops in at the 3:08 mark, the hip-hop derived movement only enters at 3:34, stretching for a 15-second segment. Choreographically, the intent is clear, though execution is clearly young -- though also performed here at a July event:



What shall the 2016-17 season bring? Step Sequences waits in eager anticipation for the brave souls who opt to take the road less traveled.

Special Topic: Choreoliteralism

Choreoliteralism is not a dance genre, per se, though it may certainly correlate with the off-ice category of lyrical dance, in its primary meaning -- a balletic/jazz-rooted form illustrating lyrics equal to or over melodic line and rhythm. In other words, lyrical dance relies on a fairly literal depiction of a song's lyrics. On the ice, lyrical has primarily come to be used to refer to any soft, often romantic program style drawing on ballet-influenced upper body shape and line and, ironically, usually skated to instrumentals. Examples in the current free dance era alone are numerous; Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir's 2009-10 Mahler, Kaitlin Hawayek and Jean-Luc Baker's 2013-14 Amelie and Gabriella Papadakis and Guillaume Cizeron's 2014-15 Mozart all can be classed under this umbrella (while the latter team's free was inspired by a contemporary ballet, on-ice movement in its limitations and the primary emphasis on emotionalism over refinement would compel me to consider the piece more lyrical than ballet, versus a program clearly drawing on recognized elements of ballet technique).

But all of that is to miss the point, which is the true concept of "lyrical" dance in skating form. And here we draw a distinction between choreoliteralism and narrative movement. A good program can tell a story through abstract gesture. Virtue and Moir's Carmen utilized modern dance language to tell a reasonably clear-cut story; Hawayek and Baker's new Theory of Everything free plainly depicts Stephen Hawking's battle with ALS without sacrificing the integrity of a contemporary dance approach. No, what we talk about when we talk about choreoliteralism is something more on-the-nose.

Christopher Dean, in the 2011-12 season, presented two shining examples of the concept. Watch and listen, here, how Piper Gilles and Paul Poirier start their "Pure Imagination" free dance:


Gilles' brother Todd, who had some success in prior partnerships with Trina Pratt and Jane Summersett, teamed for that same season with Emily Samuelson, herself an accomplished skater with Evan Bates. The pairing would be short-lived, but they did have the opportunity to skate this Dean creation to a cover of Led Zeppelin's "Stairway to Heaven" -- a lyric of key inspiration:


It's worth acknowledging that sometimes this literal approach can be taken without lyrics, as such -- see Dmitri Soloviev lip-sync a bird's cry, or Nikita Katsalapov enact Sam's shooting while a V/O dialogue track shares Elena-as-Molly's distress. But these are the extravagant cases, and further pursuit may lead us down an unwanted road of many a most unfortunate death on ice. We'll return our primary focus to that smaller concern, those moments which do not come in the service of conveying a specific storyline through overt gesture (an approach which can itself be fraught with choreography by pantomime), but rather a simple lyric.

Choreoliteralism has taken on a new vogue within the work of Marie-France Dubreuil and Patrice Lauzon. An early non-competitive effort from the duo more abstractly hinted at this approach, with Virtue and Moir's 2010 "I Want to Hold Your Hand" show program highlighting a variety of hand-to-hand motions. As full-time coaches and competitive choreographers, the duo, and Dubreuil in particular, have shown a special interest in lyrical material by its skating definition, perhaps making the transition towards more literally lyrical moments this season a logical one.

While the element is subtle enough in itself, costuming turns a key moment in Elisabeth Paradis and François-Xavier Ouellette's free dance to Simon & Garfunkel's "Bridge Over Troubled Water" into a great demonstration of the choreoliteral lift:


Meanwhile, reference to birds and wings -- to say nothing of reaching arms -- translates clearly in Alexandra Paul and Mitch Islam's "Where Is It Written?" free:


But 2015's choreoliteral trend is not confined to the rink at Gadbois, as Gilles and Poirier, in a short dance made this time by coaches Carol Lane and Juris Razgulajevs, can attest:


Outside of the competitive realm, an additional rather interesting contribution to our sample comes from a non-skating choreographer -- a recent creation by Dancing With the Stars ballroom pro Sharna Burgess for Meryl Davis and Charlie White. This piece to Florence + the Machine's "Dog Days Are Over" contains not one example of choreoliteralism -- nay, the practice abounds; identify a verb and see it realized:


Among specific moments, it's difficult to see given the angle in this video, but in a recording of their latest performance at Rockefeller Center, Davis nicely illustrates the concept of being "hit" by happiness. Kisses are blown at 1:47; the duo runs at 2:16. It is, however, worth acknowledging that Burgess's Dancing With the Stars work tends to take a more musically-based approach.

Literal interpretation of lyrics is certainly practiced outside the world of strictly lyrical dance, as in Bollywood, for one, with its marriage of theatre and dance, as well as Western musical theatre to an extent, as contemporary choreographer Mia Michaels -- uncomfortable with literal lyrical choreo in her usual field -- recognized when adapting herself to Broadway's environs. Of course, taken too far, the choreoliteral practice also becomes easy fodder for humor, as in, say, Saturday Night Live's series of "DeMarco Brothers" sketches in the early 2000s, featuring a pair of aspiring back-up dancers who thoroughly acted out lyrics to Bon Jovi or Britney Spears songs in a bid to obtain employment with such musical idols.

Prior to the introduction of lyric vocals in the non-dance disciplines of skating, a common criticism leveled against the suggested use of such was indeed the risk of programs becoming a game of charades more than an interpretation of pure music, an interesting fear when, given the nature of its elements and timing, dance is arguably the more musically sensitive of the disciplines. But this concern (one not yet significantly borne out in singles or pairs) also points to a simply different understanding in skating than in dance of lyrics' purpose; what can be a point of dispute among some in the vast and various world of dance off the ice is somewhat more limited in skating, with existing concerns about the line between kitsch and art alongside considerable limitations upon movement. A dancer can use full body to express music and lyric alike; a skater with less range of motion may be reduced to the odd arm gesture or punning element, a moment that draws attention to itself for its sheer outlier status.

But perhaps the fundamental fear is one not quite touched upon, and it's one of sheer difficulty: creating and executing movement to provided words is simply easier than creating and executing movement rooted in the textures and nuances of any piece of music, instrumental or vocal. Words are obvious to any choreographer familiar with a language; musical subtleties are sometimes not. A given gesture may be challenging in its own right to deliver, but is it fundamentally more challenging than the act of moving with full awareness of subtle rhythmic and melodic shifts through any live performance's pitfalls?

Choreoliteralism is, ultimately, one possible approach for the skating choreographer, typically one facet of a larger, more general tack. Can a creative concept be an objective wrong? Provided especially that it fulfills all requirements for the competitive program, no. But can it prove a disappointment, especially when applied to those teams with genuine musical ability? For this writer, yes.

13. Paso Doble

At last, an overdue look at this year's senior compulsory pattern, the Paso Doble, a style which, more than others from the ballroom family, has had some unexpected success -- and challenge where less noted -- in its translation to icy life.

While intimately associated with Spanish culture, namely its bullfighting tradition, Paso Doble as dance actually originated in France as a sort of military march and later gained full steam as a style in that same country in the 1920s and '30s. The dramatic nature of its character meant it developed primarily as an exhibition dance more than social, and it's exceedingly challenging to locate examples of Paso Doble as known in the west that are not a demonstration of the Latin ballroom dance, although another folkish strain exists in countries such as the Philippines. This video featuring Christoph Kies and Blanca Ribas Turón performing to a song most closely bound with the Paso (and not unfamiliar to skating fans), "España Cañi," is a ballroom offering with some obvious touches of the dance's flamenco and gypsy influences; the song title, in fact, means "Gypsy Spain."


Meanwhile, this instructional series, designated for the bronze, silver and gold international levels of the dance, provides an exceptionally useful rundown of its figures:


It's likely that no ice dance Paso Doble is better known and remembered than Jayne Torvill and Christopher Dean's 1983-84 Original Set Pattern dance, made famous as part of their Olympic gold-winning performance:


The team quite obviously follows one particular key tenet of Paso -- characterization, here with Dean embodying the matador in machismo attitude and Torvill his cape. (Dean, in choreographing this season's Paso Doble short dance for Canadians Piper Gilles and Paul Poirier, would revisit the concept.) In other senses, however, the actual Paso influence is rather difficult to discern; the interplay between dancers is considerably minimized in Torvill's more passively choreographed role as cape, while the floor Paso's touches of flamenco styling evident in arm gesture, stance and general full body expression are also minimal. Notably, the music used here -- Rimsky-Korsakov's "Capriccio Espagnol" -- is in 6/8 time, versus Paso's 2/4 rhythm. Because the couple spend virtually no time in face-to-face hold, comparison to Paso figures is challenging, though a variant on a traveling spin can be noted at moments like 0:51-0:55, while touches of separation might be present in execution of certain turns.

In a surprising turn of events for this blog, however, a more direct tribute to ballroom Paso can be seen in the 1938 compulsory pattern that bears its name, performed in this clip by Oksana Domnina and Maxim Shabalin at their victorious 2009 World Championships:


The tango hold is already an improvement over many a killian-heavy compulsory we've examined here, but also clearly links the dance across disciplines. While any attempted nod at the figures is very general at best, the upright frame demanded of Paso on the floor is especially emphasized here in the slip steps (serving this season as part of the short dance's first key point); hand flourish too is encouraged in the moments directly following those steps, first at 0:47 and 0:50 here, lending to more obvious Paso character.

While many of this season's short dances draw more overtly on flamenco than Paso -- though this, too, can work to enhance a Paso display, as suggested above -- a few are more ballroom-driven in nature, such as that from Grand Prix Final champions Kaitlyn Weaver and Andrew Poje. The cape element in Weaver and Poje's dance is more abstracted along the lines of ballroom's approach, with sequences like those from 2:33-2:36 and 2:43-2:45 rather akin to loose interpretations of a caping walk. The posing from 2:59-3:04, too, reflects the combative dynamic often demonstrated in performance:


With ice dance analysis concluded for now, I'll leave with this showdance interpretation of Paso from Pavlo Barsuk and Anna Trebunskaya, relying heavily on the Latin vocabulary but offering a little more by way of comparison to the skating realm with its continuous movement and incorporation of non-permissible elements like the concluding lift: