Do it subtly, do it skillfully, and do it in Spanish.
Watch closely as Maia and Alex Shibutani execute their first twizzle set starting at about 2:36 (embed should begin at the designated time) -- and count along with Perez Prado:
Why does this work? Because it's intricately interwoven with their skill at the element; a fail on the twizzles is a fail for the fun gambit. Sufficiently believing that they can execute is also a bold acknowledgment of their ability on something with which many another team has struggled. (In its sensitive timing, it's not unlike the twizzle passage in Virtue and Moir's Carmen, which required a to-the-millisecond finish to work dramatically -- one they consistently nailed.)
Far from a cheap trick to illustrate a lyric, this is clever play with high-level difficulty, and a great show of confidence.
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.
Where foxtrot meets ice, the primary takeaway should be less on specific steps or even hold or frame, and more on a general rhythmic quality; the dance is marked by its slow-slow-quick-quick pattern, creating a sense of rise and fall that, when done well, can be reflected in a program.
What's particularly of note where the foxtrot is concerned is its two strands of history. While today it's classified as a standard ballroom dance, it originated as a product of the popular successes of vaudeville -- attributed in its barest form to namesake showman Harry Fox -- and performance ballroom exemplified by Vernon and Irene Castle, trendsetters of the gradually emerging Jazz Age (seen here performing their own namesake Castle Walk). The dance that began as an emblem of the ragtime era would, however, with the passage of a little time and a migration overseas, become refined in that ballroom-crazed period of 1930s Britain that also saw the development of the foundational compulsory ice dances -- including, but naturally, the foxtrot, demonstrated here. This new "slow foxtrot" essentially supplanted the jazzier social style from which it originated, rendering the dance somewhat more staid in perception than is necessarily true to its essential spirit and fairly adaptable rhythm.
To establish some footing in what's currently understood by a social but still fairly formalized approach to foxtrot, this tutorial provides a quick and clear visual breakdown of the basics:
Confusing matters slightly, slow foxtrot may be synonymous with foxtrot overall -- as separate from quickstep, originally a variant of the dance -- or may refer to a specific subgenre of foxtrot. The ISU, for its part, has distinguished between the two, and while a quicker-paced foxtrot ruled the day this season and in others (as demonstrated in 2001 by Marina Anissina & Gwendal Peizerat) most original dances from the 2004-05 season utilized the slow rhythm, including -- and pay attention -- this one from then-juniors (and national seniors) Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir, a particularly solid demonstration of hold-heavy foxtrot.
And from the history page linked above, let's also take a moment to note the described "theatricality" of an American take on the form -- and that the couples covered in the previous entry here all utilized a foxtrot rhythm in their season SDs.
And while most teams this past season did incorporate the foxtrot, as suggested by those theatrical examples and many others, fewer programs focused in on a more traditional ballroom-oriented interpretation. This dance from Maia & Alex Shibutani is, however, one of the clearer, playing to the team's strengths:
The slow-slow-quick-quick pattern is discernible here, especially at the top of each foxtrot segment; the choreography from 0:34-0:38 is a little like a promenade. The sense of lilt is apparent in their second foxtrot section particularly, with a notion of rise and fall, if less of sway.
But least common of all was reference to foxtrot's initial roots, and to explore those, let's first set the stage with a look at the real thing in the 1920s and 1930s. The comparison is instructive; while the 1920s clip retains a jazzy sensibility, that of the 1930s suggests a smoother, more standard ballroom interpretation:
A few teams elected to call back to that early-mid-century feel, though in varying degrees of faithfulness to actual dance movement. The Charleston-inspired short dance from Danielle O'Brien and Gregory Merriman nicely utilizes its middle foxtrot rhythm (beginning at 1:55) in terms of bounce and sway, though the openness of hold outside of the midline step sequence distances it from its floor forebear:
And after their youthful take on the ballroom-based slow foxtrot, Virtue and Moir elected to travel the jazz club route with this Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong program, which wraps its quickstep middle with two foxtrot sections:
Again, the concern is more general feeling than specific translation, but the in-hold moments present something like a heightened conception of the real thing, performance more than a direct presentation, particularly with several early sequences, and the bulk of the "Cheek to Cheek" section, marked by rise and fall but also a quite nonstandard degree of flash. But compare also the interplay of the no-touch midline step sequence to the responsive steps of the traditional dance, with the step-back/step-forward slow-quick rhythm suggested a bit by the patterns and rhythms carved out as one partner seems to move more in reaction to the other than out of any simple choreographic scheme. The attitude of reaction and response is what grounds the rise and fall here.
Among the spectrum of fundamental dance styles, foxtrot poses more difficulty than most in its move to the ice -- its composition so rooted in actions so incompatible with both the physics of skating and the requirements of competition that isolated elements and rhythms must take precedence here. But that flexibility of tempo and rhythm also makes its application as a secondary rhythm -- an addition to a quickstep or waltz or other standard ballroom form -- certainly points to its overwhelming popularity of use. The result, though, is a style that can lose its identity in ice dance form; those references, then, to its primary roots are all the more unique.
The quickstep compulsory, like most compulsories of its era, found it appropriate to substitute the face-to-face dance hold of its floor inspiration with kilian. Where the dance calls for a standard 4/4 time signature, the compulsory is in 2/4 time, making the task of music selection a little more challenging than simply seeking out any designated Standard Quickstep CD. This technical step-by-step video breakdown of the quickstep, courtesy of the ISU, is a useful visual resource and, paired with this short lesson on Standard quickstep, reveals indeed very little overlap at all between genres: while a case can be made for straightness of frame, there is no readily apparent commonality between steps or general rhythm and pattern of movement. This is, in essence, another case of the r(h)umba.
Nevertheless, the dance's emphasis on quick, light movement is at least suggested in strong compulsory performances, such as this first-place rendition from Marina Anissina and Gwendal Peizerat at the 2002 Olympics:
And, as the foundation of this season's junior short dance, choreographers and teams have made an effort to surround the perhaps questionable pattern with footwork and holds more reflective of the heritage, as in, for one very successful example, this from Kaitlin Hawayek and Jean-Luc Baker:
But now that it's been established what quickstep is not, it might be instructive to take a little more time to consider what it is. The style is of the Jazz Age, having developed from the foxtrot -- a quicker-paced version of such -- as well as the Charleston and other more specific vernacular dances of the day. Some historical detail is offered here, while this page provides a solid breakdown of the style from a technical angle. Speaking in the most general sense, the dance will be marked by the pace and patterns of its footwork, including elements like hops, runs, and kicks, and a basis in syncopation -- another legacy of its jazz heritage.
This demonstration of both basic and advanced patterns is a useful reference, particularly the advanced pattern beginning at 1:20:
While truer quickstep elements have been incorporated into programs using a quickstep rhythm (see, for example, much of 3:33 and on in this 2011 free dance from Maia & Alex Shibutani), for the general purposes of ice dance, a far better comparison can be drawn between real quickstep and the compulsory pattern that in 2008 supplanted its skating counterpart version for senior dancers: the Finnstep, also the foundation of this season's senior short dance. Created as Finland's Susanna Rahkamo & Petri Kokko's 1994-95 Original Set Pattern dance, it is far more boisterous and open than either a compulsory or Standard quickstep, but also carries through some degree more of the latter's spirit and technical nuance:
Consider, for example, the very familiar sequence from about 0:43 through 0:55 alongside the run from 1:46 through 1:52 in the above quickstep video. The holds vary, the quickstep incorporates more turn, but the approach of the footwork is far more comparable. What is attempted on ice with the Finnstep's deliberate hops and short steps versus more sustained blade runs can much more readily be perceived as an authentic attempt at translating quickstep.
This season's short dance and its multiple manifestations will be explored in greater depth with the next few entries here, as its optional paired rhythms -- foxtrot, Charleston, and swing -- are considered along with thematic and stylistic subgenres utilized throughout certain programs.
The most popular pairing of all for a blues short dance has been, probably unsurprisingly, swing. A few teams, like Americans Madeline Heritage and Nathaniel Fast, have opted to tackle a full blues program; a few others, as discussed last week, are daring the hip-hop option. But swing provides, frankly, the easiest opportunity for a team to showcase their ability to handle multiple tempos and swift mood shifts -- and may also simply be more fun to train daily.
Swing dance saw a popular resurgence in the late '90s, in a story with which many are already familiar involving things like Gap commercials, the Brian Setzer Orchestra, and indie films featuring Vince Vaughn and Jon Favreau. Today the major styles primarily competed are West Coast Swing, East Coast Swing, and Lindy Hop.
The formalized East Coast Swing and frequently improvisational West Coast Swing bear very little affinity to the swing of ice dance, which generally roots itself in a Big Band-era style. The traditional Lindy Hop is its closet floor companion; The Lindy Circle offers a nice overview of Lindy Hop's origin, as well as swing's development from that original style. Wikipedia, too, provides a cursory but useful guide to Lindy Hop and swing moves. And while many vintage swing videos are available, this montage gives a pretty good glimpse of a variety of moves (albeit missing the component of original accompanying music):
Swing in ice dance was last seen in a big way in the 2008-09 season, with an original dance that called for rhythms and dances of the 1920s, 1930s, and 1940s. One especially spirited senior OD came from Sinead and John Kerr, whose rhythms, interestingly, were officially classified quite specifically as West Coast Swing and Lindy Hop:
For the juniors, who faced the same OD requirement, Maia and Alex Shibutani put out a fun Big Band program:
The advantage that these prior teams had, of course, was the absence of a requisite pattern and mandated rhythm; while they still choose to showcase a variety of rhythms, they're at greater liberty to experiment with movement (within, of course, the ordinary restraints). On the other hand, such restriction as faced by today's teams makes the accomplishment of the more successful SDs all the more impressive. Gabriella Papadakis and Guillaume Cizeron of France, champions at JGP Courchevel, have one of the stronger swing SDs this season, using The Brian Setzer Orchestra's "The Dirty Boogie" for that segment. Note the nice aerial movement from Papadakis, as well as some fairly authentic liftwork:
