The Subject for Tonight's Lecture is Syllabus

Not content to remain relics of broader Step Sequences lessons in Latin, Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir have unveiled a classic rock-scored r(h)umba short dance that neatly condenses a Dancesport syllabus including samba, cha cha, and rumba into one sub-three-minute program:



Let's begin.

There's far too much to fully unpack in the opening "Sympathy for the Devil" sequence, but a few highlights -- and hybridized transitions -- are worth noting. The rhythm bounce is a good baseline for understanding the flair injected throughout the dance's up-tempo bookending sections. Consider a bit of batucada to open, a moment at 0:42-0:43 that reads a little bit samba lock, a little bit plait. But at 0:44-0:48, meet the most obvious callback to floor samba: the natural roll. It's been utilized on ice more than once, but rarely in its face-to-face variant and for so extensive a time. It leads into the promenade run up to 0:52.

In their no-touch step sequence, a required stop beginning at 1:08 is really a sort of Cuban break/demonstration of great Latin posture, which swiftly segues into a modified criss-cross bota fogo followed at 1:13 by a tip of the hat to the solo spot voltas -- it is, in general, difficult to explicitly associate the program's myriad turning moments with specifically codified Latin turns, but there's a styling to the movement that at least presents a reasonable facsimile here; they are clearly skating turns for a Latin ballroom program, not for a hip hop or a waltz or a quickstep.

Given the packed and heavily mandated nature of the r(h)umba sequence set to "Hotel California" -- featuring a compulsory pattern and partial step sequence -- it's challenging to point to many specific rumba steps aside from, for example, the opening out at 2:13 or a skating-friendly twist on rope spinning at 2:09. However, a review of the syllabus and this showdance -- and therefore trick-friendly -- rumba do underline Virtue and Moir's easy and excellent hip action and include a few familiar transitions:


The final sequence to "Oye Como Va" presents a quick nod to cha cha, noted in something like the fan at 3:11. As conscientious an effort at translating floor movement to ice this program may be, it also shouldn't be mistaken for a purist exercise in Latin ballroom -- nor need it be. For teams with the skill, the restrictions of a technical ice dance program and the freedom to play across textbook styles is not cause to blame a genre, but opportunity to cleverly -- and masterfully -- adapt.

20. Tango Pt. 3: Vintage

If ice dance tangos can be ballroom and Argentine, compulsory, short-form or freestyle, they can also take their cues from a wholly other source: history. More than seems to be the case with other styles, like waltz or the Latin dances, tango seems to inspire choreographers and skaters to a vintage tribute.

Our source today is the tango that first developed in North America and Western Europe in the 1910s and '20s. In the wake of its introduction by Vernon and Irene Castle, it would be popularized through Rudolph Valentino's performance of an extremely stylized and less-than-authentic tango in 1921's The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, set here to that utmost staple of tango, 1917's "La Cumparsita" by Uruguayan musician Gerardo Matos Rodriguez:


Some have observed that this performance is really more of an apache dance, but the identification of it as a tango, as performed by rising star Valentino, was sufficient to raise the dance’s profile further. And so the tango continued along its merry standardized way as a social dance, one performed to contemporary popular music, one increasingly-distanced from its Argentinian roots -- as suggested by this quite staid 1928 film, courtesy of British Pathé:


As demonstrated by Valentino and partner, the dance can have those slinky, staccato steps, but can also take on a livelier, more flirtatious character. It's like the early stage behavior cheekily ascribed to the American Tango style: happy, romantic, and only vaguely uneasy around the other. (Worth noting that the prospect of revisiting a Charleston-era version of tango is not alien to the ballroom world, as demonstrated in this show dance.)

But it's this ur-version of the tango that informed Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir's 2010-11 short dance. The two each described the piece as having a “Great Gatsby era feel.” But here's another twist from the other tangos we've discussed: the program, as required for that season's short dance, was actually constructed around the Golden Waltz pattern.

So with that bit of technical exposition out of the way, let’s get to the root of those “Gatsby era” allusions:


The tango music is indeed of era -- 1928's "Schenkst Du Beim Tango Mir Dein Herz" -- and while we've seen other takes on tango from Virtue and Moir, they have typically come in the form of something more closely related to the Argentine tango, with the force and passion associated. And this is key: we know that they knew, and that choreographer Marina Zoueva knew, how to craft a tango. The choices made here, avoiding much in the way of traditional enganches and boleos, is intentional. Instead, they've taken things in a rather more unusual direction, one which offers up a stagier sort of styling. Where the waltz is a true moment of connection, the tango framing is a narrative device which shares some of the propriety of that 1928 interpretation; there is a self-consciousness that's deliberate, and it feels in line with a sense of embodying a sort of play-acting old-fashioned tango dance: it's an imported, vaguely exotic style adapted for American (and European) society, popularized by an actor. The program's point of reference is a novel. It's far easier to see a reflection of that old British film footage than, say, some demonstration from a South American club.

But Virtue and Moir weren't the only couple to take up the vintage-imbued wango challenge that year, nor even the only Canadians. And this aesthetically vintage tango for Alexandra Paul and Mitch Islam offers up quite a reverse interpretation; instead of setting apart tango as a form of dance-driven plot device, it instead functions as dominant theme, with the waltz itself subsumed by the other dance's character courtesy of a 3/4-time arrangement of "La Cumparsita":


"A Los Amigos," the primary music selection, is a contemporary tango composition, but one that blends well with the traditional piece; tango movement at 1:18 and 2:26 is used to transition into and out of the Golden Waltz and obviously comprises the in-hold segments that sandwich that Golden Waltz. The dance itself is more familiarly Argentine than Virtue and Moir's, but neither was this an entirely foreign notion even in the Gatsby era:


The 1920s rendition may lack the more complex footplay of the style's later twentieth century re-emergence, but there are still elements worth noting for comparison here, like a demonstrably dramatic opening and an early form of the assisted leap Paul executes at 3:26 in the skating performance, seen here at 1:23 -- while the skated leap could also be considered a more refined and foot-intricate form of the salto at 1:06 in Valentino's dance.

And this past season, though music selection ("Con Buena Onda") was entirely modern, costuming -- reminiscent of this 1930 Louise Brooks clip -- suggested another spin on a mid-century sort of vintage for Piper Gilles and Paul Poirier in a tango free dance:


There are nods as expected to Argentine tango movement, such as the pasadas at 2:21 and 2:51 and the sequence from 3:18-3:25, but more central in connecting this dance to vintage tango is its dramatic nature. Tricks like Gilles' pass through Poirier's legs at 2:00 are not tango-traditional, but do contribute to a theatrical conceit, while the opening sequence could remind one of the highly stylized nature of the apache approach.

Given the recent welcome announcement of Tango Romantica- and Argentine Tango-based short dances for the 2018-19 season, our series on skated tango should offer a few relevant previews of routes teams will take; should the secondary rhythm be (as presently indicated) even more wide-ranging than those on offer for couples in that 2010-11 Golden Waltz season, the chance of a more creative take -- tango as story, tango as historical artifact -- is even more likely. But the most pressing question of all: will that bold couple, too, be Canadian? The season will tell.

19. Tango, Pt. 2: Freestyle

For this second entry in our tango series, we'll move away from the structure of the compulsory -- Argentine and Romantica -- tango and move ahead into its looser, choreographed free dance interpretations, along with a quick nod or two to the now-departed original dance.

And as the dance proper goes, perhaps the most useful analogy can be found with Tango Nuevo. The definition of what actually constitutes this concept is muddied -- it can also refer to a style of music used for the dance -- and it's blurry, too, how much this notion of a freer method of instruction, focused on improvisation and the "how" more than the "what" to dance, is itself a subgenre of the tango style. But holistically, it's a convenient framework for the idea of a more freeform take on the tango than that offered by the ballroom world or most traditional forms of Argentine tango, so we'll use this as our touchstone, and offer this "Oblivion" tango -- note the music -- from Claudia Miazzo and Jean Paul Padovani:


Non-compulsory tango in ice dance has most often come as an original dance, such as in the 1996-97 season. The form in that era still suggested some hybrid of ballroom tango attitude and crispness with recognizable Argentine foot play, as demonstrated in this program from Angelika Krylova and Oleg Ovsiannikov, including an enganche at 0:47 followed by a few extended sequences featuring high leg wraps, ganchos and boleos:



So in that alternately theatrical and ballroom-driven ice dance era of the late '90s, a dark, subtle free dance tango was its own kind of nuevo; as the product of young choreographer Igor Shpilband for U.S. champions Elizabeth Punsalan and Jerod Swallow, it was also a sort of foreshadowing of the more freely dance-centered era to come with the institution of a new judging system in the mid-2000s.



It is in many ways a dramatic tango. But it's also a tango that pays much proper heed to its off-ice inspiration, in the kind of ways we've established that compulsories simply could not. Importantly, though frequently more open than permissible in even tango nuevo, its more drawn-out qualities tie it far more closely to the feel of an Argentine tango than the ballroom variant.

And as a leading coach in that IJS era, Shpilband would develop something of a reputation as a tango choreographer, the style proving a particular strength in his side of a creative partnership with Marina Zoueva. This fast-paced but highly intricate "Assassination Tango" for new seniors Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir -- a rare original dance in the 2006-07 season to completely bypass the (Tango Nuevo) music of Astor Piazzolla -- highlights some of those shifts away from the prior decade's more ballroom-crisp take on the style, and a general sense of Argentine feel:


And a tango free for students Meryl Davis and Charlie White in 2010-11 showed some strong contrasts with the stylings apparent in predecessor Punsalan and Swallow's own free; while the references to specific footwork and figures remain, this is a true Golden Age of IJS free, with speed and interesting transitions among the program's primary emphases. The free would develop more polish as the season continued, culminating in Davis and White's first world title, but this early outing, though raw, contains a bit more tango content:


In this post-original dance era, tangos have naturally appeared with slightly less frequency than in previous years, but as a free dance it's proven rather popular among top-ranked couples in the 2016-17 season. And one demonstration in particular pairs a fair degree of intricacy with reminders of the more dramatic, less rushed approach of Punsalan and Swallow's take -- choreographed, coincidentally, by Zoueva:


Next time: The Vintage Tango

18. Tango, Pt. 1: The Compulsories

The tango is so ingrained over nine decades of ice dance that in terms of sheer scope, it's too daunting to tackle as a single post. And so we'll begin instead with the fundamentals of tango on ice -- and progress from there.

It's lent its stylings to two senior compulsory patterns, arisen in five seasons for original dance usage -- and once as a secondary short dance rhythm, one of those topics we'll discuss at another time -- and otherwise functioned as the focus of countless more free dances. Of all specific partner dances, none can be more relied upon to appear annually than the tango.

The Argentine Tango compulsory, and its fellow far rarer Tango compulsory, date to that 1930s spell of compulsory development, as the two-decades-long craze for organized partner dance hit the ice. The Argentine tango proper had in fact become something of an international sensation in this period, making this a reasonably timely adaptation -- though, ironically, concurrent with the dance's temporary decline in its actual South American homeland.

The compulsory dance is meant to emulate its counterpart with "sinuous" quality, "skated with strong edges and considerable elan." It's tough to be sure which specific Argentine tango should best inform a skated pattern; certainly distinctions can be noted just between Argentine dance as a genuine street dance and the polished show style presented by professional champions Flavia Cacace and Vincent Simone:



Yet another example would come via the fairly formalized competitive level of Argentine tango, though such examples as available on YouTube are hit and miss in terms of either video quality or video-friendly dynamism as compared with other types. Regardless, what tends to separate street from stage and floor is that more casual quality; the footplay and ganchos are present, but the hold is a bit looser, the pace a bit more spontaneous. This basic tutorial video covers some primary figures and steps; Wikipedia is useful for a more detailed overview of movements you'll easily recognize.

The Argentine compulsory is strikingly different from the dance by immediate means of its frequent open, non-face-to-face hold; a related lack of footwork interplay also signals the distinctions. But in sections like the interdependent steps from 0:54-0:56 and 1:28-1:31 in this skate from Marina Anissina and Gwendal Peizerat, there is some sense of tango's footwork:


But it's a very rare Argentine compulsory that includes a touch of in-pattern embellishment to reference the dance's footplay -- and fittingly, it comes in the last-ever skate of the pattern at an elite senior event:


Watch those feet at 0:53 and 1:28; you won't see those motions in other couples' presentations, and it's no accident here.

The other major tango compulsory, the Tango Romantica, was born of Ludmilla Pakhomova and Alexander Gorshkov's 1973-74 original set pattern dance. No video appears to exist of the dance as competed, but this very early 1980 compulsory outing from Natalia Linichuk and Gennedi Karponosov -- coached, as noted by commentator Debbi Wilkes at the top, by Romantica creator Elena Tchaikovskaia -- demonstrates how significantly the formal trappings of '70s and early '80s era ice dance suggests the feel of ballroom tango far more than Argentine:


While a multiple-compulsory-per-event need for versatile costuming helping to preserve this ballroom aspect well into the '90s, as demonstrated in 1992 and 1996, things began to shift in the IJS era. And by the compulsory's final outing at the 2010 Vancouver Olympics, here skated by segment leaders Oksana Domnina and Maxim Shabalin, we can see how much the Argentine "feel" had slipped in despite no change to the pattern proper:


Next time: The Choreographed Tango

17. Samba

Between next month's Rio Olympics and the recent announcement of the 2016-17 season's revisitation of the Latin short dance, it may finally be time to turn our eyes to that most complex of Latin dances: the samba.

A quick look at its overall history is useful and highlights certain of its historical complexities. Note that Brazilian samba has a somewhat march-like quality courtesy of its 2/4 tempo and includes both solo (like Samba no pé) and partnered (such as Samba de Gafieira) forms, quite distinct in both cases from its Latin ballroom namesake -- so tracing its connections to on-ice samba is an exercise, to say the least.

With their 2011-12 Latin short dance which includes a batucada percussion piece -- traditional for Brazilian samba -- Nathalie Pechalat and Fabian Bourzat opted for a breezy vibe suggestive of a visit to Rio:


This samba no pé video presents the dance's basic steps, which we can note Pechalat and Bourzat representing in the separated samba sequence starting at 2:50 above. There's a very key signifier of ballroom samba also present at about 3:17 here -- and we'll talk about that next.

Ballroom samba tends to present the more frequent progenitor for the ice dance counterpart. As a particularly complex dance, there's no one-stop tutorial video for these figures, but this samba round from the WDSF PD World DanceSport Championship Latin gives a fair summary, provided one doesn't mind an endless loop of "Straight to Memphis," an experience in repetition that, though deliberate, is not unlike that of sitting through a Latin original or short dance at Worlds. Not particularly prominent in this round is the trademark samba roll, but as Pechalat and Bourzat demonstrated, it's a great way to shorthand the dance style given the limitations of footwork and certain multidirectional movement.

Ice dance offers one samba compulsory pattern, the Silver Samba, created in 1963 and last skated in international senior competition in 2000-01. More recently, it served as the base pattern for the 2014-15 junior short dance. Here it is performed by event winners Oksana Grishuk and Evgeni Platov at the 1996 World Championships:


Despite best efforts in the choreographed intro and outro, it will come as no surprise to regular readers that outside of the 2/4 time, there is exceedingly little to define the pattern itself as Latin, let alone samba -- though perhaps the slip steps seen at 0:58 and 1:28 are the smallest tip of the chapéu to solo samba footwork. Its use for a short dance permitted greater incorporation of concepts from the ballroom world, as in this program from Junior World champions Anna Yanovskaya and Sergey Mozgov.

Samba also served as an Original Set Pattern in 1971-72 and 1989-90, with a number of examples from the second season's dance available on YouTube. For those in search of Latin ballroom authenticity on ice, the 1980s and early '90s may not be your optimal destination. It's taking nothing away from the skating itself to note that the World Championship-winning "La Cucaracha" OSP of Marina Klimova and Sergei Ponomarenko is more Copa Cabana than Blackpool. But exceptions could emerge, and the team who ranked only third in this segment presented a dramatically truer -- and more tastefully subdued -- interpretation; check out Maya Usova and Alexander Zhulin's samba rolls at 0:36 and subsequently repeated with the second pattern pass:


And as introduced at top with Pechalat and Bourzat's routine, samba was also an optional secondary component of 2011-12's rhumba-based short dance, after having appeared in Latin Combination original dances in 1999-2000 and 2005-06. Another offering, from Anna Cappellini and Luca Lanotte, does some of its own line-straddling between ballroom and Brazilian styles, but leans a bit more heavily in the former direction:


The hip action, highlighted at moments like 2:43, is among the stronger you'll get in a skated samba. To identify just a few figures, the samba-opening sequence beginning at 2:06 is essentially a shadow traveling volta; the change in hold from 2:46-2:48 is like a fragment of a promenade run while a similar series of turns starting at 2:16 feel a small bit like open rocks. The side-by-side footwork at 2:10, 2:44 and 2:58, in particular, are moments a bit more readily tied to samba no pé.

And despite the frequent recurrence of Latin in mandated original or compulsory programs, samba, of course, can also on occasion filter its way into a free dance, as it did for Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir, who also presented the style in a modified version of this number for the 2011-12 short dance a season later:


Hip action should be duly noted from program's opening.

Perhaps the best-known use of "Hip Hip Chin Chin" in the ballroom world belongs to this exhibition from Max Kozhevnikov and Yulia Zagoruychenko, which combines samba, cha cha, and a bit of freestyling, and it might not be amiss to suggest it may have had a little impact on certain components of the samba sections in Virtue and Moir's program:


But what's especially interesting about this particular ice dance interpretation is its utilization of in-hold figures, like the stationary samba walks beginning at 1:00. There are echoes of the original "Hip Hip Chin Chin" with a moment like the separation at 2:25 in the ballroom number as compared with the entry to the circular twizzles at 1:06 in Virtue and Moir's program, and the illustration of the song's title in both cases. It's the ability to integrate less familiar figures and elements with a free dance's demand for hold and continuous ice coverage, however, that particularly impresses. The opening steps are reminiscent of cruzados walks; watch for something like a traveling set of samba locks at 1:27 and 4:40. The actual diagonal step sequence -- and all those ice dance elements, like lifts, anathema to a competitive ballroom number -- can only embody so much of the samba syllabus, but it's scattered throughout two non-rumba segments' worth of transitions.

One of the best things to be said for the evolution of Latin (and many other dance genres) in ice dance is an expanding commitment to accuracy towards off-ice counterpart. While a championship round of 2011-12 and 2014-15's senior and/or junior short dances could be wearying in terms of musical repetition, there's something refreshing about even attempts at faithfulness, and even moreso about successful ones. The next Olympic year's rhumba-centered short dance could mean a retread of the last go-round, but can also open more opportunity for experimentation -- of an ultimately rather conventional sort.

16. Charleston and 1920s Dance

The Charleston's history is a long and tangled one, with touch points including the possibility of a Renaissance-era predecessor in the Branle and its later development amidst the birth of jazz. This 1920s footage gives a good idea of the dance in its partnered -- and period-appropriate -- form:


A similar dance that came to overtake Charleston's popularity by the later 1920s was the Black Bottom, which shares the preceding dance's jazzy rhythms and loose limbs:


While the era has left behind little technical guidance for the solo form of either dance, this Charleston tutorial from Strictly Come Dancing pros Kevin Clifton and Karen Hauer nicely illustrates the dance's basics, once one moves past the video's first few seconds of exuberance:


Pay special attention to the highlighted arm positioning at 1:42 -- we'll see that in a transformed context later. Indeed, because so much emphasis in the floor form of these dances relies on a particular shuffle-styled step, twist and kick, references on the ice will tend to draw more from upper body or, perhaps, knee work. Note also its fast, jazzy pace, with Charleston dances typically calling for music of 200-300 BPM, often featuring a syncopated rhythm.

Charleston today is danced on the vintage-loving swing and blues scene, categorized into strict 1920s and Lindy-based styles, and Dancing With the Stars has also presented the occasional "modern" Charleston. However, in the popular imagination -- including among ice dance choreographers and fans -- it's a dance that's strictly bound to its time. In that 1920s-styled form, it's made its way to other dance competition shows, like Britain's aforementioned Strictly Come Dancing:

For ice dance, a best first place to turn might be the 2008-09 season. With an original dance featuring the designated theme of "Rhythms and Dances of the 1920s, 1930s, and 1940s," the 1920s vernacular proved a popular pick for many teams, including training mates Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir and Meryl Davis and Charlie White:



But an even more committed approach, given a free dance's longer duration, came from Canadian then-juniors Brianna Delmaestro and Timothy Lum, whose 2014-15 medley is something of a master class in injecting the real thing into a competitive skating program. They would not be held back in translating Charleston's footwork to ice:


The stage is obviously set immediately, but attitude also carries throughout -- there's a loose, jazzy quality to their movements, keeping a Charleston pace even when choreography isn't strictly in style. But it is, in fact, more often than not.

With free dances sometimes focused more on showcasing a range of moods and moves, 1920s dance style has occasionally appeared as a component within a more eclectic program. Madison Hubbell and Zach Donohue's Great Gatsby was discussed on this blog in a far different context, but Charleston does inform their diagonal step sequence.

Though a general period spirit is more pervasive in Alexandra Paul and Mitch Islam's 2012-13 ragtime and jazz-heavy Legend of 1900 free dance, Charleston similarly does not comprise the program's bulk. One would, however, be hard-pressed to identify twizzles (starting at 2:42) that better embody the absolute character of those vernacular dances:


The arms in set #2 may look a little familiar, while the first transition might be worth comparing with 0:16-0:20 in the Black Bottom video.

Though Charleston's use in recent years has been amply demonstrated, we'll just close things out with a look at a very young team who exceeded their years with the musicality and performance quality of particularly the "Hot Honey Rag" conclusion of this 2014-15 Chicago free dance. Gwen Sletten and Elliot Verburg, your pairing will be missed:

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.

12. Foxtrot

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.

7. Disco

Were it not for the demise of the compulsory dance, the following herein could have been ice dance's 2010-11 season.

The emergence of the hybrid short dance supplanted -- or, rather, subsumed -- not only the compulsory, but the original dance as well, in all its eclectic ballroom to Charleston to folk glory. And with the removal of that segment came the scrapping of not only the ISU's initial planned 2010-11 Midnight Blues compulsory, but, more key to our purposes: the Rhythms of the 1960s and 1970s original dance. The likelihood that every international team would have elected to dodge an option that permitted easy rhythms, in-hold movement, and multiple appropriate lift options is, to be sure, unlikely: Ice disco would have seen its high-profile competitive day.

We are all well familiar with the floor dance, thanks, if nothing else, to the enduring legacy of retro callbacks and parody. But a little history of the genre's development makes an interesting read, illuminating its actual cultural and stylistic origins. Disco was not born of white polyester leisure suits, but of decade-old remnants of jitterbug and swing and more than a touch of salsa and other Latin forms. While formal steps existed, however, disco as a mostly social endeavor was more often, in practice, a little more freeform, following prescribed patterns but mostly comprising walks and flourishes.

Disco also might be remembered a little more for solo showboating than as a partnered style, largely courtesy of John Travolta and a subsequent boom in solo freestyling. That spirit also has its place in skating, as Richard Dornbush can attest -- but the Hustle and its mates are of more relevance here.

This eHow series offers a good instructional look at some general partnered disco movement. Even more of a must-watch for a general understanding of partnered disco is this 1979/80 clip from Disco Step-by-Step, a Buffalo TV series dedicated to all things disco:


Movement is not exceptionally complex. The steps are often of a manageable pace and simplicity, the holds are generally open, and there's nothing too exotic about the turns. It could be replicated on ice with relative ease (and, in its movements as divorced from disco music, has been quite casually), and certainly with greater ease than another social style like hip-hop, but there's a curious fact: on-ice disco is, by and large, all about the flourish and the flourish alone.

The ur-disco program -- at least as far as YouTube is concerned -- is probably Megan Wing and Aaron Lowe's 1998 exhibition to "Knock On Wood":


It takes a little time to move into its danciest groove, but the disco feel is particularly evident at 1:15-1:20 and 2:00-2:07 while 2:11 brings a hallmark of many an ice disco program: the semi-headbanger rotational lift. 1:27 also brings in a through-the-legs move that we'll see again. The gesture, though, is the most obvious reference point to an idea of disco, but it's difficult to describe in any more technical detail; if a thorough glossary of disco arm movements exists, it has so far eluded me.

Well after Wing and Lowe's number came the emergence of several examples of contemporary disco on a popular stage: the choreographic efforts of Doriana Sanchez on So You Think You Can Dance. It's no sure thing that such numbers influenced the next generation of ice dance disco, but at the same time, it offers a rather reasonable point of comparison.

Among the show's disco numbers, it's hard to find many routines that match the energy of Janette and Brandon's while also offering some solid examples of general elements -- the in-hold dancing, the side-by-side gesture, and a few good lifts. The music selection may also sound familiar:


But it's left to a few other routines to demonstrate some key tricks that appeared in Wing and Lowe's number and will be in evidence in later programs. Assisted on-the-floor spins -- which we'll see later -- come in a straightforward manner from Sara and Neil, with the addition of a fun gender equality twist from Kayla and Brandon, and as the entrance and exit from a sequence that evolves into a semi-headbanger courtesy of Chelsie and Joshua. And Mollee and Nathan, for their part, provide us with an impressively gymnastic take on the through-the-legs maneuver.

The standard-bearer for disco on ice might be Emily Samuelson and Evan Bates's 2009 "You Should Be Dancing" exhibition. In-hold action is minimal, but the side-by-side movement is sharp, the requisite tricks are worked in well enough, and Bates even gets a few moments of solo glory:


It might be surprising that a compilation of multiple disco highlight moves comes in a program that should not be a disco number at all. The duets of Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell could by no means be classified as member of a musical genre that hadn't yet come into existence, but Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir still juxtaposed a variety of '60s inspired dance moves with some key disco tricks in 2012's "Ain't No Mountain High Enough":


Not only do we have the semi-headbanger and a through-the-legs move, but they are notably the only team in this group to offer an assisted floor -- ice -- spin, as demonstrated at 1:15.

It's important, though, to consider that each of these examples came through exhibition, a program in which flash and tricks overtake traditional required ice dance movement. What would a competitive take on disco have to offer for in-hold possibilities? Will we ever know?

Modern and Contemporary Dance: 2012-13

Moving on for a time from the short dance, let's consider the ambitions of a few teams this season who, with the assistance of dance choreographers, tackled one of the less readily-adaptable genres of movement: modern dance and its offshoots.

Ice dance is more than familiar with Carmen. The dance realm has also tackled the composition with regularity, with one noteworthy version, featuring prima ballerina Maya Plisetskaya, scored by husband and composer Rodion Shchedrin's 1967 percussion-focused rearrangement of Bizet's suite -- the arrangement utilized in, among others, Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir's take on the story. Despite this musical borrowing, the Plisetskaya ballet bears little kinship to Virtue and Moir's free dance. Roland Petit's sensual 1949 version, however, offers up perhaps the best-known modern ballet take, and it's worth a view:


(As an aside, note the sequence beginning at 4:04, and this lift from Anna Cappellini and Luca Lanotte's own interpretation of Shchedrin's Carmen.)

But Virtue and Moir tackled not modern ballet, but modern dance -- a different beast, to be sure (and one the team has previously visited), even as skating's restrictions lend themselves to a sometimes more balletic approach. Modern dance is typically defined more by what it is not than what it is, with an emphasis on its freedom of spirit and movement, but a slightly more technical analysis is useful, as is this documentary clip which is rather technically vague but offers a bit of background and footage.

Carmen was the product of collaboration with choreographer and teacher Jennifer Swan, and like both a traditional dance work and a critically judged program, it underwent numerous revisions and tweaks over the season's course, though remained rooted in its modern aims. The program's final performance is a good starting point for an overview of the general grounded aesthetic, including the low center of gravity movement emphasized in the opening sequence and the conclusion of the twizzles, but take particular note of the two side-by-side passages beginning at 4:33, which showcase the most typically modern of all gestures in the piece, as well as Virtue's lift positions; the curve lift at 2:20, rotational at 5:30, and choreographic lift at 5:41 showcase more wild, free movement -- modern -- while the control exerted in the first half of the combination at 4:09 provides for a startling moment, one more reminiscent of the modern ballet concept.


It's helpful also to revisit an earlier conception of the program, here in its first outing at Skate Canada International. Notice the original spin, primarily its exit at 2:17. Movement is rooted as much as feasible in modern vernacular, but even truer to the spirit, it's never wasted; every motion matters, and every motion is tightly bound to the music.

While Carmen was the year's only top-level modern program, two elite teams tackled a related style -- contemporary -- with input from traditional choreographers. Contemporary dance, discussed in detail here, draws from many of the principles underlying modern, but incorporates more of ballet's emphasis on the leg, as well as borrowing some movement from non-Western dance.

Kaitlyn Weaver and Andrew Poje worked with dancer and choreographer Allison Holker, of So You Think You Can Dance fame, to create the initial draft of their "statue and sculptor" free dance, as discussed in these two articles. And while Weaver and Poje's program follows its own path, a good point of direct style comparison might be this So You Think You Can Dance contemporary routine choreographed by Travis Wall -- the opening pose certainly stands out:


The restructured version the team presented at Worlds loses the direct comparison offered by that moment, but retains, if not enhances, its contemporary attributes. Both partners, but Weaver especially, use great line and extension in the lifts, moving fluidly with a free sense of flow. The original version of the dance includes a mostly out-of-hold sequence from 2:12-2:25 which suggests the sort of side-by-side movement common in partnered contemporary and lyrical; the revised program, as posted below, loses this particular sequence but does offer a multi-level transitional moment from 2:47-2:54 as well as a more complex, rhythmic transition between the first two sets of twizzles at 2:35. The second program is, more than a general contemporary piece, a lyrical take on a wordless composition: catch the percussive heartbeat sequence beginning at 3:11 and the gradual, slight stiffening of Weaver's posture and movement as the music and narrative draw to their conclusion.


Lynn Kriengkrairut and Logan Giulietti-Schmitt's Adele-scored contemporary free dance did not originate with an off-ice conceit, but was revised late in the summer with input from choreographer Stacey Tookey, who was responsible for a So You Think You Can Dance contemporary number with a connection to the team's program:


Kriengkrairut and Giulietti-Schmitt's program deviates from the other two in another significant way as a kind of hybrid piece, with the second half, set to "Rumour Has It," based somewhat more in jazz movement. But the first half certainly draws from contemporary inspiration, particularly in its emphasis on extended movement -- watch her leg at 1:22, and watch the free legs of both partners during the step sequence beginning at 1:28. The opening movement from 0:39-0:55 is also notable for the immediate dynamism and flow it provides the program -- important given the slower, relatively heavy nature of the musical selection.


As a sidenote, when outside the confines of the rulebook, Kriengkrairut and Giullietti-Schmitt have had the chance to tackle more floor-inspired contemporary movement, as shown here in this selection from 2012's Young Artists Showcase, choreographed by Robert Mauti. But of course, freedom from rules makes a free-flowing genre more possibly even granted ice's own impositions; it's interpreting that style within competition's confines that makes the true accomplishment.

1: The Blues

Junior ice dance teams this season have the good fortune to have been assigned the blues as their requisite compulsory dance, the pattern upon which their season short dance is to be based. Much was made of the ISU's allowing hip-hop as a supplemental rhythm -- but that's for another post. Let's instead consider the blues itself.

The blues compulsory, like nearly half of all the compulsory dances, was created in Great Britain in the 1930s. Ice-Dance.com, with assistance from the ISU Handbook, provides a good technical breakdown of the pattern; more generally speaking, the dance was then and still is now about deep knees and deep, strong, long edges. And for as much as these elements are about the quality of blade movement, they're also about character -- the blues is a dance of passion, intensity, musicality, and connection, connection, connection.

A fine junior demonstration of the pattern (for seniors, the Midnight Blues supplanted the standard blues in 2001) comes from Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir at the 2005 Junior World Championships:


They certainly hit the edges and the knees, but it's the intro and conclusion that really put them over the top.

But what inspired the blues pattern in the first place? Only the floor dance to a very small extent; here's a sampling of movement found in real blues, original blues, as roughly concurrent with the compulsory's emergence:


A case could be made for the knee bends, but even that's being rather generous. However, what blues as a pattern does offer is more demand for close holds and connected full-body movement than do some other compulsories, those more concerned with the intricacies of footwork -- the technical focus here is the edgework, but it's packaged to require that challenging "something more" of a couple.

But while the blues compulsory has remained essentially static in its eight decades, blues dance has shifted considerably, seeing a particular resurgence in recent years as an effect of the trend for swing, and today's junior short dances haven't necessarily been created in a vacuum. For a few interesting points of technical reference, check out this demonstration of a fundamental step in contemporary blues dance, the lunge, from Portland blues dancers Dustin and Ally, as well as a take on the blues from dancers Campbell and Chris which makes a few nods to swing (and just a bit of Latin):


While ice dance by nature -- and the short dance in particular -- entails considerable technical requirements and restrictions, some choreographers and teams are doing their best to bring out some bluesy floor feeling and movement in the most allowable ways. Canadian junior silver medalist Madeline Edwards and ZhaoKai Pang's short dance, which placed third at JGP Courchevel, was a hit on the summer comp circuit, and for good reason. The skating is excellent, but watch the above-the-blade action. Here's a particularly sharp performance from August's BC/YT SummerSkate competition:



Next time: Hip-Hop. On. ICE; or, The ISU Watches So You Think You Can Dance.