A coffee mug can be more than a Caffeine Delivery System. It can also be a time machine. Look at the date on that: May 4, 2000. Twenty years ago tonight Boston Ballet opened the final production of its 1999-2000 season with Ben Stevenson’s Cleopatra. A production remembered as a greater spectacle than it was a ballet, it remains special to me because it came at the end of my first season doing special events for the Company, at a time when I still had much to learn about the ballet world.
It had been a good season, starting with Wheeldon’s new production of The Firebird. I had just accepted the position and attended the Firebird opening night to see how things were done. Cleopatra, though, was the first opportunity I remember (after all these years) of getting to indulge in that favorite occupation of all balletomanes: comparing performances. And the four Cleopatras all gave different, compelling interpretations. Adriana, on opening night, had such warmth and passion - but the gesture I remember most is the proud tilt of her profile as she left her gigantic portable throne on her arrival in Rome and stalked offstage.
Larissa, next, brought ice to the desert. Never has a dancer communicated such scorn with only a wrist and the tip of her nose. I can see her atop that throne in that pale blue dress yet.
Jennifer, third in the run, did something none of the other dancers did. At the end of the first act, moving toward the bed, Cleopatra turns back toward Caesar to underline her invitation to join her. Jennifer kittenishly lowered her shoulder strap, a gesture that emphasized that Cleopatra was really nothing more than a young teenager at the time.
Finally, Kyra, who had such wonderful athleticism and honesty. Yes, Cleo was a scheming queen, but her despair at the end when her lover died . . . unforgettable. And somehow I remember her more than the others at the very beginning of the ballet when, allegedly nude behind a diaphonous veil, she descended with gestures and two handmaids into her bath.
But how I remember Kyra most was taking her final bows at the closing matinée, which was also her retirement from the stage. This was the first dancer retirement I got to be a part of (the retirement of Tony Collins after Nutcracker a few months before was unique), and I was getting to see all the essential elements: the fans rushing to the front of the house to throw flowers on the stage, the dancer taking the stage to roars of ovations, and the procession of friends, colleagues, current and former stage partners, union representatives, teachers - all appearing on stage one after the other to present flowers.
I was backstage to assist with the flowers, as I recall, and saw Kyra take the stage for her final bow. She had changed into Cleopatra’s red costume, but I hadn’t expected her to remove her wig. The line of her rippling blonde hair against that red dress surprised me, but wow - visually it was effective!
Suddenly the pass door blew open and a tornado was upon me: a Very Important Person and her young daughter, dazzled by the moment and intent on participating in the presentation. I have no memory of how the stage manager handled it, but the scorn in that young girl’s voice as she said “We have to do it.” Mercy! If I had talked to an adult like that in front of my mother . . . well, I know what would have happened!
Afterward, the party in the lower lobby, which was also the end of season party for the entire Company. All I remember now is a crowded blur (while I kept an all-seeing eye on the caterer and the bar), and many reminiscences and presentations to Kyra covering much amusing Company history.
It’s funny how a couple of coffee mugs can bring back all that - but then that’s probably why I kept them in the first place.