Haglund can hardly keep up with all the December Nutcracker doings. But he’s going to lower the old chin and push forward. He wouldn’t want some snarky donut hole at The New York Times suggesting he lay off the Schoko Pfeffer-Nüsse. He especially wouldn’t want to hear it from a snarky donut hole who has never stood at the barre – the ballet barre, that is; doesn’t know a good arabesque from a bad one; doesn’t know good port de bras from bad port de bras; wouldn’t recognize a good shape of the foot from a bad one; doesn’t know good alignment from bad; doesn’t know when a step has been done correctly or not; doesn’t know his own donut hole from a hole in the ground when it comes to the technical aspects of ballet.
The problem with Alastair Macaulay's dance reviews is at least two-fold: 1) he has a proclivity for being nasty and 2) he doesn’t have even a basic knowledge of ballet technique. Unlike David Vaughan who spent years and years in professional level ballet class – taking barre and the first few exercises of center religiously and then watching the remainder of the class to observe the dancers and listen to the expertise of the instructor – Macaulay has never acquired any applied knowledge of the art form. Haglund often stood near Vaughan during class and respects his writing all the more because of his devotion to understanding the art form from the inside out – from an applied perspective. Macaulay is an outsider and unqualified judge who was hired by those who know even less about the art form. Consequently, when he observes something that he doesn’t care for and wants to shout like it’s a five alarm fire in the theater, he does not know enough about ballet technique in order to express it without being uncivil. Oh, and there’s a third problem: his employer enjoys any and all controversy its writers’ mistakes generate. The employer thoroughly enjoyed all of the extra readers that came its way as a result of Jayson Blair’s and Judith Miller’s false reporting – and so did the paying advertisers. The employer doesn’t care why people read its paper – only the numbers of people who do.
In his recent review of NYCB’s opening night of The Nutcracker, Macaulay did not like the physical appearance of the Sugar Plum Fairy and her Cavalier. But he did not have the tools, knowledge, or experience to equate it to the effect on their dancing – which is their work product. If Macaulay had made similar statements to a colleague at The New York Times, he could have been fired with cause. It is regrettable that Macaulay doesn’t have the skill or craft needed to explain how a dancers’ dancing has been adversely affected by what Macaulay perceives to be substandard conditioning. Even if he had possessed the skill, employing it wouldn’t have made as colorful copy as simply attacking the dancers. Nor would he have enjoyed the whistles and winks from the NYT Culture staff who wished they had the courage to step over the line of civility and over the line of good professional writing the way Macaulay did.
Macaulay claims a mastery of dance history, but who is going to take the time to check up on what he writes about it – especially when it is so gassy and profuse? Note there that Haglund has referred to the writing as gassy and profuse; he did not refer to the snarky donut hole at The New York Times as gassy and profuse. How much of his stuff does he simply make up and how much does he slant and color to advance his views? Who knows. Certainly his editors don’t.
So while the snarky donut hole is traveling the country desperately trying to reform his image before The New York Times mercifully installs its promised paywall which will entomb him in his own snarky poo if we all don't subscribe, let’s look at all of his cheery prose about the children of the Nutcracker.
Macaulay loves children. Loves. Loves children. So much so, that he was once arrested for photographing little children in their little bathingsuits without their parents’ permission. The police jailed him initially and authorities investigated him for several months. He’s written about what a horrible experience it was and tries to persuade the reader that he was ultimately found innocent of any wrongdoing – much like he has tried to defend himself in today’s NYT. But it remains that the critic who The New York Times has sent on the road to cover what has become known as a children’s ballet has a history with children that would make any parent uncomfortable. If Haglund had a child in a production, he wouldn’t want Macaulay anywhere near the kid and he certainly wouldn’t want Macaulay pandering to his child in The New York Times. He wouldn’t want Macaulay writing about his child:
As you follow the action from room to room here, you’re so close to the performers that you’re involved in a new way. My favorite moment came in the battle scene when a child mouse caught my eye, picked up her tail mischievously and swung it in a quick circle, like rope.orThe children all look motivated and ample, with warm, elegant upper bodies. In Tuesday’s cast, Ana Arrieta played Tess with the kind of absorption and prettiness that made the young Elizabeth Taylor heart-catching in her first movies.
Macaulay’s gobbledygook today about his own painful childhood and how even-handed he is in his writing is just that – gobbledygook. As for his earlier criticism of the two dancers’ weight, please look at the picture of the two dancers that accompanies his flimsy defense article today. Enlarge it. Make it as big as you can. It is Exhibit A as to just how wrong Macaulay is.
8 responses to “When the NYT’s critic can’t find the right words”
Good on you for this post!
I’m a New Yorker, but one of the many reasons the FT is my daily paper is Clement Crisp, who calls the kiddies in the audiences at this time of year “Herod fodder.” Not the kids on stage, you understand.
Too bad our local broadsheet seems to lack adult supervision.
Good on you for this post!
I’m a New Yorker, but one of the many reasons the FT is my daily paper is Clement Crisp, who calls the kiddies in the audiences at this time of year “Herod fodder.” Not the kids on stage, you understand.
Too bad our local broadsheet seems to lack adult supervision.
Thanks, Sinyet. And thanks for putting the FT back on my radar. Note, of late, the WSJ has really been cranking up the quality and quantity of its ballet coverage. A good sign.
Thanks, Sinyet. And thanks for putting the FT back on my radar. Note, of late, the WSJ has really been cranking up the quality and quantity of its ballet coverage. A good sign.
I was Alastair Macaulay’s junior, and am now his successor, in the Financial Times theatre seat he vacated to take the NYT’s dance beat. So, fine, you can dismiss my comments now as the loyalism of a friend.
As it happens, they’re not; I’m well aware how injudicious (to say the least) some of Alastair’s remarks can be, and how little he sometimes realises of that. I’ve been on the receiving end myself.
But using the episode of his arrest to smear him is far, far worse than anything you accuse him of doing. It’s frankly shameful the way you slant your account: he “tries to persuade the reader that he was ultimately found innocent” – HE WAS. IT’S A FACT. HE DOESN’T NEED TO “TRY TO PERSUADE” ANYBODY OF IT. He “has a history with children” – NO, HE DOESN’T. NO CASE WAS EVER BROUGHT, BECAUSE THERE WAS NONE TO ANSWER.
Yeah, he says that a couple of people are fat, and he probably shouldn’t. You say that he’s a kiddy fiddler, and you damn well *definitely* shouldn’t. Oh, but it’s all right because you don’t say it explicitly, you just nod and wink about it and leave people to come to the conclusions you’ve pointed them at. Well, I say it’s spinach and I say the hell with it.
I served with Alastair Macaulay. I know Alastair Macaulay. Alastair Macaulay was a friend of mine. Senator, you’re no Alastair Macaulay.
I was Alastair Macaulay’s junior, and am now his successor, in the Financial Times theatre seat he vacated to take the NYT’s dance beat. So, fine, you can dismiss my comments now as the loyalism of a friend.
As it happens, they’re not; I’m well aware how injudicious (to say the least) some of Alastair’s remarks can be, and how little he sometimes realises of that. I’ve been on the receiving end myself.
But using the episode of his arrest to smear him is far, far worse than anything you accuse him of doing. It’s frankly shameful the way you slant your account: he “tries to persuade the reader that he was ultimately found innocent” – HE WAS. IT’S A FACT. HE DOESN’T NEED TO “TRY TO PERSUADE” ANYBODY OF IT. He “has a history with children” – NO, HE DOESN’T. NO CASE WAS EVER BROUGHT, BECAUSE THERE WAS NONE TO ANSWER.
Yeah, he says that a couple of people are fat, and he probably shouldn’t. You say that he’s a kiddy fiddler, and you damn well *definitely* shouldn’t. Oh, but it’s all right because you don’t say it explicitly, you just nod and wink about it and leave people to come to the conclusions you’ve pointed them at. Well, I say it’s spinach and I say the hell with it.
I served with Alastair Macaulay. I know Alastair Macaulay. Alastair Macaulay was a friend of mine. Senator, you’re no Alastair Macaulay.
Thank you for your comment. You are a good friend to Alastair Macaulay to defend him as you have. Macaulay’s story of his arrest and ordeal is public by his own choosing and by his own words. Given the platform, it’s assumed he even got paid to write it. We don’t have the impressions of the police with which to compare Macaulay’s version, and likely never will have. But his own written account doesn’t raise the sympathies of everyone who reads it and does raise questions for some. In my post, I clearly linked to it so that anyone and everyone could read Macaulay’s words.
With regard to his current reviews, why would a critic write about children’s warm bodies? Not their warm smiles, not their warm expressions, but “ample, with warm, elegant upper bodies.” Ample in what way? Warm in what way if not warm to the touch? Why would Macaulay perceive that the children’s bodies were warm and why would he find that pleasing to write about? Macaulay slipped. He shouldn’t be writing anything about children’s “bodies” and certainly should not focus on the sensuous aspect to the point that it sounds like he’s speaking of the sensual.
I wonder, have you, as Macaulay’s friend and former colleague, informed him that he erred in his choice of comments about the sizes of the principal dancers or are you just watching his backside for him? Other critics have criticized him in print, including some who personally know him, but have they spoken to him about it?
Thank you for your comment. You are a good friend to Alastair Macaulay to defend him as you have. Macaulay’s story of his arrest and ordeal is public by his own choosing and by his own words. Given the platform, it’s assumed he even got paid to write it. We don’t have the impressions of the police with which to compare Macaulay’s version, and likely never will have. But his own written account doesn’t raise the sympathies of everyone who reads it and does raise questions for some. In my post, I clearly linked to it so that anyone and everyone could read Macaulay’s words.
With regard to his current reviews, why would a critic write about children’s warm bodies? Not their warm smiles, not their warm expressions, but “ample, with warm, elegant upper bodies.” Ample in what way? Warm in what way if not warm to the touch? Why would Macaulay perceive that the children’s bodies were warm and why would he find that pleasing to write about? Macaulay slipped. He shouldn’t be writing anything about children’s “bodies” and certainly should not focus on the sensuous aspect to the point that it sounds like he’s speaking of the sensual.
I wonder, have you, as Macaulay’s friend and former colleague, informed him that he erred in his choice of comments about the sizes of the principal dancers or are you just watching his backside for him? Other critics have criticized him in print, including some who personally know him, but have they spoken to him about it?