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Henning Kronstam: Portrait of a Danish Dancer
by Alexandra Tomalonis
Alexandra Tomalonis has documented Kronstam's major roles as recounted in his own words, revealing the genius behind the man and his art. A superb technician and impeccable classical stylist, Kronstam was also a great dance-actor.

Read the complete table of contents, preface and a thirteen page excerpt from chapter eight. .
Buy this book now!

Table of Contents and Preface - PDF HTML | Chapter 8 Excerpt - PDF HTML | Purchase Now

Chapter 8

The Poet

Balanchine's La Sonnambula

I saw him in La Sonnambula, and I remember thinking, would those people doing the divertissement get the hell out of the way so I could see the Poet sitting on that bench?

--Eliot Feld

The Poet in George Balanchine's La Sonnambula was not only Kronstam's first leading role and his breakthrough into the top ranks of the Royal Danish Ballet at the age of twenty, but in many ways it remained at the core of his repertory. There was a bit of the Poet in many of the roles he later danced. Kronstam made his debut in the part on January 9, 1956, and danced the role for twenty years, the last time in 1976 on the occasion of his twenty-fifth-anniversary jubilee. He chose the role as his farewell as a classical dancer.

            It is a Romantic and dramatic, rather than bravura, role. Balanchine's Poet, an innocent, the artist who is apart from the world, comes to a very worldly party. He is at first seduced by the Host's mistress, who is the personification of earthly love, but when left alone he sees a lovely, mysterious Sleepwalker, the wife of the Host, whom he instantly recognizes as the other half of his soul. As this is a Romantic ballet, of course this love cannot be realized, and the hero is killed by the Host.

            La Sonnambula's Poet is one of the very few true danseur noble roles created in the twentieth century. There are social dances in the first scene and two pas de deux, the second containing an extremely difficult backbend--as the Poet sinks to his knees and bends, yearns, backward, his arms first encircling the Sleepwalker's body, then opening to let her pass--that is rarely performed smoothly. In addition La Sonnambula is a ballet of atmosphere and the Poet must be a dancer who can create and sustain both character and mood with very little incident to support him.

            At the heart of the ballet are the two pas de deux, the first with the Coquette, the second with the Sleepwalker. In the duet with the Coquette, the Poet is the passive one, she, the seductress. In the guise of a social dance, Balanchine created a dance of seduction, with the two teasing, resisting, escaping, and returning to each other. In the second duet the partners barely touch. The Sleepwalker is insensible, unseeing. The Poet gently moves her limbs and tries to wake her, tries to stop her as she bourrées past him with her useless, lighted candle. "He is trying to get into her," Kronstam said repeatedly. At one point, as the music crests, she bends to him and they almost kiss, but she rises again and continues on her restless walk. The sleepwalking state becomes a metaphor for any barrier between two people. There must be a sense that the two are destined for each other, that the Sleepwalker is as drawn to him as he to her, yet it must be extremely subtle. As Kronstam danced it, the Poet, caught by something so real, yet unfathomable, is desperate to communicate with the Sleepwalker. This desperation, as well as his awe and wonder, were beautifully caught in the live performance shots by John Johnsen that accompany this chapter.

            The Night Shadow, as it was originally called, was created in 1946 for the Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo and received its premiere at New York's City Center on February 27, 1946. Nicholas Magallanas danced the role of the Poet; Alexandra Danilova was the Sleepwalker; Maria Tallchief, the Coquette; and Michel Katcharoff, the Host. The ballet, often called simply Night Shadow, was renamed La Sonnambula when the work entered the repertory of the New York City Ballet in 1960. The ballet was taken into the repertory of the Ballet de Marquis de Cuevas in 1948, and the Royal Danish Ballet and the Dutch National Ballet in 1956. In Denmark it was called Søvngængersken (The Sleepwalker) and was the second ballet of that name in the Danish repertory, the first being August Bournonville's staging of Jean Aumer's ballet in 1829.

            The ballet became one of the company's staples for the next two decades. La Sonnambula received 192 performances in Copenhagen between 1956 and 1976 and was frequently included in the company's foreign and Danish tours.¹ From his first performance, Kronstam was considered definitive as the Poet. Although several other men danced the role, Kronstam was always in the first cast. After he retired in 1976, the ballet left the repertory and was not revived until the 1992-93 season.

            Although Kronstam felt his early performances were rather tentative, most of the critics wrote as though it were a mature portrayal. The most poetic, and detailed, review was Svend Kragh-Jacobsen's:

"Margrethe Schanne was like the loveliest nocturnal dream, floating and light in her flowing garments, almost not corporeal as she glides on the tips of her toes into her night walk. Her big pas de deux with Henning Kronstam was the high point of the evening. The dance is wonderfully shaped with the rise of his love and his despair at not being able to make the beautiful sight come to life. This is fantastically expressed in the variations, where he pushes her from him, pulls her toward him, leads her in circles and curves, kneels, pleads, and tries to stop her. But she passes him, evades his arms; she is untouchable. This is where Schanne´s poetic dance art culminated, and Henning Kronstam, who from his entrée had shown himself as a born moonstruck lover of Romanticism marked by noble dignity, became one with her in the dancing. He was an excellent partner but furthermore he was completely his own person as the unhappy-happy victim of the magic of love. In his first pas de deux with the Coquette, he even showed us that a young and hasty, hot-headed love is part of his register."

Bent Schønberg wrote in Ekstrabladet:

For Henning Kronstam, the night meant a breakthrough as a spirited and soulful dancer. It is doubtful if today there is any other artist at the Royal Theatre who can make as deep an impression as he. He had a rare poetry that one seldom sees. He created and maintained a Werther-like figure from the first moment he appeared on stage.

Kronstam danced with three different Sleepwalkers over the years: Margrethe Schanne, Anna Lærkesen, and Kirsten Simone. "Schanne had an enormous stage presence, and she was in the long skirt, so you didn't see the bulky legs. She was strong on pointe. She was always extraordinary.

            "Anna was this mysterious person that you couldn't get in touch with. The big shock with Anna was when she carried me out, not because she's strong, but because nobody believed that she liked me. With Schanne and with Kirsten, there's something that touches me, there's something, there's something. But with Anna, there was absolutely nothing, until she just turned around and said, 'Come.' And walked out.

            "Kirsten was, of course, beautiful, with that long blonde hair. She didn't have great success at the beginning because she didn't have the role in her, but she became fine in it. She was twenty at that time, as I was, and she didn't get a proper chance until later."

            Much was made of the final moments of the ballet, when the Sleepwalker carries the body of the Poet back to the tower. In the Danish version, the Sleepwalker's final walk, after she returns to the courtyard, is halted by the body of the Poet. Rather than stepping over him and walking back to the tower, as has been done in other productions, she stops and the entertainers in the ballet's divertissement pick up the body and place it in her arms. She then turns and walks in a semicircle around the stage before disappearing into the tower. Schanne was a small woman, barely five feet tall. The contrast in size was striking and the duet was a much commented on novelty. Schanne was interviewed shortly after the premiere by one of the Danish tabloids, under the headline "Sympathy of the Audience Is Worth More Than Any Title!": "Henning Kronstam, who is my partner for the first time in this role, and who has been lovely to work with, weighs more than 138 pund [69 kg.; 152 lb.], but it's easy anyway. He finds my balance and--as is well known--sleepwalkers have supernatural powers. The same thing is the case for me in this task, since one becomes one's part completely."

            On the 1956 American tour, Kronstam seemed to grow as the Danes danced across the country, from around 150 pounds (an accurate estimate) on the East Coast, to a very inaccurately estimated 180 pounds a few days later in the Midwest. Some American reviewers barely mentioned anything else about the ballet. One example is J. Dorsey Callaghan's review, "Crowd Carried Away by Ballerina's Feat," in the Detroit Free Press: "Some 4,500 persons who attended the opening night of the Royal Danish Ballet Thursday at Masonic Temple are going to have a job on their hands. They know by first hand evidence that a mere slip of a woman weighing not much more than 100 pounds walked off the stage with a 180-pound man in her arms, and never batted an eyelash in the doing. But they won't be able to sell it. No one will believe it, and I for one won't blame them. It just can't be done, but Margrethe Schanne, one of the solo dancers of the Royal Danish Ballet, turned the trick in her sleep."

© 2002 University Press of Florida. All Rights Reserved.
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Reading Room: Sample
Henning Kronstam: Portrait of a Danish Dancer by Alexandra Tomalonis Alexandra Tomalonis has documented Kronstam's major roles as recounted in his own words, revealing the genius behind the man and his art. A superb technician and impeccable classical stylist, Kronstam was also a great dance-actor. Read the complete table of contents, preface and a thirteen page excerpt from chapter eight. .
Table of Contents and Preface - PDF HTML \| Chapter 8 Excerpt - PDF HTML \| Purchase Now
Chapter 8 The Poet Balanchine's La Sonnambula I saw him in La Sonnambula, and I remember thinking, would those people doing the divertissement get the hell out of the way so I could see the Poet sitting on that bench? --Eliot Feld The Poet in George Balanchine's La Sonnambula was not only Kronstam's first leading role and his breakthrough into the top ranks of the Royal Danish Ballet at the age of twenty, but in many ways it remained at the core of his repertory. There was a bit of the Poet in many of the roles he later danced. Kronstam made his debut in the part on January 9, 1956, and danced the role for twenty years, the last time in 1976 on the occasion of his twenty-fifth-anniversary jubilee. He chose the role as his farewell as a classical dancer. It is a Romantic and dramatic, rather than bravura, role. Balanchine's Poet, an innocent, the artist who is apart from the world, comes to a very worldly party. He is at first seduced by the Host's mistress, who is the personification of earthly love, but when left alone he sees a lovely, mysterious Sleepwalker, the wife of the Host, whom he instantly recognizes as the other half of his soul. As this is a Romantic ballet, of course this love cannot be realized, and the hero is killed by the Host. La Sonnambula's Poet is one of the very few true danseur noble roles created in the twentieth century. There are social dances in the first scene and two pas de deux, the second containing an extremely difficult backbend--as the Poet sinks to his knees and bends, yearns, backward, his arms first encircling the Sleepwalker's body, then opening to let her pass--that is rarely performed smoothly. In addition La Sonnambula is a ballet of atmosphere and the Poet must be a dancer who can create and sustain both character and mood with very little incident to support him. At the heart of the ballet are the two pas de deux, the first with the Coquette, the second with the Sleepwalker. In the duet with the Coquette, the Poet is the passive one, she, the seductress. In the guise of a social dance, Balanchine created a dance of seduction, with the two teasing, resisting, escaping, and returning to each other. In the second duet the partners barely touch. The Sleepwalker is insensible, unseeing. The Poet gently moves her limbs and tries to wake her, tries to stop her as she bourrées past him with her useless, lighted candle. "He is trying to get into her," Kronstam said repeatedly. At one point, as the music crests, she bends to him and they almost kiss, but she rises again and continues on her restless walk. The sleepwalking state becomes a metaphor for any barrier between two people. There must be a sense that the two are destined for each other, that the Sleepwalker is as drawn to him as he to her, yet it must be extremely subtle. As Kronstam danced it, the Poet, caught by something so real, yet unfathomable, is desperate to communicate with the Sleepwalker. This desperation, as well as his awe and wonder, were beautifully caught in the live performance shots by John Johnsen that accompany this chapter. The Night Shadow, as it was originally called, was created in 1946 for the Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo and received its premiere at New York's City Center on February 27, 1946. Nicholas Magallanas danced the role of the Poet; Alexandra Danilova was the Sleepwalker; Maria Tallchief, the Coquette; and Michel Katcharoff, the Host. The ballet, often called simply Night Shadow, was renamed La Sonnambula when the work entered the repertory of the New York City Ballet in 1960. The ballet was taken into the repertory of the Ballet de Marquis de Cuevas in 1948, and the Royal Danish Ballet and the Dutch National Ballet in 1956. In Denmark it was called Søvngængersken (The Sleepwalker) and was the second ballet of that name in the Danish repertory, the first being August Bournonville's staging of Jean Aumer's ballet in 1829. The ballet became one of the company's staples for the next two decades. La Sonnambula received 192 performances in Copenhagen between 1956 and 1976 and was frequently included in the company's foreign and Danish tours.¹ From his first performance, Kronstam was considered definitive as the Poet. Although several other men danced the role, Kronstam was always in the first cast. After he retired in 1976, the ballet left the repertory and was not revived until the 1992-93 season. Although Kronstam felt his early performances were rather tentative, most of the critics wrote as though it were a mature portrayal. The most poetic, and detailed, review was Svend Kragh-Jacobsen's: "Margrethe Schanne was like the loveliest nocturnal dream, floating and light in her flowing garments, almost not corporeal as she glides on the tips of her toes into her night walk. Her big pas de deux with Henning Kronstam was the high point of the evening. The dance is wonderfully shaped with the rise of his love and his despair at not being able to make the beautiful sight come to life. This is fantastically expressed in the variations, where he pushes her from him, pulls her toward him, leads her in circles and curves, kneels, pleads, and tries to stop her. But she passes him, evades his arms; she is untouchable. This is where Schanne´s poetic dance art culminated, and Henning Kronstam, who from his entrée had shown himself as a born moonstruck lover of Romanticism marked by noble dignity, became one with her in the dancing. He was an excellent partner but furthermore he was completely his own person as the unhappy-happy victim of the magic of love. In his first pas de deux with the Coquette, he even showed us that a young and hasty, hot-headed love is part of his register." Bent Schønberg wrote in Ekstrabladet: For Henning Kronstam, the night meant a breakthrough as a spirited and soulful dancer. It is doubtful if today there is any other artist at the Royal Theatre who can make as deep an impression as he. He had a rare poetry that one seldom sees. He created and maintained a Werther-like figure from the first moment he appeared on stage. Kronstam danced with three different Sleepwalkers over the years: Margrethe Schanne, Anna Lærkesen, and Kirsten Simone. "Schanne had an enormous stage presence, and she was in the long skirt, so you didn't see the bulky legs. She was strong on pointe. She was always extraordinary. "Anna was this mysterious person that you couldn't get in touch with. The big shock with Anna was when she carried me out, not because she's strong, but because nobody believed that she liked me. With Schanne and with Kirsten, there's something that touches me, there's something, there's something. But with Anna, there was absolutely nothing, until she just turned around and said, 'Come.' And walked out. "Kirsten was, of course, beautiful, with that long blonde hair. She didn't have great success at the beginning because she didn't have the role in her, but she became fine in it. She was twenty at that time, as I was, and she didn't get a proper chance until later." Much was made of the final moments of the ballet, when the Sleepwalker carries the body of the Poet back to the tower. In the Danish version, the Sleepwalker's final walk, after she returns to the courtyard, is halted by the body of the Poet. Rather than stepping over him and walking back to the tower, as has been done in other productions, she stops and the entertainers in the ballet's divertissement pick up the body and place it in her arms. She then turns and walks in a semicircle around the stage before disappearing into the tower. Schanne was a small woman, barely five feet tall. The contrast in size was striking and the duet was a much commented on novelty. Schanne was interviewed shortly after the premiere by one of the Danish tabloids, under the headline "Sympathy of the Audience Is Worth More Than Any Title!": "Henning Kronstam, who is my partner for the first time in this role, and who has been lovely to work with, weighs more than 138 pund [69 kg.; 152 lb.], but it's easy anyway. He finds my balance and--as is well known--sleepwalkers have supernatural powers. The same thing is the case for me in this task, since one becomes one's part completely." On the 1956 American tour, Kronstam seemed to grow as the Danes danced across the country, from around 150 pounds (an accurate estimate) on the East Coast, to a very inaccurately estimated 180 pounds a few days later in the Midwest. Some American reviewers barely mentioned anything else about the ballet. One example is J. Dorsey Callaghan's review, "Crowd Carried Away by Ballerina's Feat," in the Detroit Free Press: "Some 4,500 persons who attended the opening night of the Royal Danish Ballet Thursday at Masonic Temple are going to have a job on their hands. They know by first hand evidence that a mere slip of a woman weighing not much more than 100 pounds walked off the stage with a 180-pound man in her arms, and never batted an eyelash in the doing. But they won't be able to sell it. No one will believe it, and I for one won't blame them. It just can't be done, but Margrethe Schanne, one of the solo dancers of the Royal Danish Ballet, turned the trick in her sleep." © 2002 University Press of Florida. All Rights Reserved. < Back to the Reading Room