Photo: Lois Greenfield

Jennifer Muller/The Works

Performed at: The Joyce
Reviewed on 6/15/04
by Tamsin Nutter

Jennifer Muller/The Works’ 29th-anniversary season featured a bouquet of collaborators, a fine cast of dancers, and, at the gala performance, plaudits from luminaries such as playwright Edward Albee. Yet the dances themselves proved somewhat disappointing.

Hymn for Her, a duet for Kuo Chi-Tsung and the expressive Yumiko Yoshikawa, is a conceptually beautiful allegory of grief: A woman sits in a black armchair, her eyes fixed elsewhere; above her head, a man sits in a swing, his eyes on her. He tries to engage her, but she can’t see him from her black chair of mourning. But time passes, and gradually Yoshikawa begins to reconcile herself to the presence of grief in their relationship. The idea is truthful, but the choreography is somewhat trite, and Geoffrey Menin’s music extremely so.

The premiere A Candle at Both Ends showcases Leda Meredith, in a bravura performance as a harried, fast-quipping executive, and composer Marty Beller, who creates a wonderful onstage percussion score using the clutter of her office (the great decor and costumes are by Stageworks). We all know citydwellers like this one—yet Meredith’s litany of complaints and observations isn’t quite off-kilter enough for moments-of-truth like "Why are you doing this job? Oh yes—it’s my passion” to come off. Perhaps it’s the paucity of movement amid the talking.

For Ecstatic Poems, based on 14th-century Sufi poetry, Muller involved distinguished collaborators: Cambridge scholar Peter Avery, musician Sussan Deyham, and guest narrator Iraj Anvar, all specialists in Persian arts. The ghazal in question, read beautifully by Anvar in both Persian and English, are intimate, mystical lyrics in which spiritual devotion and romantic love fuse. Yet the resulting dance gave me the nasty creeping feeling of Orientalist softcore fantasy. Dancers swathed in pastel batik fabric reach to the light, process like pilgrims or slaves, pose as goddesses and temple acolytes, and toss their long hair while being pelted with rose petals. The imagery of the poetry, in other words, is interpreted so literally as to lose all its mystery.

Infinitely sexier is the slightly sinister Flowers, inspired by Barbara Bordnick’s flower photographs. Dancers in beautiful, brightly colored wide trousers (by Karen Small, Nick Putvinski, and Stageworks) zoom energetically against the shifting backdrop, flowers projected almost indecently large, to Laurence Nachsin’s dramatic music. Here Muller’s choreography is more punctuated and less repetitive, and unison group work gives it welcome backbone. Delicacy alternates with a certain savagery in the movement, as misty tulips give way to Venus flytraps, resulting in the evening’s strongest work.

(Updated on 4/12/05)

Swan Lake
American Ballet Theatre
Performed at: Joyce Soho
Reviewed on 6/16/04
by Tamsin Nutter

What to do with old warhorses? In the ballet world, some radically reinvent—think Matthew Bourne—while others remain slavishly faithful to tradition. ABT artistic director Kevin McKenzie finds a successful middle road with his 2000 production of the perennial favorite Swan Lake, which, while following Petipa closely enough to satisfy purists, injects enough psychological drama to keep contemporary audiences (and, I imagine, the dancers) interested.

At the performance I attended, ABT principals Irina Dvorovenko and Maxim Beloserkovsky, also an offstage couple, danced the roles of Odette-Odile and Prince Siegfried. With his chiseled blond looks, Beloserkovsky is almost absurdly handsome as Siegfried, and his dancing is similarly lovely. But thoughtless young Siegfried, like Colonel Pinkerton in opera, is a rather thankless role, requiring some psychological subtlety if one wishes to elicit audience sympathy. Beloserkovsky, an archetypal danseur noble, left me rather cold.

Not so his wife. Dvorovenko possesses this bravura role, her gorgeous technique physically dramatizing every psychological moment; she languishes exquisitely, yet has no shortage of speed or precision. Although she exaggerates her body language beautifully in the White Swan’s birdlike mannerisms, she’s even better as the Black Swan, transforming completely as the femme fatale Odile. Enticing and bold in black velvet, she flings herself into the dangerous poses of her predatory pas de deux with the prince. Yet she retains that echo of Odette’s swan movements—made harsh, almost mocking—that allows the infatuated Siegfried to delude himself that the two women are the same. When Siegfried swears his love to her, Dvorovenko’s final, triumphant backbend is fantastically dramatic.

Odette’s court of enchanted swans danced cleanly and well, but, unlike their queen, rather inexpressively. Gennadi Sevaliev was engaging as Benno; Misty Copeland shone throughout, particularly as a sassy Hungarian Princess; and the often wooden Sascha Radetsky, as the sorcerer von Rothbart, subjugated the women of the court with scary charm. The marvellous Tchaikovsky score was ably played by the ABT orchestra under the baton of Charles Barker, and Zack Brown’s sets and costumes are splendid. I particularly appreciated the folkdances in Act III, in which the princesses competing for Siegfried’s hand present the ethnic dances of their homelands. Unlike the obligatory peasant dances in Act I, these interludes don’t seem like filler. The Hungarian and Spanish dances are particularly exciting, and all the dancers seemed to be enjoying themselves. This production has few faults and many merits—and Dvorovenko’s Odette-Odile should not be missed.

(Updated on 3/28/05)

Photo: Stephanie Berger

Ashton Celebration

Cinderella
The Royal Ballet
Performed at: Joyce Theater
Reviewed on 7/16/04
by Joan Musaro

Britain's Royal Ballet made a welcome return to New York this summer during Lincoln Center's tribute to choreographer Frederick Ashton. After several programs of pas de deux, the engagement was dedicated to Sir Fred's Cinderella. This new production is credited to Wendy Ellis Soames, with sets by Toer van Schayk and costumes by Christine Haworth. The new design begins with a giant fireplace, portraits of Ashton and composer Prokofiev lovingly displayed on the mantel. Cinderella's bleak home is first glimpsed through the burning hearth, a device that imparts an ominous feeling for so transcendent a tale. One unfortunate change has occurred in the ballet's characterizations; Cinderella's father seems barely there. Little of the loving relationship between him and the lonely, motherless girl remains, and their shared grief over the death of Cinderella's mother is gone. Because of this, there is little character development and little chance to feel sorry for the young girl. She is still sad and reflective-we see that in her movements-but far outweighing the underlying pathos of the story is the hilarious behavior of her two outrageously unattractive stepsisters, especially when played by two of the public's favorite former Royal principals, Wayne Sleep and Sir Anthony Dowell. Indeed, they were having such a good time and are both such terrific actor-dancers that Cinderella was quite overshadowed any time these two grand dames came on the stage. The tiny Sleep, prissily pretty, and the usually handsome Dowell, sporting the ugliest nose imaginable, were terrific together, playing to their adoring public at every turn.

As the leads, Alina Cojocaru as Cinderella and Johann Kobborg as the prince eventually found each other and true love. They danced well enough, but although they obviously have a good relationship with each other as partners, they did not overwhelm. Cojocaru is the "it" ballerina of the moment. Tiny, with arched feet and a creamy movement quality, she turns crisply and has high extensions. She also dances every movement with similar force and tone, demonstrating little nuance of energy, effort, or expression. She looks sweet, but has none of the sensual allure or grand manner so necessary in a prima ballerina-it is like watching a child dance. Kobborg is stalwart, his partnering and dancing secure though not exciting or powerful and his feet surprisingly inarticulate for a Danish dancer. Fortunately the beauty of the dances for the fairies of the seasons has been retained.  

(Updated on 9/8/04)

Coppélia

American Ballet Theatre

Reviewed on 6/25/04
by Celeste Sunderland

Life-sized dolls, spirited young lovers, a delirious doctor, and dowries for all! Coppélia, 134 years after its Paris premiere, remains a quintessentially delightful ballet. Xiomara Reyes and Herman Cornejo danced the principal roles in American Ballet Theatre’s June 25 performance. A dashing match, they danced together with mischievous glee.

Set in an eastern European storybook village, the ballet examines the romance between Swanilda and Franz, who are suffering issues of the heart due to Franz’s advances toward Dr. Coppélius’s “daughter,” a beautiful mechanical doll named Coppélia. When the Burgomaster offers dowries to all couples wishing to marry, Franz must prove his love for Swanilda. Though not exceedingly poignant in his performance, Cornejo executed the role with strength and flair. A young dancer, he has the promise to one day really seize the part.

Reyes however was wonderful as Swanilda. At once irresistibly charming and regally arrogant, she moved whimsically across the stage with nimble ease and coquettish poise. When the time came to act aloof toward her lover, she turned haughty in an instant.

Humorous moments brought laughter to an already cheerful setting. When Swanilda discovers the key to Dr. Coppélius’s workshop, she leads a chain of nine friends, linked by their hands, tip-toeing through the door. Once inside, the curious clan delight in finding dolls of various nationalities, then cower with fear when they uncover Coppélia, a life-sized doll who daintily sits reading behind a curtain. The girls hide their faces, and their lithe legs shudder. When the raging doctor, played by Victor Barbee, arrives, all but Swanilda run away. She hides in Coppélia’s alcove as Dr. Coppélius apprehends a daring Franz, who has climbed up a ladder and in through a window in search of the beguiling doll.

While Franz passes out from too much of the doctor’s wine, Swanilda dons Coppélia’s costume. Impersonating the mechanical girl, she tricks Dr. Coppélius into thinking his magic spells have turned his doll’s movements from stark and jagged to graceful and human. Reyes is brilliant in this scene, holding the Spanish doll’s fan and dancing with lavish passion, or sporting an imperial sash and exuding playful ebullience, all the while impishly causing havoc in the workshop.

The lovers eventually run out together and join the group receiving dowries in the square. Swanilda offers hers to Dr. Coppélius in compensation for his damaged wares, but the Burgomaster gives him his own bag of gold.

Festive dance scenes interspersed the unfolding drama. Folk-inspired choreography set a lively tone as ten couples in traditional costume danced in the town square. At one point 12 child ballerinas pranced out, swathing the scene in fresh innocence. And two allegorical characters, Dawn, portrayed by Stella Abrera, and Prayer, danced by Veronika Part, added graceful mystery. The evening ended with a decadent finale of all the dancers. Their colorful attire blended in a medley of whipping organza and sequins.
 

(Updated on 11/16/04)

Romeo and Juliet

American Ballet Theatre

Performed at: Tokyo Postal Life Insurance Hall
Reviewed on 7/03/04
by R. Pikser

Sir Kenneth MacMillan, who died in 1992, was renowned as one of ballet’s most innovative choreographers, especially noted for the dramatic evocativeness of his choreography. Romeo and Juliet is full of such movement for both minor characters, such as the prostitutes in the town square, and for the principles. Unfortunately, with a few exceptions, the dancers of ABT, while technically clean, are not trained to exploit the gifts the choreographer has given them. Happily for us, Ethan Stiefel as Romeo is one of those few. His technical abilities, in a quiet way, keep him in the air just a moment longer, bring him to his line just a bit sooner, and extend it into space and time a bit longer than others, make him appear to perform these feats as naturally as if he were walking. Additionally, he can show us a brash youth infatuated with a sophisticate and later he can show us an innocent trembling with first love. These are not inconsiderable gifts. Xiomara Reyes does not find her way into Juliet until Act III, when we finally see the rebellious and passionate girl described in MacMillan’s notes.
Of the secondary characters, Carlos Molina’s Tybalt has some interesting moments of aggressiveness and Erica Fischbach’s Lady Capulet is touchingly distraught at Tybalt’s death. Herman Cornejo is technically excellent as Mercutio but he does not take the risks that the choreography and his name beg for, risks that would make his Mercutio breathtaking and heartbreaking. One might argue that the choreography takes care of itself and that the dancer’s job is simply to execute the steps cleanly. This attempts to reduce the dancers to robots, obedient pieces of the choreographer’s thoughts. When one sees the steps filled with life, breath, and intelligence by Stiefel, set off and enriched by the Renaissance tapestry of the Georgiadis sets and costumes, lit by Skelton, one remembers that theater, ballet included, is a collaborative art, and that when each of the collaborators is reaching beyond him or herself, they meet in a realm beyond that which was imagined. That realm is where theater becomes magic.
 

(Updated on 9/28/04)

Hommage To French Composers

The Faune Dance Troupe

Reviewed on June 20, 2004
by Celeste Sunderland

Claude Debussy’s Prélude à l’après-midi d’un faune gave its name to the Faune Dance Troupe, a Japanese ballet company based in New York. The name is not so much a tribute to the composer as an allegiance to the group’s inspiration, Vladimir Dokoudovsky, who performed Vaslav Nijinsky’s choreography of the piece with the Ballet Russe in the 1940s. In June, the company paid tribute to the nation that named it with a three-piece program titled “Hommage To French Composers.”

Choreographed by company co-founder Miho Maeda Maurice Ravel’s Bolero incorporated a mix of savage, Grecian-inspired costumes and themes of mating and adoration. Almost Rite Of Spring­like in its ritualistic nature, the dance occasionally mimicked the rippling patterns of the sea as long arms silently undulated. The dynamic intensified when the principal couple emerged. Noriko Naraoka leapt in like a ravishing crane, and Javier Dzul exuded the strength of a gorgeous warrior.

Despite an abrupt start, and its inappropriate placement between two longer, vivacious pieces that seemed to diminish its importance, Camille Saint-Saëns’s The Dying Swan still hung on to its intensity. Ninety-two years after Anna Pavlova first danced the piece, Maeda and Dokoudovsky worked together to restage Michel Fokine’s original choreography in 1999. Maeda presented the work again in this performance as a tribute to her now-deceased mentor. With tormented passion she executed the heartbreaking movements. Dressed in the traditional swan costume, her long body and seemingly endless, lanky limbs mimicked the swan’s desperate wings as they strove to overcome their crippled reality before finally giving out. She was visibly overcome as she took her bow.

Continuing a theme of death, Maeda’s interpretation of George Bizet’s Carmen, that seductive tale of illicit love and tragic envy, fizzed with the expected ruffled dresses and Spanish-tinged choreography. The company acted well, flashing amused or suspicious glances between flamenco poses. A sweetly flirtatious Naraoka danced the part of Carmen beautifully, but her clean, precise technique seemed a bit too innocent for a beguiling, aloof seductress. Nevertheless she drove both Don José (Dzul) and the Toreador (Venti Petrov) wild. Both powerful dancers, Petrov appeared delighted yet tormented by Carmen’s advances, and Dzul was visibly shaken after he thrust his sword into his gypsy lover’s side.

Though Debussy wasn’t included, the Faune Dance Troupe once again reminded us how ravishing French music can be. Let’s hope that next time they take on their namesake.
 

(Updated on 10/15/04)

Photo: Stephanie Berger

This year the dance world celebrates the hundredth anniversary of the birth of two choreographic giants, George Balanchine and Frederick Ashton. For New York dance fans, the Joffrey Ballet is closely associated with the great British choreographer, having more of his ballets in their repertoire than any other American company. It was fitting then that Lincoln Center Festival's two-week tribute to Ashton again brought the Joffrey to New York from their current base in Chicago. The youthful, open, unaffected appeal that characterize this company have always worked well when presenting Ashton's works, and it still does.

This evening encompassed three distinct Ashton styles: the Victorian, greeting-card beauty of Les Patineurs; the cool, spare, otherworldly atmosphere of Monotones; and the daffy, somewhat drunken, behind-the-scenes relationships of A Wedding Bouquet. Each piece was performed with the spirit, beauty, and attention to detail required.

Les Patineurs looked as lovely as ever. Set on a frosty pond surrounded by filigreed iron screens and overhead lanterns, velvet- and fur-clad "skaters" glide, turn, and enjoy an evening on ice to the music of Meyerbeer. Central to the ballet is the "boy in blue," a part requiring a virtuoso capable of both bravura and lyricism. Masayoshi Onuki had good moments but displayed tightness in his upper body and not quite the fluid control so vital for an effortless display of technique on a slippery surface. Far better were the four female soloists. April Daly and Erica Lynette Edwards danced with brilliant form and style as two skating partners, while Deanne Brown and Julianne Kepley were masterful in their turning variations.

With typical Ashtonian understatement, in Monotones I & II Sir Fred creates a rarified and magical atmosphere where the dancers appear suspended in space and time. This is achieved through the precise execution of "basic" steps and an uncanny association of movement and Satie's haunting music. Clad in sleek bodysuits and jeweled headpieces-cool lime in I, pure white in II-the unison and precision of movement displayed by the three dancers in each section resulted in a feeling of harmony and wonder.

The third piece, A Wedding Bouquet, set to the music of Lord Berners, was first performed in 1937. Christian Holder spoke the Gertrude Stein narrative but was severely hampered by a poor sound system. The dancers performed this very British examination of the not-so-proper behavior of the staff and guests at a country wedding extremely well. Though an American audience might find these characters quaint, the dance exemplifies Ashton's great gift for drawing quick psychological profiles (in this case, including a dog!) through movement and humor.

(Updated on 8/31/04)

Photo: Takashi shikama

Asami Maki Ballet Tokyo

Performed at: Tokyo Postal Life Insurance Hall
Reviewed on 7/16/04
by Yukihiko Yoshida
Translated by Atsuko Ono

Asami Maki Ballet Tokyo's recent production Dance Vingt et Un X was a very rich performance. The company performed four modern ballet pieces from the U. S. and England, all with great success.

Serenade and Tchaikovsky Pas de Deux were chosen from among George Balanchine's many great works. In Serenade, the first piece Balanchine created after moving to the U.S., a pose with one arm raised sets the scene for this beautiful composition. It was a pleasure to see the unconstrained dancing and lovely technique of Tamiyo Kusakari (well known from the movie Shall We Dance?) and the excellent performing of Kentaro Morita. In this very romantic piece, the music precedes the story. In Tchaikovsky Pas de Deux, Rumi Tachibana and Ken Kikuchi dance to Tchaikovsky's fantastic and spiritual music. This is also a romantic piece, but there is a depth underneath the innocence that conveys the universal elements of human society, as well as the choreographer's range as an artist.

William Dollar's Constantia, which depicts the romances of the Polish composer Frederic Chopin, is a gemlike masterpiece. It conveys Chopin's feelings for both his lover George Sand and his early love Constantia, to whom Chopin never told his true feelings. Opposite the protagonist (Altankhuyag Dugarai), the femininity of Sand (Manami Yoshioka) and the innocence of the Woman in Dream (Yukiko Ito) created a nice contrast.

In Frederick Ashton's Birthday Offering, the many candles placed on stage create another world for the dancers. This piece, very English in its aesthetics, is full of dreams about ballet expressed through variations by both the male and female dancers.

These sophisticated pieces displayed the richness of ballet to the audience. This is the tenth production of a series reviving the classics of the 20th century that otherwise might gradually fade into memory. As ballet continues to become more and more popular in Japan, performing Western masterpieces with high quality provides a wonderful opportunity for Japanese audiences, whose perspective will keep on expanding through seeing such fine pieces onstage.

The dullness of Japanese modern ballet is often discussed. In addition to seeing the originality of the past, I also hope to see more new talents with the originality of the future.

Artistic excellence? ****
Entertainment? ***
Inventiveness? ***
Healing power? ****

(Updated on 8/13/04)

Photo: Stephanie Berger

Parsons Dance Company

Performed at: Joyce Theater
Reviewed on 6/13/04
by Tamsin Nutter

David Parsons’s most famous gimmick was a stroke of genius: the strobe light that transforms his simple jumping solo Caught into gravity-defying magic. But the impression I received from the Parsons Company’s “classic works” program presented last June at the Joyce Theater was of slight choreography almost completely obscured by gimmickry. Strobe lights? That’s the least of it. Smoke machines, flashing rock-arena lights, human disco balls... are we in Vegas yet?

Fill the Woods with Light opened promisingly: Dancers carrying flashlights flit around a dark stage like fireflies in summer. But overall the piece reads more like a lighting designer’s portfolio than a coherent work of art—as far as one can tell among all the special effects, the choreography itself is pretty dull. One unrelated vignette follows another, from a disembodied, upside-down pair of bare legs that climbs and wiggles in midair (that one was pretty cool), to an unseen person wearing hundreds of tiny lights (the aforementioned human disco ball), degenerating into a full-on Vegas finale of flashing colored lights and posing silhouettes. The Envelope also has good points but is ultimately unsatisfying: one good idea spun out far beyond its limits. Sexless people in balaclavas and sunglasses are troubled by a mysterious envelope they seem unable to deliver—hijinks ensue. Yet it never (alas) gets too weird to play in Peoria. The serious faces of these peculiar postmen as they spoof ballet movement are funny, but not that funny.

The Last Breath was the one new piece of the evening, and unfortunately quite the worst. Parsons stars in a Butoh-inspired series of tableaus that picture a man’s whole life—from his primordial stirrings to the titular last breath. An interesting idea, but it’s executed too simplistically, and Howell Binkley’s heavy-footed visual design doesn’t help. To succeed the piece would have to be infinitely denser and more genuinely mysterious. Instead we are treated to far too much vague, obvious inner-journey (as represented by Parsons running in slo-mo through lavish swirls of smoke).

The best part of the slight, happy-cleancut-flower-children dance My Sweet Lord is Katarzyna Skarpetowska and Sumayah McRae, who are nothing short of dynamite, especially together. Caught, still the deserved star of the evening, was smoothly performed by associate artistic director Elizabeth Koeppen. The final piece, the Brazilian-flavored Nascimento, has some charms; yet the derivative choreography never builds momentum. The dancers are strong and seem to be having fun, but they deserve better—and so do Parsons’s audiences.

(Updated on 1/20/05)

Photo: Fu Jun and Peng Xiaowei

Zhou Yu's Train
Produced (distributed) by: Sony Pictures Classics
Reviewed on 7/18/04
by Ryoko Sugawara

Have you ever lost sight of your journey's end? What if the train you were riding wasn't taking you anywhere? Zhou You's Train, based on the novel by AUTHOR'S NAME, is a story about a woman on a journey, searching for the light of love, suffering from its absence. She is played by Chinese film star Gong Li, known for her roles in Farewell My Concubine and Red Sorghum.

Zhou Yu is an artisan living in Sanming, an ancient city along the Vietnam border. One day, she falls in love with a poet, Chen Ching (Tony Leung Ka Fai), as a result of a poem he sent her. She starts visiting him in Chongyang, a journey that takes ten hours by train. But while he gradually loses interest in the affair, Zhou's passion seems to get stronger every time. As the relationship starts to falter, Zhou meets a veterinarian, Dr. Zhang, who is very different from Chen. Although he has a rough manner, he gives her a sincere and stable affection, and gradually she becomes able to accept it. But they also come to realize that her heart has never left Chen. Zhou continues to visit his apartment, even though he has left Chongyang. Intertwined with Zhou's story is that of another woman, Xiu, also played by Gong Li. With a book of Chen's poetry in her hand, Xiu travels around searching for traces of him and for Zhou herself. In a poem, he compares Zhou to a lake in the heavens. Is it this dream love that has made these two women so intoxicated?

The editing elaborately mixes past and present, the point of view alternating between passionate Zhou and cool-headed Xiu. The film aptly conveys Zhou's confusion and irritation through her experiences of love. Director Sun Zhou emphasizes the traveling scenes in the train (which play a small part in the novel): the passing scenery through the window, the train entering a tunnel, and languorous Zhou, passing among the seats with a cigarette between her fingers. The succession of images evoke Zhou's heartrending feelings. And the music by Japanese composer Shigeru Umebayashi (In the Mood for Love) heightens the sentiments.

As the poet dreams of a lake in the heavens, Zhou and Xiu drift searching for the fountain of transient love. As this intricate story unfolds, through their eyes we catch a glimpse of scenes of love.

Artistic excellence? ****
Entertainment? ***
Inventiveness? ***
Healing power? ****

(Updated on 8/13/04)

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Shogun
Produced (distributed) by: Paramount Home Entertainment
Reviewed on 7/18/04
by Taro Enjoji
Translated by Rieko Yamanaka

A DVD edition has recently been released of Shogun, the superb U.S./Japan epic TV miniseries originally broadcast by NBC in 1980. The series is based on James Clavell’s best selling novel of the same name, whose protagonist was modeled after William Adams (Anjin Miura), a real-life Englishman who washed up on the Japanese shore in 1600. A magnificent cast of American and Japanese actors portrays 17th-century Japan in upheaval on a grand scale.
It is the dawn of the 17th century, and John Blackthorne (Richard Chamberlain), an English navigator on a Dutch trading ship, and a few surviving crewmembers are shipwrecked upon the Japanese coast of Izu and held captive. In the beginning, John, renamed Anjin by the Japanese, is met with hatred by Omi (Yuki Meguro) and his men, yet treated amicably by Omi’s boss Yabe (Frankie Sakai), the lord of Izu. At this moment Japan is locked in a power struggle between Ishido (Nobuo Kaneko), conqueror of the West, and Toranaga Yoshii (Toshiro Mifune), chief general of the Armies of the East, who are both watching thirstily for the chance to seize the position of Shogun or general-in-chief, wherein all the power of the general-in-chief lies. It is in the midst of this upheaval that Anjin fatefully encounters Toranaga. Anjin’s versatile knowledge and experience prove useful to Toranaga, who begins to consider trading with England should he come to power. Toranaga’s interpreter Mariko (Yoko Shimada) coaches Anjin on Japanese culture, and they eventually fall in love. In a whirlwind of scheming, the adventures of Anjin the blue-eyed samurai begin.

Back in 1980, Shogun proved so popular with viewers that movie theaters and restaurants suffered a significant drop in sales during the time it was aired, with audience ratings reaching as high as 40%. Although Clavell, author of the original book, was not Japanese, the series was shot mostly in Japan. Throughout, the series creators pay attention to detail and strive for authenticity in tea ceremonies, swordfight choreography, horseback riding, archery, Japanese etiquette, and visual art (the placement of Japanese sliding doors, the patterns on the kimonos, and so on), all backed up by well-researched historical facts. The lack of special effects leaves room for acting and pure imagery to vividly portray good old Japanese culture, and the result is quite admirable.

In New York, Shogun can be purchased at Japanese bookstores in a 5-disc DVD box set (540 minutes, Japanese and English subtitles).

Artistic excellence? ****
Entertainment? ****
Inventiveness? ***
Healing power? **

(Updated on 10/1/04)