All language subtitles for Afternoon.Of.A.Faun.Tanaquil.Le.Clercq.2013.1080p.WEBRip.x264.AAC-[YTS.MX]

Tanny is a myth.

She dated the greatest
choreographer of all time.

She was at the peak of her ability.
she was beautiful She was a muse.

And on the pinnacle of
success she fell down.

Tanny had a very unique sense of music.

That's what made her dancing so interesting.

I think that's what she was born with.

She was tall, slim and rather bony.

That's why she moved very
differently from the others.

She covered the whole room.

She wasn't ashamed to make her legs longer

than they already were when she danced.

Dancers were usually small and nimble.

Stocky and fast.

And then she comes, long,
graceful, like a path to heaven.

Tanny's body was an
inspiration for the choreographers.

They could create things
they had never seen before!

There's this famous story.

She was a teenager and at
the School Of American Ballet.

Balanchine was the director of the ballet

school, but he did not teach all classes.

He was walking down the hall while

all the other students were in class,

and suddenly there was a young, pretty girl

with long legs standing
in front of a classroom.

She had crossed her arms resolutely.

He spoke to her: "Why aren't you in class?"

And she replied, "Got thrown out."

And he said, "What's your name?"
- "Tanni."

I was a student at the
School Of American Ballet.

That's where I met Tanny.

She was already a star
and I was just a beginner.

She was destined for a great career.

I loved dancing.

I was at the ballet. I thought
that would be very nice.

I liked it. I also took
piano lessons, but I

was stupid. One could see immediately:

The child can't play,
let's let it dance instead.

At 14 we became very close friends.

She led a very sheltered life.

She liked the normality of our friendship.

She got private lessons and had a

Scholarship for the
School Of American Ballet.

Tanny didn't socialize too

youngsters their age. She longed for it.

She longed to break
out of this life in a glass

house that her mother had built around her.

Edith was the paragon of a ballet mother.

She mended Tanny's pointe
shoes and knitted her tights.

They lived in Paris for a while,
and that's where Tanny was born.

And then they returned to America.

I think her parents, Edith and Jacques,

broke up when they were very young.

I didn't know if they were divorced
because Jacques would show up occasionally.

But most of the time Edith
was alone and a ballet mom.

A ballet mother of the first order.

When I was 15, I knew
absolutely nothing of what

a normal girl knew at 15.
You know what I mean?

For example, I didn't know
Frank Sinatra's latest record.

I didn't know the popular dances either.

But I had gained valuable experience.

What an education!
While others sat at home, I

traveled to Europe.
Italy, France... Fantastic!

I've met celebrities, been to

world-famous theaters, tasted exotic food.

And the other girls went
to high school at home.

At the time I was living in Bronxville.

After Tanny got back, she
liked to visit me on the weekends.

She loved the normal life
in my family because it was

so different than anything
she had ever experienced.

My parents were simple people. We were

excellently cooked and went to the cinema.

THE NAZIS DEATH MILLS

I can remember exactly how
we went to the cinema again.

I clearly remember the
newsreel showing pictures of what

the Americans had found in the
Auschwitz concentration camp.

They had photographed and
filmed the people behind the bars.

We were both totally shocked.

Tanny left the cinema hall, she ran out.

I followed her and found
her crying on the toilet.

Your reaction touched me.

Of course, I also found these pictures

unbelievable and more than one can bear.

But I can well remember
how strongly she sympathized.

In New York we lived a real teenage life.

We went to the cinema
a lot, we gossiped about

people and we started
to get interested in boys.

Tanny was very charismatic and I knew

a lot of men who found her fascinating.

From 14 to 17 or 18 we were inseparable.

I then moved to Paris and
wasn't there when she got sick.

At times I thought there

might be another life for me too.

That I could just get on
a train and go anywhere.

I would have a job with regular
working hours from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m.

Before my marriage, I dated a few men.

I'm with them on different

went to parties and saw

other lives and that's when I felt

that I don't miss it that much.

The New York City
Ballet is now ten years old.

It's unbelievable how successful
ballet has been in recent years.

To an outsider it always
looks very complicated,

an almost artistic form of expression.

And now it's popular.

How do you explain that?

I think it's because the
dancers are very beautiful.

People like to see beautiful
dancers on stage and

listen to magical music.
No matter, wherever.

Even in Russia they love
good music, despite everything...

That's where ballet is at home.

And Russia has produced the
greatest dancers, including you.

Yes, I was born there.

But we're trying to perfect the

gesture, dancing a little bit better

jumping a little higher than

normal people do in a ballroom.

This leads me to what I
actually wanted to talk about.

They founded a dance school. They teach.

Oh yeah. The school was founded in

1934 and we have many great dancers

and dancers produced.
Our focus is on young girls.

Balanchine was always looking for the next one.

There was a little girl in the
ballet company that he was

very fond of, and he thought,
"Let's see how this turns out.

I'll give her a little role.

There is this ballerina and
the next ballerina, I'm going

to marry her and I'll see
what I can get out of her.

I will choreograph for
these, but not for my wife."

It was like this all the time.

You want to know about his wives?

Mr. Balanchine had often
complained that Tamara

Geva, his first wife,
was not a good dancer.

But he was young, they were in
love, and, voila, they were married.

He left Russia and married
Tamara Geva, and on

the trip to America he
met Alexandra Danilova.

Her skills corresponded
to his ideas of a dancer.

So they worked together, he,
the choreographer, she, the artist.

Then he met Vera Zorina.
She was called to Broadway.

They became a team and
went to Hollywood together.

I had often thought that
he really loved Zorina.

But she single-mindedly pursued
her career and he was alone again.

He met Maria Tallchief while
working with the Ballet Russes.

She was a very different kind of dancer.

She was fast, technically
excellent and very exotic.

She was a half Indian,
from the Osage tribe.

He discovered their special way of moving.

And Balanchine developed another new style.

Soon she left him for
another and he found Tanny.

With her he created a new dance style.

All women left him.

They left him because of
career or because of other men.

I can't say exactly why.

I think it's hard living with a genius.

Balanchine needed the unattainable.

He had to be inspired by the unattainable.

He was constantly
looking for a young dancer

who could spark his enthusiasm to work with

and with which he could achieve his goal.

But once he had done that,
it was no longer possible.

Suddenly he had a real
woman by his side, not an ideal.

She got pneumonia,
had her period and all...

In many of his Pas de deux
men and women seek each other.

You will often find this basic idea in his work.

The man is looking for the ideal woman, finds her.

They dance perfectly
together and then he loses her.

Just like in La Valse, a great work of his,

created at a particularly important time.

With this ballet,
Balanchine evoked the very

mood in which Ravel had composed the music,

between two wars: the First
and the Second World War.

The last waltz.

The fall of the Austro-Hungarian Empire.

The end of a wonderful era. death comes

seduces her with black jewels.

She wears them and puts on the gloves.

Death begins to dance with her.

And the dance becomes frenetic, wild
through the music of the 20s and 30s.

Embraced by this whirling figure of

death, Tanny suddenly drops dead.

Death disappears and so does
her lover who is carrying her corpse.

All the dancers on stage
spin counterclockwise

in wild madness. And this is the end.

I can't talk about it anymore.

People talked a lot about Balanchine's
so-called "white" ballet choreographies.

But there were also his "black" ballets.

I think he had an inkling
of what was about to

happen to Tanny, and he
expressed that in La Valse.

I think he felt guilty about the ballet he

created for the March
of Dimes organization.

Show business met to promote

the March Of Dimes organization.

The figureheads of this
action, Larry Mackenzie and

Joya Moore raised funds to fight polio

at a fashion show at the Waldorf Astoria.

Balanchine was asked in 1946

if he would choreograph
a ballet for a benefit dinner.

Proceeds would go to the
March of Dimes, organization

dedicated to fighting and curing polio.

And he created a ballet that
was very reminiscent of La Valse.

The ballerina dances happily, but

then the mood and the music change

and the figure of polio appears.

Polio dances a somber pas de deux

with her, at the end
of which she collapses.

In this version there was a happy ending.

But Tanny was the girl
Balanchine chose from among

the students at the
School Of American Ballet

to dance the victim's part.

And, eerily enough, he
danced the part of polio.

I think Balanchine got into it
from day one when Tanny was the

School Of American
Ballet, interested in her.

The interest increased more and more,

the more she developed as a dancer.

Because of her uniqueness,
Tanny only danced solo parts.

Watching her made her look
more like a model on the catwalk.

Nowadays this is no
longer unusual for our eyes.

Dancers have gotten taller, thinner.

They became more

what has been called the
ideal Balanchine dancer.

Tanny didn't have a perfect classic body.

And her dance style was elegant and original.

Although Balanchine
attached great importance

to classical music and loved dancers,

who could dance the
traditional steps in a beautiful

way, he was always looking
for the special dancers.

Those who showed their
own personality on stage.

They then became his muses.

Is there a certain dancer who
impresses you, who inspires you?

Tanaquil LeClercq.

I saw her performance in Symphonie in C.

It was at a time when everyone
danced them so enthusiastically

and I fell in love with
this ballet immediately.

I cried when Tanny leaned back.

I just thought I really wanted
to work with this company.

Her talent showed in everything.

If you look at the roles in

this ballet I created for Tanny,

think five or six different
women would have to dance that.

No one could do it alone. Tanny could

dance it in concert, in a wild, crazy way

very elegant or very classic.

She could express all four temperaments.

She was a phenomenal dancer.

"Dear Tanny!

Today I realized how
much you are on my mind.

I bought something in Florence,
something completely nonsensical.

I looked at it and thought how

fun it would be to show you.

How much you would love it and
how you would enjoy it as much as I do.

In fact, whatever I see or happen to me, I

imagine that you see or experience it too.

And almost subconsciously I wonder
what you would think about that.

Whether you like it or not.
You can tell I miss you a lot."

There was also a very close friendship

between Jerome Robbins and Tanny.

They worked together in
the New York City Ballet in

1948, in the very early days
of that company's founding.

And they already knew each other
from the School Of American Ballet.

He was a little older than Tanny.

Jerry was already famous,
he had danced some

sensational roles in the
American Ballet Theatre,

where he was employed and he was

on his way to success on Broadway.

Though in a sense they were

companions and not far apart in age,

Jerry was already much
higher up the corporate ladder.

Back then, Tanny was I don't want to

say "shy" because she never really was.

But she was the more serious young dancer.

She wanted to please, to achieve something.

In her eyes Jerry had already
made it, he had the success.

"Tanny unfolds her dancing
quality more and more.

She reminds me of a young
animal that is slowly developing.

Like a clumsy foal that bursts

out with elegance and grace.

A kind of aura lingers around her.

All the ballets I choreographed for

the company were always for Tanny."

How can you not love the
ballerina you dance with?

I mean you're together, you feel her

weight, smell her sweat, you taste her

and dance the love pas de deux. with her

Afternoon of a Faun was
choreographed for Tanny.

She had an incredible undercurrent
of eroticism that promised

so much. And that was more
exciting than anything obvious.

Jerry Robbins came up with
the idea of the wonderful ballet

Afternoon of a Faun from

1912 with young, naive dancers.

He choreographed it in
a studio clad in mirrors.

The artists were dancers and
spectators at the same time.

A brilliant idea. And everyone
could see how beautiful Tanny is in it.

She put one on.

Tanny had that certain
something and knew how to use it.

She had an irresistible presence.

Tanny knew exactly how to
seduce people, how to delight them.

She was fascinating. She
could charm anyone she wanted.

"Tanny I love you so much for your class.

She is so real. I often have to close my

eyes to so much directness and insight.

Are you mad at me because of
George, or because of yourself?

And how do we feel about each other now?"

"I thought we could deal with how we

felt about ourselves and about others.

Now I don't know.

Anyway, I'm staying with George.

I love talking to you, playing

games with you, laughing out loud.

But I love George. Maybe
it's because he was there first."

"George is your ideal. Good.

But don't act like a little kid and
expect everyone to be who they are.

He is also my ideal.

I admire him as a person and
as an artist he is a god to me.

But how you feel about him
influences how you feel about me."

Of course she was flattered
by Jerry's interest in her.

Jerry was certainly in
love with her in a way.

But everyone had sensed immediately that

Balanchine was also very interested in her.

So it didn't surprise anyone.

I remember that he
wanted to give her jewelry

and she was so embarrassed
that she asked me

come along to this posh jeweler.

I can't remember the name, but

it was Balanchine's favorite shop.

He had shopped there
for all his old flames.

It was inevitable that he would target

her, because that was his pattern.

It seemed to me that he...

I wasn't too thrilled that he focused

almost all of his attention on Tanny.

Each of the dancers did
their best in the hope that the

choreographer would notice
them. But everyone also knew

that each of them did.

So they were all always extremely

excited and at a high level.

I often went to rehearsals.

The room immediately overwhelmed
you with what was going on.

And what also overwhelmed
you in Balanchine's

classroom was the
plethora of perfume clouds.

You entered and you were immediately

in an explosion of different scents,

because Balanchine liked
perfume. All the girls dabbed

themselves with it, and of
course each had a different one.

But you could also feel the
tension. Almost physical.

A pleasant tension.

There was only one star in their solar

system and that was George Balanchine.

Everything Tanny ever
said about him testified to her

total dedication to him as
a person and as an artist.

They married New Year's Eve 1952.

Allegra Kent, who he was
mad about, said so beautifully:

"He had loved us all, to varying degrees."

Balanchine was fascinated
by the unattainable.

Of course, Jerome Robbins
was particularly kind to her.

Balanchine once told me a

conversation between Jerry and Tanny

sound like birds talking to each other.

He meant that he wouldn't
understand a word of it.

It was their conversation.

"Dear Tanny!

I got back to Rome
yesterday and immediately

rushed to the American Express today

and found three letters
and a postcard from you.

I kiss you on both cheeks.

I want to see you, tease you a little.

I want you to make fun
of me or just ignore me.

I think of you. Your J."

"I hope you are happy.

I'm so glad you exist. I wish I...

With love, Tanny."

I think life around her was
getting a little too narrow for her.

She had to turn to Mr. Balanchine,

to deal with her mother.

To do this, she had to do justice to her art.

Long hours, long nights.
That was her professional life.

Tanny always had to be
around her husband, who was

constantly looking for new
people, new challenges.

Surrounding herself was
her overprotective mother,

whose constant presence
Tanny wasn't too keen on.

We called them the "Royal Family".

That was great.

- Wasn't that beautiful?
- Very beautiful!

When you see something
like this, you realize

how much effort and skill is behind it,

to create such a great ballet.

Yes, that is indeed true.
I would like to introduce you...

Especially when you see
such a gifted dancing couple.

Our prima ballerina Tanaquil LeClercq.
- Hi.

And our master dancer Jacques d'Amboise.
- Hello, how are you?

The two most famous and best
ballet dancers in our country.

Of course we enjoyed your performance!

- I've always wanted to know...
- You pant.

...how a ballet dancer
feels after a performance.

wheezing and panting.

It was a grand performance.

You will soon be opening your
spring tour here in New York this year.

Yes, next Tuesday at
City Center on 55th Street.

- Class.
- Hope you all come!

Other boys and girls can too

See you and your ballet
company in other cities?

Yes, we dance in Chicago too. On the 3rd of April?
- Yes.

- At the Chicago Civic Opera House.
- What are you performing?

- The Nutcracker in full length.
- Oh, the ballet.

A two-hour ballet!

With lots of kids!

Lots of children, fir trees, snow,
everything for the Christmas season.

Then don't miss this,
boys and girls in Chicago!

And then you go on a
big tour through Europe?

- Yes, we start in August.
- Yes, to Vienna, Salzburg...

Everywhere. Even to Finland!

Thank you for dancing

for us and for coming to us.

I want to talk about this tour.

The schedule was tight.
Many of the rehearsal rooms were freezing.

We coughed at each other
and still danced together.

I got bronchitis. And Tanny too.

The company danced their
last performance in Cologne and

they were supposed to fly to
Copenhagen the next morning.

Tanny and I danced the Afternoon of a Faun

and the Western Symphony.

Then the curtain fell and I
hugged her. I went to bed early.

The next day I flew to New York.

I wanted to be there when my son was born.

So I said goodbye to her.

She didn't look well and she was
very, very tired and very, very thin.

On the trip she had told me
in confidence that she would

have preferred not to
have gone on this tour at all.

She and Mr. Balanchine had a
home in Weston, Connecticut.

She said she would much
rather spend longer periods

there than be somewhere
else almost every day.

She felt exhausted. You could see

that and there were also rumors that

that the relationship
between her and Balanchine...

...should be disturbed.

The first time she told me she felt sick

was on the night of her last performance.

I was sitting in her dressing room
because I had to mend something

I don't remember what it was -

and she got ready for Swan Lake.

I asked her "How are you?" and she replied:

"I feel awful.
I'm in pain from head to toe."

I offered her a pill that
relaxes the muscles.

She said, "Oh, yes, give me one!"

I remember the evening.

We were in Denmark preparing
for the Western Symphony.

Tanny also had another appearance.

She said to me, "I don't
know Arthur, I feel so stiff."

"No wonder," I replied, "it's cold
here, we need to warm up more."

Then we went out and danced.

The next morning, when
everyone got together to

take the train to the next
venue, Tanny was missing.

I got a call around
6:00, 6:30 on the morning

we were supposed to continue to Stockholm.

I was told Tanny was in the "iron

lung", she had polio and was dying.

We decided not to tell anyone until

we were on the train to Stockholm.

Betty Cage, our general manager,
informed the ballet management.

Because she was so upset
and confused, we thought

it would be easier for
her with the older people

to talk about the new situation.

I was responsible

to talk to the young girls
of the ballet company.

Then, once we got on the train, it

turned out that my task was the easiest.

All young girls had been
vaccinated against polio.

You can imagine the panic
otherwise there would have been!

Betty had to do the hardest work.

Everyone she needed
to speak to were Tanny's

friends and none were
vaccinated. You collapsed.

The tragedy of Tanny is huge... huge!

She was destroyed as a dancer.

And she had this terrible disease, polio!

My name is Virus Poliomyelitis.

I cause a disease you call "polio."

Few diseases have
caused such a stir and terror.

The polio virus strikes without warning.

THE CRIPPERS 1940 RKO PATH�

Nobody knows who gets sick.
Some die from it.

When we wanted to start our journey through

Europe, we learned about the vaccinations.

We all got vaccinated.

A day or two before we left,

we lined up to get vaccinated.

The ballerinas let themselves be
given the injection one after the other.

There was Melissa and Pat Wilde
and whatever their names were.

I picked mine up. Tanny was also in line.

Suddenly she swerved, came to me and said:

"I always get sick on a plane.

And if I also got this injection...

I'll wait until we get back."

The authorities in Sweden
found out that we had a

case of polio in our company
and stopped the train.

They sent a medical team and

insisted that each of us be vaccinated.

Some had two vaccinations.

You hoped in God 'cause the show

had to go on and you had to make it

that everyone remained calm
and that no panic broke out.

Our dancers and crew were

awaiting word on how Tanny was doing.

It blew my mind. And probably

every dancer who has ever danced.

That's why I say it was mystical.
Tanny is a myth.

She was badly battered, but not dead.

But she could no longer move her legs.

Polio in 1956. That's what it
looks like, that's what it sounds like.

You'll hear the breath of life pumping

in these tank-like breathing devices.

They are called "iron lungs".

Tanny was in an "iron lung".

Mr. Balanchine stayed
with her in the hospital.

Even when we finished
our tour in Stockholm and

returned to New York, he
stayed with her in Copenhagen.

"Why can't I be brave and strong?

I'm so afraid.

i cry all the time

I can't stop feeling sorry for myself.

I keep asking myself: why me?

Why polio?

I'm rid of my respirator!

Forever.

You got me out of the Iron Lung today."

"Dear Jerry! This is a letter
written with the right hand.

I keep my hand in place and type and Eddie

keeps moving the paper like a typewriter.

I tried it first with my left hand like

I always write, but it's impossible.

The days creep by. It's better now.

But in the beginning I had
crazy hopes that I would return

to New York completely
healthy. But that's nonsense."

"Now it's a bit of a routine.

Breakfast at 8.00 am, at 9.00 am I
roll onto my side and my bed is made.

At 10 a.m. hot packs,
then manipulations, as

they call them.
mobilization of the joints.

After that George and Edith visit me.

Then I read or check my
mail. Please write to me."

"You can tell I'm doing better mentally.

It's going slowly. Oh god, how slow!

George looks awful."

"Dear Jerry!

I raised the headboard
of my bed further, so I'll

write you again, because
unfortunately you don't.

I WAITING FOR A LETTER.

I'm almost sitting in
bed, the sisters allowed it.

I try to sit alone without support.

What a strange feeling.

It is very difficult.

I feel like a fillet of fish

trying to balance on its tail.

I'm very famous here in Denmark.

My photo was in the newspaper
along with Grace Kelly's and

silversmith G. Jensen is calling
his new collection 'Tanaquil'.

My legs are still dead.

They are shocked with electric
batons three times a week.

If only I could feel something

inside them, move a muscle!

When I think about the past, I cry.

She seems so wonderful to me.

The future is far away, blurry.

Only the present remains for me."

"The nurses washed my hair this afternoon.

They've gotten very long.

I wish they would leave
her alone. You don't smell.

With love Tan."

"Did you know that there
are hospital rooms here

that have windows to the
outside with stairs set up?

That way your friends can
see you if you're contagious."

"Why do all the sisters in
Denmark have body odor?

I use deodorant, why
don't you? It takes me half

an hour to wash around
the front, then you shoot

me on my side and wash me behind.

Then comes the lady with
the bucket and the turd.

She also has body odor.
This is really too much!"

"I spoke to a very nice woman.

She fell ill with polio in
Germany last summer.

She can already climb stairs, step by step.

And she walks, but on crutches.

We've talked about the awfully

long time it takes to recover.

For severe cases like mine,
it takes three years or more.

I no longer believe that I can
become completely healthy.

Just a bit.

Are you aware that I'll
be 30 in three years?

Oh I always knew how
lucky I was and that something

was going to happen
to George, mother or me.

It couldn't always go
on like this, that you

only win and never
have to pay a price for it.

Tan."

"Someone came in yesterday.
They got a room next to mine.

She's very sick. Today
she came to the 'Iron Lung'.

That still scares me.

Three days seems like an eternity to me."

"George carries me to the chair.

I would almost say he enjoys my condition.

Some people seem to like the fact that

someone is completely dependent on them.

It's pouring down like a summer rain.

It has become dark and
yellowish in the room."

"I went to bed and slept and slept.

And had daydreams.

The sky I can see is beautiful.
With little pink clouds."

"I want to tell you something.

I feel like I have to tell you something,

but I don't know what
it is. Really strange.

Love, T."

She was transferred to
a hospital in New York.

I visited her there. That
was a very emotional moment.

Although she could move
her arms, she was still in bed.

When she saw me she burst
into tears and so did I. Oh God.

Every doctor at Lennox
Hill Hospital told Balanchine

that she would be better
soon, but not how much better.

She would have a window
of two, two and a half years

in which her condition
would gradually improve.

But she would never fully recover.

Balanchine didn't want to believe that

...don't accept.

He got angry.

"I will make her well, she
will be able to dance again!"

He traveled to Warm Springs
and did everything in his power.

He did exercises with her. He bent her
legs, straightened them, like a therapist.

He put her down, hugged her tightly
from behind. He was shorter than her.

He picked her up and placed

her numb right foot on his right foot

and her left on his left.

So he practiced with her.

He hoped this would ignite a spark in the

muscles, that they would
remember how to walk.

"It's beautiful here. So pretty.

The houses are made of
red bricks with white columns.

Georgian architecture.

Most here have polio or are paraplegic.

Most people are paralyzed
after a back accident.

Most lying face down at
the foot of their stretchers

are paraplegics, while the
others face up have polio.

Today I watched a movie.
They have a nice cinema here.

The first two rows are reserved
for the mobile stretchers.

Next row: wheelchairs.

Then seats where George and Edith were.

We checked out The 12
Jury members. Fascinating!

I have a single room

With a window just to the
right at the foot of the bed.

Simply divine! The only catch
is that it's a bit noisy because

it's adjacent to the room
where the bedpans are emptied.

People have to do it in the
morning, at noon, in the evening."

"I always go to the pool in
the afternoons now. Wonderful!

There are chairs under the water.

You sit on it and do arm exercises.

I wear splints and a corset
and I have my crutches.

I find that my mother is
doing surprisingly well.

Her only daughter, a celebrated
dancer, and then: boom!

That would have blown me away.

But enough of that."

"I'm successful! I have groupies!

I'm a celebrity, say the
ladies in the bathroom.

When we get together there with our various

ailments, it's funny in a macabre way.

But that's my sense of humor."

"Dear Jerry! I'm desperate. Why don't

you text me? And don't you call me?

Full of anticipation, I came to my
room after my 10:00 a.m. exercise,

and I hated the other
letters that were lying there!"

"Dear Jerry! You see what a
difference one phone call makes!

I feel different. Suddenly I love you."

"Be in good spirits, Tanny!

So much of what's happened doesn't

make sense, but never
forget that I love you

and worry about everything
that concerns you."

"Dear Jerry! I did a lot of

laundry right after you left

and smoked cigarettes like crazy.
You know:

Keep yourself busy and
you won't worry so much.

I'll think of those two days in the sun

before I go to bed so I
can dream about them.

When I imagine the days and nights that lie

ahead, they seem
unbearable, not worth living,

but you should never
give up until you die, right?

I'm putting my sunglasses away now.
I miss you. With love, T."

"I'm worried about George.

He mentioned a friend
who has a friend who has

a piece of the robe
of St. Peter or St. Paul.

If you carry it close to you
and pray, you will be healed.

That's not George at all.

I'm afraid he has unrealistic
ideas about my illness.

I told him on the phone
I didn't want to hear

about it and he sounded
deeply disappointed.

It's obviously easier to have polio

than to be with someone who has it."

Balanchine was always close to her.

He firmly believed that if he prayed

to his icon, she would get better.

He was convinced that she

would be better, he insisted.

She was depressed but he
was by her side at the time.

There were rumors that their
relationship was not going well

before she fell ill. But her
illness brought him back to her.

"I saw the musical On
Your Toes on TV, very nice.

Also the film You've Never Been More
Charming with Rita Hayworth and Astaire.

It snowed all day yesterday.

It looks adorable today.
Being at home is not easy.

I think that might be me.

It's hard for me to live here.

I have to wait for the
girl to come and feed me.

i feel like a dog

Do you think that in the next life I will
be human and you will all be animals?"

When Tanny was supposed to come home,

we had a big problem how to deal with it.

The apartment had to be modified so

that she could move
freely in her wheelchair.

But Balanchine even raised a cup

rack so she couldn't reach it while seated.

He wanted to force her to get up.

Once she burst into tears and said:

"I can't even get myself a cup!"

"I watch more TV. Frankenstein's son.

Today it is raining.
What desolate weather.

I don't have anymore to
write, so I'll stop. Tan."

Whenever possible,
Mr. Balanchine practiced with her.

He put together Pilates exercises for her

and forced Tanny to make them.

And not to forget, he kept moving her legs.

They weren't rigid, they were flexible.

Her motor memory had
forgotten the walking movements.

Mr. Balanchine was very
interested in the Pilates method.

He knew Mr. Pilates personally.

He created special
exercises for her himself,

which she completed alone or with him.

Agon was the third part of a trilogy.

Balanchine began with Apollo, in 1928

then followed Orpheus and in
1957 the trilogy ended with Agon.

With the pas de deux I had to bring the

ballerina into new positions all the time.

That was the exciting part because I

moved her body, her feet and her legs.

I took her body and placed it.

I'm sure he got the inspiration

from his daily practice with Tanny.

I'm sure Tanny, as I know her,

resisted these exercises at first.

But she was strong willed
and eventually accepted them.

She had no choice. He made her do it.

And Balanchine was not so easy to beat.

"We're in the middle of ballet season.
I should be excited.

But I'm not.

And I don't feel for George
either when he calls.

C'est la vie."

You can imagine how difficult it was for

her to have her body changed by polio.

At first she gained a little weight,

all the muscles in her legs shrank.

It's certainly tough for anyone, but for a

dancer whose body is
her everything, it really is

incredibly difficult.

She was no longer
interested in going to a ballet.

But suddenly she changed her
mind. So I got the car, carried

her in, and we drove to a
ballet. And we saw La Valse

with the wonderful dancer Sarah
Leland. Afterwards she criticized them.

She was asked if she would like to

train some dancers in her star roles.

She enthusiastically agreed. She
was back in ballet and she loved it.

When I saw Symphonie in C I

noticed that some things had changed.

I couldn't say that was wrong, because I

didn't know if Balanchine
made it specifically:

"I hated how Tanny took that step, but

now I got rid of her and found another one,

and can finally make it dance the
way I've always wanted it to dance."

I couldn't say, "No, it wasn't like that!"

Maybe it's even better.

She said it wasn't
bad at all, it was a gift.

I asked, "What do you mean?"
She replied: "How was it always?

We have the Saturday
matinee off and George and I

I'm eating croissants with butter and

enjoying my caf� au
lait when the phone rings.

George comes back from the call and says:

'Patty Wilde is injured and
cannot dance Swan Lake.

do you take over?'

'It's my day off, but I'll go to
the bathroom and get ready.'

And then she said: "Something like
that can never happen again now."

you take a cat While you can't train her,

you can make her do whatever she wants.

I have observed her
and been inspired by her.

I played with her and she jumped.

I developed this jump further.

And she even jumped backwards!

I was asked, "How did you teach her that?"

"I didn't teach her that, she taught me!"

What made her so special
was her cleverness, her wits.

You can find out by reading a few

excerpts from her book about the cat

or what she wrote in the ballet's cookbook.

There she wrote short biographies.

She described each
individual so appropriately

and accurately, as a
person and as a dancer.

There was always a touch of humor about everything.

Mr. Balanchine was getting on in years.

He watched his youth fly away and

unknowingly sought a way to cope with it.

Some take refuge in a relationship,

which is not necessarily the healthiest

and best step is.

He got to the point that he had to admit to

himself that he didn't want
to be with her anymore.

He wanted to be free. Tanny in her

wheelchair became a log against his leg.

He had done everything for her.

She sensed this and took the
first step. That was really heroic.

It was the premiere party of

A Midsummer Night's Dream.

Tanny was there, but
Balanchine was not at her table.

That was the straw that
broke the camel's back.

Tanny said, "He needs to be free.
He needs to be free."

Balanchine and Tanny's
relationship had deteriorated greatly.

I was at my apartment one morning
getting ready for work when the

phone rang. It was Betty Cage,
our General Manager, who said:

"Tanny has moved out and is
now staying at the Mayflower Hotel."

I replied, "Thank you for telling me."

Then the phone rang
again, it was Balanchine.

He said, "I'm staying at
the Empire Hotel now."

Both had undressed without realizing

that the other had undressed as well.

I'm sure it was awful for her when he

left her and fell in love with Suzanne.

And even though Suzanne turned
Balanchine down, he was done with Tanny.

That must have been very
hard. People were shocked

when he left Tanny
because he stayed with her

and had done indescribably much for her.

That impressed me very
much. He brought her back to

life, he made her understand
that life goes on for her.

It was okay with her that
he had to move on now.

She was a strong personality.

She found that she was
independent, that she

could socialize with
people and entertain them.

She was very sociable, despite
being disabled by the disease.

"Thank you, thank you, thank
you for two letters in two days!

You're right, something
happened, but I don't know the

hell what, or where it started,
or how it's going to end.

It's a bit like our
relationship in general.

Suddenly you're angry about
something, you don't talk about

it, but both feel it and you
start getting a little mean

and teases the other.

You know what I mean? Anyway, I love you!"

Obviously, the two
had a lot of fun together.

Of course, he was a very different
personality from Mr. Balanchine.

Jerry introduced her to many of
his friends, who also became her

friends until the end of their
lives. That led her to Europe.

In the summer of 1972, Jerome
agreed to direct the festival in Spoleto.

I'm sure it was his idea to invite Tanny.

Italy is made of stairs, and Italy

has the only opera house in the world

called "The Staircase", La Scala.

The stairs there were very smooth,

worn down by feet for 300 years.

The small theater was full.
We were at the back and the

only possible space for a
wheelchair was at the exit.

This meant that we completely
blocked the exit for the visitors.

I thought, "I can't stop people,

and I don't want them to overthrow

Get Tanny and her wheelchair over there.
And it's only two steps."

Tanny wasn't particularly difficult, but I

couldn't find a foothold on the first step

and the wheelchair slipped out of my hands

and suddenly fell over. Tanny
fell onto the marble foyer hallway.

I stood there, stunned.

Tanny crawled around on the
floor, looked at me, and said:

"Now fuck me, pick me up!"

That broke my rigidity,
I picked her up, put

her back in the wheelchair
and we fled outside.

In the end we went out
to eat and she ordered

a whiskey. Which she never did otherwise.

She said it hurt like hell.

When she saw my face she said:

"Yes, my nerves are still working!"

So she was in pain.

Her bones had become even

more fragile from not being used.

Although it was only a minor fall,

it was enough to break her knee.

I also dropped them once after

we drank too much champagne.

She just giggled. You
could easily pick them up.

Balanchine showed me how to do it.

Once you've learned it, you've got it.

She did everything alone.
She went to bed on her own,

got up and washed herself.
She could do a lot on her own.

She was strong, she
had a strong upper body.

This and her indomitable will
to live independently helped her

to the end of her life. And
she has, for the last 25 years.

Edith lived not far from Tanny.

Tanny visited her occasionally,

although they had a difficult relationship.

Especially since her
mother thought that Tanny's

illness would bring her
daughter back to her.

"I have her back, I can take
care of her, visit her every day

and cook for her." That's
exactly what Tanny didn't want.

She was rude to her, but
she had to be, otherwise Edith

would have moved in with her.
Tanny wanted her independence.

Balanchine had encouraged Arthur to

founding his own ballet
company, a black company.

And Arthur found rooms in Harlem.

Roman, if you do this again,
don't let your arms down.

Hold her tight. Remember,
you want it and you don't want it.

We were in a restaurant.

I sat at one table and she at another.

I went up to her and said,
"Tanny, why don't you teach?

You have all the knowledge
and you know all the tricks."

She replied, "No, no, no!"

"But you can, use your
wits!" She said no again.

Finally she asked for
time to think about it.

I think she then spoke to
Balanchine and Jerry about it.

I said to her, "Just try it." From
then on she came regularly.

She zipped around the
studio in her wheelchair.

Mr. Balanchine gave her all the
exercises and dance steps to take with her.

My two tutors, Lydia
Abarca and Virginia Johnson,

learned everything they could from Tanny.

Clearly, the person who
saved her was Arthur Mitchell.

Balanchine would never have allowed

her to teach American
Ballet in his School Of

And she would have loved to do that.

She would have been a
wonderful teacher for all classes.

But he didn't even
want her near the school.

He would have been embarrassed

if she was in a wheelchair

would have shown up at school.
Arthur Mitchell said:

"We'll do it now! You teach with me.

We'll get someone to pick you up.
Don't worry, we'll take care of you."

Many dance teachers cannot
dance every step themselves

and use their hands
for it. They do like this:

One, and two, and three, and four.

They demonstrate with their hands how to

perform the steps. Tanny was very skilled.

She performed movements
with one hand so quickly and

gracefully that one would
think she was using both hands.

She was so fast that you didn't even

notice that one hand
wasn't working properly.

She was tough. She
said, "No, I want it that way!"

She was reserved by nature.

But certainly a bit spoiled by

her looks, her skills, her intellect.

And that didn't go away either.

This familiarity was her salvation.
She got selfish.

"I want to live!"

It's self protection. And she was tough!

When you love someone,
you have to accept that.

She was more mellow than short-tempered.
There were no questions and no accusations.

As far as I can remember, there
has never been a specific incident.

She never said Jerry
did or said this or that that

upset her. To my knowledge,
that never happened.

To be honest I never understood why

she didn't want to
spend more time with him.

Tanny's relationship with Jerry
Robbins was both hot and cold.

He drove her insane for
doing only what pleased him.

Sometimes he was there
for her, sometimes not.

I think she was fed up with

him putting her on a pedestal

and kept telling her how wonderful she was.

She didn't really like
his ballets. I hope she

didn't tell him that too
many times. The only ballets

the ones she loved more
than anything were George's.

He was the only person she
ever loved with all her heart.

After Suzanne Farrell's marriage to Paul

Mejia, I think George came to his senses.

I don't know if you should send this...

In any case, a different
life began for him now.

And when that happened,
he started visiting Tanny.

Especially in Weston.

I remember he came into Weston once

and cut all the lilacs down to about a foot

and Tanny was angry.

It took her a long time
to accept her illness.

That acceptance was
coupled with deep, personal

reflections on what was
truly important to her in life.

And I think there was
also a spiritual dimension

to the way she thought about something.

Balanchine kept talking about it,

calling himself a servant of God.

As if he were a priest - which
in some ways he actually was.

To some extent, that shaped
Tanny's feelings and thoughts as well.

And in the last letter I got from Tanny,

while George was in
the hospital, she wrote:

"The nurse said he knows exactly how he is.

He can speak, hear, feel.

She handed him the
phone and I heard her say:

'It's Tanny.' I said hello and so did he.

I said, 'I want to visit
you.' And he said: 'Good.'

Then I said, 'Goodbye, I love
you.' And he said, 'I love you.'

The last time I was
with him I talked a little

and when he fell asleep
he was holding my hand.

With love, Tanny."

Although their marriage failed,

the deep respect took hold

for George Balanchine, crowned
by love for him, never fails at Tanny.

In addition to being a husband,
ballet master and choreographer, he

was the guiding light of her
thoughts and heart throughout her life.

For years, many people,
including myself, have

dreamed of her, and she
has always been able to walk.

Always.

Doctors had told Balanchine
that Tanny wouldn't

live to be more than 40 or a little older.

But of course Tanny lived
much longer. She turned 71.

That was due to the athletic training

of a dancer, to a tremendous will

and also a little bit
about her stubborn nature.

And those were the very
things Tanny had had since

she was 14, arms
crossed, telling Balanchine,

that she had been kicked out of class.

She had the gift of living in the moment.

Where did this gift come from?

Maybe from her parents, George Balanchine,

God, life in the locker
room and ballet school.

Everyone there lives at the
moment. You know from the

start that nothing lasts
forever, nothing lasts long.

It's all very strange.

You start at a young age, then you

learn your techniques
and it's all downhill.

The arabesque doesn't work that
high anymore, your knees bend.

When you're over 30, you don't see things

the way you saw them when you were 24, 25.

Really not. Some people can do it longer.

Some, of course, shorter.

But that's one of the
terrible things in life.

At some point you get to that
point and you come to terms with it.

I think she's come to terms
with it. Like all dancers.

"I'm not a dancer anymore, who am I now?
I'm not a dancer, what am I?"

When she fell ill again towards the end of

her life, Jerry Robbins
tried his friendship

and to express love for her.

And she was grateful to him for that.

"I had a dream about Tanny.

I looked at her.

She radiated acceptance and forgiveness.

I said, 'Tanny!'

Then I walked over to her, put my arm
around her and kissed her on the lips.

She was young and old,
thin, sad, with clear eyes

and, oh, so cuddly.

I looked at her again and noticed that
other people were standing around us.

I kissed her again, passionately.

I was home."