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The Making of Markova

~ A biography by Tina Sutton

The Making of Markova

Tag Archives: Your Show of Shows

The Television-ary Markova

03 Monday Mar 2014

Posted by Tina Sutton in Uncategorized

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Albrecht, Alicia Markova, BBC, Ed Sullivan, Eric Johns, Erik Bruhn, Giselle, Harry Selfridge, Imogene Coca, James Starbuck, John Logie Baird, Les Sylphides, Margot Fonteyn, Max Liebman, Mel Brooks, Neil Simon, Rudolf Nureyev, Sid Caesar, The Dying Swan, The Nutcracker, The Sleeping Beauty, TV pioneer, Woody Allen, Your Show of Shows

Markova rehearsing with choreographer James Starbuck for Your Show of Shows, 1953

Markova rehearsing with choreographer James Starbuck for Your Show of Shows, 1953

Sadly, the groundbreaking comedian Sid Caesar passed away last month. Reading the many tributes that followed, I was reminded of the fun I had in learning all about Alicia Markova’s appearances on Caesar’s must-see 1950s television variety program, Your Show of Shows, with Imogene Coca. Markova working with slapstick comedians – on TV? Yes indeed.

Comedienne Imogene Coca's ballet  parodies were a stitch.

Comedienne Imogene Coca’s ballet parodies were a stitch.

It was in 1952 when the program’s innovative producer Max Liebman approached “New York’s favorite ballerina,” as the papers called her. The already world-famous Markova was being wooed by many TV luminaries, including Ed Sullivan. But Your Show of Shows had one major advantage: their resident choreographer started his career in ballet. So in addition to staging weekly popular dance numbers, James Starbuck also parodied classical ballets dancing with Imogene Coca. Rather than poke fun at Markova’s beloved art, those skits actually engendered interest in ballet – hence Liebman’s invitation.

Markova was as elegant off-stage as on. Her hosting a comedy-variety show was inspired television.

Markova was as elegant off-stage as on. Her hosting a comedy-variety show was inspired television.

But Liebman had bigger plans for Markova than just dancing. From The Making of Markova:

Why not have Alicia Markova guest-host the show? No one had ever heard her speak! Audiences surely would assume Markova was Russian. Her clipped British accent would be the first surprise. And a ballerina delivering lines written by funnymen/show writers Mel Brooks, Neil Simon, and Woody Allen? Intriguing to say the least. Liebman had a surprise coming himself. He had no idea Markova was blessed with such a phenomenal memory. After the dress rehearsal, she was able to deliver all of her lines without cue cards. And the show was live.

Markova performed Les Sylphides for an audience of 30,000,000!

Markova performed Les Sylphides for an audience of 30,000,000!

For her dance number, Markova chose the dreamy classical pas de deux from Les Sylphides and asked show choreographer James Starbuck to partner her. Though he was thrilled at the offer, NBC censors were a bit nervous. How would a man in tights play across America? As Dance Magazine later reported, “We presume Starbuck’s substitution of trousers for the white tights of ‘Sylphides’ was a concession to male America’s intolerance toward the accoutrements of classical ballet. (And don’t think he doesn’t know what he’s up against. Just visualize the audience – farmhands in North Dakota, miners in West Virginia, cowboys in Colorado – getting a view of the ‘Sylphides’ pas de deux for the first time!)”

Markova's televised Dying Swan brought tears to viewers eyes.

Markova’s televised Dying Swan brought tears to viewers eyes.

The magazine was wrong. Markova and Les Syplides were a huge hit in Middle America – so huge, in fact, that she was invited back throughout the season to dance other ballets. The lively snowflake scene from The Nutcracker was a natural choice for a popular comedy/musical program, but Markova’s achingly moving Dying Swan caught viewers off guard. Commented one newspaper, Starbuck’s “imaginative production of ‘The Dying Swan’ faded out on a close-up of the final convulsive flutter of Markova’s exquisite hands, a shot which brought tears to the eyes of many viewers.” . . .

“Fan mail poured in by the thousands,” reported one newspaper. Another added, Markova’s Your Show of Shows “fan mail was so huge, a special room was given over to it.” The charming and soft-spoken British ballerina was now an American sweetheart, and her instant – and widespread – popularity didn’t go unnoticed by other television networks.” 

CBS gave Markova her own series in 1953: thirteen 15-minute programs that combined her exquisite dancing with background information on each ballet explained by way of entertaining stories and anecdotes. Markova was clearly telegenic.

Television pioneers in the '50s. Markova had them beat by two decades!

Television pioneers in the ’50s. Markova had them beat by two decades!

In today’s fractured world of endless programming options, it’s hard to imagine a weekly audience of 30,000,000 viewers! As the New York Times reported in Sid Caesar’s obituary, “from 1950 to 1954, he and his co-stars on the live 90-minute comedy-variety extravaganza ‘Your Show of Shows’ dominated the Saturday night viewing habits of millions of Americans. In New York, a group of Broadway theater owners tried to persuade NBC to switch the show to the middle of the week because, they said, it was ruining their Saturday business.” And from another Times piece, “Mr. Caesar was part of a group of men and women, few of them left now, who tend to have the phrase ‘TV pioneer’ attached to their names.”

TV studios were so small in 1932 that Markova had to choose ballets like the polka in Facade with little side to side movement.

TV studios were so small in 1932 that Markova had to choose ballets like Facade’s polka with little side to side movement.

Amazingly, Markova was also a TV pioneer, and two decades before Caesar and Coca! In 1932, the 21-year-old British ballet star became the first ballerina – and one of the first performers – ever to appear on the small screen. Both experimental and rudimentary, the newfangled “mass” medium was looked down upon by the high-toned ballet world, but Markova thought differently. She immediately recognized the power of television to reach new audiences, and literally jumped at the chance to work with Scotsman inventor John Logie Baird as he perfected his “televisor” transmissions in London. (The Baird television website is truly fascinating.) I recounted the story of how Baird and Markova made television history together in a former post you might find interesting. (Hint: the wildly promotional retailer Harry Selfridge was involved.) Markova’s early experience in the workings of television and camera angles for dance later became invaluable in America where she was asked to consult to the up-and-coming major networks

As British dance writer Eric Johns described Markova’s pioneering television efforts: “Way, way back in the almost prehistoric early thirties and the days of low definition experimental television, the flickering screens revealed the graceful figure of a dancer, one of the really great names in ballet – Alicia Markova. . . . If an international award were instituted for the most televised ballerina in the world, it would be won outright by Alicia Markova. Her pioneering has done so much to make the art of ballet, previously considered too high-brow for the masses, one of the most popular features of present day television programmes.

Markova became so associated with TV appearances in the US, that a scene of her dancing was featured in in ad for Farnsworth televisions

Markova became so associated with TV appearances in the US, that a scene of her dancing was featured in in ad for Farnsworth televisions in 1946.

“Her first experience of dancing in front of a camera was about 25 years ago in an experimental television studio in Portland-place, when she had to make up with dead white face, black lips and purple eyelids. Since then, she has televised in more countries than any other dancer. [In Rio De Janeiro she won an “Oscar” as the most outstanding personality on television.]

“Markova has become the most travelled ballerina in history, having flown hundreds of thousands of miles to fulfill engagements all over the world. She can only accept a fraction of the invitations she receives to dance in widely scattered cities on all six continents. That is why she is so enthusiastic about the boon of television. . . . she has always looked upon television as the greatest advertising medium the theatre has ever had. She considers it can perform the same function as a well-devised trailer at the cinema by attracting more and more people to the box office to pay to see plays, ballets and operas, of which they have already caught a glimpse on their screens at home.

In the early years of TV, Markova was asked to instruct camera men on the best angles to capture ballet.

In the early years of TV, Markova was asked to instruct camera men on the best angles to capture the ethereality of ballet.

” . . .Televised ballet, in Markova’s opinion, should be something more than a motion picture version of a stage performance. It opens a new field for imaginative choreographers, some of whom may decide to specialize in the new medium. . . . The television audience has the advantage of being in a position to appreciate the subtle details of hands, feet, and facial expression, which are lost in the theatre, except to the comparatively few people sitting very close to the stage.

Markova often addressed biers directly prior to performance on TV.

Markova often introduced her televised performances, enhancing viewers’ understanding and enjoyment of ballet.

“Whenever possible, Markova likes to speak to viewers before she dances, if only to say something about the particular ballet they are about to see. She has received thousands of appreciative letters from people who have enjoyed the programme all the more after listening to her words of guidance. Viewers get the impression of slipping into her dressing-room just before the curtain goes up and this close personal link makes them the ballerina’s friends for life. Afterwards they are all the more likely to go and see her dancing at a theatre whenever the opportunity comes their way.”

The glorious Margot Fonteyn as Aurora in The Sleeping Beauty, 1950

The glorious Margot Fonteyn as Aurora in The Sleeping Beauty, 1950

This week the BBC is airing several feature programs on British ballet, including rare excerpts of the magnificent Margot Fonteyn in a 1959 production of The Sleeping Beauty. Five years earlier, in 1955, the BBC presented another sensational performance: Alicia Markova dancing her legendary Giselle for the first time on television. Her partner was a young, relatively unknown Danish dancer named Erik Bruhn. Earlier that year, Markova had personally selected Bruhn as her Albrecht for a stellar season ender for Ballet Theatre (today’s American Ballet Theatre) in New York. 

Dubbed “The Matinee that Made History,” the unexpected pairing of the 44-year-old Markova and 26-year-old Bruhn electrified audiences. As John Martin wrote in the New York Times: “It may well be a date to write down in the history books, for it was as if the greatest Giselle of today were handing over a sacred trust to what is probably their greatest Albrecht of tomorrow.” Markova had just two days to coach Bruhn, who had never performed the role before. He later said her patience, advice, shared work process and confidence in him proved invaluable.

Markova and Erik Bruhn in a BBC production of Giselle, 1955

Markova and Erik Bruhn in a BBC production of Giselle, Act II (1955)

The Markova/Bruhn partnership was a sensation as they performed to sold-out houses throughout Europe. When the BBC aired the full second act of their Giselle on September 12, 1955, millions of viewers tuned in. As a London newspaper reported the next day: “Markova’s ballet a spell-binder: Television added no tricks, no close-ups and no camera juggling to the performance of Alicia Markova in the second act of ‘Giselle’ last night. The cameras were focused statically upon a single woodland setting and added only exquisite lighting to the beauty of Markova’s dancing. Television left Markova and her Danish partner, Erik Bruhn, to cast a spell of enchantment with only their dancing, and Markova, a picture of fluorescent grace in the woodland shadows, gave us the most spell-binding ballet to be seen on the screen for many a month.”

Markova and Bruhn were magical in Giselle

On and off stage, Markova was impossible to hold still.

As I wrote in The Making of Markova: A similar delirium swept the ballet world when Margot Fonteyn first danced with Rudolf Nureyev seven years later. But while that magical partnership lasted seventeen years, Markova disappeared from Bruhn’s life as quickly as she had materialized – just like Giselle. Markova was thrilled at having played a part in helping to launch what would become a brilliant career for Bruhn, and was delighted to dance with him again in the future, but now it was time to move on.

She had new worlds to conquer.

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Alicia Markova: America’s First Nutcracker Suite-heart

11 Monday Nov 2013

Posted by Tina Sutton in Uncategorized

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Alexandra Fedorova, Alexandre Benois, Alicia Markova, Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo, Ben Stevenson, Boston Ballet, Boston Opera House, George Balanchine, Houson Ballet, Lev Ivanov, Marius Petipa, Mikhail Baryshnikov, Mikko Nissinen, Milorad Miskovitch, Nichlai Legat, Nicholas Sergeyev, Piotr Tchaikovsky, Sugar Plum Fairy, The first Nutcracker, Your Show of Shows

Markova was England and America's first Sugar Plum Fairy

Markova was England and America’s first Sugar Plum Fairy

Alicia Markova had a career filled with firsts: the first British-born – and first Jewish – prima ballerina assoluta, the first to appear on television (in 1932!), the first self-managed “freelance” prima ballerina, and the first to appear on stage in just a leotard without a tutu – quite a scandal in 1925!

But one of Markova’s most charming firsts was introducing England and America to a now-ubiquitous holiday role: The Nutcracker’s Sugar Plum Fairy. In fact, Markova starred in the first-ever full-length Nutcracker outside of Russia, which was presented in London in 1934. As British dance historian and critic P.W. Manchester wrote,

Markova partnered with Stanley Judson in the first full-length Nutcracker outside of Russia. London, 1934

Markova partnered with Stanley Judson in the first full-length Nutcracker outside of Russia. London, 1934

“To most of us, [Markova] was, is, and always will be the one and only Sugar Plum Fairy. She was brittle and sparkling, like the frosted icing on a Christmas cake. There was a crystalline purity in every movement, and she made the most beautiful adagio an unforgettable experience.”

In 1940, Markova would also become America’s first Sugar Plum Fairy, but more about that shortly. How Markova came to master the original 1892 choreography is quite a story in itself, and it begins with a man who would become infamous in Russian ballet circles: Nicholas Sergeyev (1876-1951).

Sergeyev joined the Imperial Ballet in 1894, two years after The Nutcracker (Casse Noisette) premiered at the Maryinsky Theatre in St. Petersburg.

Tchaikovsky

Tchaikovsky

Marius Petipa

Marius Petipa

Set to an enchanting score by Piotr Tchaikovsky, The Nutcracker was a shared choreographic effort by the company’s Premier Maître de Ballet Marius Petipa, and his talented assistant Ballet Master Lev Ivanov (who took over when Petipa became ill). The ballet was not initially popular, falling far short of the success of the Petipa/Tchaikovsky classics The Sleeping Beauty and Swan Lake  (the latter also with contributions by Ivanov), and Petipa’s magnificent reimagining of the French romantic ballet Giselle (Markova’s signature role).

Russian ballet master Nicholas Sergeyev

Russian Imperial Ballet Master Nicholas Sergeyev

To preserve the choreography of all those time-honored works (and countless others), the Imperial Ballet undertook a 20-year documentation project painstakingly executed by a variety of ballet masters. Their detailed notations contained analysis and deconstruction of every step and movement in relation to the musical accompaniment.  When finished, it was a virtual bible of Russian classical ballet. Sergeyev – first a dancer, then a soloist, and finally régisseur-général (chief stage manager) at the company – supervised the tail-end of the documentation. Due to his dictatorial manner, he was unpopular with the dancers, and later, the government. Following the Russian Revolution in 1917, Sergeyev would be forced to flee his homeland – but not before spiriting away the bulk of the invaluable choreographic material.

Needless to say this scandalous theft did not sit well with the Imperial Ballet (later the Maryinsky), causing as much outrage in Russian cultural circles as London’s plundering of the Elgin Marbles elicited in Greece. (FYI: Renamed “The Sergeyev Collection,” the historical ballet papers are now housed in the Harvard University Theatre Collection.)

Markova at the Sadler's Wells (today's Royal Ballet)

Markova, 1930s star of the Sadler’s Wells (today’s Royal Ballet)

While Sergeyev later found employment at Sergei Diaghilev’s grand Ballets Russes, by 1932 he was poor, unemployed, and living in exile in Paris. It was at this time that British balletomanes decided to form a homegrown company. Made aware of Sergeyev’s situation, they asked if he’d consider re-staging the famous Russian classics in London. Sergeyev happily complied and taught the original choreography of Giselle, The Nutcracker, and Swan Lake to the reigning star of the Sadler’s Wells Ballet (today’s Royal Ballet), Alicia Markova.

Nikolai Legat starred in the original Nutcracker

Nikolai Legat starred in the original Nutcracker in Russia, 1892

Markova’s Sugar Plum Fairy benefited from another master teacher as well: Nicholai Legat. The prolific choreographer and former Imperial Ballet dancer had starred in the Russian premiere of the Nutcracker in 1892. As he was living in London, Legat agreed to give Markova private lessons in mastering the extremely difficult original classical variations in the last act. “Some of us would call it a ‘killer’ under our breath,” Markova explained. “There are certain steps in that, which today are never done in the last movement, such as a double gargouillade.”

By 1939, Markova was a star ballerina with the Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo and performing throughout Europe and the United States. The following year, Alexandra Fedorova  (a former Maryinsky dancer and the sister-in-law of famed choreographer Michel Fokine) was asked to choreograph a shortened version of the Petipa/Ivanov Nutcracker for American audiences. The sets and costumes were designed by Alexandre Benois, a former Ballets Russes favorite living in France. As the 14-year-old Markova had been the youngest-ever soloist at the Ballets Russes, she greatly enjoyed the reunion.

Alexandre Benois set for Nutcracker opening scene

Benois set for Nutcracker opening scene

The Nutcracker premiered at the Boston Opera House in the fall of 1940, with Markova mesmerizing audiences as the country’s first Sugar Plum Fairy. As Jack Anderson explained in his entertaining book The One and Only: The Ballet Russe De Monte Carlo: “… the Ballet Russe Nutcracker was a truncated version capable of serving as one item on a mixed bill. A brief first scene showed the Christmas party, after which Clara fell asleep and . . . journeyed immediately to the snow country and the land of sweets. Yet this was the first Nutcracker most American balletgoers had ever seen and it was extremely popular on tour.”

Markova starring in the Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo's Nutcracker Suite

Markova starring in the Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo’s Nutcracker 

Markova, age 43,  dancing the Sugar Plum Fairy with the 25-gar-old Milorad Miskovitch

Markova, age 43, dancing the Sugar Plum Fairy with the 25-year-old Milorad Miskovitch

While Markova’s Giselle was always a must-see night at the ballet, her Sugar Plum Fairy enchanted audiences throughout her entire lengthy career. In 1952, she performed the role for an audience of 30 million when she danced the snowflake scene on the hugely popular TV program Your Show of Shows, starring Sid Caesar and Imogene Coca. And the Sugar Plum Fairy was part of her repertoire the following year, when the 43-year-old bewitched audiences throughout Great Britain and Ireland partnered with the sensational Milorad Miskovitch (18 years her junior!).

Ben Steveson's Nutcracker for the Houston Ballet, photo by Amitava-Sarkar

Ben Stevenson’s Nutcracker for the Houston Ballet (photo by Amitava-Sarkar)

In 1955, 18-year-old Ben Stevenson got the thrill of his young life performing scenes from The Nutcracker with Markova in London’s West End. After an illustrious dancing career in England (including stints at The English National Ballet and the Royal Ballet), Stevenson became a very successful choreographer and artistic director – a position he held at the Houston Ballet from 1976 to 2003. The talented Brit is credited with developing the small regional Texas troupe into an internationally acclaimed company. I had the pleasure of speaking at the wonderful Houston Ballet last week (thanks to the delightful Maxine Silberstein, Hilda Frank, and Chase Cobb) and meeting many of the marvelous dancers and students. This being November, the company is about to celebrate its 26th season performing Stevenson’s Nutcracker choreography, described in the press as “impeccably beautiful, alluring, and altogether magical from the opening to the close.”

Baryshnikov's 1977 Nutcracker remains an annual viewing favorite

Baryshnikov’s 1977 Nutcracker remains an annual viewing favorite

Growing up in New York, my introduction to The Nutcracker was George Balanchine’s sumptuous production for the New York City Ballet. First performed on February 2, 1954, this resplendent annual treat made me a ballet fan for life. (And Tina the Ballerina sounded so lovely when I was 5 years old.) As an adult, I felt the same magic while watching Mikhail Baryshnikov fly through the air in his own lauded Nutcracker for the American Ballet Theatre. Filmed in 1977, it is one of the mostly widely viewed Nutcrackers in the world.

Even today, The Nutcracker never ceases to enchant me. Living in Boston, I have the pleasure of attending the internationally acclaimed Boston Ballet. Last year, the company’s longtime Artistic Director Mikko Nissinen spearheaded an entirely re-designed, re-choreographed Nutcracker that simply dazzled with breathtaking new sets and glorious costumes by the award-winning designer Robert Perdziola. And like Markova’s very first Nutcracker in the United States, the company performs at the Boston Opera House. (O.K. – it’s a replacement for the original theatre, but why quibble?)

Alicia Markova - America's Nutcracker Suite-Heart © Maurice Seymour

Alicia Markova – America’s Nutcracker Suite-heart © Maurice Seymour

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Mr. Selfridge puts Markova on TV

01 Saturday Jun 2013

Posted by Tina Sutton in Uncategorized

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Alicia Markova, Anna Pavlova, Frederick Ashton, Imogene Coca, Invention of Television, John Logie Baird, Lindy Woodhead, Mr. Selfridge, Sid Caesar, Your Show of Shows

Mr. Harry Gordon Selfridge

Mr. Harry Gordon Selfridge

“We need to put on a show,” Harry Gordon Selfridge purportedly told the staff of his grand self-named London store. And that’s just what the brash American retailer did, luring British shoppers with his lavish display tables, night-lit windows (a first), regal restaurant (with orchestra), rooftop garden (with skating rink!), and a wide array of fine luxuries on six glorious floors.

The colorful (and randy!) Selfridge is the one “on show” in the sumptuously produced Masterpiece Theatre series based on Lindy Woodhead’s engaging biography Shopping, Seduction & Mr. Selfridge. While the retailer’s self-indulgent personal life provides the drama (Oh, my!), his genius for equating shopping with entertainment – and entertainers themselves – interested me far more.

The always extravagantly attired ballerina Anna Pavlova

The always extravagantly attired ballerina Anna Pavlova

The forward-thinking Selfridge recognized early on the value of advertising celebrity tie-ins, ranging from in-store promotions (showcasing a French aviator’s record-breaking plane in the middle of his selling floor) to publicizing the shopping trips of glamorous stars. One of those luminaries was the iconic Russian prima ballerina Anna Pavlova. Selfridge first saw the legendary dancer perform at a private soiree hosted by a wealthy British aristocrat in 1911. Though the television series implies Pavlova enjoyed socializing with her public, that was not generally the case. The star ballerina certainly welcomed generous gifts from admirers – and was always extravagantly and excessively over-dressed – but she actually “offered to reduce her fee [for performing in people’s homes] from £500 to £300 if she would not be obliged to take dinner with the guests,” according to Pavlova biographer Oleg Kerensky.

Unlike Pavlova, Markova liked modern works. Here with Serge Lifar in Cimarosiana, 1927

Unlike Pavlova, Markova liked modern works. Here with Serge Lifar in Cimarosiana (1927)

Though Alicia Markova would be compared to Pavlova throughout her career – they were remarkably similar in appearance and balletic style – the two couldn’t have been more different when it came to interacting with the public. Even at the height of her career, Markova (29 years younger than her idol) always made time to sign autographs and chat with fans. She was also far more adventurous when it came to choosing ballets, enjoying the challenge of dancing new contemporary works while Pavlova remained wedded to the classics. And though Pavlova recognized – and capitalized on – the value of advertising and promotions, Markova took marketing to a whole new level. That was something she had in common with Mr. Harry Selfridge, and in the 1930s, the two helped pioneer a newfangled medium called television.

Selfridges would become the first store to feature a television in the window in 1931

Selfridges would become the first store to feature a television in the window in 1931. (Photo from the PBS series.)

It was Scotsman John Logie Baird who patented the first mechanical television system in 1923, spending the next several decades perfecting his rudimentary invention in a London studio. While many scoffed at the whole idea, Harry Selfridge thought it a great promotional draw when Baird was actually able to transmit live images in 1931. Selfridge not only put a large “televisor” set in the store’s Oxford Street window, but also took out newspaper ads and bus display banners to promote scheduled performances and transmission times.

Realizing that only the most compelling programming would lure customers to stand outside and watch (presumably followed by a shopping trip inside), Baird approached London’s most acclaimed ballerina, 21-year-old Alicia Markova. He knew Selfridge had been a big fan of Pavlova (there were rumors of an affair) and Markova was seen as the Russian ballerina’s successor after she unexpectedly died of pleurisy in January 1931. Although Baird warned Markova of the primitive and difficult conditions required for broadcast transmission, the young dancer literally leapt at the chance. Alicia Markova would become the first ballerina ever to appear on television.

Markova danced the Polka from Frederick Ashton's humorous Façade in her first television appearance, 1932

Markova danced the Polka from Frederick Ashton’s humorous Façade in her first television appearance, 1932

Performing in Baird’s tiny transmission studio – a mere 12 x 12 foot room – was quite an adventure. Markova’s recollections from The Making of Markova: “It was the size of a postage stamp! The floor was covered in big black and white checks and we had to have a piano for musical accompaniment. Then there was this huge beam of light that used to flicker so it was very difficult to balance or focus. There wasn’t room for a partner, so I had to dance alone. For everything, you had to stay in one place. You really couldn’t move around because there wasn’t anywhere to move. The costumes had to be brought in ahead of time and all outlined with black ribbons. And the make-up – dead white – with a black mouth and purple eyes. And when I finished the little variation, to get off camera, I had to duck down, bend, and crawl out under the piano. But I so wanted to be in in the beginning.” Markova chose two ballets that required little side-to-side movement: Moods by Balanchine and the “Polka” from Ashton’s Façade. 

Markova pioneered ballet performances on television

Markova pioneered ballet performances on television

Though many in the ballet world thought the whole idea of television completely beneath them, Markova immediately grasped its power to popularize classical dance. And while that was her goal, appearing “live” in Selfridge’s windows, with all the attendant advertising and publicity, made Alicia Markova a London household name.

Markova on the BBC, 1957

Markova on BBC, 1957

Again, from The Making of Markova: “She could well have described herself as one of its [television’s] pioneers,” reported Ballet Today in a 1955 profile of Markova, “for she has made countless appearances on the screen, both in this country and in the United States. It is a medium in which she has expressed her faith by her very loyalty and devotion. She recognized it then as a suitable medium for ballet, which only recently has been universally accepted and appreciated. In the days before the war it was still treated in many quarters as a subject for derision and music-hall jokes.”

Markova rehearsing with choreographer James Starbuck for Your Show of Shows, 1953

Markova rehearsing with choreographer James Starbuck for Your Show of Shows, 1953

In 1953, Markova was asked to guest-host the comedy/variety program Your Show of Shows, starring Sid Caesar and Imogene Coca. Thirty-million people tuned in and fell in love with the humorous, self-deprecating ballerina. Markova received so much fan mail, she was offered her own half-hour TV program.

Thanks Mr. Selfridge.

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