The Dancer Within. Rose Eichenbaum

      “Body movement was never a problem for me. You build your character using the whole of you—not just in your brain. With the Stanislavsky method of acting you learn that the character comes from inside of you and has a particular appearance with physical characteristics. I have always been aware of this in the characters I’ve played. In Gigi, for example, I became physically awkward, my feet turned in like this [standing and demonstrating], and I stood more on one side—sort of off center.”

      “If you could relive your life, would you have done anything differently?”

      “Yes. I wish I had been just a dancer or just an actor. I think my having been a dancer impaired my acting career. By the time I decided I was finished with ballet and wanted to be an actress, there was a label put on my name. Very few can get out of dancing and go into real drama. You’re viewed as someone who only knows how to do light entertainment. You can’t play Medea after Cinderella.”

      Just then I heard the sound of rain hitting the windows.

      “Oh, no. I wanted to photograph you outside against the Paris skyline.”

      “We can still do that, Rose. We have umbrellas, don’t we? Let me go and change, and we’ll take a walk out toward the Seine. I know a nice spot only minutes away.”

      Leslie returned wearing a pair of plaid pants and an apple-green jacket with matching scarf. Grabbing an umbrella and a leash for Prunelle, her Bichon maltais, she led the way.

      “How’s this?” she asked when we reached the river.

      “It’s a great location. I just hope I can manage.”

      Ariella held an umbrella over me as I removed a camera from my bag. Leslie waited patiently while I loaded film and checked the camera’s settings.

      “I’m ready now. Action!” I called out.

      Leslie began to walk along the edge of the Seine with little Prunelle following closely behind.

      “Look here,” I called out. Leslie turned toward me and threw me a warm smile. I felt like the luckiest American in Paris.

       Paris, March 2005

       Fernando Bujones

      I arrived the day before the premiere of the Orlando Ballet’s 30th year gala at the Carr Performing Arts Center. Entering through the stage door, I encountered a bustle of activity: stagehands building sets, props being sorted, dancers stretching and rehearsing.

      “Do you know where I can find Fernando?” I asked a long-legged ballerina.

      “He’s on the stage,” she said pointing. Spotting Fernando working with a group of dancers, I waited in the wings so as not to disturb the rehearsal. After he dismissed the dancers, I stepped out into the light.

      “Hello, Fernando.”

      “Rose,” he said with delight, wrapping his arms around me.

      “This is some company you have here.”

      “Well, just wait until you see them dance! Come, let’s talk in my dressing room,” he said leading me backstage.

      “I have a very unusual story, Rose. When I was five years old, I was very thin and didn’t have a good appetite. My mother became alarmed and took me to see a psychiatrist. After examining me, he told her there was nothing physically wrong with me and that my not eating was a ploy to get attention. He prescribed exercise, which he said would boost my appetite and solve the problem. So my mother put me in ballet classes. By the end of the first day, I was starving. My appetite improved and, without knowing it, she started me on my career path.”

      “I understand you received your early training in Cuba.”

      “Yes, that’s correct, at the Ballet Nacional de Cuba in Havana, with Alicia Alonzo. But I was born in Miami, Florida, on March 9th in 1955. I’m proud of that date because I’m born around the same time as two legendary dancers, Vaslav Nijinsky, born on March 12th and Rudolf Nureyev, born on March 17th. My family moved to Cuba when I was very young, which is where I received my ballet foundation. My professional training began when I received a scholarship to study at the School of American Ballet. This came about when my mother had the opportunity to meet New York City Ballet dancer Jacques d’Amboise. She told him about me, and he offered to watch me dance. Afterwards, he turned to her and said, ‘I will personally see to it that Fernando receives a scholarship for the summer program at the School of American Ballet in New York City. When Diana Adams, one of the company’s principal dancers saw me in class, she began a campaign to keep me in New York. I was offered a full-year scholarship. ‘We are a very close Latin family,’ my mother protested. ‘I can’t possibly leave my twelve-year-old son alone here in New York City.’ A good negotiator, my mother worked it out so that SAB would relocate her to New York and give her a living allowance. I would be enrolled in the professional students’ school for my general studies and SAB would pay the tuition. We returned to Miami, packed our things into a little Volkswagen, and followed I-95 north to New York. This was the beginning.”

      “I imagine the teachers at SAB immediately began grooming you for a place in the New York City Ballet.”

      “Yes, I received a good deal of attention. They were so impressed with me that my scholarship was extended year after year for the next five years. Mr. Balanchine asked me to join New York City Ballet when I was only fourteen, but I felt that I was too young and not ready. He invited me again when I was seventeen, after my graduation performance. But Lucia Chase, artistic director of American Ballet Theatre, along with Erik Bruhn, one of ballet’s most prominent male dancers, had seen me perform in SAB’s school productions and wanted me for ABT. Lucia Chase told me, ‘I’ve seen you dance and I know your talent. Then she offered me a corps de ballet contract—no audition required. I was faced with a big decision—New York City Ballet or American Ballet Theatre.”

      “How did you decide?”

      “Well, I had an experience when I was around fifteen that helped me make up my mind. I was in class at SAB when the studio door opened and a head peeked in—a man with a very strong face and high cheekbones. He entered and took a place at the barre right in front of me. And from the minute he arrived, he didn’t take his eyes off of me. His gaze was so intense I felt as if he were seeing right through me. Before class was over he pulled my teacher aside and spoke to him quietly. After class my teacher approached and said, ‘Fernando, Rudolf Nureyev is very impressed with you. He called you a first-class dancer.’ Can you imagine what that meant to me? I was flying high. I left the studio to get a sip of water in the hallway fountain, when I heard the door of the men’s dressing room open and the sound of boots coming towards me. I looked up, and there standing over me was Nureyev. He clicked his heels together and said, ‘It was a pleasure to watch you dance.’ I practically choked on the water. He extended his hand to me and said, ‘I wish you all the best and I hope you make the right decision about what company you choose for your future.’ I knew instantly what he meant. He was saying that with my classical training, I should be dancing classical ballets and full-length story ballets. New York City Ballet’s repertory was based on Balanchine’s neoclassic pure dance ballets—short ballets intended to highlight the physical body, not character or story.”

      “Did you feel that if you remained with New York City Ballet you would not fulfill your potential as a dancer?”

      “I felt that I would not become the complete artist that I hoped to be. I would be an instrument for a wonderful choreographer, yes, but as dancer, I would be limited. A dance career is not complete unless you grow technically and artistically. To grow you must be challenged. I wanted to be challenged. I wanted to interpret characters and express myself through dramatic roles. And remember, Balanchine always said, “Ballet is woman.” What of the male dancer? I felt there had to be more than