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Stanley Holden Dance Center - Great Starts: American Teacher Series
Dance Magazine, Sept, 1995 by Donna Perlmutter
It's near the end of his class and Stanley Holden calls out, "Bye, sweetheart," to the girl retrieving her bag from the corner and now heading for the door. The same little scene repeats itself several more times as the ballet master, an imp of a ruddy-cheeked man, dispenses cheery and nonchalant farewells to others making their exits. Without ever dropping a beat and while demonstrating the combination at hand, he offers an explanation: "You see, I've just given them the bag step. It's my name for the hard one that makes everyone run for their bag."
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This is pure Holden--goodwill, wit, humor, and an inner delight in dancing, all fused with a slightly laissezfaire tone. Its essence permeates the atmosphere where the former Royal Ballet character dancer-turned-teacher holds forth day after day--a feat he's been pulling off at his West Los Angeles studio on Pico Boulevard for the past twenty-five years. Make that every day and twice on Sunday, the first one beginning at 9:30 A.M. At this particular noon class, the professional one, there are thirty-five people of various ages who clearly come from diverse disciplines--there's the former Graham principal, Bonnie Oda Homsey; an ex-Ballet Theatre demi-soloist who's married to Danilo Radojevic; several others from the Joffrey (on hiatus); and a few local performance artists intent on strengthening dance skills. Not everyone is strictly professional, but Holden, who has just celebrated his sixty-seventh birthday, bars the door only to anorexics. "If they look dangerously thin," he explains, "I ask for a doctor's note. Otherwise the people who, for one reason or another, are not up to the class simply drop off. I don't hold auditions, although there was a time when I could be more selective." One woman at the rear, who approaches everything the way a gymnast might, can do all the steps and remember the combinations, but shows no dancerly quality at all. "She's been coming for years but never worked professionally," Holden says.
As he describes the range of attendees, including celebrities passing through town, a note of pride comes into his voice. After all, the Stanley Holden Dance Center is local headquarters for touring dance companies. "And when Baryshnikov came last time we swelled to eighty-six. That was more than I could handle but they wanted to pack in."
In a way those are the glory moments, because Los Angeles currently suffers a dearth of opportunities for dancers. "There's no work here for anybody these days. That's why people leave," Holden explains. And now, with touring down and most troupes bypassing Los Angeles proper for Orange County, which is an hour-plus drive down the freeway, the traffic at his studio has thinned considerably.
But that seems not to dim his brio. Taking just a moment to formulate the next combination, he launches into the phrase--his arms held endearingly aloft in Fifth Position, his upper back leaning into the arc, his head cradled within it. The class follows. No one, however, quite gets the feeling. No one defines it as an act of love except Holden. If the thrust of dancing lies in its communicative or emotive value, only one person here seems acquainted with the idea.
Next comes an infectious comic galop from the pianist, and the ballet master quickly sets it in steps that suggest saucy fun. Again the class follows. But no one wears a smile. "They won't listen to what the music tells them," he says. "Whenever I encourage them to imagine they're dancing for an audience, they say, "We're concentrating on our technique.'" Far be it from Holden to impose himself. "Lermontov is gone," he says, referring to the Old World commandant-style impresario in The Red Shoes. "The days of the stick are over, and besides, no one wanted me to be like that. I feel I know what dancers need and what they want. It's possible to get just as much through kindness as harshness, even if you don't see it coming back at you right away."
Born to a poor family in London's East End, Holden yearned to be a tap dancer in the mode of Fred Astaire. At nine he began lessons that cost a shilling a week, and several years later, to advance his skills as a tapper even further, ballet study was recommended. He put on the despised tights, took the dreaded classes, and lo and behold, a new direction beckoned. At sixteen he passed his advanced R.A.D. (Royal Academy of Dancing) examination and within weeks became a member of the Sadler's Wells (later the Royal) Ballet. Some have felt that, in an earlier time, none of this would have transpired, that he would have headed for the music halls. As it turned out, there was a niche made to order for this outsized personality: character dance. At his peak, Holden stood out as ballet's only true comic in the Chaplin tradition.
According to London critic Janet Sinclair, "He has the gift of all great comedians: one always laughs with him and never at him. This characteristically gentle humor can have us fall about laughing at his Dr. Coppelius and Widow Simone, but he is in no way diminished by our laughter. Just as with Chaplin, we know quite well that he could at any moment turn our laughter into tears."
