Gelsey Kirkland in Tudor’s The Leaves Are Fading was more than good, more than good enough–she was, as Tudor himself said, “stupendous.” She brought a mesmerizing profundity to her final performances of the ballet in 1983-84.
It wasn’t until December 1983 that I saw her in the ballet she’d created in 1975–it was revived by American Ballet Theatre in Washington, D.C. at the Kennedy Center–that’s one of the few dance programs that I’ve ever kept.
An ABT dancer told me that when the company was in Boston later on that tour Charles France was heard telling someone on the phone to get up to Boston and see Leaves immediately–who knew how long she’d be able to sustain that level of performance?
When the revival bowed at the Met the following spring, Kirkland’s opening night was her farewell as well. After the performance, I saw her clutching a bouquet, laughing on stage as someone gave her a compliment, then slipping back to her dressing room.
And the next morning, or the day after, she’d resigned from ABT for the last time.
I’ve seen films of her dancing the ballet at her peak in the 1970s. I think she was better in 1983-1984. Despite the drug-ravaged state she describes in Dancing on My Grave, life and art experience had brought her to a point of maturity that made her surpass her younger self.