Coaching, international style: American Ballet Theatre's Russian, English, and American coaches take artistry to the next level.

Irina Dvorovenko, a principal dancer with American Ballet Theatre, has just finished performing the second-act Swan Lake variation with passion and technical perfection: her expressive arms undulating, her upper torso exquisitely bowed back in attitude as she hovers en pointe. She personifies the startled, graceful swan about to take flight. Bravos and enthusiastic applause are sure to follow. But this is not a performance at the Metropolitan Opera House, where Dvorovenko will perform the dual role Odette-Odile in July, but rather a run-through, earlier this year, at ABT's Manhattan studios for the discriminating eyes of her coach, the revered former prima ballerina of the Kirov Ballet, Irina Kolpakova. * "No bad, is good, absolutely," says Kolpakova encouragingly. After a pause she adds, "But ..." and with that, the coaching process begins. Kolpakova, who has coached at ABT for more than a decade, deconstructs the variation, and together dancer and coach will improve that which is already there and hone that which will grow in artistry.

Kolpakova says, "Ira has a lot of things she can tell you with her soul, but sometimes she doesn't feel her body. She need to free up her upper body, need to breathe and let air in." Passionately involved, Kolpakova hums as she demonstrates; her arms, hands, and delicate fingers telegraph the mood and phrasing of the steps. In her 60s, Kolpakova is as fleet, agile, and slim as a sylph. She emphasizes musical phrasing and reminds the young ballerina to "make good transitions." She clarifies, "It is like wave; it come up and down but never stop." * Later that same day, Kolpakova coaches principal dancer Maxim Belotserkovsky in the soul-searching variation from Swan Lake. Belotserkovsky, who moves like a panther on the prowl, explains, "This is the first time Prince Siegfried realizes who he is--not just this dumb guy who wants to shoot everything." * It's a difficult variation full of slow pirouettes, sweeping grand ronds de jambe, soaring jetes, and meditative walks. After the first run-through, Kolpakova compliments him: "Maxi, is very good, but need to feel more natural." She breaks down the technical and artistic components of the solo: She elongates his arabesque--"I want to see your profile, your line"--and suggests an image in Russian, changing the pace and mood of the dancer's walk upstage.

Belotserkovsky explains the coaching process. "Irina will stop and fix and stop and fix. The first day it could be pieces, the second day a certain improvement, and third day Irina could be happy--which actually never happens."

Kolpakova also coaches them together. And to watch Belotserkovsky partner Dvorovenko, who is his wife, is to see a symbiotic relationship between two dancers at their peak. Their emotional and artistic bond is unmistakable (see "Irina Loves Maxim," Dance Magazine, February 2001, page 50). As if love were in his fingertips, he guides her in pirouettes and protects her supple back from bending too far.

Kolpakova works them relentlessly and admits, "You know, it is always too much, but from this `too much' they take what they can."

The three not only speak the same language but also share their classical Russian training. Kolpakova was one of the last students of Agrippina Vaganova in St. Petersburg; the Kiev Ballet School, where Dvorovenko and Belotserkovsky trained in the Ukraine, was based on Vaganova's method. Belotserkovsky says about Kolpakova's presence, "She is not observing the rehearsals, she is with us. It's a pas de trois."

Coaching is a special process that takes the dancer to the next level. It ignites the imagination and burnishes the luster of a performer's unique qualities. Even in the age of videos and virtual imaging, there is no substitute for the intimate exchange between coach and dancer that passes on the artistry of ballet from one generation to the next.

ABT offers coaching to any member of the company preparing for a major role in a classical ballet. Regular coaching sessions are as essential as taking class if dancers are to maintain their characterization and grow as artists. Dvorovenko says, "It is like dust on the furniture. If you don't clean it, the next day there will be dust a little bit more."

Georgina Parkinson, a chic sliver of a woman who was a leading ballerina of London's Royal Ballet in the 1960s and '70s, joined ABT as a coach in 1978. She had trained at Sadler's Wells Ballet School, later called The Royal Ballet School. Her cool British approach focuses on purity and style of movement, and she gives dancers leeway to work out problems for themselves. Two of ABT's most accomplished artists, Julie Kent and Jose Manuel Carreno, are rehearsing the grand pas de deux from The Nutcracker, which they have performed many times. Parkinson spots an out-of-sync partnering maneuver but waits to let them work it out on their own before stepping in with suggestions. Parkinson acknowledges that diplomacy is an essential aspect of coaching, particularly when egos are involved. "It's basically about the work," says Parkinson, "and the coach, being the third pair of eyes, is the scale that keeps it in balance."

Bringing along young talent and helping dancers reach their potential is another aspect of coaching and an area that Parkinson particularly relishes. Today she is working with Gillian Murphy, a 23-year-old up-and-coming soloist who performed her first Odette-Odile last year. Murphy projects an unassuming confidence and an innate affinity with movement.

"Gillian has everything," says Parkinson, "speed, technique, virtuosity, and musicality. I'm just happy looking at her move through space. But she has a long way to go in the way she presents herself." In this session Parkinson works on fleshing out Murphy's Odette by helping her invest the role with dynamism and emotion. Her Prince is Carreno, the serene principal dancer from Cuba whose experience and gentle suggestions put Murphy at ease.

After the initial run-through, Parkinson encourages Murphy to "engage your whole body in every movement ... not just your arms ... so that she [Odette] is never really still. Intensify the bourrees ... retard your arm movements." Murphy assimilates the suggestions, eliciting praise from her coach: "That's great, Gillian, that's the stuff."

Parkinson says there is only so much the dancers can take in before they run dry. "They can absorb the information on one day but not necessarily put it into their bodies. It can be processed overnight and become crystal clear the next day, or it may take years. It can only be a work in progress."

The third member of ABT's coaching triumvirate is Kevin McKenzie, artistic director of the company. When McKenzie assumed the leadership of ABT ten years ago, he had been principal dancer with ABT for more than a decade. With his regal beating, exceptional musicality, and pure American style, he brought unusual depth and emotional power to a wide range of leading roles--from the classics to psychological dance dramas.

"One of my biggest fears when I became director," says McKenzie, "was that I would end up behind this desk and never be able to get into a studio. It has to be a priority," he says, "because I'm not the executive director, I'm the artistic director. I was trained to do what I do in the studio."

What he does in the studio is coach his stellar, international roster of dancers with an unerring eagle's eye. It is here that he shapes the company to fit his vision. "The word `American' in ABT," says McKenzie, "means it's an ongoing experiment.... It can always be better."

Tall and elegantly loose-limbed, McKenzie invigorates and inspires dancers with his energetic, hands-on style of coaching and easy manner. Considered one of the great partners of his generation, McKenzie demonstrates much of the heavy lifting in rehearsals. During a scene in Swan Lake, McKenzie shows 22-year-old soloist Marcelo Gomes how to execute an intricate lift. He asks principal dancer Paloma Herrera, "Can I throw you around a bit, Paloma?" With that, Herrera flies up to McKenzie's shoulder in a fish pose. He tells Gomes, "Just toss her like a pancake."

He tries it, and it works. Gomes says, "Kevin is particularly good at working out the mechanics of partnering. He can simultaneously concentrate on the boy and the girl."

McKenzie, who trained at the Washington School of Ballet with Mary Day and danced with The Joffrey Ballet as well as with ABT, is a stickler for theatrical honesty. "You walk a fine line between style and affectation," he says, "and the audience understands that." That's why in rehearsals he often decodes classical mime to prosaic prose. In the third act of Swan Lake, the Prince politely waltzes with six prospective brides chosen by the Queen Mother. McKenzie supplies Carreno, as the Prince, with the motivation for his exit with these words, "I've been a good guy, it's all been great fun. See you later."

And paramount to McKenzie is how dancers use and relate to music. A master at breaking down movement through phrasing and rhythm, he often uses sound effects like "vroooom" and "swoosh" to make a point.

Mindful of the diverse training of his dancers, McKenzie says, "I encourage them, and in some cases, demand that they consider styles outside their training."

Belotserkovsky, who dances in a wide variety of choreographers' works from Balanchine to Jiri Kylian to Twyla Tharp, says that doing so has strengthened his classical technique.

"It's not an accident," says McKenzie, "that there are a fabulous Russian ballerina and a fabulous British ballerina as coaches. I want the dancers to understand that they are both really saying the same thing, just approaching it from different angles. Also, the coaches need to be able to communicate to the dancers their enthusiasm, and their love and respect for the art form because that, in turn, inspires confidence in the dancers."

Astrida Woods, a former ballet dancer, is the dance critic for Show Business Weekly and writes for several other publications.