We discovered an entirely new ballet technique last Thursday. It was insanely hot and by the time we got to the allegro everyone was so tired we couldn’t think straight, let alone jump straight.
For those who are not familiar with ballet class: It usually starts at the barre (holding on for dear life in my case) and then continues in the centre (trying to keep balance and remember the steps at the same time). The centre is made up of a slower part, the adagio, and a faster part, the allegro. In my class, the allegro is about 5 minutes of stationary and/or moving jumps, after which we leave the studio on trembling legs because our jumps are still mostly powered by determination instead of muscles.
It must have been really hot last Thursday, because someone suggested we do grand jetés and everyone else, including the teacher, agreed.
This is what a properly executed grand jeté looks like. When our teacher does it, this is pretty much what you get (minus the fancy dress and the pointes).
Everyone in my class has been doing ballet for about two months now. Needless to say our grand jetés didn’t look quite like that.
We found that fact irresistibly funny.
Maybe it was the heat, or the fact that it was the very end of the lesson or that our jetés just looked so awful compared to the teacher’s. Maybe it was the fact that doing a grand jeté is exilarating no matter how much you suck at it. Maybe it was a combination of all of the above. But each and every one of us would be dying with laughter by the time we reached the opposite side of the room.
(Please excuse my drawing skills, they are hardly any better than my ballet skills.)
I have decided to call this amazing new step the jeté rigolé. To perform a jeté rigolé properly, you must do two things: be bad at grand jetés and find being bad at grand jetés hilarious. We can’t be the only ballet class in the world that does this, right?
I can even see a certain charm in a jeté rigolé on a professional level. Just imagine those beautiful ballerinas performing giant leaps across the stage, all while laughing their buns off.
I think they would call them – wait for it – lolerinas.