Surya Bonaly is not actually from India; her parents were hippies who had an India fixation. They adopted Surya and chose an Indian name--and the rest is history.
Surya was an athlete even very early on. She tumbled. She did gym-related feats. When she arrived on the ice, she seemed to intuit that this was where she belonged--and she seemed to transfer her gymnastics skills into this new setting, with ease.
Everyone knows about the back-flip. Bonaly could do this on the ice, and could land on one skate. Also, she could land quads easily; other women weren't having that particular success. (Rehearsal was different from performance. Bonaly's coach urged her *not* to attempt a quad in performance, but Bonaly, being Bonaly, tried, nevertheless--and failed.)
A main feature of the young athlete's persona was a kind of imperiousness and candor. Bonaly wouldn't worry too much about conventions. This inevitably pushed her into trouble zones; she would be penalized for an illegal flip, or she would fall during a quad, or, famously, she would make her distaste well-known when receiving a silver medal. (Bonaly refused to stand on a podium once, and the incident will make you think of Serena Williams's recent appearance in the news. Bonaly believed that she had been unjustly denied a gold. "I'm just not lucky," she told the press, when, perhaps, she could have said, "This is a rigged, racist game." Tara Lipinski, in the present, objects to Bonaly's emotional honesty. "I get it," says Lipinski, "but you have to be a politician at all times." Perhaps this is easy to say if you're white!)
When Bonaly finally left the world of competition, there was a sense of sighing-with-relief. It seems Bonaly blossomed in the professional world. She became more widely loved. She would land flip after flip: Apparently, she hasn't flubbed a back-flip once since "going professional." She warns young skaters against medal-fixation: "Skate for the love of skating," she says. She is particularly interested in tackling the issue of inclusivity--on the ice. She wants everyone to feel empowered to try skating.
I loved having the spotlight trained on Surya--for forty minutes--via the Netflix program sardonically entitled "Losers." I think it's Episode Three. Look out for this.
What I especially loved was: getting reminded of the instant high of seeing great artistry. Real brilliance can take several forms. It can be out-of-this-world figure skating. It can be the extravagant costumes I saw recently at a show in Montreal: "Thierry Mugler--Beyond Couture." It can be the actress Shoshana Bean, covering "I Wanna Dance with Somebody." (If you haven't seen this yet, I urge you to go to YouTube. The impact is otherworldly.)
If I'm confronted by brilliance, I don't really need to know what is going on. I don't need to understand how Bean--or Bonaly--produces the impact she produces. I still sense I'm in the presence of greatness. That there is worth the investment of time. (No question.)
Another fine feature of the Netflix Bonaly documentary: It will inspire you to go down a rabbit hole regarding Yuna Kim, Nathan Chen, Scott Hamilton, Michelle Kwan, etc. Hours well-spent!
Surya was an athlete even very early on. She tumbled. She did gym-related feats. When she arrived on the ice, she seemed to intuit that this was where she belonged--and she seemed to transfer her gymnastics skills into this new setting, with ease.
Everyone knows about the back-flip. Bonaly could do this on the ice, and could land on one skate. Also, she could land quads easily; other women weren't having that particular success. (Rehearsal was different from performance. Bonaly's coach urged her *not* to attempt a quad in performance, but Bonaly, being Bonaly, tried, nevertheless--and failed.)
A main feature of the young athlete's persona was a kind of imperiousness and candor. Bonaly wouldn't worry too much about conventions. This inevitably pushed her into trouble zones; she would be penalized for an illegal flip, or she would fall during a quad, or, famously, she would make her distaste well-known when receiving a silver medal. (Bonaly refused to stand on a podium once, and the incident will make you think of Serena Williams's recent appearance in the news. Bonaly believed that she had been unjustly denied a gold. "I'm just not lucky," she told the press, when, perhaps, she could have said, "This is a rigged, racist game." Tara Lipinski, in the present, objects to Bonaly's emotional honesty. "I get it," says Lipinski, "but you have to be a politician at all times." Perhaps this is easy to say if you're white!)
When Bonaly finally left the world of competition, there was a sense of sighing-with-relief. It seems Bonaly blossomed in the professional world. She became more widely loved. She would land flip after flip: Apparently, she hasn't flubbed a back-flip once since "going professional." She warns young skaters against medal-fixation: "Skate for the love of skating," she says. She is particularly interested in tackling the issue of inclusivity--on the ice. She wants everyone to feel empowered to try skating.
I loved having the spotlight trained on Surya--for forty minutes--via the Netflix program sardonically entitled "Losers." I think it's Episode Three. Look out for this.
What I especially loved was: getting reminded of the instant high of seeing great artistry. Real brilliance can take several forms. It can be out-of-this-world figure skating. It can be the extravagant costumes I saw recently at a show in Montreal: "Thierry Mugler--Beyond Couture." It can be the actress Shoshana Bean, covering "I Wanna Dance with Somebody." (If you haven't seen this yet, I urge you to go to YouTube. The impact is otherworldly.)
If I'm confronted by brilliance, I don't really need to know what is going on. I don't need to understand how Bean--or Bonaly--produces the impact she produces. I still sense I'm in the presence of greatness. That there is worth the investment of time. (No question.)
Another fine feature of the Netflix Bonaly documentary: It will inspire you to go down a rabbit hole regarding Yuna Kim, Nathan Chen, Scott Hamilton, Michelle Kwan, etc. Hours well-spent!
Debi Thomas. I was obsessed as a child.
ReplyDeleteVery nice! My favorite is Yuna Kim-- but, in childhood, my favorite was maybe Scott Hamilton.
ReplyDelete