by Jacquelyn Thayer
Madison Hubbell and Zach Donohue have hit a sort of “Hallelujah” trifecta. Certainly they’re the first team to marry skating’s favorite versions of the Leonard Cohen composition—those of Jeff Buckley and k.d. lang—in a single program, and the first to present two separate programs to the song. And more than this, they tapped a choreographer who skated to it himself: Scott Moir, who in 2012-13 used Buckley’s version for an exhibition with partner Tessa Virtue.
The Buckley connection, though, was purely fortuitous. Last season, a year after his retirement from competition, Moir offered his first choreographic insights to former training mates Hubbell and Donohue, adding some input on a program they’d already forged with coach Marie-France Dubreuil.
The plan was always for more, given a special connection between Moir and Donohue, who first shared training space in the 2010-11 season, in Canton, Michigan, when Donohue was paired with Alissandra Aronow and Moir and Virtue had an unusual season including surgery for her and an overdue return to competition. The bond grew years later in Montreal, with Virtue and Moir training there from 2016 through 2018.
“They had something unique, where I think a lot of us train hard, we all have a very supportive quality within the school, but Zach and Scott were able to push each other a little bit, almost challenge each other to be pushing harder or motivating each other in a little bit different way,” said Hubbell. “So I think that kind of started the spark that was like, maybe this would work and maybe this would be a good addition. You know, I connect a lot with Marie in choreography and we have a lot of amazing people here, but I think that Zach was able to find a different part of himself working with Scott, and the coaches were able to see that that would be a good combination.”
Timing, however, was trickier. “It turns out that when you’re one of the most decorated skaters of all time, you got some stuff to do, so he was hard to nail down,” said Hubbell. “So I think that actually, this really strange year, where everything was on pause, was a big blessing for us because it gave Scott a lot of time that maybe he would have otherwise been using to tour or go to competitions with his own students.”
The team estimated that they’ve worked with Moir about five times now, including for four days in mid-December a week before our conversation. “It’s pretty amazing, but he always watches our competitions and gives us feedback,” said Donohue. “And he’s in close communication with Marie, so he comes in with a pretty solid plan every time. And we’re just able to breathe a little bit of life into transitions that we thought we understood and get a deeper understanding of them, another energy, a little bit more of a connection to each other within that music. And we both feel the music so well, sometimes it’s easy to get lost in it ourselves, so it’s nice to have him there to kind of give us those focus points on how we can really bring everyone into our story.”
Moir’s recent competitive experience is a boon, noted Donohue, and so too his ability in retirement to focus more on process than results. “From my standpoint of having trained with him and always only seeing the push and the drive and the intensity that is Scott Moir, it’s really interesting to see the way his mind works and the details,” he said. “The way he thinks about starting and finishing a movement, why that movement registers to him, why certain ones work and why others don’t, why they can seem disingenuous. To be able to pinpoint what it is, no, there’s no way, and even if I could, to be honest, I wouldn’t put it out there, because that’s his thing. It’s not for me to share.”
“I was surprised at his specificity,” said Hubbell. “Even now, when he was here, you know, we have the whole program set, but we might spend the entire two-hour lesson with him on one little 10-second transition, because he was very dialed into these moments that he wanted a certain way. There was no rush to get there at a certain point—he was going to spend as much time as needed to get the result that he wanted.”
But that attention to detail was also critical for the team. “That’s part of, I think, why we’re able to feel so comfortable in the piece as well,” she concluded. “Like, there aren’t any sticky moments, there aren’t things that are up in the air or like, oh, this isn’t comfortable, but just push through because it looks fine.”
Moir’s other priority has been keying in on the team’s assets. “Really committing to the fact that if we stay true to what we’re good at and what we like to perform, that that would be enough, and we don’t have to necessarily try to attain all the things from each team or be the best at everything,” said Hubbell. “We have to be the best at what we are.”
And what that is, they’ve determined, is something Moir knows a bit about: the basics. “We love stroking, we love footwork, we love edge quality more than any flashy tricks or more acrobatic moments,” she continued. “We like the human connection of looking each other in the eyes and the simplicity that can come from something that looks simple, but really isn’t simple to execute.”
The free dance made its full public debut in October, via an at-home video performance submitted to U.S. Figure Skating’s International Selection Pool Points Challenge—a new event introduced to allow elite skaters a competitive opportunity in the wake of COVID-related event cancellations. Its only traditional outing so far came at late October’s Skate America, before a live audience of judges, tech panelists, and whimsical cardboard cutouts of fans, pets, and the GEICO Gecko®. Any subsequent outside feedback has also come long-distance—thanks to video submissions to judges and the federation—but despite the uncertainties of the season beyond the U.S. Figure Skating Championships, the team has found ways to stay focused.
“I’d say that staying motivated, at least for myself, has been pretty easy because first, we chose programs that we both really enjoy performing, and second, that we really connect to,” said Donohue. “And then on top of that, we have some of our closest competition here with us. So I think that’s a pretty fortunate situation for us.”
“And especially working with an outside choreographer has helped, I think, kind of put almost competition dates in our mind,” added Hubbell. “It’s almost like those little milestones where it’s like, okay, we know Scott will come back in a month and a half and he’s left us with these projects, and now let’s develop those. And then we get feedback from him.”
The open schedule has, in its way, taught patience. “There were some moments in there that maybe the choreography was a new feeling for us, and instead of having to make it work or simplify something because a competition was coming, we were just able to really commit to the project,” she continued. “And things have remained relatively stable, which is actually, I think, better in the long term for the development of the program.”
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There’s another bond involved here—that between Hubbell, Donohue, and “Hallelujah,” a connection they’ve discussed since first using lang’s rendition for their short dance in the 2015-16 season. It’s a song closely tied to the early days of their partnership, when Donohue would sing the piece to Hubbell to ease her nerves. In the strangeness of this year’s off-ice off-season, coach Patrice Lauzon suggested the team choose a piece for their free dance that felt like home for them, or a concept that felt underexplored. The answer—including the choice this time of Buckley—was obvious.
“I think we feel like we never really got to fully experience what ‘Hallelujah’ was or could have been because it was missing the feeling that we get… I mean, any time we’d be in the car on a road trip, we’d play one, we’d talk about the other,” said Donohue. “Play the other one, we’d talk about the other one. I mean, they were always kind of synonymous with each other because of the balance of what they brought to the other piece.”
Lang’s version, with a more pronounced 6/8 beat and warmer arrangement, was the more obvious choice for a short dance pairing a Ravensburger Waltz and march. “And it was a good time, I think, in our career, the first year of coming to these new coaches, to explore the more hopeful and outward expression of ‘Hallelujah,’” said Hubbell. But the free was another story. “We knew that the Jeff Buckley version was very important to our relationship. And the Jeff version is Zach for me—like, that is him personified. So it definitely wasn’t going to be the right program without it.”
Dubreuil asked the couple which elements of each song they most wanted to utilize, and she, Moir, and music editor Hugo Chouinard took command of the final arrangement, while Karl Hugo composed a bridging piece to connect the two versions. The full edit has remained untouched since its creation—an unusual situation for elite ice dancers in general, and particularly for Hubbell and Donohue.
“We’re usually the ones nitpicking here and there,” said Hubbell. “And I think she knew that we were so attached to this song that even talking the first time, it was like, which parts do you like? And I was like, well, I like this verse and this verse, and I definitely want to use this verse. I think she knew that she had to take an outsider’s approach. Definitely there are verses that I am very attached to myself that aren’t in that song, and I just carry that energy into the music, even though the words aren’t there.”
Musically, Buckley’s version in particular can be challenging for a skater, incorporating unusual rhythmic moments and spare instrumental backing, while the soaring vocal line and steady pace of lang’s version demands creativity to avoid any obvious choices. An inability to choreograph on ice until after the song’s final edit disrupted the team’s typical hands-on approach to working through music, elements, and layout as an ongoing process.
“Twizzles, for example, was a part where we had a completely different feeling of where it should start, and Marie said something like, ‘oh, we should start it on this music,’ and we were like—” Hubbell offered a dubious expression. “’Not sure, that seems like the weirdest accent to start.’ And then we tried it, and it was like, wow.” So too, she said, with the choreographic sliding move that closes the program.
The outcome has been a program with each element custom-set to the music, intricately woven with even the subtlest accents—even if it means scrapping planned work. “We had a lift in mind that we wanted to put in, and we’ve been working on it throughout the season,” she continued. “And as cool as the lift is, it doesn’t seem to fit. It’s like too dynamic for the quietness of the music, so I think it goes into the log for another year.”
“Hallelujah” itself is often custom-modified by its interpreters. Leonard Cohen claimed to have composed around 80 verses for the song, shifting lines in and out in live performance and giving future artists an opening to craft the story they most wish to emphasize. Hubbell and Donohue similarly prefer to leave their own program open to viewer interpretation.
“We chose it because it’s something very personal and it’s very home for us, and even in the creation of the program with Scott, he never asked to go too far into that bubble,” said Hubbell. But for the team, the messages conveyed by Buckley and lang transcend words.
“[Buckley] has this kind of broken vulnerability about him,” said Donohue. “Like, you hear his voice, and you just kind of don’t move. Even the way he just exhales in the very beginning of the music—we didn’t cut that out because we really felt like it set the tone for what he was feeling and the way he was expressing the lyrics.”
Hubbell finds in Buckley’s rendition a sense of loss, “a painful kind of plea,” whereas lang’s version offers a sense of catharsis. “Jeff’s, each verse, you just feel a little bit more broken inside, a little bit more empty,” she said. “It’s part of why we put Jeff at the beginning, because we felt like we needed to build to a moment of, okay, everything is going to be okay. We all go through this, and there’s light on the other side.”
And then there’s the sense of subject matter—the interpretations of “Hallelujah,” of course, ranging from the spiritual to the sensual.
Of Buckley’s, Hubbell noted, “there’s an intimate, more of a human quality, where I feel like he’s singing about someone or about a lover. There are moments in that song where it feels so much more of a human to human connection. And then k.d.’s, where it really feels ethereal. It feels like she’s singing to God, it feels like she’s asking for some help or some guidance from something that is not understood.”
And while Hubbell and Donohue’s free dance is the merging of two musical perspectives, it’s good to remember that so, too, is its design—Moir joined by the veteran Dubreuil.
“For me,” said Hubbell, “working with them and doing their choreography, it’s like Scott is the Jeff Buckley version and Marie-France is the k.d. lang version. Scott has this grounded, very real—like, there’s no faking the emotion, there’s no contrived story, there’s just real connection, intimacy. You know, just that kind of earthy version that is Jeff Buckley. And working with Marie-France is a lot more giving, it’s a lot more bringing something to the audience that’s watching you, open and graceful and specifically very feminine.”
It’s been said that “Hallelujah” is a song that didn’t quite find its own final form until transformed by new interpretations—first by John Cale, who inspired Jeff Buckley, the impact of whose version then, on some level, inspired many others that followed.
And while it’s easy to look at one team’s free dance as a revision, or perhaps addendum, to an earlier short, it’s more compelling to consider the idea of a genetic thread between interpreters. As Cohen begat Cale begat Buckley and lang, Virtue and Moir’s own “Hallelujah” was choreographed by Marina Zoueva, who injected into that exhibition a few moves drawn from decorated pair Ekaterina Gordeeva and Sergei Grinkov. Hubbell and Donohue’s free in turn carries not only Moir and Dubreuil’s DNA, but echoes of their forebears. The complex but intimate transitions would’ve suited any Virtue and Moir free dance of the early 2010s; the emphasis on utilizing every inch of music through contemporary dance is a legacy of Jennifer Swan and Guillaume Cote.
But my own investment in identifying the program’s intricacies, from musical nuance to choreographic accent, is also just another way of interpreting the enigma that is “Hallelujah.”
“We hope that when people watch it, they have their own experience,” said Hubbell. “Even for us, each time we skate it or practice it, it can bring out a different feeling based on what we’re going through in that moment, so I don’t think there’s a story that should be known. I mean, ‘Hallelujah,’ for me, is like life. Whatever you need it to mean for you in that moment is what it should mean.”