Home
Ballet Talk
Magazines
Specials
Reviews
Ballets
Dancers
Companies
Studio
Shop
Links
Subscribe

---

The Kirov Ballet in Baden-Baden,
Germany, April 4- 9, 2000

By Marc Haegeman.

 

Last April, the Kirov Ballet returned to Baden-Baden, anattractive little German spa town on the border of the Black Forest that has one of the largest theaters in Europe. The famous Russian company was guesting for the second time with a highly attractive program that for once avoided the customary playing-for-safe treatment of Swan Lakes and Fokine. To pair the newly reconstructed Petipa-Sleeping Beauty with an all-Balanchine program, and showing a Gala evening of ten highlights of the classical repertoire to close the engagement, was more than what even the most demanding ballet lover could hope for.

The Sleeping Beauty is one of the undisputed monuments of the repertoire. Made for the Maryinsky Theatre in 1890, by a miraculous symbiosis of talent with composer Tchaikovsky, choreographer Petipa, and theatre director Vsevolozhsky joining forces, the ballet not only represents the peak of Petersburg classicism, it also remained the incarnation of academic dancing at its most sublime. Until recently the Kirov danced Beauty in the now often scorned staging by Konstantin Sergeyev dating from 1952 which, although in due need of some freshening up, still presented one of the most convincing renditions and adaptations of the work in the last decades. Now, however, it was decided to go back to the very beginning, aiming to provide us a glimpse of the masterpiece in its original guise, by digging up the notations of the original choreography made by Maryinsky balletmaster Nikolai Sergeyev in 1903 and by reconstructing the stage designs used at the premiere in 1890. It is the back-to-the-roots tendency pushed to its very limits. Intriguing in itself, the result is nonetheless questionable.

After seeing this reconstruction on two occasions in this short season, it became quite obvious why ever since the premiere in April 1999 at the Maryinsky, the new/old Beauty has divided artists, critics and public. Of course, it discloses a much more complex theater experience than we ever had before. But the fact is also that with the enthusiasm and sense of discovery accompanying the first showings in the West, the new production was attributed novelties, which actually had been already featured in the previous K. Sergeyev-version. To name but a few, the often-mentioned violin solo played during the entr'acte has always been there, as was the moving panorama (of course, absent in Baden-Baden), or the mime sequence of the royal couple following the discovery of the knitting women. Everything is just a bit more to the letter.

Except for parts of the prologue and for the roles of the Lilac Fairy and the Prince, beefed up in the Soviet era, the choreography was not changed as radically as some want us to believe, and the switch back to the "original" Petipa is seldom felt as an improvement or a revelation of choreographic genius (e.g. the unfitting variation of the Lilac Fairy in the prologue; the weak dances in the forest; the crass variation of Aurora in the second Act; the Blue Bird Pas de deux in parts). Worse, the dramatic possibilities of some scenes, aptly staged in the Soviet version, come to nothing in the new one (e.g. Aurora's entrance is a complete miss; so is the Prince's journey to the sleeping kingdom; the apotheosis is hardly worth the name) and some re-introductions may better be edited right away (e.g. the useless Cinderella number).

The eternal problem of how present-day audiences and artists cope with such no-nonsense historical reconstructions persists. It may well be that Petipa's Beauty contains plenty of ideas and symbolism, but if the public of today needs a guidebook to grasp them, they might as well be abandoned. In any case, for many watchers, including some German critics, efforts like these only reinforce the image of the Kirov Ballet as an unworldly museum-troupe, unfit to enter the 21st century. And this image is precisely the one the Kirov, or indeed any other company, should try to shun at all costs.

More importantly, as for the artists, in spite of all the hype about authenticity and historical accuracy, an unequivocal attitude of the company toward the whole undertaking seems to be lacking. In an allegedly faithful reconstruction of a late 19th-century ballet, a certain degree of stylistic adaptation may be expected. However, overall, I found very little trace of that. Dancers of 2000 continue to move as dancers of 2000, and their style, plastique, and manner frequently clashes with the required flavor of the piece. The Kirov performs the Petipa Beauty exactly the same way it used to perform the K. Sergeyev-version. The gymnastic extensions of the young dancers only look even more out of place than they already did.

The dancers often look awkward now in the obtrusive and heavy, ancient-style costumes and wigs, turning fairies into harlots, obscuring line and movement, and not helped by some questionable color combinations (flashy reds and blues dominate), curiously evoking associations with other forms of entertainment.

The sets are surely handsome, yet lack the simplicity, distinction and character of those designed by Virsaladze for the previous K. Sergeyev-version. The only scene that is visually stronger is the Vision in the second Act, where the green of the forest and the dryads found a suitable counterpart in the white of Aurora and the red of prince Désiré. In other instances (especially the overcrowded prologue) there is a danger lurking that the scenery and the costumes might swallow the dancers. In any case it takes strong personalities and performances to carry the ballet to the very end. Unfortunately, the Kirov cannot always provide this.

No complaints regarding the performance of Zhanna Ayupova, incidentally making her debut in the new production. Hers was a superb reading that breathed dignity and poise, harmony and beauty from start to end. Especially strong in the Vision scene, creating an ideal image of distance and regal bearing, which sharply contrasted with the joyful girl in the Rose adagio. She was partnered well by Viktor Baranov, although the character of Désiré remained hidden under the long wig.

Diana Vishneva's performance, however, was by comparison less interesting and far more discordant in this ballet. Here the discrepancy between dancer and surroundings took no longer acceptable proportions. Colder and superficially glamorous, this Aurora was too much kicked alive by mere technical feats, not minding the framework at all. The character was dramatically inconsistent and the work as a whole seemed to elude her. Her prince, Igor Kolb, not in good form, was unremarkable. He got astray in the forest, messed up his big moment (the awakening kiss) and seemed to dance mostly on his own at his wedding. The part of Désiré in the reconstruction is dangerously slimmed down and the Kirov men I saw were unable to make anything of what's left of it.

In both performances we had tall and beautiful Alexandra Yosifidi as Lilac Fairy, investing the part with majesty and a tranquil authority. The Blue Bird pas de deux was in good hands with Irina Zhelonkina and Vasili Shcherbakov, the latter especially light and fast. Yulia Kassenkova was notable for her speed and precision as the Diamond fairy. The prologue fairies, on the other hand, were uneven and suffered from miscasts. Vladimir Ponomarev, as always, portrayed a magnificent king, but Igor Petrov was too manly and grotesque as Carabosse. Islom Baimuradov looked more acceptable, though both should be told not to halt their chariot after it has already stopped. The corps performed well and the Orchestra of the Maryinsky Theatre sounded excellent under Valery Ovsyanikov.

The Kirov has been dancing Balanchine for ten years now, although in a much too discontinuous way. In recent years interest in Balanchine has been renewed, one hopes this time with more lasting results. The mixed bill in Baden-Baden presented two of the more recent acquisitions Serenade and Symphony in C, alongside the more familiar Apollo and Tchaikovsky Pas de Deux. Undoubtedly intriguing by the shift of emphasis, the Petersburg dancers bringing out foremost the shape, the aristocracy and the grandeur of the choreography, the Kirov way with Balanchine is nonetheless still in need of growing and maturing.

Most successful in this respect was Symphony in C, with excellent performances by Yulia Makhalina, beautifully controlled and well partnered by Yevgeni Ivanchenko in the adagio, by Yulia Kassenkova and Zhanna Ayupova in the third and fourth movements respectively, and by the corps de ballet. There were instances when the tempo still seemed too uncomfortable for some dancers but the ensemble worked up to a riveting finale.

Apollo was well danced by youthful, but poker-faced Yevgeni Ivanchenko, who had a ravishing trio of muses in Diana Vishneva (understated and fascinating as Terpsichore), Irina Golub, and Xenia Dubrovina. Less convincing was Tchaikovsky Pas de Deux, saved from disaster by Ayupova, while Viacheslav Samodurov (who is now dancing with The Dutch National Ballet, but was brought back from Amsterdam for these mere 10 minutes) was jumping Balanchine miles away and seemed bent on turning the variations into circus numbers. Serenade obviously needs to be developed, even if there were thrilling moments by the corps. The dancing is often too extreme and much speed is sacrificed to high kicks, especially by the soloists, although I was charmed by Svetlana Zakharova, who for once managed to let her hair down and danced with catchy joy.

Surprisingly enough, the closing gala "Stars of the Kirov", a selection of nine pas de deux and one solo, was something of a letdown, mainly because some of these "stars" shone rather pale indeed. Lack of rehearsal time may be partly responsible, but the casting in itself remains debatable. Truly, there were splendid moments, thanks to Uliana Lopatkina, breathtaking as Dying Swan; Zhanna Ayupova, magical in the Giselle pas de deux; Yulia Makhalina, complete in Black Swan pas de deux; Diana Vishneva, curiously enough more convincing in the Beauty pas de deux (which is still the K. Sergeyev-version with its stylish costumes) than in the complete performance); and power plant Andrei Batalov, stunning in Don Quixote pas de deux.

Yet other contributions brought the overall level down and one left the theater with mixed feelings. Igor Kolb, Viktor Baranov and Danila Korsuntsev were just passable. Anton Korsakov, incredibly saddled with two pas de deux this evening (the opening Carnival in Venice and Harlequinade), is far too young and inexperienced to carry the show or his ballerina, while Tatiana Nekipelova hardly got through the steps in the closing Don Q. Finally, hardly any of the couples managed to create a rapport. An extreme case in point was the performance of Svetlana Zakharova and Farukh Ruzimatov in Le Corsaire, each revelling in their outsized shapes and mannerisms, and mistaking Petipa for acrobatics.

Just a few months before the major Kirov summer engagement in London, in which the reconstructed Beauty features prominently, it's tempting to muse about its future. The new production sheds new light upon this beloved masterpiece. Only for that reason it needs to be seen. However, its survival will as much depend of the willingness of present-day audiences to switch back to a mainly forgotten era, as of the dancers' compliance to take the ballet for what it is. Whether or not this experiment in authenticity will find a lasting place in the repertoire, is therefore still too soon to tell.