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Reviews

The Kirov in Versailles

A mini-version of the company offers an uneven season of divertissements

by Marc Haegeman
copyright © 2001 by Marc Haegeman
Autumn 2001

14-18 July 2001

The Royal Opera in Versailles must be one of Europe’s most gorgeous and charming theatres, yet by its size it is also a very ungainly location for ballet. Built in the late 18th century by King Louis XV as the court theatre it is now one of the multiple, slightly dusty glories of the famous château de Versailles.

The Kirov Ballet hadn’t performed in the Paris region since 1994, yet the short appearance in Versailles as part of the Summer festival called “Les nouveaux plaisirs” was largely ignored by the French press. There were some preliminary notices in dance magazines, but hardly any coverage once the season had started. Although most of the performances in the tiny 700-seat theatre sold out, the audiences largely consisted of occasional visitors, locals going once for “a” ballet evening. (Some people were still wondering which company was dancing after they had taken their seats.) The reception was polite.

Why the Royal Opera in Versailles and not a convenient theatre in nearby Paris was chosen as a performing venue for the Kirov is unclear. No matter the historical value of the place, it compelled the company to stick to divertissements in “Stars Of…” style. And even if the publicity announced the “Kirov Ballet”, Versailles had to be content with some fifteen soloists, part of the female corps de ballet and a small group of the Maryinsky orchestra, conducted by Boris Gruzin.

The programs in Versailles cannot by any means be considered particularly inspired or even an attempt to present a well-paced and balanced evening. The six pas de deux which followed the opening Chopiniana or Serenade varied little during the course of the 5 day-run and were showed as a rather haphazard collection of classical favourites. That, as a result, the opening pas de deux sometimes made a stronger impact or even completely outshone the closing number had as much to do with the quality of the dancers, as with the way the evening was structured (To end an evening with Pas de Quatre after Don Quixote or Le Corsaire pas de deux is not such a brilliant idea.)

However, what made the divertissements still worthwhile was the rarity of some of the pieces. Along- side the unavoidable Swan Lake and Don Quixote pas de deux we were offered a glimpse of delightful Petipa gems like the Harlequinade and Carnival in Venice pas de deux, of Legat’s Fairy Doll pas de trois, Dolin’s Pas de Quatre, or the recent Middle Duet by one of Russia’s most promising choreographers Alexei Ratmansky.

Away from all the hype and the sense of familiarity now surrounding the regular London tours, Versailles could have presented the perfect chance for the Kirov Ballet to prove itself in front of a new audience. Yet, judging by the three evenings I attended this wasn’t allowed to happen. It seems that the management takes far too much for granted and once more it was obvious how hard-pressed this company is. Sandwiched between two large-scale engagements (four weeks in London and five weeks in Brazil), the brief Versailles stint unavoidably breathed an air of forced relaxation and complacency.

The evenings opened well enough with a performance of either Fokine’s Chopiniana or Balan-chine’s Serenade. The corps de ballet looked cramped on the small stage, but moved and breathed like one, giving both Fokine and Balanchine the lyrical, flowing treatment—acceptable it may be on its own, in the latter’s case. Zhanna Ayupova was a joy to watch as leading ballerina in both works. Pairing maturity with the qualities of undiluted Leningrad classicism, it is a relief to see that an artist like Ayupova is given more prominence again. At 34 she is the oldest female principal in this company. With her there are none of the technical fireworks which slam you in the face, but an old-fashioned sense of beauty and harmony, and that provides a welcome relief.

The other soloists in Chopiniana were no less fine. Irina Zhelonkina, delicate and light as a feather, is physically and stylistically completely at home in this ballet, while young Xenia Ostreikovskaya gave a lovely, sensitive performance as the prelude girl. Viktor Baranov was their reliable partner. Elvira Tarassova was a bouncy Russian girl in Serenade.

In the divertissements section things went less smoothly. The first night I saw opened with the pas de deux from Vassili Vainonen’s Flames of Paris, danced by Irina Golub and Andrei Batalov. This uncompromising bravura number demands the highest technical skills. Batalov, now a soloist with the Royal Danish Ballet, danced it rather well, although to be fair he looks only a pale shadow of the powerhouse dancer he used to be just a few years ago. Having gained weight, he lost much of his ballon and some of his jumps even looked a bit strenuous. Irina Golub, who in the previous weeks in London had turned Rubies into a leg-throwing competition and whose presence among these soloists is still very much of a mystery, was for her part totally unable to address the technical exigencies of this pas de deux in a satisfying way.

The following nights the same couple danced one of the most anti-climactic Don Quixote pas de deux I have ever seen. One is willing to forgive the superficial and ready-made characterization in a showpiece number like this (although Kitri doesn’t have to look as cheap as in Golub’s case), but not that the quality of dancing is so undistinguished. Batalov pushed some life in it, but the extra variation in the pas de deux danced weakly by Ekaterina Osmolkina added to the sense of overall disappointment.

By contrast the tricky Carnival in Venice pas de deux, as danced by Natalia Sologub and Anton Korsakov, went much better. Sologub’s wicked variation could ideally have been clearer and more precise, but at least she danced it with proper abandon and she readily caught the humour of the piece. Anton Korsakov was her dashing young soloist. He still needs to develop as a partner, but his dancing exudes a youthful exuberance that is quite captivating.

Korsakov could also be seen to good effect in the attractive Harlequinade pas de deux with Irina Zhelonkina. Zhelonkina, who was with Zhanna Ayupova and Uliana Lopatkina definitely one of the glories of this Versailles engagement, brought out all the wit and charm of the piece, gliding through the variation with her characteristic subtlety and technical effortlessness.

Uliana Lopatkina and Danila Korsuntsev gave a beautiful and convincing reading of the Swan Lake adage. Lopatkina’s evocative power and mastery of plastique totally made up for the absence of sets or a surrounding corps of swans. Her wilful yet mesmerizing Dying Swan, performed on the other evenings, was quite in the same league.

By contrast Le Corsaire pas de deux was not in the best hands with Sofia Gumerova and Dmitry Simeonov. Again, one wonders why these artists are cast in a gala program. The least said the better about Sofia Gumerova. Far too unsure of herself, her appearance is as colorless and undistinguished as her dancing. Tall and stiff, with poor épaulement, she seems always daunted by the choreography and is unable to reveal anything about the role. Neither could her partner. Nineteen-year old Simeonov is undoubtedly a promising dancer, who gave the best of himself in some solo parts in London the previous weeks, yet bringing Corsaire pas de deux is quite a different assignment. There was no trace of any personality, let alone effort to identify with the role (the image of Farukh Ruzimatov, no matter how over the top, comes to mind) and although he executed the steps well, it was without any emotion or tension. In fact there was nothing that distinguished this performance from an adequate graduate student’s attempt. For a gala of the Kirov Ballet this is simply not acceptable.

In the final performance Svetlana Zakharova took over from Gumerova in Le Corsaire. At least Zakharova is able to deliver the steps with a certain stamp, unattractive and exaggerated it may be from a purely classical viewpoint. The variation was turned into a feast of sky-high extensions and she bashed through the fouettés, but in her own, predictable way she creates excitement and fun.

Zakharova appeared earlier in the Tchaikovsky Pas de Deux with much the same results. This performance was unfortunately marred by Igor Kolb’s accident. After a promising start Kolb got injured during his solo and was professionally replaced for the final moments of the pas de deux by Korsakov, still in costume for Carnival in Venice. Tchaikovsky Pas de Deux was dropped for the remainder of the season, as apparently Igor Kolb was the only one present to dance it.

Zhanna Ayupova who had convinced and charmed in the title role of MacMillan’s Manon in London, could be seen in the final pas de deux of the first act with Ilya Kuznetsov as her Des Grieux. It didn’t matter much that there was no bed in this bedroom, because both dancers gave a sweepingly romantic reading. Kuznetsov’s interpretation of Des Grieux did raise more than a few eyebrows back in London. Indeed in full-blooded, one-dimensional Russian fashion he takes the character very far away from Anthony Dowell’s, even adding a step or an arabesque here and there, but his sincerity is never in doubt and he readily acknowledges his ballerina.

Middle Duet was created at the Maryinsky Theatre in November 1998, as part of an acclaimed triple bill choreographed by Alexei Ratmansky, who is in some optimistic quarters considered to be the hope and future of Russian choreography. Set to music by contempo-rary composer Yuri Khanon this pas de deux shows a couple in constant movement, as if trying to test each others limits of balance and flexibility, until they both fall down exhausted. It is neither very original nor very inventive (in that it matches the score well), but for the Kirov dancers it presents an escapade as much as a challenge, and Natalia Sologub and Islom Baimuradov enthusiastically rose to the occasion.

One of the evenings ended with the Pas de Quatre, a delectable piece rarely seen nowadays, even in Russia, but definitely more an opener than a closing performance. Moreover, danced on this occasion by Veronika Part (Taglioni), Sofia Gumerova (Grisi), Elvira Tarassova (Grahn), and Irina Zhelonkina (Cerrito) it wasn’t exactly the “greatest Terpsichorean exhibition ever”, as one rapturous critic wrote after the premiere in 1845. Tarassova and especially Zhelonkina danced with the proper sense of style and aplomb, emphasizing the individuality of the characters. But Gumerova lacked all authority and cut the variation to pieces, while a miscast Part was heavy and anything but a climax.

Gala programs with a selection of classical pas de deux, especially when compared to full-length ballets, are sometimes referred to as mere child’s play. In fact they are anything but easy to pull off. In divertissements one expects to see a line-up of artists at the very top of their technical and artistic abilities. The Bolshoi Ballet, even with many young dancers, managed to do just that when they appeared at the Drury Lane Theatre last Spring in London. On that occasion the level of the dancing was constantly high, with hardly a weak link in the ensemble, while the programs allowed us to appreciate how well the dancers coped with various styles. Therefore, I find it rather sad to realize that with the Kirov Ballet of today, because of inadequate casting and uninspired programming, these divertissements resemble a mixed bag, pairing the sublime with the barely acceptable. Even a company that harvests such glowing reviews during a four-week season in London should not permit itself such negligence.