BALLET REVIEW : Balanchine Theme, Kirov Variations

The Kirov Ballet, that glorious repository of classical virtue, is slowly if not all that surely finding its way into the 20th Century.

On Friday night, for a single local performance and virtually as an afterthought, our celebrated visitors from Leningrad decided to show Orange County what they can do with an evolutionary milestone of George Balanchine.

When this choreographic genius left Leningrad in 1924, he assumed the status of a non-person at his artistic alma mater. Facing westward, he permanently changed the course of ballet in our time.

Last February, Oleg Vinogradov--the dauntlessly progressive director of the Kirov--seized the spirit of perestroika to present the first officially sanctioned Balanchine productions ever ventured by a Soviet company. The results were traumatic, in the best possible sense, for the company as well as for its audience.

The belated Balanchine encounter brought with it a problematic revelation. The Kirov dancers, for all their classy virtuosity, are accustomed to broad self-indulgence. Balanchine’s special demands for speed, clarity, discipline, precision, musicality and abstraction represented a severe test. Some passed it better than others.

“Theme and Variations,” the 1947 masterpiece sampled on this occasion, is deceptively complex--a contemporary distillation of the Petipa tradition so dear to Leningrad. Aficionados who know what the sleekly energetic dancers of the New York City Ballet--or even those of American Ballet Theatre--can do with the 28-minute challenge may deplore what the Kirov cast does.

A few steps are smudged, a few tempos distorted. The ballerina, whose brilliance should be steely, looks almost like a soubrette. The central danseur wants desperately to be an agonized prince, and he doesn’t make life easy for his partner. The corps de ballet telegraphs ever-increasing strain. And yet. . . .

The Kirov has mustered a brave and intelligent introduction. One has to love the company for trying so earnestly, for working so diligently. One has to applaud Francia Russell of Seattle, who re-set the ballet in Leningrad, for allowing so little to get lost in translation. One has to admire the often comfortable, sometimes enlightening juxtaposition of Russian soul and American technique.

Unlike many a domestic counterpart, this “Theme” looks authentically grand. In place of the customary glitz ballroom or virtually barren stage, the Kirov utilizes a glamorous backdrop that depicts the auditorium of the Imperial Maryinsky Theater.

This atmospheric set, originally intended for another project, remains uncredited in the program. Reliable sources indicate, however, that it was designed by Vinogradov himself. Galina Solovyova’s lavish costumes provide complementary allure.

The original protagonists in Leningrad were Altynai Assylmuratova and Konstantin Zaklinsky. Costa Mesa saw the second Kirov cast, Larissa Lezhnina and Farukh Ruzimatov.

Barely 20, Lezhnina is tiny, perfectly proportioned and strikingly fleet. She was injured while dancing with the company last month in Canada (where she videotaped Aurora in “Sleeping Beauty”), and this may explain the caution that muted her impact. Still, her promise is extraordinary.

Ruzimatov stretched, contorted and perspired in a vain attempt to make Balanchine’s cool cavalier conform to his own brooding matinee-idol image. It was fascinating.

The demi-soloists, unlisted in the program, were splendid. Veronica Ivanova, a bona fide ballerina in other contexts, wore her anonymity with pride. None less than Kiril Melnikov lent strength to the ranks of the supporting cavaliers.

In the well-staffed pit, Dzhemal Dalgat conducted with more regard for speed than for comfort.

To open this very mixed bill, the company offered a lovely performance of “Chopiniana,” a.k.a. “Les Sylphides.” It managed to sustain the essential aura of lyrical poetry once past the shattering military march that, for reasons unknown, serves as the overture in Russian performances.

The exquisite Elena Pankova was well-matched here by the 24-year-old Yuri Zhukov--suave, considerate and stylish though still officially ranked a member of the corps. As we go to press we learn that he will join the San Francisco Ballet in the fall.

Irina Chistiakova glided with sweet gusto through her waltz. Natalia Pavlova exuded wispy charm in the prelude. The attendant sylphs--arms floating at pristine angles, feet whispering in delicate unison--offered object lessons in Romantic line and liquid phrasing.

The middle section of the program was devoted to popular showpieces. In New York these had been oddly labled “classical pas de deux.” Here the catch-all was “classical choreography.” In New York, not incidentally, the snippet repertory also included the rarely-seen pas de six from Petipa’s “Esmeralda,” but some double standard kept that beguiling item off the local program.

The uncredited set for the divertissements--another Vinogradov contribution?--depicted festive red curtains, ornate fake drapery and kitschy gold statuary. This created a rather strange ambiance for the “Swan Lake” adagio, but Yulia Makhalina (much improved since her shaky performance at the Met) danced Odette with intense grandeur and Evgeny Neff partnered her nobly. Thirty-two perfect swans provided generous, resonant punctuation.

A supercute trio choreographed by Nikolai and Sergei Legat for Joseph Bayer’s long-forgotten “Puppenfee” (The Fairy Doll) found Zhanna Ayupova irresistibly winsome as the dancing doll courted by a matched pair of rival Pierrots, Andrei Bosov and Andrei Barbuz. For some reason, the management slighted the worthy Andreis at the end, bestowing bouquets upon all the participants except them. Anti-clown discrimination?

In the inevitable “Dying Swan,” an aristocratic Galina Mezentseva suggested that Fokine’s fowl may have suffered terminal malnutrition. In the inevitable “Don Quixote” pas de deux, an exultant Tatiana Terekhova as Kitri all too easily outclassed her eager young Basilio, Igor Petrov.

Victor Fedotov, the able conductor, pulled and stretched the music if doing so served the dancers’ whims. That seems to be one Kirov tradition that Western companies would do well not to emulate.