This time the ensemble lacked their founding patriarch Igor, but a brief set of film clips reminded us of the man who died last fall, aged 101, handsome and resolute to the last. The company seen totaled 40, twenty women, twenty men, appearing on the 50th anniversary of the ensemble’s first North American tour and the 70th anniversary of its founding.

The ensemble today seems neater, brighter and technically as good, if not better than ever. Toes are pointed, a la seconde positions at 90 degrees, passes the human equivalent of a triangle,men as well as women, foot work precise, heel or toe, booted or slippered. The women are devoid of sylph proportions, but still exhibit great silhouettes; the men, many of them are quite tall and one jumped, phenomenally, half his height at rapidly traveling tempo. they dance with constant
energy and cheeriness.

I would suspect other programs in this national tour varied little from what was seen at Berkeley; it included a salute to Greece and an exposition of the Argentine pampas, an expected quick tour of parts of Russia, the Balkans and a reach backward into the legendary Polovetsians as memorialized by Alexander Borodin.

Particularly interesting was a trio executing bird-inspired dances from the Kalmuk region near the mouth of the Volga. The incorporation of bird movements provided a torso vibrato and a captivating reflection of birds’ wings in flight. Horses at a gallup and bulls in heat were listed as evidence of the Kalmuk affinity for the creatures of their environment.

The Sirtaki sequence with its seven soloists, expanding on Greek male line dancing with classical vocabulary, was particularly beguiling; the passes and a la second positions and adding small, rapid changements lifted Greek folk dance squarely into concert genre. For all the correctness with kerchiefs and shoe pom poms, I wanted to see the striking white or khaki Evzione tunic/skirt worn by the guards at the national soldier's monument in Athens. For Yanni Varda, the Greek-born dancer who was with me, it was utterly exhilerating. I suspect the late Dora Stratou, pioneering compilation of Greek dance
traditions, would also have been thrilled.

Yabletchko from Moiseyev’s naval suite I found impressive not so much for the five soloists, but the sheer panache of twenty male dancers moving with such precision. As in all of Moiseyev strong ensemble pieces, the maneuvers from smaller to greater, lines shifting or performing in unison, are impressive, even breathtaking when the steps are particularly demanding.

Another striking trio was the Gaucho, from the cowboy tradition of the Argentine pampas, the deliberate falling on the outside of the foot. One dancer employed something like a bayonet, surprising since a simpler version a week before used two lariats struck, left and right.

The Polovetsian Dances, as Moiseyev conceived them, gave me the sense of what a striking impression Fokine’s version made on Parisian audiences in 1909. I saw a dusty version of Prince Igor with the Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo in its final fifteen years; here the Genghis Khan-like figure mounted steps to sit, flanked by fur-hatted court ladies, to watch spear barriers, archers and fur-hatted riders dancing in circles and lines conveying tribal hierarchy. Followed by the tiny horse-whip swinging young women, the principal warrior dragged bra-and-pantaloon garbed harem captives forward, their heads hidden in floor length falls of silk with elaborate floral borders. At one point each woman was carried in various postures of protest off stage with the clear implication of rape. Thanks to the costuming, music and the conviction of the performers, the hokey evocation of a distant tribal triumph made a stirring afternoon finale.