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"The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there" . How interesting to consider L.P. Hartley's famous remark when watching The Sleeping Beauty, for more than anything this is a ballet of the past and the future.  It is about the passing of time, about growth, about innocence and experience.  How even more appropriate to consider this when watching the Kirov Ballet's live November 1982 performance of The Sleeping Beauty, celebrating the 200th Anniversary of the company, and happily now released by Warner Classics on DVD.  Watching the company in this recording is to watch the past revealed in the present - two hundred years of the company's history, its lineage and aristocracy, presented on stage.  The dancing is, dare I say it, not what we have seen most recently from the company - the extensions are lower, there is more a sense of proportion and the overall body shape is different.

At its centre is Prima Ballerina, Irina Kolpakova, and here is history revealed.  Kolpakova, Agrippina Vaganova's last pupil, reigned supreme at the Kirov during the 1960's and here, approaching the grand old age of two-score-years-and ten, she reigns supreme again.  Her body expresses the movement of the dance as one long legato phrase.  She is harmonious in this phrasing, listening to the music and breathing through it - in this sense she dances not just Petipa's Aurora, but Tchaikovsky's.  The lines of her body are sculpted with an absolute clarity and the arabesques are, as one critic put it, " a maiden’s search through silver birches."   She traces the development of Aurora's character, from young innocent girl to radiant bride, with subtlety and insight, but the essence of Kolpakova's interpretation is in her regal simplicity.  There is no indecorous fuss, no unnecessary frippery, no need to raise the arms to fifth during the balances of the Rose Adagio (where there is not a flutter in her statuesque dignity).  Here is the simple, pure, hundred-year old language of Petipa spoken with grace.  Yes, there are one or two minor moments when her age gets the better of the choreography, but I would forsake these in order to see this legend dance the role, which for years belonged to her.
 

She is nobly partnered by Sergei Berezhnoi as Prince Desiré, who is a clean dancer with very neat returns to fifth position.  Lubov Kunakova is a benevolent Lilac Fairy, soft and lyrical in her movement, she expresses warmth and tenderness with every gesture.  It is a delight that, as this performance was recorded on what was then the Leningrad State Theatre (now Maryinksy) stage, we get to see the entire Panorama (which is permanently fixed and not shown when the company tours), as the Lilac Fairy takes Desiré on the journey to the sleeping court of King Florestan.  As soon as he arrives, the curtain falls and we are treated to the beautiful violin solo Entr'acte (originally created for Leopold Auer and used by Ashton for his Awakening pas de deux), which is ravishingly played by the (shamefully) un-credited Leader and the orchestra conducted by the legendary Victor Fedotov.  My one regret is that the music does not include the beautiful cello solo composed by Riccardo Drigo (conductor at the premiere), which seamlessly unites the Panorama music with the Entr'acte.

Unfortunately, for those of us who have most recently seen the re-constructed 1890 Sleeping Beauty, with its visual lustre and its narrative strength, Konstantin Sergeyev's 1952 " Soviet" staging is a pale imitation - quite literally at times.  Simon Virsaladze's designs are dreary of colour and form and King Florestan's court has lost all of its pageantry.  The mime, which creates such a firm narrative structure, is here excised.  However, this does mean that we see an expanded Lilac Fairy (on pointe), and Prince Desiré gets to do a lot more dancing than we would usually expect, but the whole feel and look of the production is of faded in-elegance. 

The direction for video, by Elena Macheret, is also occasionally inadequate - the entry of Carabosse (Vladimir Lopukhov) in the Prologue is fluffed and the detailed camera work of the Garland Waltz fails to capture the beautiful Petipa shapes, but rather makes it look plain messy.  Also, this being recorded live and in Russia, much of the 166 minutes of the DVD is taken up with rowdy curtain calls every other minute.  At first this is thrilling, but after the tenth time it becomes a little tedious.

However, in spite of the dreary production, the dancing - the academic, well-proportioned beauty of Vaganova-trained dancers - shines like the brightest of lights and of the dancers, none is brighter than Irina Kolpakova, for whom this DVD is worth spending millions to see.