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That huge Bolshoi stage was used to good effect with an opening set that led the eye back to wide steps, through a large town arch and a townscape in the distance. Somewhere between 1978 and today, we’ve lost the sense of using color; bright color, glorious color. This production brings us back to the days when the cost of costuming was apparently of little importance, the result very important. And it shows. The colors are brilliant, the skirts full. Kitri’s lushly layered knee length skirt was a sun brilliant yellow, edged in wide black lace trim with a black bodice. She was surrounded by dancers in bright reds and yellows; men in white and red, trimmed in black; a feast for the eyes.

I’ve always admired Russian costume design and it seems to come to fruition in the Russian love affair with all things Spanish. In the gypsy dance, especially, the floor length black skirts were flounced with the brightest red tendrils that resembled flames as the dancers moved and swirled about using their skirts as much as their bodies.

In this love affair of the Russians for Spanish culture, they take the tight intensity of Spanish dance and expand it – rather like the space of the steppes overtaking a peninsula. Melting liquid backs, a hallmark of Russian dancers, went further than any flamenco dancer would think to. Spanish dance talks with its hands, punctuated with heard but almost invisible movements of the heels; Russians add to the language with their backs. The Matador’s cape work was worth a complete review all by itself. He made that black/red satin cape a living thing: it didn’t say “come hither” it declared: “don’t resist.” It was a weapon rather than a glance of seduction.

Nadezda Pavlova’s sky high temps de fleche (step of the arrow) announced her large personality in a small spit fire body though the very height of it caused a momentary hesitancy. This was answered by Vyacheslav Gordeev's renversés. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this most difficult step performed quite so enthusiastically nor so quickly, nor with the opening leg at a full ninety degree height during the entire circle from front to back. He whipped into those renversés rather than the usual falling back into them. The spectacular over the head one arm off center lifts, were sustained, all of them. Though this is a performance of almost thirty years ago, the dancing doesn’t look at all – not even a little – dated. It could have been performed last night.

It seems that at the time Don Quixote was choreographed it was irresistible to have at least one act in white (or pastel) short tutus in every ballet, no matter how incongruous to the story. No matter – its one of the illogical joys of the ballet. The tall figure of Don Quixote (the only male on stage) hovered in the background amidst the dancing dryads of his dream; in short tunics and blonde wigs, they danced without cause, except to dance. The tiny female dancers have a lot of ground to cover on that huge stage but cover it they do.
 

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In Act IV we are in a royal ballroom, the village and villagers are gone – or at least transformed into a court of sorts. How this happened, one is at a loss to say. The set is lovely: huge swags of white and gold draperies above white and gold filigreed columns and arches. The Matador is in black, his partner in a long brilliant red Spanish dress. Their dance is a Russian mirror of Spanish movement; more like flamboyant folk dance – broad and open. There’s none of the seductive intensity of the Spanish oeuvre – rather it is heart-on-the sleeve Russian dance. Again Don Quixote hovers about, his meaning long since lost, he’s both irrelevant and extraneous. Surprisingly, there’s only brief evidence of the Bolshoi’s male corps de ballet. Except for the Matador and Basilio – it is overwhelmingly female.

This brings one to the justifiably famous Don Quixote Grand Pas de Deux – in which, of course, Don Quixote has no part. Basilio is in black, Kitri in red and black. This was not a pre-wedding dance or a directly after the ceremony celebration, rather it was the dance of two who had already celebrated wedded bliss: mature, secure, rather than saucy or flirtatious. Perhaps the fact that the two dancers had been married to one another for three years at the time of this performance gleamed through and informed their partnership. The over the head one arm lifts were the product of absolute mutual trust and assurance while the fish dive was quick, playful, if not completely smooth. Twice he threw her into the air and calmly caught her after she made two rotations, landing safely in his arms; truly spectacular.

His variation was admirably done with a smooth series of tours in second going into attitude turns and culminating in multiple rotation pirouettes – all finished with aplomb. Her fouettés were mostly sur la place, and she adequately saved the last one. Pavlova has very hyper extended knees which give her a beautiful line when she doesn’t press back on them, but in supported pirouette it gives the rotation of her supporting leg a different look. In her variation she skimmed across in a flurry of bourrées, multiple battu and retiré relevés. I loved her attitude derriére – so typically Russian, above the waist and beautifully curved like an up tilted chin.

Quality of the DVD: editing is very good. The camera stays with the dancers not trying to make a statement of its own and most of the time the lens is mid range – no jumping about, needless full face shots, or views of the audience to distract. The camera rightly becomes invisible as an observer not an active ingredient. Act I, Scene II could have been better lit. Unfortunately, Act II was beyond dimly lit – it was almost entirely dark. If there was a windmill at which to cast spears, it was invisible. Nothing more can be said about this act – I couldn’t see it at all.

Unfortunately the DVD insert gives very few credits: none for the wonderful costumes, the set, the Matador or various other soloists.

The “Bonus” included on this DVD is not simply a “bonus” but a truly unexpected and exceptional gift. Prima Ballerina Assoluta Maya Plisetskaya at the prime of her career dancing the bravura role of Kitri. It includes all the excerpts of the Act I – Kitri’s dance, and then the icing on an already rich cake: the complete Grand Pas De Deux with Marius Liepa.

Plisetskaya is simply a force of nature. She explodes across the stage; she owns it. She fills it. I find it very surprising when I see her being interviewed in documentaries, how physically small she is. But on that huge Bolshoi stage, it barely contains her – she eats it up. The fan in her hand in Act I has a language all its own, snapping shut when she is piqued, and snapping open exclaiming her triumph. Her sky high temps de fleche are unhesitating – nothing stops her. The tour jetés are fully split, her head just naturally back on her ankle. It’s not showing off, it’s simply Plisetskaya sharing her joy.

Marius Liepa, too, is in his prime. Unfortunately, he is clothed almost entirely in black so it is difficult to see him completely against the dark background. However, what one sees is very fine indeed. He did a beautiful combination of double tour en l’air, grand rond de jambe sauté into pirouettes. The fish dive was immaculately smooth – one easy motion, no fuss no problem.

Since this production of 1964 was filmed in black and white it is not possible to definitely say it is the same production as the Pavlova/Gordeev of 1978 – but it is certainly similar. It was hard to see the sets as the camera didn’t pull back enough. The tunics for the dryads are much shorter in the later version. However, those are details for the historian. What grabs one’s attention is Plisetskaya in all her glory. Her dancing, though done forty three years ago, does not look dated – it’s hard to imagine that Plisetskaya will ever look dated.