© John Ross Bolshoi 'Le Corsaire' reviews 'Le Corsaire' reviews Le Corsaire gallery Bolshoi 'La Bayadere' reviews 'La Bayadere' reviews La Bayadere gallery Zakharova in reviews Tsiskaridze in reviews recent Bolshoi reviews more Jeffery Taylor reviews Web version held on Ballet.co by kind permission of Jeffery Taylor and the Sunday Express Express Website

The sublime Svetlana Zakharova is Medora, sold into slavery but adored by pirate chief Conrad, Denis Matvienko, who dispenses Errol Flynn charm by the bucket load. We also had the company’s latest wunderkind, eighteen-year-old Ivan Vasiliev, looking rather pleased with himself as well he might if his one brief but breathtaking solo is anything to go by.

The evening’s first real highlight is the duet for Medora and Conrad in the pirates’ den made famous in the West by Margot Fonteyn and Rudolf Nureyev. Technically flawless Zakharova embodies the ballet’s myth that however debased her circumstances, the martyred female remains a goddess. Not only do her pointe shoes appear to hover above the stage, she is on another plane altogether. The amazing Matvienko dances with a physical commitment that takes him and us to the edge, and all with an insouciant grin. But as three and a half hours drag on it becomes painfully clear that bad choreography remains just that even for a century or more. Over the years Le Corsaire, among others, was refined to suit developing tastes and social changes. To expose the dross of the original production and parade it as a masterpiece just does not work.
 

On the other hand, La Bayadere works in spades. Not least through the blast of talent from the three principal dancers. Zakharova is the eponymous temple girl, Nikolai Tsiskaridze plays her lover, Solor, and his fiancée, Gamzatti, is Maria Alexandrova. With limbs that go on forever and needing microscopes to find a technical blemish, Zhakarova is all soul. Immediately her face is unveiled by the rapacious High Brahmin (Andrei Sitnikov), you know the poor girl is in for a terrible night. Her downfall is the astonishing, if unpronounceable, Tsiskaridze, a man of relaxed charm, highly charged technique and a God given ability effortlessly to hold an audience in the palm of his hand. Alexandrova, a natural born stealer of a rival ballerina’s thunder, and men, takes no prisoners as Gamzatti. But up-staging tricks and business are not for her, she simply burns all before her with a cosmic stage presence and apparently effortless virtuoso dancing. She also has the most seductive curtsies at her curtain calls I have ever seen. Solor never stood a chance. But the edifice of quality built in La Bayadere does not depend on the principals alone.

The company’s in depth talent is staggering. There is Anton Savichev’s Magdaveya having a whale of a time leading a bunch of half naked, self mutilating dope fiends; Anna Rebestkaya’s captivating dance with a jug on her head; the uniquely wild Russian character dancers and the Golden Idol of Viacheslev Lopatin. Each a unique talent and a pure delight.
 

The ballet ends with a celebration of the classical technique by Zakharova, Tsiskaridze and the company’s women. Petipa’s steps are fiendishly simple. Their success depends on two qualities alone, stamina and schooling. In what must be one of the most exhausting roles for a woman in the classical repertoire, Zakharova gives a text book demonstration of the physical range and spiritual depth of her art form. Tsiskaridze simply lays himself on the line and brings the house down. But the true mark of excellence in the Bolshoi is that girl barely visible in the back row of the corps de ballet. Her training is immaculate and her belief in her life’s work clearly paramount. That’s called quality.