© Natasha Razina Kirov 'La Bayadere' reviews 'La Bayadere' reviews Kirov 'Raymonda' reviews 'Raymonda' reviews Somova in reviews Novikova in reviews recent Kirov reviews more Eric Taub reviews Discuss this review (Open for at least 6 months)

The opening-night Raymonda I raved about was so close to perfection, it's been hard not to feel moments of let-down from subsequent performances. That opening night, the corps throughout, in Raymonda, Paquita and especially La Bayadere was so unified in style and of one mind in execution that I sighed to be in the presence of that rarest of ballet's treasures, a truly organic corps de ballet. The corps of City Ballet and ABT have their own strengths, but such conspicuous unity isn't among them.

At least, the Kirov corps' conspicuously unified when it wants to be, and I have been a little baffled seeing wildly uneven performances from the corps. It's almost as if there's a varsity and junior varsity corps, and you never know which one is going to show up until the curtain rises. Each dancer always shows her impeccable Vaganova training, but not always in the same time and place as her sisters. I began to wonder if the Kirov's corps was falling on hard times, but then I remembered being similarly flummoxed by them back in 1999, when, in a long run of Giselles at the Met, the corps would one day be magnificent, the next ragged and almost grudging. I couldn't figure it out then or now, except to speculate that on the road the Kirov dancers have a harder schedule than they're used to at home, and they're either pacing themselves accordingly, about to drop dead of exhaustion, or staging a work action. Perhaps it's a combination of the three.

Certainly in the Shades scene from Bayadere the corps, at least in the performances I've seen, has never quite matched its first night, with too many dancers with the wobbles marring the big, as-one developpes and arabesques. More confusing, until last night (April 10), the trio of demi Shades, almost always Novikova (until an injury knocked her out), Gonchar and Kondaurova — all admirable dancers — seemed utterly unable to keep together, as they'd done so flawlessly on opening night. I actually admired their professional determination and peripheral vision as they'd adjust their timing and spacing on the fly, but every time they pulled together, they'd immediately fly apart. I can understand some drift in all the big jumps, but surely the could do a better job of hitting their final big arabesques in their latter allegro section? Every night it seemed like one was always caught a bit by surprise at the timing of the other two. I expect and allow for such moments from lesser companies, but the Kirov?
 

Indeed, I've been a little surprised at the number of little slips and corrections I've seen, as if even the strongest get hit by momentary lapses of concentration. As it's their wont to dance with an unforgiving purity and clarity, the occasional drift from perfection becomes all the more noticeable. It seems the Kirov version of a variation must always end with the dancer shooting up to balance in a tight releve in fifth, or leg-forward attitude, which is certainly pretty and back-handedly bravura, but it's merciless to any dancer who doesn't arrive perfectly placed for that final plie-releve, and too often I've seen dancers whom I admire tremendously making slight, but all-too-obvious adjustments to get properly on top of the plie, or either working their feet, which should be motionless, to keep their balance, or plopping off it too early. A less-ambitious style would mean dancers wouldn't fall short so often, and it wouldn't be so obvious when they do, but that's not the Kirov way.

So it's touching and telling that for every Kirov dancer who can adroitly cover the occasional misfire, like a double pirouette that devolves into a single-and-a-half, there's one who just will not fudge mistakes. Perhaps they've never learned how, or perhaps they've been taught that it's vulgar (once upon a time a Kirov dancers worst anathema). It's naive, charming and egotistical, and brings to mind those WWI pilots who refused to carry newfangled parachutes because it would be, somehow, cheating. Fortunately, the Kirov version of this narcissism isn't quite so fatal. Perhaps, too, there was a time when the best Kirov dancers were at such a high level they could afford such an attitude. (Witness Mikhail Baryshnikov there in the audience.)

I've also noticed an interesting change in the dancers' musicality from the companies I remember from 1999 and 2002. Back then, I marveled at how the Kirov dancers would almost willfully dance behind the beat, and I'd imagine young Kirov students being admonished that dancing with the beat is vulgar and arriviste. No more. This 2008 Kirov dances much more on top of the beat, like, dare I say it, the Bolshoi always did in my experience, if not with City Ballet's alacrity. It's as if one fine day they all woke up and collectively thought, "Hey, the beat is my friend." Amazing.

The beat's particularly your friend when the conductor is, too, and perhaps this sea change has something to do with the marvels emanating from City Center's cramped pit and podium. This reduced-size orchestra is fabulous; I'm sure Balanchine didn't have Scheherezade in mind when he came up with his famous dictum about closing one's eyes and enjoying the music if one doesn't like what's onstage, but the playing of the Rimsky Korsakov was so magnificent, I hardly minded that the ballet itself often seemed sadly trite. I've always found this score to be entertaining if a bit bombastic; the Kirov's playing was so magnificent, so rich and deeply textured, I didn't mind the ten-minute overture (the ship-on-the-ocean story from Rimsky-Korsakov's musical program). Indeed, aside from some wacky amplification which seemed to gift instruments with extra volume at random, the musicianship, even with the likes of Pugni, has been stunning.

One of the season's greatest revelations, then, has been the awesome conducting of Mikhail Sinkevich. Not only is he tremendously sensitive to the nuances of each score, miracle of miracles, he watches the dancers. Really watches them. In the big ballerina moments, like those ever-faster releve-retires in Raymonda, he takes his cues from the dancer. If Lopatkina is having a particularly good balancing day, and wants to hold that first releve with her leg in passe for a good, long, time, he just waits for his cue until her foot plunges, and not an instant before. Most amazing of all, in this city where dancer and conductor seem sworn enemies (remember Faycal Karoui trying to kill the City Ballet corps with that ever-faster last movement of Symphony in C?) Sinkevich will adjust his tempi to fit the dancers, sometimes right in the middle of a bar. I'm just not used to such sensitivity by a conductor. He certainly doesn't coddle them, but he treats them like partners, not particularly recalcitrant instrumentalists. The results have been performances that breathe with a unity of intent from both sides of the footlights which I've found more spectacular than any of the men's leaps; right up there, in fact, with Tereshkina's impeccable fouettes.

Now I have to run to see Somova in Etudes. After her amazingly improved Bayadere last night, I'm quite looking forward to it.