Ballets Russes

"Ballet Russes" is entrancing.

I am not particularly a ballet fan. I had a few lessons as a six year old, basically enough to vaguely remember there are five basic positions. Though one of my favorite memories is seeing "Rodeo" at the old Metropolitan Opera just before its demolition, I usually find both classical ballet and its bun heads to be boring. I was certainly never able to keep straight in my head the names and places of ballet's 20th century history. I did once take a wrong turn at a summer job at the new Met and froze when I found myself next to Dame Margot Fonteyn as she was warming up alone for a rehearsal.

But until I saw them talking so personally, other legends like Alicia Markova, Maria Tallchief, let alone the endless Russians, were just names to me. This documentary is cultural history made fascinating by entertaining raconteurs and amazing illustrative archival footage. Creators Daniel Geller and Dayna Goldfine have made the best use of talking heads since Warren Beatty's "Reds."

The word diva is never used, but these are grande dames and gentlemen, in their '80's and '90's, still with erect posture and various accents from around the world, who have commanded the world's stages with an expression and a hand motion, let alone a lifted leg, and know how to put across an anecdote, especially when talking about larger than life, legendary personalities. (We hear from a few corps members in a round-up towards the end.) With deft and sprightly editing, each point an interviewee makes is supported with illustrative photographs or incredible archival film or ephemera documentation, with beautiful music of course. A past world is literally conjured up for us.

Starting at the dissolution of the Diaghilev company that rocked the worlds of dance, music, art, theater and polite society, the film primarily takes a chronological route. From the Russian émigré community of Paris in the 1920's (what James Hilton novels refer to as "White Russians"), we are introduced, "Mikado"-like, to three little girls at school. We get glimpses of ballet mistresses recreating the Russian dance conservatories of their youths and are transported to the birth of a company built on this first generation of a new European life.

With only a frisson of gossip and cattiness, the emphasis is on the styles and personalities of each dancer, manager, choreographer, designer, chaperoning mother, and impresario over 40 years of astonishingly creative artistry amidst sturm und drang. There's a lovely anecdote of two prima ballerinas battling for the attention of a young protégé from each side of the stage during performances. Another regal prima ballerina recalls facts of another's fame, then after what feels like a full minute of silence, lifts an eyebrow and dryly turns from the camera, saying "Of course, I was really the first." There's shades of "Citizen Kane" in remembrances of an infatuated manager pushing forward a young corps dancer as a star.

From amusing to poignant, real world politics off the stage only occasionally crosses their consciousness, when the story deals with World War II, with great anecdotes of escaping Paris before it fell and trying to convince the strict dance masters that rehearsals weren't possible when they were all sea sick nervous wrecks, and moving accounts of racism during their tours.

Men are some of the most eloquent and voluble interviewees, with the point made how long time artistic director Léonide Massine particularly created ballets for male dancers. The film reinforces my biases against George Balanchine, who was affiliated with the company a couple of times, for his misogyny in insisting that the ideal image of women is like anorexic, pre-pubescent boys.

The filmmakers are a bit too uncritical, only occasionally allowing in shots of reviewers' pans. Much is made of some dancers war time Hollywood sojourn, but no distinction is made between corny clap trap and "7 Brides for 7 Brothers," one of the all time great movie musicals, though the footage from the former is rarer and they can assume we've seen the latter. While there's no mention of how they must have influenced Gene Kelly, much is made of the impact the company's tours had in small towns and cities, bringing ballet for the first time around the United States.

While some of the footage of a 2000 reunion goes on a bit too much in showing the elderly dancers trying to recreate their glory days, slipping into Russian arguments about steps, it does demonstrate how much of choreography is kinesthetic memory and can only be transmitted person to person. This is reinforced as we see them now as dance teachers in a disapora around the world - from Denmark to Australia to South America to Arizona -- and one noting that while today's dancers are better athletes and technicians "They have no warmth!" as she firmly corrects them -- just as the original Russian teachers did so long ago in Paris.

As is ironically sung in "A Chorus Line," "Everything is beautiful at the ballet." This film is a beautiful statement that dance doesn't have to be evanescent - it can be passed on. It lives in these dancers' memories and we should be very grateful that they have been captured in this film.

I walked into this film knowing very little about the history of ballet in the 20th century, and though those more knowledgeable than I may quibble with facts or omissions, I can't imagine anybody who loves dance, music, or human beings walking away from this film unsatisfied.

Much of the archival footage is thrilling to watch--much of it, to be honest, is also a little bland and hard to distinguish. Nonetheless, the film as a whole is very well edited and makes wonderful use of music. Its true glory rests, however, in the beautiful, opinionated, eccentric personalities that emerge, personalities so vibrant and colorful even at 80, 90 years of age that they make the living people around one (God forgive me for saying this) seem like tattered scraps of ashen cardboard. Dance must be some kind of fountain of youth. That so many of the people central to the history of these two companies should not only still be alive, but also be SO ALIVE, is nothing short of miraculous.

The film half-heartedly tries to end on a note of hope for the future of ballet, but let's not kid ourselves: this is an elegy for an art-form that will never again be quite what it once was. And actually, the film is all the more poignant for that. A beautiful and unforgettable film.

I noticed how positive some of the comments here were and I was struck by how many people writing comments stated they were not real big ballet fans or knew much about ballet history. I am a big fan of the ballet and of ballet history and while I liked this film very much, I am afraid it was a bit shaky in some aspects of authentic ballet history. First, the history of the original Ballet Russes as formed by Diaghliev and which starred such immortals as Nijinsky, Pavlova, Karasvina, etc was given short shrift and I was really surprised the film focused only on the companies called Ballet Russes after 1922. Any serious discussion of the history of the Ballet Russes and it role in inventing modern Ballet has to include a discussion of the Diagliev years--his company, not the copycat versions of De Basil and Denham, was the actual source of what we know as modern Ballet in the 20th century. Be Basil and Denham were only trying to preserve what Diaghliev had started. If you watched this film you would not know that Massine was the choreographer for Diaghliev's Ballet Russe after Nijinsky or that Nijinska or Balanchine were also first employed by Diaghliev.

You would also leave the film thinking that Freddy Franklin was Markova's principal partner but that was not true--Anton Dolin was her main partner for years and he also was discovered by Diaghliev. Anton Dolin and Markova both taught for years and years and they were some of the people instrumental in founding the Ballet Society which grew to become the American Ballet theater(ABT) in New York. Dolin's omission and that of ABT were particularly curious in a film on ballet history.

While the film tried to portray New York City(NYC) ballet as the main rival in New York, it was the ABT that posed the biggest rival to the Ballet Russe company. The ABT still maintained the star system(and still does to this day)--particularly foreign stars--and NYC did not. The ABT did some of the classical ballets--NYC did not as a rule--the NYC specialized in the abstract ballets of Balanchine. The ABT toured and NYC did not as a rule. Many of the stars of the Ballet Russe defected to ABT over time.

Another big reason for the decline of the Ballet russes that was not discussed in the film was the competition Sol Hurok began to bring over in the form of foreign tours like the Royal Ballet and the Bolshoi in the late 40's and 50's. These foreign companies brought over full length ballets that neither ABT or NYC or the Ballet Russes were doing at the time and this further contributed to the decline of the Ballet Russe. However, this was not mentioned and you could leave the film thinking the touring tradition for ballet companies died with the Ballet Russe--which was far from the case.

Another very curious omission was showing some of the Hollywood films the Ballet russe starred in and not mentioning the Red shoes!! This was a seminal work about the ballet and was widely seen in the 40's and starred Massine and other members of the Ballet Russe like Toumanova as well. The Red shoes also starred some dancers from one of the rival companies challenging the Ballet Russe listed above--Moira Shearer and Robert Helpmann from England's Royal Ballet.

I could go on and on about other omisions and subtle distortions of ballet history but I do not want to nitpick. This film is great on its own merits as cinema and hopefully, people who see the film might look up the real history of the ballet on their own--most of the books on ballet history have a lot of the intrigue and personality conflicts only alluded to in this film.

This wonderful documentary is a joy and a treasure, particularly for ballet fans, but also full of enjoyment for anyone with any interest in humans or art. It is a blessing that Geller and Goldfine happened upon this subject when they did, and decided to take it up. They have done a beautiful job of putting together with style, what was just a fraction of all the material they amassed, including interviews, current and archival footage, photos and excerpts from movies. Hunting down, choosing, eliminating and organizing into coherence all of this must have been an overwhelming task, and they have done it magnificently. The editing and the accompanying music also help to raise this documentary far above the level of most movies of that genre.

It is evident that the filmmakers fell in love with their many subjects and their stories. For anyone who has spent much time around some of these artists, that is not at all surprising, and they make us fall for them too. These dancers represent precious links with some of the richest of our artistic history; while their awareness of that and of the responsibility and gifts given them is eloquently expressed, they also show themselves to be very real, down-to-earth, fun-loving people--witty, too. We can't help but feel deeply for, and enjoy the hell out of them.

Certainly, even staying strictly within the very particular bounds of their subject, there was so much more one might have wished to have included here--this is such rich, juicy terrain. But time constraints would never allow the movie to cover anywhere near all the fascinating material that could have been included. Some important dancers mentioned either only briefly or not at all include Igor Youskevitch, George Skibine, Vera Zorina, Alicia Alonso, Sono Osato, André Eglevsky, Nana Gollner (aka Nina Golovina), Mary Ellen Moylan and Leon Danielian, among others. I would also have enjoyed a mention, and perhaps a photo or film clip, of Cyd Charisse during her time with the Ballets Russes; she used the stage name Felia Siderova (or Sidorova--research hasn't cleared up for me which spelling is correct).

There are also small mentions that should have been made, and could have without much trouble or time. Some of these include: upon mention of the Markova-Dolin Ballet company, a quick mention of Anton Dolin, and his importance; identifying Serge Lifar in a clip in which he playfully partners Tamara Toumanova outdoors on a lawn; even a brief account of the ultimate fate of founding director René Blum, who left the company to return to Europe, as stated in the movie, but who was tortured and killed by the Nazis. There also were still other companies that used the "Ballets Russes" moniker, and were part of the milieu this movie examines. In spite of things and people not in it, though, BALLETS RUSSES is glorious, and essential viewing.

In the end, no movie can be all things to all viewers, especially when focusing on a specialized slice of life and art. The comment here by gelman@attglobal.net (note: that somewhat negative review has now been taken down by its author, and replaced by a more recent and much more positive one) complains that this film does not follow Balanchine very much outside of his Ballets Russes work, and claims that "there is precious little about the major figures in American ballet and no attempt to explain how American ballet developed from the base provided by the Ballets Russes." I would argue that some of the people in this movie are indeed major figures in American ballet, but that isn't even the point. This movie deals lovingly with a particular, limited (though glorious) slice of cultural history; it is not meant to be a comprehensive history of ballet's development in America, even within the limited time frame it covers. There were certainly other important things happening in American dance concurrently to this movie's events, and I would love to see a movie or movies about them. Those are not the focus of this movie, and not the stories this movie sets out to tell. BALLETS RUSSES keeps its focus and tells its stories lovingly, glitteringly and touchingly. It is not to be missed! Deep thanks to Geller and Goldfine for a great, essential piece of history.

I haven't enjoyed a movie this much in years.

One filmmaking challenge I have been puzzling over for years is how to film dance. It is not enough to have a camera placed in a stationary place as if sitting in a theater looking at a stage. When I am at a physical performance, the contract forces me to be stationary, but I have the advantage of the surrounding space and shared breath in darkness, each our own darkness. But the camera can dance, and I find myself wishing to be in the flow. Some filmmakers do well with this immersion (often with choreographed fights). But none reaches the level that I turn fanatical and encourage you to share.

Another troubling film problem for me has to do with film documentaries. I know how to engage with a narrative when the contract is between me, the filmmaker and our collaborators. We can sail. But that contract gets muddled when there is a presumption that the contract and the presented reality are separated. Nominally, we presume film journalism where the filmmaker's craft is to disappear. Alternatively, we can have filmed history where the filmmaker's craft is applied to sharpening focus, interpreting the story rather than telling. Oh, so many documentaries frustrate because you cannot make that contract with the filmmaker that you need to allow the power of the medium to entangle you.

But here is a solution to both of those dilemmas. Superficially the purpose of this is to give us a history of a dance company, the Ballet Russe. It is an important story, how 19 century mastery in ballet was expelled from Russia and found a home in Europe, and thence expelled to the US where it found a home and adapted. This in many ways is an essential story about movement, poise and the value of presence. It affects what we tap when we judge people. It is built into the way we make and see movies.

So it is an important contract, and one the filmmakers honor. But that is not what this film is. The construction is the normal one: the historical journalist as narrator, as much historical footage as possible and as many interviews as time allows with the people who were there, so they can report directly. But what happens is a strange inversion. Instead of the witnesses enriching the story, the story enriches the witnesses and we end up being completely captured by the people who talk to us.

They are in their eighties and nineties, these dancers. All have a vitality that beams into the room where you watch this. All have given countless performances and all of them can count artistic achievement that to me is nearly unfathomable. All of these! While I plow through movies looking for a few that matter, here are some collected lives of people who routinely mattered, working small and large stages across the country as Johnny Appleseeds planting seeds of grace.

It was hard for me to keep all the Russian names straight: we see a modern aged face telling us something from their memories, and then we see that same person fifty, sixty, seventy years before in the situation recalled. I think the filmmakers knew how their project had morphed because they give lots of screen time to these folks, including episodes that have nothing to do with elaborating the history. We simply see them carrying on dancers' lives as best their bodies allow, every one of them alert and insightful.

The DVD has lots of extras, and you will want to gobble them all up, but I wish we could have just seen these old folks walk more. Just walk.

Ted's Evaluation -- 3 of 3: Worth watching.