O Corvo Branco

This film tells the story of a Russian ballet dancer who defected in France during the cold war.

I can't quite believe how good this film is. The story is intense and captivating, even if you don't know about Rudi or about ballet. The dances portrayed are beautiful, the leading actors are great to look at too. The airport scene is so intense that I watched it several times. I also particularly like the fact that Clara Sant helped Rudi so much, without expecting anything in return. I enjoyed every bit of this film, and I strongly recommend it.

A biopic about Rudolf Nureyev: gifted with an exemplary technique, he is considered as the greatest classical dancer and as one of the greatest choreographers.

The actors Oleg Ivenko and Chulpan Khamatova are excellent whereas Ralph Fiennes is magnificent with a masterful interpretation of Alexander Pushkin, with restraint and sensitivity. He literally impressed me! Nevertheless, as a director, Ralph Fiennes is less convincing. He excessively insists on the haughty and unpleasant character of Rudolf Nureyev, to such a point that we almost want to slap him. In addition, the manifold alternations between the trip to Paris in 1961 (the present time) and the flashbacks (his childhood in a poor family and his debut as a dancer) are almost disturbing. I would have appreciated that Ralph Fiennes develops these different points: 1) An evocation of the trip to Vienna in 1959, formerly Western Europe, followed by a formal ban on all abroad travel formulated by the Russian Minister of Culture, which could have explained, without justifying, the oppressive and stifling behavior of the KGB members, in Paris in 1961. 2) A less dark presentation of the Soviet Union reduced to KGB members as obtuse as omnipotent. Indeed, at the beginning of the 60s, the Soviet aura was supreme: culture, science, geopolitical influence, ... For instance, the dramatic Nureyev's defection at the Paris Le Bourget Airport happened just two months after the Bay of Pigs invasion which was a significant failure for Kennedy's US foreign policy and a strong reinforcement of the relations between Cuba and the Soviet Union.

As a synthesis, the movie is excellently interpreted but the realization is slightly muddleheaded. 6/7 of 10.

My wife and I watched this at home on DVD from our public library.

While the focus of this movie is the 1961 defection of ballet dancer Nureyev you can't really tell that part of his life without understanding his beginnings, from being born on a train in 1938 to studying under the demanding Soviet system. Most of that takes up the first half of the movie.

I remember Nureyev well, he was such an inventive dancer and became popular world-wide in the 1960s and 1970s but I never knew his story. When the company of dancers would tour outside the USSR they were not supposed to exchange ideas or even talk to people from other countries but Nureyev never really followed the rules. When it looked like going back home might be bad for him, in France he defected, asking for political asylum. The scenes that retell and dramatize the incident are some of the best in this movie.

For the role Oleg Ivenko, a Ukranian who really is a ballet dancer in Russia and a first-time actor, plays Rudolf Nureyev and he plays him very well.

A really well made movie and a well told story, we enjoyed it.

A 'white crow' in the Russian idiom is someone who stands out from others because of their appearance or behaviour. Rudolph Nureyev was, and for many still is, the white crow in the world of male ballet dancers. With extraordinary athleticism and sharply chiselled features, he defied gravity and glamorised male dancing. He also managed to make the KGB look flatfooted when he famously defected to the West.

We first see the young Rudolph as a six-year old child prodigy plucked from a poor background. The film flashes-back to these early scenes several times to remind viewers that despite his majestic aura on stage, he came from humble origins. The adult Rudolph (Oleg Ivenko) was a volatile personality both on and off stage. KGB spies watched elite dancers closely because ballet was a major cultural propaganda tool at the height of the Cold War. Rudolph was known to praise creative freedoms in the West and his secret sexuality was seen as a potential source of political embarrassment.

Most of the film builds the context in which Rudolph would commit what Russians believed was the ultimate act of treason. Barely enough camera time is devoted to his ballet lessons and performances, but what is shown will please devotees of the artform. A major sub-narrative is the live-in mentoring by his teacher Pushkin (Ralph Fiennes) and his relationships with Pushkin's wife Xenia (Chulpan Khamatova) and socialite Clara Saint (Adele Exarchopoulos). Rather than meaningful affairs, these relationships show Rudolph's willingness to exploit anyone who could advance his dancing career.

The film's modest tension curve spikes a few times during Rudolph's fiery temper tantrums, but it jumps steeply during the climactic defection scenes. The camera almost neurotically switches from close-ups on the faces of Russian spies, American observers, Rudolph and Clara, all while in the transit area of a French airport. When Rudolph is stopped from boarding a flight to his next performance, the KGB falsely tell him he has been summoned to a gala performance for the Kremlin. He is thrust into a vortex of disbelief, terror, and the realisation that if he seeks political asylum he will never set foot again in his homeland nor see his family.

Despite its uneven pace and meandering narrative arc, this powerful non-fiction storytelling is backed up with excellent acting performances and cinematography. The Cold War tensions are palpable and the political battle lines drawn clearly. You do not need to be a ballet fan to appreciate this film.

Director: Ralph Fiennes Stars: Oleg Ivenko, Ralph Fiennes, Adele Exarchopoulos, Chulpan Khamatova

'The White Crow' tells of Soviet ballet star Rudolf Nureyev's defection to the West in Paris, 1961. And of his years training in Leningrad. And of his poverty-stricken childhood. Three strands running concurrently through the film make for a busy production. The childhood scenes do little more than establish that Nureyev grew up surrounded by poverty and lots of snow. The Leningrad scenes show him as willing to work for his craft, but intense, self-centred and very arrogant - a proper little diva, in fact. Six years later, in Paris, he is still arrogant - demanding, for example, that a French female companion talk to a Russian waiter on his behalf because he suspects the man of looking down on him. But the intensity has weakened, replaced by an interest in what is around him and a happy curiosity in new things. This, however, does not please his KGB minders.

The film is the third from Ralph Fiennes wearing his director's hat. He does a pretty good job: the childhood scenes are shot in bleak, washed-out colours - almost black-and-white - a clever decision which creates atmosphere; and the climactic defection scene in Le Bourget Airport is heavy with tension. There *are* directoral flaws - something as simple as, for example, giving leading man Oleg Ivenko a different haircut for each era would have prevented this viewer's occasional confusion as to whether I was watching 1960s' Paris Nureyev or the 1950s' Leningrad version! And did we need quite so many extreme close-ups of Ivenko's face? But overall, director Fiennes does a good job...

... which makes it a shame that actor Fiennes turns in one of the weakest performances of the film. His portrayal of Nureyev's teacher Pushkin may, for all I know, be true to the real man, but I found it dreadfully studied and mannered, producing a caricature rather than a character (I will, however, give Fiennes full marks for delivering most of his lines in Russian!) Ukrainian dancer Ivenko, in what according to IMDb is his first acting role, turns in a more naturalistic performance, albeit within the confines of the generously-proportioned ego he is portraying. My personal favourite, however, was Chulpan Khamatova in a nicely-judged portrayal of Pushkin's wife Xenia, whose initial motherly interest in Nureyev (prompted by her husband's concern the stroppy teenager is not eating enough) develops over the course of the film.

Seen in preview at the British Film Institute, and - containing good pacing, an interesting story and nicely-rendered period detail - well worth it.