At the age of seven CATHERINE BISLEY wanted to be a goat farmer. Two years later, after tasting goat’s milk and being chased around a paddock by a billy goat with rather large horns, she decided it wasn’t for her and fixed her sights on being a ballerina. Fickle at heart she also tired of that idea, but many years later, watching the documentary Ballets Russes, she has once again been drawn to tutus, Tchaikovsky and pas de chats.


IMAGINE dancing choreography by the likes of George Balanchine, David Lechine and Leonide Massine. Not only this, but getting to do so on a set designed by Dali or wearing a costume by Matisse! Dancing has never been a big money spinner, but the artistic benefits are shown as immense for those dancers associated with the two companies that directors Daniel Geller and Danya Goldfine follow in their documentary: “Think how rich I am” Dame Alicia Markova, a prima ballerina with the Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo, aptly comments on this creative environment.

The film opens with a lone ballerina, who teeters, ethereal and insubstantial amongst the film grains. Such archival footage is peppered throughout the documentary. Watching Yvonne Chouteau dancing Coppelia, circling imploringly on point, gave me that indescribable feeling you get in your stomach when you see someone you like walking down the street. While I could happily have watched such footage for two hours, the film is primarily made up of interviews with the dancers themselves. These interviews give insight into the history and rivalry of Massine’s Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo and de Basil’s Original Ballet Russe. The hubris of the choreographers dominates; the creative processes, gossip, intrigue, politics and power-play that came with being beautiful and artistic are also fascinating.

There are some great anecdotes. Irina Baronova, one of three very young dancers picked out of a Parisian ballet academy by George Balanchine, did not want to learn ballet; it was “much more fun climbing trees and throwing stones at one another”. Miguel Terekhov recounts seeing de Basil’s company in their tour South America. He describes how he was inspired to become a dancer and the effect that these beautiful people with foreign accents had on him: “It was very dramatic. No wonder I am the way I am”. Freddy Franklin similarly describes how Massine’s company travelled out into Middle America, where people were suddenly confronted with “strange people with strange names doing strange things in strange costumes”. Nini Theilade (for those Shakespeare fans out there she plays Titania in Max Reinhardt’s film version of A Midsummer Nights Dream) recounts how on one such tour she made love to Dali’s swan, which dripped in blood (naturally). Interestingly it was Middle America that became a base for the company when it hit hard times – there they always got sell out crowds. Theilade is a fantastic storyteller. Her description of Massine teaching them on board the ship to New York when they were escaping World War II illustrates how hard the dancers were worked: they were on at the Met the night that the ship arrived. Another dancer recounts how the competitive mothers who travelled with their young daughters weren’t allowed to talk about the girls’ performances, but managed to say it all with their eyes.

Mia Slavenska’s stunning looks totally eclipse the likes of Angelina Jolie and Charlize Theron. She also has interesting things to say about dance: “How can you dance to one, two, three, four?” she asks. She recounts how one time Balanchine summoned her to the stage “pronto” at an early hour. Not to be ordered about she did not go. This she reminisces “was lucky” as she was so beautiful he would have fallen in love with her. Her arrogant air is warranted. George Zoritch gets the title of “most glamorous man”. You can’t believe he is 84. All the old ladies giggle girlishly when they talk about him. I giggle too. He not only was/is irresistibly good looking, but has a sense of humour. He comments on Agnes de Mille’s ballet Rodeo saying, “Anyone who isn’t bedridden could be in Rodeo”.

Watching Ballets Russes is a forceful reminder of mortality. Tatiana Riabouchinska, who dances “light as a feather” in footage, when interviewed is an old lady with a walking stick who drives a well-pranged red car. Marc Platt, who in film footage does an energetic virtuoso performance, voices his sadness of not being able to dance anymore: “a pas de bas would kill me and a plie hurts”. Most of the dancers retain their joie de vivre even though their bodies are far beyond the sinuous vigour of youth. Zoritch and Nathalie Krassovska re-enact a scene from Giselle: “Don’t run so fast, I cannot catch you” Zoritch quips. They revert to Russian for an argument. Krassovska herself is another great character. Resplendent in a blue leotard with a plunging back and green and gold jewellery, she spends a lot of her interview laughing: “I always had trouble with men, I was always in love”. Not all those interviewed inspire such admiration for aging; some dancers have gone over to the dark side – plastic surgery – to very ill effect.

Mapping the birth of modern ballet, the filmmakers touch on events such as the controversial but popular mixing of Tchaikovsky and ballet in Le Presage. You will also learn that going to one of the Ballet Russes’ performances was “one of the great erotic pleasures” in pre-war London, enough to cause you to “slather at the mouth”. Maria Tallchief, who married Balanchine, describes how his style differed from that of Massine; for him Ballet was not about the costumes and scenery, but the body. Hear hear! There are too many productions, not just ballet, but also opera and theatre that suffer because of over zealous staging that draws away from the heart of the performance.

The filmmakers do a good job of placing ballet in a historical context. For example, the civil rights movement is touched on in the story of Raven Wilkinson, an African American dancer who toured to the South. Ballets Russes does not achieve this same level with the wider artistic context. Since watching the film I have read two articles which contain reference to the Ballets Russes; one was on the Spanish poet and playwright Gael Garcia Lorca and the other a review of the art exhibition Russia!, which is currently showing at the Guggenheim. While the film maps the art currents that were feeding into the dance, it would have added to the film if it had included more about the wide influence that these two ballet companies had on other art forms.

Although I gave up ballet as a 12-year-old in pursuit of the freedom and power of contemporary style – more interested in Michael Parmenter than John Trimmer – I still have illusions of gracefully dying drenched in blue light in a fine white tutu to the strains of Tchaikovsky. Watching Ballets Russes I was reminded of the incomparable beauty and finesse that ballet can have when it is done well. While the film drags in a few places during the last half hour, mimicking the decline of the companies it follows, Ballets Russes is recommended for dance fans from all disciplines as well as all those inflexible people to whom the word “plie” means nothing.