| Sylvie Guillem prevented a strike at La Scala It is almost impossible to see the world's first ballerina in classical performances - she is forty, and the girl in whom Nureyev once recognized that bird's rebellious spirit and cat's curiosity for the new that drove him through life, has long tried all the productions and is fed up with them. Now she is interested in performances made for her personally - for the entire season she has been performing an evening of one-act plays by Russell Malifan around the world. (They say that one of the Moscow production companies is busy looking for sponsors to invite this program to us; but it’s hard to believe that any of the patrons could shell out that kind of money - Guillem’s last visit to Russia provided only an enormous budget for the anniversary of St. Petersburg). But for La Scala - the beloved La Scala, where they still remember how almost twenty years ago Guillem exploded the stage with diagonal jumps in Don Quixote - the ballerina made an exception, agreeing to appear in Manon three times. The performances, which were sold out in advance by balletomanes from all over the world, almost failed.
The corps de ballet decided to go on strike. After the reconstruction of the building, completed in December last year (for three seasons the theater worked on a different, specially prepared stage; the reconstruction was carried out according to a very economical option), the ballet dancers were cramped by the orchestra: their dressing rooms became too small, and the musicians received larger rooms. In addition, the artists were disturbed by the noise of the rehearsing orchestra. Four trade unions demanded that the theater superintendent radically change the situation - in case of inattention to the demands, they decided to cancel the entire Manon series.
Not so long ago, due to a strike at La Scala, The Barber of Seville was canceled, so the threat seemed real. But since it was a question of Guillem, Superintendent Stefan Lissner and the unions agreed: he promised to find additional premises at any cost, they gave until May.
And Guillem arrived.
When Guillem is on stage, the concept of “trick” disappears from ballet, you forget the word “effort”. A simple thing - most ballerinas, getting up on pointe shoes, like to slightly emphasize this point; professional coquetry - “you see, not everyone can do this.” Guillem moves from his foot to his toes - it’s literally like breathing, there is no limit, it’s as if an air wave slightly lifts it up - and lowers it just as easily. Between the ascent and descent there may be a super complex element, or there may be two steps and a smile; it doesn't matter at all. What is important is the absolute naturalness of the dance - arising from absolute elaboration, absolute mastery.
Guillem could have quarreled with the Paris Opera a long time ago and settled in London, but the meticulous French school, recording little things, views, details, has not gone away. Her Manon is sixteen years old, but she is quite experienced in matters of the heart and knows the value of pleasure. Her every gesture is that of a young woman, convinced that the world was created for her, and that managing it with the help of men is easy and pleasant. Here is a scene in a gambling (and fun) house - Manon helps her lover-sharp. The men are at the table, Manon is leaning towards the table - her finger moves after the cards and money, or rather, the cards and money move after this long finger. She hugs her rich patron by the shoulders, smiles completely carefree, but the hand conducts the game, the hand holds the game - and the exposure of the unfortunate cheater occurs only when Manon is distracted.
Everything is under control is the motto of this Manon; Everything is under control in Guillem plastic. Although the ballerina has not lost her phenomenal step, her favorite vertical splits are missing - Manon should seem to de Grieux (the megastar was accompanied by local neat artist Massimo Murru) as a peaceful angel. It should - and it seems that the leg rises decorously ninety degrees, a little to the left, a little to the right, and then - suddenly - the only time when he turns away, takes it and shoots into the sky. This is a demonstration of the ballerina's capabilities. (Does everyone remember what year I was born? Did you think you were on a farewell tour? Well, wow!) And a clear promise of trouble for des Grieux. He got neither meek nor an angel.
Manon’s “madeness” and self-control decrease as the performance progresses. Guillem plays out the story of the transformation of artificial man into natural man - and does it skillfully. Having escaped with des Grieux from her pimp brother in order to take charge of her own life, Manon falls in love with the gentleman - and normal girlish gestures appear in the plastic. Here they are together - and she is fooling around, grabbing him by the tails of his tailcoat, jumping on the bed as if on a trampoline - not a shadow of calculation, not a thought about how to look. The brother returns Manon to the right circle - yes, she is easily bought by Mr. M.’s luxurious gift (hmm, this Manon is offered more than the one who lives in our Mariinsky Theater; in St. Petersburg - just a patterned cape, in Milan - with excellent white fur), but when he meets de Grieux, he becomes embarrassed, turns away sharply, and nervously clenches his fist. Not the ruler of a demi-monde, but a living soul, who herself does not understand what is happening to her.
When the habits learned among his brother disappear, a wild teenager emerges, with angular gestures and a desperate demeanor. In the duel scene she fights, throwing out her arms and legs like a boy, and “in hard labor” she becomes a complete animal. She is on her knees asking for mercy from the commandant, but she recoils from the hand raised to her head - not in order to earn herself better conditions of detention (where is the old Manon?) - the instinct of righteousness, inherent, as the enlighteners believed, in natural people, orders her to reject the harassment.
With the “manners” of the demi-monde, the flirtatious manner of dancing also disappears. In the last act, Guillem breaks the plastic, destroys the canons and, in an absolutely expressionistic way, is not afraid to seem ugly. Here Manon in the swamps of America imagines the inhabitants of Paris - Guillem is writhing on the ground like a crucified spider, his legs are broken out of their joints, his hands are twisted and covering his ears, “I don’t want to remember with my body, I don’t want to hear them.” And the finale is a duet in which Manon rushes upward somewhere, jumps, spinning madly in the air, stretches her hands towards something invisible - something childish, completely and completely unrealized. He runs, stumbles, and falls hard on his chest. And he dies not at all like a ballet, short and scary.
The ballet, composed thirty years ago by the Englishman Kenneth MacMillan, who was in love with Russian drama ballet, and is present in the repertoire of fifty theaters, is played by artists in different parts of the world in different ways - turning it either into a romantic story or into a sentimental story. Both of these styles are alien to Guillem; she was the first - and only - to bring Manon dances closer to the present day. And even her colleagues squeezed together in their dressing rooms could not miss the opportunity to see these dances. Anna GORDEEVA, Milan |
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