Children's paradise

Maurice Béjart's new troupe danced in Moscow

There were no decorations, only at the back of the stage the logs formed a sloping path to nowhere. The soundtrack carried dark and languid Indian chants. Fifteen radiant teenagers ran in a crowd, suddenly jumped into the air, spun on one leg, throwing the other one over their knee, and happily screamed in bad voices. An elderly woman, who forty years ago was one of the five best ballerinas in the world, the Stuttgart prima Marcia Heide, crawled under their feet, scrubbed the rather large stage of the Rossiya concert hall with a rag and periodically delivered sermons in French. This is how the tour of Maurice Bejart's new troupe "Company M" took place. Performance "Mother Teresa and the Children of the World."

In last year’s edition of the Bezharov school “Rudra”, which formed this troupe (the master appreciated the successes of the students so highly that he did not want to let them go to other theaters), among the fifteen dancers there were not two who came from the same country - which became the reason for the performance. The children of the ballet world, gathered in Lausanne, became a symbol of the Children of the world in general. And that small world that Bejar created at school opened up to humanity.

The rules of this world sound uncomfortable, strange and naive, like the sermons of Mother Teresa. They are anti-ballet, strictly speaking. Because ballet is an island of murdered childhood, strangled by competition and hellish physical labor. And Bejar says - rejoice. And he says - be like children, don’t be shy to scream, laugh and sing. Work does not contradict joy, says Bejart: Mother Teresa turns over the staff on which she was leaning - and a stick appears, a ballet barre, the children of the world begin the exercise.

Bejar neglects the ancient rules of constructing a performance. There is no conflict here at all, no beginning--culmination--denouement. There is only the young sunny tribe (the artists are from sixteen to nineteen, they often seem even younger) and there is Mother Teresa. The children of the world cling to her, obey her, receive food from her hands and instantly throw away the sticks of a completely pretend fight, as soon as she makes a single stopping gesture. She folds her legs into the lotus position and looks at everyone with a peaceful smile. All this is monotonous, unprovocative, undramatic.

When the performance passes the halfway point, Bejar seems to be flipping through a textbook for the children of the world: either a fragment from the famous “Bolero” will appear, or a piece of the “Greek Suite” will be inserted. It’s as if children are promised: this is what you will dance when you grow up a little. When childhood ends, when leaders stand out from the general curly mass (and you can see who dances better, no matter how the master equates them), someone will quarrel with someone else and someone will cry hopelessly. In the meantime, Bejar is creating an artificial paradise for his charges, devoid of real triumphs and real temptations of the profession. Is it right to protect children from the outside world? Let teachers argue about that. Parents can only infuse their incredible, naive, ill-conceived love - and console if the audience begins to run out of the hall in the middle of the performance.

Anna GORDEEVA