Another Spartak

Carlos Acosta danced at the Bolshoi Theater

Premier of the English Royal Ballet, guest soloist of the American Ballet Theatre, international star, excellent at attracting halls and for his own projects not related to high-profile theaters, Carlos Acosta took a month out of his jam-packed schedule to come learn the part of Spartacus and dance it at the Bolshoi. In August he will repeat this role twice in London - our theater invited the famous Cuban on tour, but in the current performance there was nothing from a rehearsal, nothing from a test of strength. The job is done; the work has been presented - and no one asks for any apologies for the blots.

Because there are no blots. Well, Spartak once dropped his sword in the heat of a fight - so to hell with the sword, such a hero could strangle his opponent with his bare hands. This one - covering the stage in three jumps, in rotations driven not by job responsibilities, but by the steely logic of the battle and raising his partner to high support like a flag - instantly, solemnly and effortlessly. The dancer performed the role wonderfully - but this role belonged to some other “Spartak”.

Hollywood movie? Cuban performance? This Spartacus - with his thoughtless impulse, with that naturalness of a protective male gesture that has almost disappeared in megalopolises, with that joy of a victorious attack that does not imply predictions about what this victory will cost - in a domestic performance made in 1968, was impossible, like James Bond, for example, in “Seventeen Moments of Spring.” In our 1968, Spartak suffered, was horrified (having killed a friend in a gladiator match) and began to fight only out of monstrous necessity. He was neither a warrior nor even a fighter initially - a young man thrown into the war by circumstances (and in ’68 the whole country still remembered how young people were thrown into the war in ’41). Spartacus was then danced by Vasilyev - he was 28, in his prime as a ballet dancer, but the “prototype” of the character, the boy going off to war, should have been younger. That’s why the duets between Spartacus and Phrygia are so chaste - they simply don’t accomplish anything yet.

This plot is unfamiliar and alien to Acosta - and he plays what he understands. Understands - a slave revolt; the slaves are clearly familiar with weapons (for example, they cut cane with a machete) and are accustomed to finding out in their midst who is in charge. She understands this feeling - “my woman” and proudly defends it. Only in this situation, the scene when Spartacus releases the captured Roman commander is completely impossible - children of the streets and plantations do not make such mistakes. These troubles with nobility are for intelligent young men, like the first day at war (on the second, if they survive, they also no longer let their enemies go). And even Acosta’s excellent endurance works against him: after the betrayal of part of his army, Spartacus must get tired (morally, but it is clear that in ballet everything is expressed by physical action, an elementary degree of muscle tension), his hero does not weaken for a second and does not doubt how.

Acosta showed the highest class of dance - technique, accuracy, power. And the role - well, there are purely Russian stories in the world. And when in the movies Andrei Bolkonsky and Natasha meet under the olive trees, and Petrusha Grinev, ten minutes after meeting, drags the captain’s daughter into the abyss of rye, we don’t protest, right? People are interested in our classics - honor and praise to them.

Anna GORDEEVA