Russian-French liaison

In the “Life of Remarkable People” series, another biography of Sergei Diaghilev was published - a man whose discoveries for the art of the twentieth century meant no less than Einstein’s discoveries for science. Finally, something worthy of attention.

Russian art criticism did not have time to deal with Diaghilev: from a close distance he seemed either a charlatan or a magician. And less than ten years after the first “Russian Season,” the Russian ended—the Soviet began. But for the Soviet Diaghilev did not exist. He did not have to flee the revolution - the First World War had already closed the border for him, and Diaghilev remained on the western side: the rest of his life was connected with Europe. The name resurfaced only in the 70s, ballet historian Vera Krasovskaya was the first to try to comprehend what Diaghilev had done (a noble attempt, albeit a superficial one: analytics was not Krasovskaya’s strong point), then the two-volume book “Diaghilev and Russian Art” was published: Diaghilev was “allowed”, and this became one of many ideological cracks - the Soviet Union was slowly but surely dying. And then I died. And it burst. A translated series of foreign memoirs about Russian ballet in Europe under Diaghilev has been published. For the first time, the “rich word “homosexuality”, which determined so much in the “Diaghilev circle” and in the selection of its employees, was uttered. In Perm, Diaghilev’s hometown, the first festival named after him was held: his fellow countrymen learned to be proud of him. In short, a lot happened. But the best analysis about Diaghilev was published not in academic works or collections of the Institute of Art History, but in the Kommersant newspaper on the anniversary of the hero: Pavel Gershenzon (for ballet), Olga Manulkina (for music) and Kira Dolinina (art) were able to formulate that Diaghilev did this - not a dancer, not a choreographer, not a composer, not a musician, not an artist, not a designer - for the art of the entire twentieth century. The quality of this analytics has not yet been surpassed. Although the post-Soviet “Diaghileviana” has already swollen almost to the size of Lenin’s saga. In Perm, a whole industry blossomed around Diaghilev, like around Mickey Mouse. Actually, Oleg Brezgin is the author of a brand new book, one of the key figures in this Perm movement. Diaghilev’s apostle, his priest, and now his biographer. And we can say that at the moment in Russia he is his best biographer.

Brezgin is a master at picking out raisins from other people's memoirs and letters

A biography of Diaghilev was published in ZhZL just a few years ago. Why they published a new one is clear from the very first pages of the old one: it’s such an indigestible woman’s writing, sweet gray glue. Brezgin's book is read with enthusiasm. Brezgin, one can say with confidence, read everything with a pencil (with the same confidence, however, one can assume that the researcher reads, alas, only in Russian - which is still a minus for Diaghilev’s biographer: the most active part of the hero’s life was spent abroad ). He is a master at picking out the raisins from other people's memoirs and letters: the quotes are expressive, juicy, he conducts them perfectly, he directs them. You hear voices, see people, understand their relationships. Even though the biographer himself avoids his own assessments and conclusions. The entire Russian part is very good - fascinating, fast-paced, expressive. What emerges is a very convincing picture of Russian life on the eve of the revolution - wild, crazy, corrupt, swamped by mediocre Grand Dukes, their favorites and mistresses, all of them lied through, stole, got entangled in intrigues, but you understand that only on such rotting soil could this exotic flower grow - Sergei Diaghilev. On the one hand, he is the flesh of the not very rich, but cultured, intelligent Russian nobility, on the other hand, he is still an adventurer and gambler, a person outside the system. In this part, Brezgin’s book is really about life, and a wonderful life.

As soon as the connection with Russia is cut off, Russian-language sources dry up and you can only rely on what has been translated and published here, the narrative becomes noticeably boring. It mumbles quietly from season to season, from premiere to premiere. From an artistic point of view, this is by no means brilliant prose for twisting the plot around performances. The narrative has no other axis. It's a pity. If only someone could finally tell how Diaghilev’s Russian Ballet really lived: the largest ballet employer in Europe until Diaghilev’s death. How Sergei Pavlovich really got out of it year after year - so that at the same time he had shoes with holes and a collection of Russian books in Venice. How did they pay at the Russian Ballet? And who watched it? The “art and money” plot in the case of Diaghilev is greatly underestimated.

It would be very useful if there were links in the book. Brezgin quotes generously. And there are no footnotes to sources. It is not clear who in this case piled on - whether the researcher or ZhZL (why, supposedly, does the mass reader need footnotes?) - but this spoils the book thoroughly: as a scientific work it is simply devoid of value. However, if you are that same intelligent mass reader (and there is nothing to be ashamed of here), then you will not regret buying this book for a single minute.