Yury Grigorovich's Spartacus,
produced in 1968, was the third attempt at staging the piece,
and the first to be successful. So successful, indeed, that
it became an icon of Soviet art, an all-conquering example
of ballet as portrait of a state's ideals, done with compelling
boldness. It also hinted (without irony) at facets of cold
war ideology: hordes of male dancers mirroring the fact of
Russian troops in eastern Europe; the socialist realism of
a group indomitable in the face of oppression; Roman debauchery
contrasted with the innocence of slaves and the goose-stepping
legionaries as reminder of German militarism.
All this, of course, was par for the
confrontational politics of the time. Its appeal was in the
commitment of its cast, the surging populism of Khachaturian's
score, the massive scale of Grigorovich's choreography and
in the performances of male principals who incarnated Spartacus
with heroic bravura. From Vasiliev and Lavrovsky in the 1970s
until Mukhamedov in the 1980s, the ballet was a hymn to the
strength of the Bolshoi's men.
The survival of Spartacusin the post-glasnost
era might have seemed less likely, but audiences responded,
and still respond to Grigorovich's driving ensembles, to the
uncomplicated psyches of the principals, to a sense of mounting
tragedy culminating in the final pieta`. Spartacus impels
its performers, drags its public forward, with undeniable
power.
Thursday's cast was led by Dmitri Belogolovtsev,
a soaring slave-leader but lacking, for me, something of the
emotional glamour that such a leader should have, with Anna
Antonicheva as the beloved Phrygia, a touching performance
reminiscent of Bessmertnova's linear poetry. The Crassus was
Vladimir Neporozhny, elegant in manner but missing the role's
arrogance, with Galina Stepanenko as Aegina, mistress of those
games with which Roman orgies abound. The company marched,
rebelled, suffered and went ape when faced with the naughty
ladies. The score blazed, roared, and with the Bolshoi orchestra
under Pavel Sorokin, sounded almost like music. |