Everyone is beautiful at the ballet

Brave Spartacus, up in the air

There is something laughable about Romans prancing around, hop-skipping as they celebrate their martial victory. But there is also something grand in this art form, this extreme celebration of the human body, in which every single tableau is an attempt by the choreographer to outdo Michelangelo.

In a cinema theater packed to the last seat, I watched a live broadcast performance of Spartacus from the Bolshoi Theater in Moscow, according to the announcer simultaneously with 929 other cinemas in the world. It was magnificent; no other word will do. Staging, lighting, and obviously the dancing: breath-taking. I had taken a box of popcorn with me because that's one of the privileges of the cinema, but I didn't dare put anything into my mouth, and to tell the truth, for long stretches was completely engrossed in the performance anyway. But there's only so many jumps and pointes I can take before falling back to that state of mind where I once more see Romans prancing around, and am reminded of Robin Hood: Men in Tights.

There were two long intermissions (I think there must be a physical necessity to this, the dancers have to recuperate) during which backstage scenes were shown and an announcer said some appropriate words in Russian, French and English. Ignoring the announcer and concentrating on the background you could see the cast sitting, standing, exercising, going through parts of their routines. This was a most enjoyable complement to the actual show. At one point Spartacus was doing a quiet 15 pushups almost off-camera, by way of warming up. A suspicious mind might think that he knew the camera was there, but it was impressive nonetheless.

About the actual show I do now know what to think, not having any basis for comparison. It was several times said by the announcer to be a very "masculine" ballet, and there were certainly a lot of bare muscles in evidence, and other body parts covered only by a thin layer of cloth. The female outfits were demure in contrast. I cannot say from my own experience how (a)typical this may be. The music by Khachaturian was forgettable I thought, it's not like opera in that sense, though it is in a lot of other ways. Maybe that's unfair though, and simply due to my ignorance of the composer, of which I know only the sabre dance and a single abtruse phrase from a Dutch cabaret song, De Hoezepoes: "Ik sta op Chatsjatoerjan met enkel een ceintuurtje an. Op Brahms' sextet lig ik in bed - 't is duidelijk meer sex dan tet." (I'll leave it to Google Translate to make sense of that in English.)

So, that's my attempt to try and be a ballet critic. I am very glad to have gained the experience, but give me musical or even opera any time of the day.