KIROV BALLET
If companies were designer dresses, the Kirov would be a Christian Dior, with none of the fussy noise of a Christian LaCroix–the style of the flamboyant Bolshoi. And the Kirov’s clean, elegant lines have the same staying power as those of Dior’s creations.
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The Kirov’s sets and costumes, however, are far from pared down. The men’s vests and the women’s tutus are loaded with sequins and gemstones, adding to the fairy-tale splendor onstage. The sets and costumes for the three classic works on the program I saw brilliantly carried out the moods of the pieces. In George Balanchine’s Scotch Symphony, everything seems to glow with an idyllic rosiness–there’s a profusion of pink tutus and reddish kilts, reeking of Romanticism. For the second act of Swan Lake, a placid silver gray lake shines almost surreally amid craggy rocks and trees. The scene seems to close in on you, making you feel you’re enclosed in a cave, looking out. The set for the Paquita excerpt is commanding as only the Russians, with their czarist history, could have made it. The stage seems covered with chandeliers and candelabras; gold statuary glimmers through a chiffon scrim. Rich rust-colored velvet curtains extend across the whole stage.
But the true strength of the Kirov, what it’s best known for, is the impeccable precision of its corps. Their legs and arms move with the staccato perfection of the Rockettes’–but with none of the Rockettes’ stiff regimentation. The Kirov corps dance in unison because they have learned to move as one body, with one set of arms, one set of legs; and their movements have the body’s natural grace, not the precision of a machine. When the four cygnets dance, their fluid perfection takes the dance beyond the level of cliche.
