Nureyev reconsidered: Video commentary
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- August
- 28
Whenever I think of ballet dancer Rudolf Nureyev  whose early years in Russia are the subject of a PBS’ “Great Performances” profile at 9 p.m. tomorrow (WNET-Channel 13 locally)  I think of that St. Patrick’s Day many years ago when it took me two hours to cross the parade route at Fifth Avenue. Honestly, it was like that “Seinfeld” episode about the Puerto Rican Day Parade  complete traffic standstill.
Now, why was I trying to cross Fifth Avenue on St. Patrick’s Day? Why, to get to the old Uris Theatre to see Nureyev, of course. In those days, toward the end of his career, he was touring four works associated with the legendary early-20th century ballet dancer Vaslav Nijinsky. The last of these was “Petrouchka,” the poignant story of a little clown puppet cruelly treated by his maker, who nonetheless gets his revenge. It’s a bit of a Frankenstein tale.
I can still see Nureyev in his clown costume with his stiff arm gestures and “Oh, no, Mr. Bill” facial expressions. At the end of the evening  which as it turned out was also Nureyev’s birthday  he came out for a series of curtain calls. For what seemed like forever, flowers, applause  love  rained down on that stage. The only experience I ever had that came close to this was a concert by Liza Minnelli in the early ‘70s that ended with the title song from “Cabaret.” As she hit the final chorus, a great wave of humanity came crashing toward the stage. I’ll never forget those moments as long as I live. I think Nureyev  and Minnelli, for that matter  deserved that kind of adulation. Put aside the courageous leap of faith he took in defying the Soviet Union to come the West  a move that cost his family and friends dearly, as you’ll see in “Nureyev: The Russian Years.” Nureyev was one of the few classically trained artists of the 20th century to transcend and cross over to pop culture. In the West  where male ballet dancing was, and probably still is, considered effete and effeminate  he demonstrated that a male dancer could be a clown or a prince or even a flower and still be a man. He was brilliant, beautiful, sexy, passionate, charismatic, dramatic and dynamic, and he totally rejuvenated the career of Margot Fonteyn, one of history’s greatest ballerinas and one of the loveliest women I ever met.
I knew Nureyev slightly, which is to say I didn’t know him at all. Perhaps none of us really ever knows anyone else. I can tell you what he was like in interviews: He was cultured, sophisticated and widely read, with superb taste in art, music, books, food, fashion, wine—you name it. “The Russian Years” points out that he was born on a train  a good metaphor for his questing mind.
For someone who was genuinely famous, he was also truly humble, which is to say he knew exactly who and what he was. He knew that the critics thought he had danced past his prime, that he was over the hill.
In other words, that he had stayed too long at the fair. But you know what? I’m glad he did.
This entry was posted
on Tuesday, August 28th, 2007 at 10:55 am by Georgette Gouveia.
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