Goody tutus Time Out New York / Issue 692 : Jan 1–7, 2009 : By Gia Kourlas
In his new documentary, Bertrand Normand breaks down the ballerina fourth wall.
LADY DIANA Superstar Diana Vishneva flutters her fan in Ballerina. Photograph: The Film Society of Lincoln Center/First Run Features
In one telling scene in Bertrand Normand’s fascinating new documentary, Ballerina, Alina Somova has just finished dancing her first Swan Lake at the Maryinsky Theater. Ballet director Makhar Vaziev, after giving her a flurry of corrections, tells her, “You’ve been brave. Don’t come in tomorrow. It’s been a colossal effort. Forget the theater and rest.”
Standing in her swan queen costume, Somova tears up. “I don’t want to stay at home.”“Go for a walk!” he exclaims. “If you come to the theater, I’ll punish you.”
With little previous knowledge, Normand, a 36-year-old French director, has captured the fragility and ferocity of five Maryinsky ballerinas. Along with Somova, his film spotlights Uliana Lopatkina, Evgenia Obraztsova (who didn’t travel with the company during its New York season last April), Diana Vishneva and Svetlana Zakharova. The documentary, presented as part of Dance on Camera 2009, is a surprisingly intimate portrait of what it means to be a ballerina. Normand, whose passion at the start was Russia, not ballet, will be present at both screenings to introduce the film and field audience questions. He spoke about Ballerina, soon to be released on DVD, from his Paris home.
You don’t have a background in ballet. How did you discover this world and want to make a film about it? Actually, it was when I first visited St. Petersburg in 1995. I was there in the winter, just for three days, and that visit made a very strong impression upon me. It was a magical land with snow and people wearing fur coats, and I spent every evening at the Maryinsky Theater. Years later, I decided to go back to Petersburg with a French producer to further explore this, without a precise idea. I knew that I would like to make a film probably about the Maryinsky Theater. But it was really about getting the authorization to visit the premises—not only the rooms open to the public, but the part of the theater where the artists work. Very quickly, I understood that my subjects would be ballerinas because it was the ballerinas who made a hypnotic impression on me.
How did you get this access? Who did you know? At first, I didn’t know anyone. I just called everyone that I knew in Paris who might know some people in St. Petersburg, and it’s through those acquaintances that I finally got to accompany a woman who had an appointment with the director of the ballet company, Makhar Vaziev. She introduced us and told him what I wanted and he said, “Why not? If the legal department is okay, I’m okay.” I met independently with the head of the long-term planning of the Maryinsky Theater; she said, “If the director of the Kirov Ballet is okay, I’m okay.” So they both provided the same answer relying on the other’s response and decision.
It’s so Russian. Yes. [Laughs]
How did you choose the ballerinas? What was your process? I would look at a number of dancers working together, and very quickly my eye—without even me wanting it to—would narrow on a few. That’s what happened, for example, at the ballet school. They allowed me to attend a class without filming it. There were six girls who were all the same age and dressed the same, and at first I thought I was in front of clones. But after a few minutes, I started seeing differences. And after 15 or 20 minutes, I could only see one dancer. At the end of the class, I asked the teacher, “What’s her name?” pointing to Alina Somova. The teacher made a big smile. That smile showed me that I had picked the right one. I would say that it’s mostly instinct, and that as a viewer—without any solid knowledge on the matter—I chose what I wanted to see. But, of course, the director of the Kirov said, “You should choose this one and this one and not this one…” So you know what? I pretended to agree with him, but then I did what I wanted. [Laughs]
How did Somova strike you back then, when she was still a student? She had a kind of innocence. They had very different personalities, all of them. Alina was difficult—what I mean was she was the youngest, and she had huge pressure on her shoulders because she was finishing school. She was not yet sure that she would be hired by the company, and she knew that people were looking at her and that some were jealous of her. I was aware of what she was going through and every time I wanted to approach her, I had this dilemma: I didn’t want to disturb her or be an obstacle for her; at the same time, I really wanted to tell that story. With Evgenia, maybe I was less fearful of this and from the beginning she was enthusiastic and extremely open and she didn’t let me understand that she’d rather I left her alone.
What did Obraztsova give you? She probably gave me the most. She let me film her in class, while she was rehearsing, and she did not hide her emotions. She’s a very spontaneous person and she has a kind of charisma, so when a French filmmaker, Cédric Klapisch, told me that he wanted to hire a real ballerina for the part of a dancer in The Russian Dolls [Normand served as second unit director], I at once knew who he was going to choose. I introduced him to a few dancers, but I knew what his choice would be and it corresponded to what I had planned. She is my favorite Juliet that I’ve seen to this day.
What were your impressions of Lopatkina? Uliana gave me a lot, too, even though it was a very difficult time for her because she was about to come back onstage from an injury, and she was very afraid of how she would perform and whether she would be able to match the expectations. She wasn’t always willing to be filmed while rehearsing. I had one movement with her improvising something and just that was enough in a way. She is shot against the sun.
It’s a very beautiful scene. That was early in the process of her comeback. She told me more in her interview than is shown in the film. I had enough material to make a three- or four-hour film.
I wish you had done that. [Laughs] Soon there will be the DVD with 45 minutes of bonus material. It’s almost like a second film. Uliana has a lot to give and she’s a very smart person—she has interesting insights on many things. She’s a very profound artist and it shows when she speaks. She is not only a great dancer, she is a great thinker on her art.
How did you find filming Vishneva? Diana was one of the first dancers I asked to be one of my characters. She said yes. Most of the time, she accepted when I asked whether I could film her. There was one unfortunate moment during the American tour—I didn’t realize how stressed dancers can be and how crazy their schedules are while they are on tour. They perform every evening, sometimes twice a day, and they have rehearsals as they move from place to place. So it means that they have no open space for anything else. I was hoping to film them in many situations. And I had made a few plans with Diana, but then at the last moment another dancer got sick and she had to replace her and finally she was not able to just go for a walk and be filmed discovering the city. I can’t say that it was always easy with her because she’s a star, you know? And she deserves to be one, and that’s what she is, and she’s probably more so than many actresses. And what it means to be a star is that it’s a certain way of life; there is so much pressure. Some days she was absolutely great, very friendly and so on, and other times I could see that these were not the days that I should approach her. [Laughs]
I have seen that look on her face. It’s true. But I am really happy about our collaboration on that film.
Could you talk about Zakharova? I filmed her during her last weeks at the Maryinsky, before she went to the Bolshoi, but I didn’t know that she was leaving. It’s the end of one step of Svetlana’s life. Since then, she changed a lot of things about the way she dances—her coach and her image. I’m not saying it’s good or bad, but it turned out to be very interesting to have this moment captured in a film. What I really liked about her is her simplicity. She was almost naive in her own way, which made her a very likeable person, and I think it shows in the interview. I really like some of her answers when she speaks of her job—what dancing brings her, what she feels when she’s onstage.
And of the dancers I’ve met, I think she’s the most different onstage than she is in person. Yes indeed. She is very majestic onstage—like you would not approach her. I’m very intimidated when I see her onstage. And in real life, she’s so simple. I didn’t have the opportunity to keep filming her; that’s why, after awhile, we don’t see her anymore. Somehow I wanted to respect the fact that she was there and then she was not.
But in this story about ballerinas, you don’t neglect the fans. Another fascinating scene is with Obraztsova and a hard-core balletomane who waits for her after a performance and gives her a juice box and a book. Apparently, she always presents those gifts to her favorite dancers, right? Yes. Actually, I saw her do it a few months before I filmed it, and I was so frustrated that I didn’t have my camera. I was thinking, If what I’m seeing right now isn’t part of the film, the film is not complete! So I came back to St. Petersburg just to capture that sequence. I knew when Evgenia was going to dance again and I knew that this fan would be there, so I made sure that I would have a crew with me and that we would be on time. I also interviewed that woman. It will be part of the bonus material in the DVD.
How did you get permission to film the student examinations at the Vaganova Academy? I’m referring to the scene in which young girls, wearing white underwear, have their flexibility tested by a man who pulls their legs and bends their backs. It’s totally by chance that I managed to film that. I happened to be at the academy that day, and I was about to film Uliana when the press attaché said, “By the way, we have these examinations going on right now. Will you be interested in watching and filming?” I said, “Why not?” And then she opened the door and I was facing this. [Laughs] It was very spontaneous. I didn’t plan it, I didn’t know it was going on, it’s just I was there and she opened the door. So I filmed and no one asked me anything. For them, it’s so natural—it’s something that is so part of the process, and it’s been part of the process for so long that they don’t question it. Since then, I’ve heard many people say that they didn’t get the authorization to film at the academy. I guess I was there at the right moment.
What was access like at the Maryinsky Theater? The director of the company provided me with a pass, which I could use every day for three weeks. I would put my camera in my backpack and my tripod in another bag, and no one would know that I was going to film. I was totally free.
Did you do everything by yourself? Like, 75 percent of the film as you see it, I was holding the camera, and only when we got a decent budget toward the end, I got a crew. But it was very important at the start to be on my own, because I didn’t want to raise too much attention. I wanted to be invisible, to be part of the landscape, so that I would be able to observe and people wouldn’t feel too self-conscious. I think it was very important to do it that way at first, and after a while, once I knew precisely what additional things I wanted, I had the privilege to have a crew. When I filmed at the Orange County Performing Arts Center, I had a guard with me at all times, which is normal when you think of it. Of course, sometimes I don’t know what I want to film. I look and something happens and I film it. So the guard would ask, “What do we do now? Where do we go?” And I wouldn’t know what to answer. I hadn’t planned it yet. [Laughs] At the Maryinsky Theater—and I’m not even sure that this is the standard procedure, maybe it has changed since then—but with that pass, I was able to go wherever I wanted.
Once they trusted you, you could do anything? Yeah, but it was less easy as far as copyrights and all these things are concerned. And having a contract signed with the Maryinsky Theater took a very long time.
Why do you think this film has been such a success? On one hand, ballet is something that makes a lot of people dream in many countries. Russia is a country that is quite fascinating because of its immensity, and because the Soviet Union was remote and closed to the rest of the world for so long. Ballet was the window of the Soviet Union. It was one of the things that people could associate with it. So I was wondering, Okay, after perestroika, what has this become? What is it right now? Is it some kind of museum? Is it repeating things from the past, or does it have a life of its own? And I think that the characters I picked—right now, four of them are prima ballerinas and one is a first soloist—were my choice, but they were already there. They had been selected, even the young ones, and in a way it was not just my choice.
What does that mean? That these dancers are alive. They give so much to ballet that somehow they transcend the parts that they dance, and I think the viewers are quite sensitive to this. I also think that in our world, people need people to admire. Of course, we can admire stars, but deep inside, you think maybe they’re stars because they are lucky and pretty. But you can’t cheat when you’re a ballerina of that caliber. It’s you. When they are onstage performing, they are the only ones who can save themselves in a way. And I think people feel that.
What are you working on next? Several things. One is a documentary about people in Russia who have a passion for history and they make reenactments of the past, especially from the time of Napoleon. When I was at the ballet school at St. Petersburg, I met a Russian historian who organizes huge reenactments of battles from that time. They all wear uniforms from the past; it’s quite fascinating to see that people living today have some kind of need to explore their past and to realize it, and I think it’s all the more interesting as far as Russians are concerned because they have been deprived of their history for so long. Now they can explore their roots and origins again. I think it tells a lot about a very present need. But it’s also very funny.
Ballerina is at Walter Reade Theater Wed 7 and Jan 8.
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