MAYA PLISETSKAYA AND THE TRUTH OF DANCE

• Document Type: CREST
• Collection: STARGATE
• Document Number (FOIA) /ESDN (CREST): CIA-RDP96-00792R000700530001-2
• Release Decision: RIFPUB
• Original Classification: U
• Document Page Count: 2
• Document Creation Date: November 4, 2016
• Document Release Date: April 5, 2000
• Sequence Number: 1
• Publication Date: April 27, 1988
• Content Type: NSPR

Approved For Release 2000/08/11: CIA-RDP96-00792R000700530001-2
Maya Plisetskaya
The Truth of Dance
The Bolshoi Ballerina on Her Life and Her Art
By Pamela Sommers
Special to The Washington Post
Prima ballerina assoluta?the
phrase suggests an imperious danc-
ing goddess who truly lives only
when she inhabits a rarefied realm of
swans, sylphs and theatrical may-
hem.
Yet here sits Maya Plisetskaya,
the Bolshoi Ballet superstar whom
many regard as the greatest balleri-
na of the 20th century, chatting ani-
matedly in her native Russian, look-
ing perfectly at home perched on an
armchair. At 62, her auburn hair
trails down her back, framing a face
that suggests both world-weary ele-
gance and prim girlishness. She t
wears an emerald-green taffeta
blouse with a matching skirt deco-
rated with snaking black lines, gar-
ments that reveal a long, slender
body kept in peak condition by daily
class and regular performances.
For unlike most ballerinas of her
generation, Plisetskaya still dances.
"I'm perfectly aware that, techni-
cally speaking, I cannot do a great something to it, because I've had
deal," she admits candidly through such success on this tour, such won-
her interpreter and longtime friend, derful reviews, and the audience has
Helen Atlas. "But a person of my age appreciated me so much."
and experience can show n great The tour to which she refers be-
deal of artistry. It's the emotional gan last month in Boston, when P11-
impact that is much stronger than setskaya, joined by a troupe of Bol-
Soviet ballerina Maya Plisetskaya. the technical one. And there must be SeerETSICAYA, D10, Col. 1
BY RIGN.UPSIO?THE WASHINGTON POST
-Approved For Release 2000/08/11 ?ICIA-RDP96-00792R000700 0001-2
7`c7Y/ ./?2ev7
Plisetskaya in
the Bolshoi
Ballet
production of
"Swan, Lake."
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ru WEDNESDAY, APRIL 27, 1988 .
cEr
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CD PLISETSKAYA, From D1
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ahoi associates, performed several of
r signature works?Alberto Alon-
lio's "Carmen Suite," Roland Petit's
4.a Rose Malade," her own "Anna -
3arenina" and "The Lady With a
'Small Dog," and her inimkable rendi-
tion of "The Dying Swan."
`--7. It was all a part of the "Making Mu-
Together" festival, a Soviet-Ameri-
an cultural extravaganza, orchestrat-
al by Boston opera director Sarah
gildwell and Plisetskaya's husband,
islebrated Soviet composer Rodion
Schedrin. The Bolshoi dancers have
t completed a 12-city U.S. tour, and
*ght, Plisetskaya will be at Lisner
ditoriutn for the U.S. premiere of
`Zdaya Plisetskaya: Things Known and
a film portrait of the danc-
being presented as part of Filtnfest
g. She and the director, Boris Gal-
ater, will take questions after the
sEeening.
um has served as both friend and
o the ballerina. Though ballet afi-
--cio ados may swoon over videos of
*setskaya in her prime?her myste-
tously lyrical/brilliantly venomous
e in "Swan Lake," her mis-
chievous Kitri in "Don Quixote," her
bewitching Zarema in 'The Fountain
of Bakhchisarai," her defiant Car-
men?she has problems with her cin-
ematic self.
"I don't like my old films," she says.
"I see a lot that isn't correct. It's very
hard to please me. I'm very self-
critical. Certainly, film is a very good
thing, because it is of great assistance
in your development, the best teach-
er. But it is my nature never to do the
same thing over and over again. I've
always improvised, and listened to the
music above all. And I've never gotten
stuck in one particular style or era."
She has also lived her life as a rebel,
an independent-minded firebrand to
whom art matters more than all else:
country, family, personal freedom.
And she has suffered for her convic-
tions.
Born in Moscow to a family of Jew-
ish artists?her mother was a silent-
screen actress (you can see traces of
' it in the daughter's riveting acting
style), her uncle a celebrated Bolshoi
dancer-choreographer who still teach-
es company class?she began dancing
instinctively, and early on exhibited
signs of the fighter she was to be-
come.
"When I was ver, young, I did it
quite naturally, not (*Cause I wanted
to become a ballerina. I was always
THE WASHINGTON POST
drawn to the theater . . . I saw my
first play at the age of 4, and when I
came home I reenacted everyone's
role. Also, we had a pianist living with
us in those days of communal apart-
ments. He played very well, and I was
introduced to very good music.
"From the beginning, if I was told
to do something, I'd do just the oppo-
site. My arms and wrists were always
black and blue because the girls who
took care of me would grab me so I
wouldn't run away. I did, in fact, run
away from kindergarten, to the com-
plete other end of Moscow. Terrible
panic set in at the school. Some guy
was walking by me, and I came up
very close to him so that people
wouldn't notice that there was this lit-
tle girl by herself. It took me an hour
and a half to get home.
"I never liked school?the atmos-
phere, the odor. I loved being thrown
out of class, because they would con-
tinue to study and I would be free. I
always had an 'anti' feeling for the
group, for the collective, whether it
was camps, or standing in line . . .
We'd be going somewhere on the bus,
singing a song, and I never joined in. A
lot of things I had to do were against
rily nature."
One would think that the discipline
and formalism of ballet would have
frustrated her. Instead, she took to it
with a fervor and natural ability that
left her teachers at the Bolshoi School
in awe. Her space-gobbling leaps,
rock-solid balance and prodigious mu-
sicality sent her straight from the
classroom to the stage. Before the age
of 20, she was dancing leading roles,
and soon her name was on the lips of
all ballet-going Muscovites.
Yet the trouble had already begun.
Her mother had been sentenced to a
labor camp, her father disappeared,
and the family subsequently learned of
his death in the Gulag. As a result, Pli-
setskaya herself was regarded by the
KGB as politically unreliable. She was
never granted the personal privileges
enjoyed by other artists of her stature.
Until 1959, she was forbidden to per-
form in the West. And from the mo-
ment Yuri Grigorovich became artistic
director' of the Bolshoi in 1964?a po-
sition he holds to this day?the balle-
rina's talents were underused and her
opinions rejected.
"I was never protected," she ex-
plains. "In most situations, nobody
came to my aid. On the contrary, peo-
ple defended others against me. I was
not very desirable. There were times
which were awful, tragic, when I was
right on the verge of leaving the Bol-
shoi Theatre."
Then why didn't she defect, like so
many of her fellow artists?
She sighs heavily, and takes her
time answering.
"To leave the Bolshoi was an impos-
sibility. My best performances were
danced there. It's the best stage in the
world. I just couldn't do it. When I
would look at those eight columns in
front of the theater, something inside
me would turn inside out and upside
down."
Because Plisetskaya caused such a
sensation during the company's visits
to the West, she was eventually ac-
corded certain opportunities. Chore-
ographers outside the Soviet
Union?Alonso, Petit, Maurice Be-
jart?created roles for her, which she
danced on the Bolshoi stage and inter-
nationally. And she was allowed to
choreograph for herself. Ironically,
these tailor-made works came at a
time when her technique had begun to
diminish. And certainly none of them
can be considered a lasting work of
art.
Only recently she was appointed ar-
tistic director of the Spanish National
Ballet. In the early '80s, she worked
as a choreographer with the ballet
company of the Rome Opera.
"None of it has sufficed," she says
sadly. "I would have loved to have
worked with many more choreogra-
phers. It's very important for any
dancer to have pieces made specifical-
000700530001-2
csi
ly for them." She laughs bitteg '
certainly haven't done too much.co
Though she clearly mourns ce
artistic decisions she has made
has never regretted one very petatn
choice: to forgo the experienC1 o
motherhood. The personal and pikes
sional relationship she shares wi
husband has been enough.
"It's very simple," she declarps.?
"Your figure changes. Never hatite I
seen a ballerina who has becomecany -
better after she has given birth.
ht ?
haps if you're 18, when nothingRa
begun in your career . . . When y
out on stage, any imperfection i
mediately obvious. Cs!
"Also, a child demands a great &al
of attention, and that takes away fitim
your art. You have to belong to atrt
100 percent." a) ,
Is that how she would like to
membered, as one who has devoted -
herself to her muse above all else?'-'
The questionquestion pleases her; her es _ ?
almost appear to mist over. a)
"It would be very nice not to be
gotten," she begins. "I believe that kf
have been able to give somethin
others, they will remember it.
very happy to have had such a succs.
here in America?people have come'1
to me in tears. To me, that's much
more important than for an artist to
cry herself. That's howl would like to
be remembered."