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By Gia Kourlas
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Basilio (Rudolf Nureyev) the barber with a customer, from Act I.
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As far as ballets go,
"Don Quixote" is perhaps one of the most ridiculous and blatantly
silly. Based loosely on Cervantes' novel, the ballet's plot provides
accessible comedic relief for general dance audiences and, with
its powerhouse variations, technically demanding steps for devoted
balletomanes. The choreography in Rudolf Nureyev's 1973 film is
by the superstar dancer himself, after the great Russian master
Marius Petipa. In the restored and remastered print of the film,
which hasn't been screened in nearly 30 years, Nureyev stars as the passionate
barber, Basilio, who is in love with the fiery Kitri (The Australian
Ballet's Lucette Aldous), the daughter of the local innkeeper. The
problem? Her father, Lorenzo, would much prefer Kitri to marry a
rich dandy, Gamache (Colin Peasley) -- who, in the film, resembles
a fairy-tale footman, tragically and humorously draped in an outlandish
amount of feathers and pink satin. The pair rely on the Don (Sir
Robert Helpmann) to patch the situation up and convince Kitri's
father to give the couple his blessing and allow them to marry.
It is a foolish premise, and the generally weak score by Ludwig
Minkus doesn't help. As Basilio, Nureyev approaches the role with
perhaps too much comedic force (he was never known for superior
acting expertise), as when, in the opening market scene, he sticks
his tongue out at Kitri's father, appearing more foolish than innocently
boyish. More importantly, however, the film not only showcases Nureyev's
extraordinary dancing ability, but portrays the dancers as they
always should be depicted, in full-length camera shots that capture
the entire body. That is the most crucial rule in filming ballet,
but it is not always recognized; instead of seeing dancing, viewers
are often forced to endure melodramatic facial expressions.
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Kitri, Basilio's beloved, is played by Lucette Aldous.
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When Nureyev -- whose
stage version of "Don Quixote" first premiered in Vienna in 1966
(it has been in the repertoire of American Ballet Theatre and, more
recently, the Boston Ballet) -- presented its matching film, the
movie was recognized as being an auspicious addition to the world
of dance films. Not simply a reproduction of a ballet, Nureyev and
fellow co-director Sir Robert Helpmann approached DON QUIXOTE like
a lavish Hollywood musical, with vivid, colorful scenes so beautiful
that they don't even lose their power on a small screen. The dancing,
of course, is spectacular, but not just because of Nureyev. The New
Zealander Aldous, who performed with the Royal Ballet in the late
1960s before joining The Australian Ballet, possesses the perfect
amount of speed in her whiplash turns as well as a believable characterization;
though he easily could have, Nureyev never overpowers her. In this
performance, they dance as equals.
When the film was released, Anna Kisselgoff of the NEW YORK TIMES
wrote that it "takes the dangerous risk of wedding cinematic realism
with formal ballet conventions and triumphs as a genre of its own.
The result is a dance film for all audiences, an exciting, intelligently
conceived spectacle." Much of that ingenuity has much to do with
Geoffrey Unsworth's (CABARET and 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY) breathtaking
cinematography, which renders all the characters -- whether they
be Kitri's gypsy
friends or Marilyn Rowe, who does a captivating job as the Street
Dancer in Act I and the Queen of the Dryads in Act II -- in three-dimensional
terms.
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The Queen of the Dryads is danced
by Marilyn Rowe.
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The airport hanger
where the filming took place -- in reality, twice the size of a
stage -- provides an expansive fantasy setting that serves not only
the demanding choreography, but as an appropriate backdrop for the
rich and colorful costumes and scenery. Nureyev himself isn't stifled
by space. As he flies through his variations, he gives the sense
that he's dancing in an actual open market in Barcelona, not a contrived
set. There is freedom found in his performance -- the type that
normally can't be felt by audiences unless they're watching in a
theater. But Nureyev accomplishes the impossible in this breathtaking
film. He transports the stage to your living room -- and it's an
experience to relive again and again.
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