Ballet often seems burdened by cultural associations that are hard to shake: it’s thought of as overly reliant on formalism and tradition; it has to be pretty above everything else, even if the result is slightly prudish; its power and athleticism are subsumed under mountains of tulle. Of course, none of this is necessarily true. Case in point: John Neumeier’s riveting, heart-rending narrative ballet about the life and torment of Vaslav Nijinsky, which is as far from pretty as ballet can be.
Nijinsky was, before Nureyev, the most famous and beloved male dancer of the 20th century, a key figure in the Ballet Russes and the lover of that company’s impresario, Sergei Diaghilev. He achieved some stunning professional highs – and a fair share of onstage controversy – but his career was terminated prematurely by schizophrenia. He spent the remainder of his life in and out of institutions.
In telling this tragic story, Neumeier eschews the kind of literalism that stymied Christopher Wheeldon’s recent ballet, Oscar. In that work, the biographical details of Oscar Wilde’s life were laid out chronologically, resulting in a staid, join-the-dots narrative arc. Here, the facts and pivotal moments of Nijinsky’s career are presented in disjointed, hallucinogenic slivers; there is a haunted quality to the work, a kind of swirling hysteria.
