Approved For Release 2000/08/11 : CIA-RDP96-00792ROO0700530001-2 --a Maya irmwoKayn. Maya Plisetskaya & nrl i ne Tmth of Dance 'Me Bolshoi BaUerina on Her life and Her Art By Pamela Sommers Swial to The Washington Post Prima ballerina assoluta-the 2 phrase suggestsperious an im danc- ing goddess y lives who trul 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 . balle . . . .. na of the 20th .. century, chatting . ani- . . matedly in her native .91 Russian, took- _RR ing perfectly . at home perched on an armchair. At i~ 62, her auburn hair trails down her back, framing a face le- that suggests both world-weary e gance and prim girlishness. She 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. 'Tin perfectly aware that, techni- cally speaking, something to it, because I cannot do I've had a great deal," she Such success on this admits candidly tour, such won- through her interpreter derful reviews, and and longtime the audience has friend, Helen Atlas. appreciated me so "But a person much." of my age and experience The tour to which can show a she reLers be- great deal of artistry. gan last month in It's the emotional Boston, when Pli- impact that setskaya, joined by is much stronger a troupe of B& than the technical 8ft fLISMKAYA, D10, one. And there Col. I must be Approved For Release 2000108111 '~CIA-RDP96-00792RO00700400001 -2 PlWtskaya in the Bolshoi Iallet production of C14 I (D a Cl) LO WEDNESDAY. APRIL 27, 1988 ... igallerina to PLISETSKAYA, From DI Woi associates, performed several of; OeIr signature works-Alberto A10n s "Carmen Suite," Roland Petit's 4A Rose Malade,- her own "Anna (Barenina" and "The Lady With a Small Dog," and her inimitable rendi -6on of "The Dying Swan." -4~ V_ It was all a part of the "Making Mu Together" festival, a Soviet-Ameri 43n cultural extravaganza, orchestrat G1 by Boston opera director Sarah Aldwell and Plisetskaya's husband, %lebrated Soviet composer Rodion 56chedrin. The Bolshoi dancers have 'It. completed a 12-city U.S. tour, and J W&, Plisetskaya will be at Lisner &ditorium for the U.S. premiere of ~4ji WaYa PlisetskaYa: Things Known and ."iAbdrown," a film portrait of the danc being presented as part of Filnifest She and the director, Boris Gal- alker, N-vill i take questions after the ~-WxQeening. has served as both friend and __'.Jg1o the ballerina. Though ballet aft- ----~-cidhados may swoon over videos of THE WASHINGTON POST C*4 C0 V) Q CD r- CD CD CD re 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. 1 don't Eke my old filins," she says. dl see a lot that isn't correct. Itps 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 1 was very young, I did quite naturally, not because I wanted to become a ballerina. I was always 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 Eked 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 nly 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, Ph- 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 U y 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, Eke so many of her fellow artists? She sighs heavily, and takes her time answering. "To leave the Bolshoi was an irnpos- sibility. My best performances were' danced there. it's the best stage in the world. I just CoWdn,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 Phsetskaya 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 B& 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 ubuk Ballet. In the early '80s, she worked as a choreographer with the ballet company of the Rome Opera. I "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- C'4 1y for them." She laughs bitteg 1 certainly haven't done too much.%D Though she clearly mourns ce artistic decisions she has nmmde has never regretted one very periLn ,a choice: to forgo the experientz 0 motherhood. The personal aand pAfes t4e If~ sional relationship she shares w~Ai husband has been enough. "It's very simple," she declaq~s. 'Tour figure changes. Never hW I seen a ballerina who has becomerany - better after she has given birth br-`7 haps if yoWre 18, when nothffi~~;7~_ begun in your career ... When y out on stage, any impei mediately obvious. 04 "Also, a chfid demands a great 6111 of attention, and that takes away IW your art. You have to belong tocDrt,, 100 percent. Is that how she would like to bdY,-- membered, as one who ha's devcLe& herself to her muse above all else),w The question pleases her; her almost appear to mist over. CD "It would be very vice not to be gotten," she begins. "I believe thatt; have been able to give somefliinggok~ others, they will remember it. very happy to have had such a su here in America-people have come!~- - me in tears. To ine, that's mum more important than for an artist to cry herself. That's how I would like to be remembereV