A film blog
Dance to Freedom
A captivating study of Rudolf Nureyev as a young man with a vital sense of destiny and hunger for artistic expression. The film unlocks the complexities of his drive to realise himself as a dancer and what drove him to abandon his life and culture to defect in Paris.
Fiennes has frequently declared his affinity and "weird infatuation" with the Russian artistic spirit and culture, after having traveled to Russia as a younger man. Professionally, he has also portrayed Russia's great literary parts such as Pushkin's Yevgeny Onegin on screen and Chekov's Ivanov on stage.
Fiennes came to the story of Nureyev when he read Judith Kavanaugh's Nureyev: The Life (1998), several years ago. He identified with Nureyev's spirit and remarked "I was taken by the story of a poor boy from a poor background in Ufa who had the sense of destiny and ends up in this particular situation in Le Bourget airport in Paris in June 1961, and he has o make an essential decision about his life and his art".
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Rather than filming a biography of Nureyev's life, Fiennes chose to discover the dancer as a young man, in order to explore what formed this individual who many consider revolutionised the role of the male dancer through sheer charisma, presence and talent. The White Crow switches between three different parts of Nureyev's life; his childhood, his time at the Kirov ballet under Alexander Pushkin in St Petersburg, and his discovery of Paris and eventual defection. Director of photography Mike Eley distinguishes the three time periods of the film through a change of tone in cinematography. The childhood sequences are shown in saturated grey and widescreen, whereas Nureyev's time in Paris is shot in a lush, almost overdeveloped Technicolor. The transition from black and white to colour represents the difference between East and West in emotion and imagination for Nureyev. The camera also moves more freely during the scenes in Paris, matching Nureyev's discovery and sense of freedom amidst the beauty and culture of Paris. Fascinatingly, Fiennes establishes many of his scenes focusing on the feet of the dancers. The final sequence is edited almost to a rhythm that builds tension and drives Nureyev to confront his destiny. It is almost as if this sequence is itself a dance, accompanied by a score that creates anticipation as he is driven to his limit and seizes his opportunity for artistic freedom.
The White Crow focuses on Nureyev's sheer drive to become the best dancer he can be, but this film also explores the question of the freedom of an artist to express this and the central role art plays in our lives. His sheer drive and will is signified particularly in a scene where Nureyev rehearses alone in the studio, perfecting his technique. The camera intercuts between close-ups of his movement and the sweat and pain that results. This highlights what Fiennes calls "the necessary selfishness of the artist". Similar to Black Swan, it depicts the ballet dancer as a singular figure with an almost destructive determination.
In contrast to the origin story of Nureyev in The White Crow , Darren Aronofsky's Black Swan (2010) is a psychological and gothic horror, filmed subjectively from the perspective of Nina as she descends into insanity. Nina is all-consumed by her role and any threat to her reaching the pinnacle. As she dies, it is almost a relief from the burden of perfection. In Black Swan, Aronofsky uses handheld camera to follow the dancers movement and a naturalistic lighting which matches the psychological thriller atmosphere of the film. In The Red Shoes (1948) by Powell and Pressburger, Victoria (Moira Shearer) must choose between her intrinsic need to dance and the men who love her. Whilst trying to escape from one of these men she is hit by a train. As in Black Swan, the Red Shoes explores the idea of dying for ones art. Shot in an impressionist manner, it contains a seventeen minute long dance sequence that contains elements of horror.
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As a director-and actor for that matter- Fiennes is attracted to portraying the intricacies of this complex, determined figure bound by a sense of purpose and his own destiny. In this way, Nureyev is an extension of the central characters in his previous films: Shakespeare's Coriolanus and Charles Dickens in The Invisible Woman. This sense of destiny and transformation before the audience is inherent in the screenplay by David Hare. Hare has commented that Nureyev "was always on an extraordinary tough course because of the poverty in his background. He wasn't interested in just being what he would call a 'stupid dancer'...part of Nureyev's genius...he wanted the dancer to have a status and not just be a puppet". It paints a portrait of a young man's complexities; leaving behind a tough childhood, his curiosity for culture and his will to realise himself as a dancer So much so he puts himself before everybody else. Hare's writing encapsulates the many faceted sides of Nureyev- capturing his hauteur, emotional damage, ego and courage.
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In his first dramatic role, Oleg Ivenko is cast as Nureyev. As a principal dancer at the Tatar State Opera and Ballet theatre, he brings a legitimacy to the film. He shares a striking resemblance and captures the arrogance, ego and combustive nature of the character. However, Ivenko doesn't quite capture the charisma and complexity that ultimately leads to the defection. Notably, Sergei Polunin plays Yuri Soloviev. Labelled as his generations greatest classical ballet dancer, but notorious for his 'bad boy' reputation, Polunin is known for his charisma and graceful jumping ability. When he appears on screen and dances, his charisma threatens to overshadow that of Ivenko.
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Ralph Fiennes's performance as Nureyev's teacher, ALexander Pushkin is understated and conveys a sense of a man who was modest, kind and dedicated to his craft. A fascinating dynamic occurs in the the relationship between Alexander, his wife Xenia and Nureyev. Both are dedicated to Nureyev: Alexander in nurturing his talent and Xenia in her desire to seduce him. It is Pushkin who understands that Nureyev's defection is not about politics, but about the freedom to dance.
Nureyev's hunger for knowledge, art and dance is also another way for him to access a world other that his own, and in becoming a dancer he can realise this. This is encapsulated in a scene where Nureyev and his lover German dancer Teja Kremke (Louis Hoffman) - which was cut from the Russian version- are in bed together. Fiennes doesn't depict him as promiscuous, merely comfortable and enjoying is sexuality and another facet of his curious nature. Kremke says the only reason he is with him is because he is foreign, smart and can learn from him.
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Fiennes uses the backdrop of art to highlight the underlying motivations of character. A revealing moment is when Nureyev views the painting The Raft of Medusa in the Louvre. His Parisian friend Clara (Adele Exarchopoulos) understands that Nureyev appreciates this painting as it encapsulates the beauty in an otherwise horrid scene. This juxtaposition illuminates how he realised his emotions through his dancing and how his story encapsulates the turbulent and the tender.
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Ilan Eshkeri, who composed the music for the film, has created an evocative and emotional score that conveys the deeply turbulent journey that Nureyev travel both physically and emotionally. The score washes over the audience and pulls you into this artists desires. The music manages to convey beauty, loss, struggles, hope and defiance.
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In depicting the hunger and need for artistic expression that drove Nureyev, The White Crow underscores the necessity of art in our lives. In Nureyev's case it was for self-realisation and freedom, but it is also necessary for the soul and achievement of a higher ideal, or simply to uplift.
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This reminds me of how film helps us to interpret ourselves and our lives, whether through viewing or individual expression. They can either be escapist, romantic, a beautiful tonic; or they can be akin to an assault that shake us. Ultimately, they make us look at our lives in a new way that is nourishing, if not always rewarding.