“Nurejew”: Cancelled in Moscow but Revived in Berlin

Yesterday, on March 21, the long-awaited and highly symbolic premiere of the ballet Nurejew by Yuri Posokhov to the music of Ilya Demutsky took place at the Deutsche Oper Berlin. This production has had a complex and dramatic history: after several performances at the Bolshoi Theatre in 2017, it was first removed from the repertoire and, in 2023, effectively banned in Russia under the pretext of "promoting non-traditional relationships".

It is striking how fates and meanings echo across time. After his legendary defection from the USSR in 1961, Rudolf Nureyev was declared a traitor to the Motherland and sentenced in absentia to imprisonment. And now, decades later, in modern Russia, a ballet about him – a man who became a symbol of freedom in the art world - is stigmatized and pushed aside.

The Berlin premiere was not just a notable theatrical event but a genuine cultural sensation of the year, and certainly a long-awaited joy for the creators of the ballet, who had been waiting for years to see their "child" brought to life on stage again.

It is particularly remarkable that Nurejew found a new life precisely here, in a country often labeled "unfriendly" by pro-Russian propaganda, accused of suppressing Russian culture and persecuting Russian performers. The reality, however, speaks far more convincingly than any slogans: it is on the Berlin stage that this production has once again come to full life. Special thanks are due to Christian Spuck and the Staatsballett Berlin. Their decision to embrace this long-neglected work and give it a new stage life required not only artistic sensitivity but also considerable courage.

Nurejew is a true ode to Russian culture in all its depth and contradictions. In this work by Posokhov, Demutsky, and Kirill Serebrennikov, one can see both the grandeur of classical Russian ballet traditions and the vastness of the "Russian soul", so powerfully described in the letters and biographies of Alla Osipenko and Natalia Makarova, as well as the history of the country itself, with all its triumphs, tragedies, and "dark times".

The ballet Nurejew presents a genuine synthesis of the arts – a true Gesamtkunstwerk – in which choreography, opera, folk motifs, neoclassical music, elements of comedy and drama, and expressive scenographic theatre coexist in organic unity. Each component is finely woven into the overall artistic fabric, maintaining the coherence and tension of the stage action.

The production’s sophistication is enhanced by its system of cultural allusions and quotations. Echoes of Pyotr Tchaikovsky’s ballets can be felt, as well as references to Giselle by Adolphe Adam, Raymonda by Alexander Glazunov, Margarita and Armand by Franz Liszt in Frederick Ashton’s choreography, and also to Igor Stravinsky’s Petrushka. All of these cultural layers are reinterpreted through Yuri Posokhov’s choreography and Ilya Demutsky’s music, creating a complex, multi-layered structure for the performance.

Such a wealth of artistic means is not merely decorative but essential: without it, it would be impossible to convey the scale and drama of Rudolf Nureyev’s life – a dancer who went far beyond the stage, becoming a choreographer, director, and even conductor.

Nurejew is like multiple ballets contained within a single ballet. Each is revealed to the audience through the prism of the protagonist’s inner world, turning the performance not only into a biography but also into a profound artistic statement about time, fate, and freedom.

The part of Rudolph Nureyev proved exceptionally complex and multi-dimensional. David Soares had to not only move virtuously from scene to scene, adapting his dance language to each new style, but also constantly transform as an actor, portraying Nureyev at different ages and in varied emotional states. This task is doubly challenging when portraying a real, widely known individual, whose gestures, physicality, and character are familiar to audiences.

If there were an "Oscar" for ballet, David Soares would undoubtedly be among the main contenders. The final scene is particularly striking: the aged Nureyev approaches the conductor’s podium, and Soares conveys his walk, gestures, and even the subtle turns of his head with astonishing accuracy.

Equally noteworthy is the scene with photographer Richard Avedon, which requires remarkable courage from the dancer: Soares appears fully nude. The following "Rudimania" scene is even more expressive – a fast-paced, almost grotesque sequence in which the nearly nude hero struggles to escape the throng of fans.

It is important to note that, contrary to critics’ statements, Nureyev’s private life does not occupy a central place in the production – it accounts for only about ten minutes of stage time. Far more attention is given to his creative journey: the memories of his students and friends, sometimes voiced through their personal letters, and the gallery of characters and ballets he created.

The narrator’s role is also crucial, brilliantly performed by Odin Biron (known to many from the Russian TV series Interns). His work is executed with remarkable precision. As a native speaker of American English, he skillfully varies linguistic registers: in some scenes, he imitates English spoken by Russian speakers; in others, he reproduces the American slang of Richard Avedon; and in the key narrative moments, he switches to standard, formal English.

Special mention should also be made of the female characters on stage. Polina Semionova as the Diva, Iana Salenko as Margot, and Marina Duarte as the Ballerina from the Vaganova Academy performed their roles superbly. At the same time, the scenes dedicated to their characters did not demand the full technical or emotional range that would typically reveal the potential of dancers, especially of principal ballerinas. Nevertheless, each created a memorable and coherent image, adding essential depth to the overall fabric of the performance.

Despite the many undeniable strengths of the production, there is still a "fly in the ointment". Staging a ballet about a figure whose life is already well known, even to those far from ballet, is an inherently thankless task. The story of Nureyev here lacks the element of surprise: both the development of the scenes and the overall dramaturgy are predictable, as are their choreographic realizations.

Unfortunately, the production lacks a sense of discovery, as Posokhov’s choreography does not offer truly fresh solutions: no striking lifts, no new dance language, no expressive gestures capable of surprising the audience. Almost half of the first act is built on the principles of the classical Russian ballet school, with all its traditional conservatism, demonstrating precise lines, refined technique, and familiar pas de deux structures. The same can be said of the duet between Nureyev and Margot in the second act. Only the Diva’s solo in the second act shows some potential, but even it comes across more as an episode than as a fully realized statement.

This, perhaps, is the main challenge of the production: it maintains its artistic height primarily through scenographic solutions and the strong acting of the narrator and the principal performer, rather than through a genuinely interesting choreographic language, which remains surprisingly restrained and predictable.

Photo: Carlos Quezada, Staatsballett Berlin

Text: Julia Pneva