or How Maurice Bejart conquered Kyiv public

Bejart has come to Kyiv for the first time, an event no smaller nor greater than itself, with no scandalous or sensational aura which at times seriously inflates the stature of visiting celebrities. Bejart's performances with their stylistic general accessibility and open to the masses are generally known. Thus this tour cannot be described as a rare elite occasion. Yet nor can it be referred to as mass culture. Rather somewhere in between.

On each of the three nights (September 21-23) of the concert tour a decent crowd gathered by the Ukraine Palace. And it was then that the paradoxes began. In the perception of trendy stage culture vultures, Moscow and Kyiv are generally rated equal. However, at last year's Bejart Ballet Lausanne, at the Kremlin Palace of Congresses, the organizing committee had to install additional rows of seats to accommodate all wishing to watch. The Ukraine Palace's huge parterre glared with numerous empty places at the beginning of every night. The mystery is solved very simply: the more European, in terms of admission fees, Our northern neighbor sold seats at $10. In Kyiv, the price was up to UAH 1,200 (about $255), an accounting note, but how could the numerous ballet devotees have known about it, gathering in a humble crowd by the glass entrances and in front of box offices? However, closing night was marked by considerable ticket and concert program discounts and the audience was finally decently filled as befitted the event.

As for the event itself, Bejart decided to enhance it, so to say, quantitatively, bringing a number of his works dating from different years. Among them were veteran renditions like Bolero (to Maurice Ravel's music, 1961) and Firebird (Stravinsky, 1970), and works of the 1990s (e.g., Baroque Bel Canto and Igor and Me ), scenes from the fresh multiethnic Silk Trail , and a premiere, a real jubilee present, The Overcoat (based on Gogol's short story).

In every ballet the plot is centered on a single performer (more often than not the troupe's premier danseur Giles Roland) who by his very presence combines varying episodes.

All the works brought turned out short one-act ballets; The Overcoat lasted thirty minutes.

Indeed, such performances can be staged at a stadium, on the street, on any premises; they are composed so they will fit into any landscape or interior; they are like rock concerts or (begging theatergoers' pardon) musicals.

Graduates of Bejart's Roudra dance school are young and attractive as much as they are talented. Bejart strives to end every work with something like an exclamation mark — precisely as he does in The Overcoat .

Gogol's text is saturated with ideas, so much so that any interpretations are possible. Bejart chose a comedy. Akaky Akakiyevich is impersonated by the young athletic Giles Roland. His talent is, without doubt, in portraying character, even somewhat grotesque. The director emphasizes this, lending his plasticity a striking resemblance with Charlie Chaplin's famous jaunty gait, which seems quite irrelevant and too straightforward. Duet scenes with the tailor and the Very Important Person are really funny; the clerk's solo with a pen is markedly plastique .

Strange as it may seem, the story of a poor petty clerk, robbed and humiliated, rendered using modern, almost avant-garde, quite fits the traditional pattern of Gogol as an author of burlesque ridiculing human nature.

In Kyiv, Bejart had another triumph in the form of an enthusiastically applauding audience. Yes, staging a sparkling colorful performance leaving no one unsatisfied, creating a picture of which one and all can equally partake, is a rare gift. Someone's workaholic brains may be left unimpressed, yet they will receive their share of simple gifts. Our times demand for speed and accessibility concerning any information, so Bejart keeps pace with the times; he is an archly democratic, generally accessible, and well-wishing stage magician.