I am at a disadvantage here because I know next to nothing about ballet, Russian ballet and Rudolf Nureyev (I do know that Nureyev stars in the reviled 1977 biography, Valentino, and appeared in a few other movies). But I had no knowledge of his importance to the world of ballet, or why. This movie certainly fills in a great many gaps in my own knowledge (and yes, I recognize that this is just a movie, not real life).

Ralph Fiennes’ film presents young Russian dancer Rudolf Nureyev (Oleg Ivenko) as an enigma: surviving a brutal childhood; developing a predilection for ballet while very young; undergoing harsh discipline and training; learning how to catch the attention and favor of people who could help him; taking advantage of his opportunities; and, most importantly, making the impulsive decision in 1961 that the Russian authorities feared most (and only encouraged by their tactics). It is a biography of Nureyev’s formative years, constructed by intimate glimpses into the artist’s personal dramas and professional triumphs.

It is a dense film which relies perhaps too much on its viewers’ knowledge of Nureyev’s great talent and personal situations. Further context into some of what occurs would have been appreciated by me, and yet enough is shown that the film’s points are made. The one area I had to accept with faith is Nureyev’s balletic brilliance — I am unable to tell that Oleg Ivenko’s talent (and he is obviously talented) is so much greater than those around him, as Nureyev was purported to be. Ivenko’s performance of the aloof, supremely confident dancer is very good; I just can’t tell if his dancing is near Nureyev’s level.

That doesn’t matter, I suppose; the focus is on how Nureyev felt trapped and punished by the Soviet system, unable to be himself and do what he wanted to do. That frustration is keenly felt and conveyed, resulting in a drama that depicts how individual stardom was treated in Russia. The authorities presented him as heroic and showed him off at every opportunity, all the while monitoring him so he did not and could not embarrass the republic in any manner. In that way, The White Crow shows us how lucky we are here, and in today’s era; we can publicly promote ourselves at will and do so often, occasionally to the point of embarrassment, and yet sometimes we become stars anyway. ☆ ☆ ☆. 29 July 2019.