“Parade” and “Pulcinella” by Picasso-Massine were shown in cinemas

In Moscow cinemas, the TheatreHD project presented the Russian premiere of two little-known ballets of the Diaghilev enterprise – “Parade” and “Pulcinella” by Picasso-Massine, performed by the Rome Opera troupe. I looked at historical rarities Tatiana Kuznetsova.

In the minds of the domestic public, Diaghilev’s “Russian Ballets” (“Les ballets russes”) are the Parisian triumphs of the first years of the enterprise, which amazed the West with the richness of national culture: Russian artists – Benois, Bakst, Roerich, Russian composers led by Stravinsky, Russian ballet of Mikhail Fokine . More sophisticated viewers know about the avant-garde performances of Nijinsky and the brilliant Balanchine of the last years of the enterprise – “The Rite of Spring”, “The Afternoon of a Faun”, “Apollo Musagete” and “The Prodigal Son” were even included in the repertoire of the main Russian theaters. But out of the twenty years of “seasons”, thirteen years – from the beginning of the First World War to the appearance of Balanchine’s “Apollo” – are practically unknown to us. In any case, “live” – in the form of performances. Meanwhile, it was precisely these years that became the most important for the enterprise: from cultural exoticism, it turned into an integral part of the European avant-garde.

The centennial anniversary of this phenomenon was celebrated by the Roman Opera, presenting in 2017 the program “Russian Seasons. Pablo Picasso.” It included ballets designed by the famous Spaniard: “Parade” and “Pulcinella”. With “Parade”, in fact, the new life of Diaghilev’s troupe began: invented and born by foreigners, it was devoid of even a hint of “Russianness”. The author of the idea was Jean Cocteau, who took Diaghilev’s remark “Surprise me” to heart. Having decided to exclude all “balletism” from the ballet, he decided to make a performance about today. More precisely, about the booth – as the reverse side of life, a symbol of the “occult forces” that control it. He infected Erik Satie, one of the leaders of the famous French “Six” of composers, with his idea. He included naturalistic signs of modernity in the score: steamship whistles, the clatter of a typewriter and other signs of “living” life. Later, Pablo Picasso joined the company, deciding that the stage was the same canvas, only of gigantic size, and that a traveling exhibition of his works in the form of a touring ballet troupe would help promote his work. The artist ignored Cocteau’s concept: the booth meant for him a worldwide acting fraternity, of which Diaghilev’s nomadic troupe was part, while Picasso gave his “pink” youth to the circus. Filled with gentle irony, the set designer easily overcame the pathetic librettist, depicting on the front curtain a backstage feast of artists and a giant Pegasus with a winged acrobat girl on his back. The sharp-angled planes of the scenery that opened behind it looked like a lopsided but pompous portico of a street theater, protruding from the blank walls of multi-window high-rise buildings. The costumes of the circus performers, vainly inviting absent passers-by to the performance, were quite realistic, except for two “cubic” – three-meter Managers; The “American” was identified by the skyscrapers rising behind him, the “French” by his pipe, mustache and park trees.

The least thing the co-authors thought about was the choreography – it was intended for a service role, fortunately 20-year-old Leonid Myasin, a character dancer taken by Diaghilev on the eve of the First World War from the Moscow Bolshoi Theater, was flexible, resourceful and talented. He even managed to dance the catwalk of the gigantic Managers – simplified tap dancing, marching batmans, and tight balances. And in the divertissement of characters – a red and yellow magician Chinese with a scythe, an American girl in a sailor suit, a white skirt and a bow on her head, a pair of Acrobats in tight silver-blue overalls with stars and spirals and a Horse with a Cubist muzzle – the choreographer showed his skills in in a variety of genres: pop, comic cabaret and never-before-seen ballet acrobatics.

However, at the premiere, “Parade” did not gain success either with the public or with critics. Perhaps the war got in the way – the Germans were advancing on Paris, it seemed inappropriate to have fun, and besides, the French considered Cubism a foreign phenomenon. The significance of the “Parade” as an artistic manifesto was appreciated by posterity. But still, the performance did not become a regular on the stage: it looks neither radical, like Nijinsky’s performances, nor timeless, like the “Cocked Hat” by the same Massine-Picasso.

The recording of the program evening of the Roman Opera was made for the centenary of the Parade, in 2017, during a performance at the Pompeii Amphitheatre, and Picasso’s avant-garde scenography fit into the ancient ruins quite organically. His father’s choreography was restored in Rome by Lorca Massine, who is not particularly meticulous, and today the divertissement seems too simple-minded. Choreographic audacity and innovations (in particular, the dance of the American Girl with her “swimming” on her back, circus demonstration of biceps and “Hollywood” shooting from an imaginary pistol) can only be appreciated by a very trained viewer. The solo of the ominous Chinese (Massine himself danced it at the premiere) is devoid of not only magic, but also meaning: tricks like swallowing an egg or absorbing fire are in no way recognizable. Even the Acrobats duet with its elegant upper lifts, half-bridges and splits has faded – against the backdrop of the usual sportiness of Soviet choreography, they seem like a common place, and not a breakthrough into the future. And only the walking cubist sculpture in the form of two Managers is stunning, just like a hundred years ago.

“Pulcinella,” initially devoid of avant-garde pretensions, was created in 1920 “for fun,” according to Stravinsky. The composer also had fun arranging fragments of operas by Giovanni Battista Pergolesi, dug up by Diaghilev from the archives, and Picasso, who created a demonstrative theatrical lunar Naples with Vesuvius in perspective, and at the same time a cubist costume for Massine-Pulcinella. But Diaghilev was shocked – he wanted a “normal” commedia dell’arte, the choreographer wanted the same, and Picasso retreated, dressing the characters in ballet style, and the main one and his doubles in the tradition of commedia dell’arte: in a white robe and wide trousers. Gambling Massine even bought an old black nosed mask of Pulcinella, complicating his own dance and excluding facial expressions – he tried to convey all the vicissitudes of the ballet, based on the comedic adventures of the Neapolitan trickster, with plasticity and choreography.

And the choreographer’s talent did not let him down: the dances of the six characters are varied and sophisticated. Clever Myasin skillfully combined ancient classics with their fine technique and new steps he invented, combined the improvisational spirit of Italian comedy with the design of a traditional ballet performance. The intricacies of the plot let him down: the feigned death and miraculous resurrection of Pulcinella stood in the way of the dance flow like an annoying dam, broken only by the general final saltarello. However, the ballet was a great success at its premiere in 1920; contemporaries called it a “masterpiece”; artists loved to dance in it. But all this did not ensure longevity for Pulcinella. The play disappeared from world stages; it was staged mainly by Italians – from time to time.

Judging by the performance of the Roman Opera, over the past hundred years, “Pulcinella” has lost many of its dance and acting nuances and acquired aggravating extras, such as a dozen children – little Pulcinella. It is possible that a century ago the ensemble was fuller, and the action more full-blooded: in the performance of the Rome Opera, everything rests on two artists – the long-legged, flexible, expressive Pulcinella (Claudio Cocino) and his jealous lover Pimpinella – the sharp-footed, light, virtuoso ballerina Rebecca Bianchi. But complaining about the imperfections of artists and inevitable production losses is black ingratitude. In the end, it was the Roman Opera, by restoring and filming the Picasso-Massine ballets, that returned to the world the half-forgotten performances of Diaghilev’s change of milestones. It’s even more gratifying that this aesthetic change was not missed in Moscow either: an almost full cinema hall was filled with advanced witnesses.