Americans are obsessed with perfection. We want perfect hair, perfect teeth, and a perfect body. Students want perfect grades and perfect SAT scores. Adults want the perfect spouse, the perfect family, the perfect home, and the perfect job. Magazines bombard us with images of celebrities who have perfect spouses, perfect children, and perfectly decorated mansions. This makes us ordinary, imperfect people feel even more imperfect.
Ballet is an art obsessed with perfection: perfect positions, perfect placement, and perfect bodies. A thin body with long legs and arms more easily creates beautiful ballet lines than a muscular body with short limbs. In a quest for ballet perfection, many young ballet dancers develop eating disorders. I know several young dancers who needed hospitalization for anorexia and bulimia for that very reason. Neither girl is dancing today.
Ballet schools under the Soviet system only accepted students with perfect bodies. Hundreds of children auditioned for a handful of openings, but only those with correct proportions, beautiful feet, good turnout, and ample flexibility were admitted. Victor Gsovsky, the choreographer of Grand Pas Classique, was rejected by the Mariinsky School because he was too tall. I too, would have been rejected for the same reason. At 5’8” tall, I am too tall for the corps de ballet and too tall to be partnered by most male dancers. So, my choice was clear: go to college rather spend a year auditioning in vain.
Fortunately, Gsovsky found an excellent teacher in St. Petersburg. He became a renowned teacher and choreographer who worked in Germany and France during the 1930’s and 1940’s. He is best known for Grand Pas Classique, a fiendishly difficult pas de deux, which he choreographed in 1949 for the Paris Opera Ballet. It is still performed today and is in the repertoires of many ballet companies.
It is ironic that a man rejected for having an imperfect body, created a dance about perfection: perfect poses, perfect lines, perfect transitions, perfect men’s technique, and perfect women’s technique. While this pas demands exceptional classical technique, strength, and endurance, the dancers must also maintain the fluidity and effortlessness which is the goal of every ballet performance.
This clip shows Sylvie Guillem and Manuel Legris of the Paris Opera Ballet (The clip incorrectly credits Petipa with the choreography). It follows the Petipa format of entrance, adagio, variations, and coda. Unlike a typical Petipa pas de deux, the dancers in Grand Pas Classique do not interact: there is virtually no eye contact between them; they are exquisitely, but coldly perfect. The dancers remind me of celebrity couples on the red carpet, elegantly coiffed and dressed; carefully maintaining the illusion of perfection created by couturiers, make-up artists, and hair stylists. In the adagio, this feeling is particularly evident in the diagonal that begins at 1:45. The man lifts the woman and drops her into a fish dive. Then keeping her in the fish position, he makes a 360 degree turn, as if to show everyone the perfect woman he has snagged. A series of supported turns follow, ending with the girl balanced in passe while the man executes a double tour. Both dancers gaze off into the distance, completely oblivious of the other dancer. They are here to be seen; not to interact with one another. The diagonal ends with both dancers croise on one knee, arm outstretched, as if acknowledging their fans.
The ballerina uses her arms in the adagio to emphasize the perfection of the poses (0:41, 1:01, 2:26, 2:37, 3:08, 3:19, 3:52, 4:20). Her arm motions remind me of how models on game shows use their hands to highlight the qualities of the featured product.
The variations show the athleticism of the man and the femininity of the woman. The man’s variation (4:25–5:20) has virtually every jump and turn that comprises men’s technique. Gsovsky’s perfect male dancer must be able to jump, turn, and beat. He only gets a two minute break before he returns for the coda which opens with brise voles (7:25-8:22) and ends with turns a la seconde. Not only does the dancer need to be athletic, he must also execute these extremely difficult steps with the grace and effortlessness of Fred Astaire.
The woman’s variation (5:25–7:25) is every bit as difficult, but quite different: no big jumps, no beats, and no displays of athleticism. Gsovsky’s perfect female dancer is refined and polished. She is a steel magnolia: appearing very feminine and demure, while executing steps that require extraordinary strength and control (6:30–7:03). After completing several killer diagonals, she has a very, very delicate, feminine passage (7:04–7:11) with graceful changements and emboites en pointe, showing off perfect feet and perfect pointe work. The variation ends with a manege of pique-chaine turns.
Many have criticized this pas as being sterile, but these critics are missing the point. Perfection is sterile. Factories churn out perfect items, but without the charm of handcrafted goods. Perfectly shaped fruit fills our supermarkets, but lacks the flavor of misshapen heirloom varieties sold in the farmer’s market. Hothouse roses look perfect, but lack the heady perfume of the garden rose.
I think this pas was Gsovsky’s tribute to the academic tradition of classical ballet. Each ballet student aspires for perfection in every class, even though that perfection is rarely achieved. It is the idiosyncrasies and imperfections of each individual dancer that give life to ballet and make each performance of the same choreography unique.
Take a look at this video of David Hallberg in Grand Pas Classique. This is the best interpretation of the male variation and coda that I have ever seen. Not only is Hallberg technically excellent, but he also has the Fred Astaire quality of effortlessness and floating that is rarely seen in ballet dancers. Sylvie Guillem shares that quality. Hallberg and Guillem are my dream couple for this piece.
Hallberg’s variation: (0-0:56) coda: (3:52-4:44). Michelle Wiles, his partner, has good technique, but lacks the femininity and the Astaire quality of Guillem.
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