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“Le Corsaire”
Ballet of the Krasnoyarsk State Opera and Ballet Theatre
Hvorostovsky Krasnoyarsk State Opera and Ballet Theatre
Krasnoyarsk, Russia
July 2024 (video)

by Ilona Landgraf
Copyright © 2024 by Ilona Landgraf

This July, the Ballet of the Krasnoyarsk State Opera and Ballet Theatre traveled 2.400 miles eastward to tour their Catharsis Dante at the Helikon Theatre in Moscow. I wasn’t able to fly to Moscow but, by chance, I had the opportunity to watch videos of two of their recent premieres. One of them was a new Le Corsaire by Yuliana Malkhasyants, which premiered on May 19th. It’s based on Petipa’s 1858 version for the Mariinsky Theatre from which Malkhasyants kept seven of the most famous fragments, such as the Pas d’Esclave and the Le Corsaire Pas de Deux for Medora and Conrad. The Jardin animé was refashioned, and the libretto was pruned for better understanding. Malkhasyants dropped the figure of Conrad’s young, faithful slave, Ali, and streamlined Medora’s and Conrad’s escape from Seyd Pasha’s harem.

A rough sea in a vintage black-and-white video (designed by Dmitry Ivanchenko) transports the audience back to the Ottoman Empire where Conrad and his storm-beaten corsairs safely escape to shore. In no time, they arrive at the bazaar of Adrianople (today’s Edirne, Turkey) whose minarets greet passersby in the hazy sun. With the slave trade in full swing, Conrad and the trader Isaac Lankedem’s new acquisition—the young Greek beauty Medora—fall head over heels in love at first sight. Conrad and his buddies must prevent Medora from being sold to Seyd Pasha. They take her to their hideout—a picturesque, dim grotto—and, as an extra bargain, abduct Lankedem and half of his slave girls along the way.
In the generously spacious and safe hideout, the corsairs and their girls amuse themselves with some plucky, folksy dancing and chummy saber rattling. The rocky cave even has space for Conrad’s bed-chamber, which is screened off by oriental floor-to-ceiling carpets and is where he intends to enjoy a romantic tête-à-tête with Medora. But alas! A soporific wine from his scheming buddy-cum-rival, Birbanto, forces an involuntary slumber on Conrad. While he sleeps like the dead, Birbanto orchestrates Medora’s abduction to Seyd Pasha’s harem where she, whether she likes it or not, becomes the newest gem of his harem. But the moment the corsairs storm its halls to free Medora, the palace’s solemn splendor falls like a fake façade. Bare stones and gloomy lighting suddenly reveal the place’s true nature: a prison coated in luxury. While saber blades clonk fiercely, Medora exposes Birbanto’s intrigue, and the victory almost seems to belong to Conrad and his guys. But no, the tide is turning, and Conrad finds himself behind bars. Seyd Pasha triumphs but fails to take the scheming of his previous favorite Gulnare into account. Eager to get rid of her rival, Medora (or out of sympathy?), she helps her and Conrad escape. Seyd Pasha looks on helplessly as Medora and Conrad flee from the palace guard (with several curtains indicating a chase fraught with obstacles). Sailing toward a safe haven, the lovers steer their ship’s wheel together as a sparkling curtain slowly closes in front of them like a star-studded sky. All’s well that ends well.

Matvey Nikishaev’s Conrad was no macho braggart but rather a focused, cool-minded leader with a loving heart. Prowess and ease radiated from his demeanor, confirming his unassailable status. His legs sliced the air like a hot knife through butter, and he easily fought off two assailants simultaneously. Medora (Anna Kudryavtseva) played the coquettish seductress at the slave market (when sure of Conrad’s protection). Later, feeling safe in the cave and (literally) wearing the pants, she took revenge on Lankedem and put him in his place. Alongside Conrad, Medora’s feminine beauty came into full blossom (her light, reddish-pink harem pants made me think of a tender mallow blossom) before captivity shrouded its shine. Her jumps evinced a cry for freedom, but the arms of the other harem women intertwined like a fence, preventing her escape.
The soul of George Bolsunovsky’s Birbanto was unpredictable to me. He appeared to be a great guy when seen together with his luscious girlfriend (Nadezhda Panfilova) and a reliable buddy of the other corsairs, so there was no hint of his malicious intentions toward his chief. The bewilderment on Birbanto’s face when Conrad kicked him out reminded me of an ill-behaved child denying its guilt. Justice was restored quickly though. Seconds after clashing with Conrad, Birbanto accidentally ran into the palace guard’s deadly halberds.

Isaac Lankedem (Ivan Karnaukhov) ticked all the boxes of a stereotypical, sly, Jewish businessman. Eager to benefit from any circumstance, he wasn’t overly despondent when forced to crouch in the corsairs’ grotto. Instead, he twirled his goatee, grinned, and admired Medora’s beauty.
Seyd Pasha (Kirill Litvinenko), framed by the ever-changing ornamental patterns of his harem beauties and bathed in golden light, looked like a living jewel, though he was utterly alone. Gulnare (Olesya Aldonina) had expert instincts to ensnare him but was loyal only to herself. Alexander Moiseev’s eunuch was an amalgamation of all stereotypes of such a figure. Well-padded and effeminate, he seemed to waddle on air and nothing could push him out of his comfort zone.
Natalya Bobrova and Olexiy Skalyun performed the Pas d’Esclave at the bazaar; the three Odalisques at Seyd Pasha’s harem were danced by Ksenia Krentovskaya, Anastasia Nigmatulina, and Kseniya Lyapina; Vladimir Bragin portrayed Ahmed, the head of the palace guard.

Le Corsaire’s score by Adolphe Adam and others combines a broad spectrum of atmospheres. At times, it’s tender and mellow, then snappy like fairground music. Eldar Nagiyev and the Orchestra of the Krasnoyarsk State Opera and Ballet Theatre carved out these nuances with admirable precision.