'Red Shoes' is prima ballerina of genre

By Moira Macdonald
Seattle Times movie critic

	Moira Shearer in "The Red Shoes."
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Well, no — movies set in the ballet world (as opposed to movies that make lame references to it, like "Flashdance" and all its poker-faced ballet snobs) face some overwhelming challenges. And the most difficult of these is that the bar — or, as balletomanes would say, the barre — is set very high indeed. "The Red Shoes," the 1948 classic from Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger, is not just a ballet movie; it's one of the most beautiful films ever made.

The story of a young dancer (flame-haired Moira Shearer, of Britain's Sadler's Wells Ballet) who must choose between love and art, "The Red Shoes" dazzles with its color, its emotion and the wildly inventive "Red Shoes" ballet at its center. Though melodramatic (in a glorious, cymbals-crashing kind of way), it's a window into the life of a ballerina. We see Shearer, early in the morning after her great triumph in the "Red Shoes" ballet, arriving at the studio in shabby practice clothes, placing a hand on the barre to begin the ritual of daily class. The glamour of last night is over, and there's no time to linger; a new pursuit of perfection begins.

Every subsequent ballet-movie performance has stood in Shearer's elegant shadow. She was that rarity: a classically trained, exquisite dancer (the speed and lightness of her feet in the "Swan Lake" sequence seem almost inhuman), a dazzling made-for-Technicolor beauty and a natural onscreen. Her voice, crystalline and sparkling, seemed spontaneous and fresh; her plaintive "Julian ... take off the red shoes" undoubtedly broke many hearts in 1948, and still does today.

Directors of post-"Red Shoes" ballet movies have had a difficult choice: cast actors with good posture and fake the dance sequences, or cast dancers with few acting skills and deal with the flat results. "The Turning Point," Herbert Ross' 1977 ballet film, did both, with mixed results. Anne Bancroft, despite her elegant bearing, looked completely out of place at the barre (the camera had to quickly cut away when movement began); Leslie Browne, a dancer cast as the movie's ingenue, was squeaky and amateurish in her dialogue scenes.

But "The Turning Point," a soap opera-ish drama about two longtime friends dealing with their choices (one chose dance, one chose love ... hmm, can you hear the "Red Shoes" music playing?), deserves praise for its terrific dance sequences, featuring some of the decade's greatest dancers, and for introducing Mikhail Baryshnikov to the screen.

A sleepy-eyed Latvian with astonishing technique — he looked like he could easily jump over his co-stars — Baryshnikov was electric onscreen. Speaking in drawlingly accented English, as if he had all the time in the world, he brought movie-star sex appeal to "The Turning Point," receiving an Oscar nomination and igniting a brief movie career.

Taylor Hackford's 1985 drama "White Nights," with Baryshnikov and Gregory Hines, is memorable for the two actors' easy chemistry and for Baryshnikov's powerful, dreamlike performance in the title sequence (Roland Petit's ballet "The Young Man and Death"). The truly awful "Dancers," made by Ross as a Baryshnikov vehicle in 1987, revolved around a young dancer (Julie Kent, even squeakier than Browne), a forbidden love and — horrors! — a surprising tattoo.

Post-Baryshnikov, ballet movies have been few. "Billy Elliot," released in 2000, was a charmer about a working-class British boy who dreamed of becoming a ballet dancer; its dance sequences celebrated a young boy's joy in movement. "Center Stage," also in 2000, was a "Fame"-like story of young dancers in training, replete with romance, eating disorders, diva-ish behavior and ultimate triumph by all. Like "The Turning Point," it's an awkward mix of dancers and actors; in one key dance sequence, long shots vainly try to camouflage a dancer who bears only a ballpark resemblance to the actress she's doubling.

In "The Company," such tricks aren't necessary: Neve Campbell, formerly of the National Ballet of Canada, trained full time for six months to get back into shape for Altman's film. Though she doesn't have the lean lines of a classical ballerina, she moves with fluid grace, blending easily among the real-life Joffrey dancers who make up the rest of the cast. And Altman easily solves the problem of trying to get dancers to act: He doesn't. They just dance, beautifully, and that's more than enough.

Moira Macdonald: 206-464-2725 or mmacdonald@seattletimes.com

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