Maya the Marvelous

By John T. Elson

Inexplicably, the authors of that arrogant nonbook The Best missed a chance to make a snap judgment that few would challenge--namely, that Maya Plisetskaya is the finest female classical dancer in the world. Last week the reigning ballerina of Russia's Bolshoi Ballet headed a group of touring stars from the company in a week-long engagement at Manhattan's Lincoln Center. Shrewdly, the management announced in advance that she would dance at every performance; otherwise, seeing this uneven cadre of Bolshoiviks --actually, they constitute less than one-third of the entire troupe--without her would be as interesting as watching the New York Jets without Joe Namath.

First-nighters were lucky enough to see Plisetskaya display two startlingly different aspects of her phenomenal talent. She began the evening by dazzling the Metropolitan Opera House audience as Odette in the second act of Swan Lake, and ended it by starring in Carmen Suite, a ballet created especially for her (a rare tribute in the Soviet Union). In between, a dozen or so other soloists performed snippets from the stodgy Bolshoi repertory that allowed them to show off little more than their remarkable discipline.

The dual role of Odette-Odile in Swan Lake is one of ballet's supreme challenges, and there are many women who meet it with grace and liquid beauty. Plisetskaya, though, is unique. In the limpid forest glade scenes of Act II, most good dancers prettily suggest a girl imitating a swan. In a breathtaking act of theatrical magic, Plisetskaya somehow becomes a lovely humanoid swan giving a passable imitation of a shy maiden. This remarkable ballerina is now 48, and her short, chunky legs have clearly lost some of their spring. But Plisetskaya's legs seem almost secondary to her dancing genius; what matters more is her elegantly arched, endlessly supple torso, and above all, her arms. There are no others like them in all of dance. When she floats offstage at the end of the act in a pas de bourree of astound ing purity, her gently rippling arms seem to be without bones.

Sensual Fire. Plisetskaya's Odette is all shimmering ice; her Carmen is sensual fire. By and large, this version of the Prosper Merimee story is downright ludicrous. Set to a percussive rehash of Bizet melodies (some from Carmen, some not), the choreography by Cuba's Alberto Alonso must have seemed madly daring when it was first shown in Moscow seven years ago. In fact, it is full of dated psychological posturings. Moreover, despite strong dancing by blond young (24) Aleksander Godunov, one of Plisetskaya's favorite partners, and Sergei Radchenko, the roles of Don Jose and the toreador remain lifeless.

But none of this really matters. From the first moment that marvelous Maya, sexily garbed in black, sashays onto a stage tricked up to evoke a bull ring, she is smolderingly present as a dangerous woman on the make. Whether stalking defiantly away from a woebegone Don Jose or melting luxuriously in his arms, this Carmen is a creature, almost a prisoner, of passion. All stops out, Plisetskaya swaggers through the role with a shameless, feline verve that commands the eye and utterly dominates the stage.

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