A dancer's dilemma

In early January, a group of dancers and staff of the Norwegian National Ballet sat together and considered, for the first time, the “gypsy scene” in the second act of Don Quixote as an instance of Romani caricature. We had just learned about the history of Romani people in Norway; particularly, their 20th century discrimination. How, Norwegian born Romani had their passports invalidated and foreign-born Romani were denied entry into the country. We learned about one specific group of Romani people who were denied entry in 1934, most of them never walked free out of the death camps. Still, today, we learned, discrimination continues: a survey shows 32 % of Norwegians do not want to have social contact with Romani people.  

In light of this knowledge, certain gestures were removed from the scene, and words and character names were changed. Yet the “gypsy” styled choreography and costuming remain the same. 

Back in the studio, we dutifully learn the steps and practice our swaying hips in proper “gypsy” fashion. I wonder whether caricature is an inherently demeaning action and whether the “gypsy scene”, in gypsifying the Romani people, renders them less human. I suspect we are not doing enough.  At the same time, it could be that these questions are too severe, after all, it is just a fictional story in a classical ballet.   

Except, everything that happens on a stage, no matter the fictional context, is also an action in the world. This simultaneity is not inherently bad, in fact, it is what makes theatre a transfixing and mysterious art, but it does endow us performers with a greater responsibility. Every night that I go onstage as a Roma person, I am performing a classical ballet, telling a fictional story and spreading a racial stereotype in the world. It is an inescapable condition. 

Don Quixote is a ballet by Marius Petipa and part of a repertoire that we call “classical ballets”. Petipa established the three-act classical ballet structure and solidified in it the qualities of classicism: naturalness, symmetry, purity of line, the idea that beauty and morality go hand in hand. Many of these ballets involve a “white act,” a sort of divine feminine ballet heaven, and grand pas de deux between the lead dancers. These two elements realize Petipa’s vision of classicism, but they aren’t always realized on their own. In the case of Don Quixote, the innocent love of Kitri and Basilio and the balletic dream of the tutu-clad dryad scene is achieved in contrast to the preceding Romani scene with its eroticized choreography, toughness, and chaos. The Romani people are stereotyped, and therefore demeaned, to make the other ballet dancing characters look more classical, harmonious, and good. 

A similar structure can be found in Petipa’s La Bayadère and Raymonda, which contrast their lead ballet dancing characters with “uncivilized” Hindu and Muslim figures. Other ballets achieve this contrast with witches, and still others manage to portray the goodness of the main couple without any degrading contrasts. Therefore, I don’t think this contrast is integral to a full expression of classicism. In the meantime, I am left with a discord between what classicism purports to stand for and who it relegates. It seems to be that some of our classical ballets, with their supposed bedrock of classicism and morality, are inconsistent in their “goodness”. Which makes for a fake morality and an ersatz classicism.  

I fear I am speaking like a traitor because I am taught to be faithful to my art. I wonder if we relate so inflexibly to our classical ballet tradition because it is built on a weak foundation, and we are scared it could all be lost. It is important to remember that there is no original text of Don Quixote. Due to the frailties of the human memory, the turmoil of Russian history, and no adequate method of notating ballet until the proliferation of video recording, there is no balletic score, per se. Whereas an opera or play can be thought of as a wheel with the score or manuscript as its hub and every production ever made as a spoke originating from it, classical ballets, by contrast, are more accurately thought of as chains, where one link only knows for certain the link that came before it. Here lies the inherent contradiction in ballet thinking: we are steadfast traditionalist, we derive meaning by dancing like our forefathers and yet, we lack an original text to refer to. So, we cleave to the link before us. To use the language of psychology, we are insecurely attached. We associate a certain ideological conservation of Petipa’s classical ballets with the survival of our entire artform. Even though any chance at true conservation has been gone since year 1900, and it has never been seriously desired.  

Instead of being a reason for insecurity, the chain-like nature of our ballet history allows us to do better; to make a new link, so to speak. The “texts” of classical ballets live through our dancing bodies: we are its stewards and practitioners. This allows us a freedom to make change. I still believe in the ideas of classicism: that beauty onstage, by appearing natural and good enacts hope in the world.  

So I have a proposition to offer, a ballet classicism that is expansive; that does not need to make some look bad for others to look good. Let us be equally rigorous, precise, and musical and more generous, ethical, and inclusive. 

Over the next six weeks, I will enact Don Quixote for you as a Matador and a Roma man. I invite you to take these ideas and history I have shared into the auditorium. I hope that it will enrich your experience of our art, as it enriches mine. We, in the ballet, don’t have any clear answers to these questions, but please, join us in our wondering.