Word: panovs
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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Baryshnikov at Work by Mikhail Baryshnikov (Knopf; $11.95). The Russian dancer's apolitical descriptions of the roles he has played. It should be read in conjunction with To Dance: The Autobiography of Valery Panov (Knopf; $15), another refugee who knew when to jump...
...spent most of his time recently serving as supersubstitute to a trio of ailing defectors from Russia's Kirov Ballet: Mikhail Baryshnikov, who injured an ankle before his Toronto performance in La Sylphide; Rudolf Nureyev, who missed his Los Angeles production of Raymonda because of pneumonia; and Valery Panov, who pulled a calf muscle while performing his new ballet Heart of the Mountains in San Francisco. "I know 5 -and everyone says-I'm as good as the three of them," boasts Bui jones, whose confidence suggests early Muhammad Ali. "I am the best American dancer...
...teenagers. They went to Leningrad, where he found the atmosphere of the old czarist capital intoxicating. As a dancer, he could not help visiting the Kirov school. There he happened to attend a class taught by the late Alexander Ivanovich Pushkin, a great master who coached Nureyev and Valery Panov. Not hoping for much, Baryshnikov approached Pushkin (no kin to the famed Russian poet) and said, "I would very much like to be your pupil." Pushkin felt his legs and body and asked him to jump up and down. Says Baryshnikov, "I was like a young goat knocking over tables...
Their dancing continued to gain in strength and grace. By the time they arrived at the showy display of Riccardo Drigo's Harlequinade, Panov's springy jeté and Galina's whirlwind fouettes (whipping one-leg turns) were evidence enough that for them the two years had been stopped time, not lost time...
Right now Galina is overshadowed by her husband's mature artistry. It was Panov the dancing actor rather than Panov the spectacular technician who stole the evening. As Petrouchka in Stravinsky's tragicomedy celebrating the Russian Punch, Panov combined Chaplinesque humor with a mime's mastery of the mysterious language of silence. A floppy puppet holding his heart and crying real tears, Panov shrugged his shoulders and, with a spineless collapse, fell to the floor in a human puddle. In that single movement he captured all the joy and anguish of the universal clown...