There are three timelines flitting around which only serve to make the whole thing a bit of a confusing mess
Ralph Fiennes directs this sort-of biopic about world-famous ballet dancer Rudolf Nureyev from childhood right up to his defection from the Soviet Union in 1961.
Starring Oleg Ivenko, a Ukranian dancer making his acting debut, this is quite an odd film.
Messy and sporadic, we are expected to root for a man, who to all intents and purposes, is not only thoroughly dislikable for much of the film, but doesn’t appear to be much cop at dancing (he clearly was, but there’s not a moment in his upbringing where anyone other than him thinks he’s anything special - a weird hole in the screenplay for me).
Clearly made with precision, passion and attention to detail, the film is meticulous in it’s setting and ‘feel’. Shot seemingly through the “Gingham” instagram filter, 1960s Paris, looks a whole lot of fun - and it’s easy to see why Nureyev, there on a tour with his Russian troupe, didn’t fancy returning to the motherland.
There are three timelines flitting around which only serve to make the whole thing a bit of a confusing mess. We see his tough childhood, his arrival at ballet school and mentorship with Fienne’s Pushkin, and the present time in Paris where he strikes up a weirdly boring relationship with the woman he eventually turns to in his moment of need.
Whilst the dancing is extraordinary and the final 20 minutes, where he decides to defect at the airport, are gripping and tense - I first had to wait 100 that I won’t get back. Too complex and thoughtful for it’s own good.
