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Hypersynaesthesia

the colours in your head

6.29.2005

Farukh, farukh, farukh is on fire

Ok, so going over the past week, part the very first.

So... Tuesday was the long-awaited performance of Farukh "Sex in Ballet Tights" Ruzimatov. I paid all of five hundred rubles (about $17) for these tickets, so I was expecting QUALITY, by jove. I wasn't disappointed.

I've loved this man for years, watched endless ballet videos where, yeah, I'm supposed to be watching the pretty ballerinas do their twirly gorgeous flitting things, and I am, but it's hard to concentrate wholly on that when dancing right next to them, generally in his bare-chested greasy-haired glory, is Farukh. I know it's too cheesy to fall for the description I have just put up, but combine that with a skeletal system of rubber and muscles of steel (rather interesting body image coming up there...) and an ability to jump higher and farther than any human being rightly should, and you've got a lust object. It's not actually the kind of thing where I actually imagine having any contact with this fellow-- god forbid, in real life he might be short (the perils of being a 5'9 female... but I think he could get away with it) or have an ugly voice, or, god forbid, be stupid. He can be as vain as he wants. Also, I think he would just be far too bendy for me, and would laugh at the fact that I lost all my flexibility somewhere when I stopped being jocky.

Anyway, the show was surreal in its beauty. He only actually performed three times, but the in between acts were amazing as well. They started with The Dream of the Rose, which was a rather dubious choice, and I feared for a second because I had dragged along two ballet virgins, and a man in a pink bodysuit with a floral headpiece might not have been the best introduction. Luckily, though, it quickly went to more normal pieces-- a rather lovely scene from Corsair, and an exquisite pas de quatre, featuring the leggiest ballerina I have EVER seen. The first act culminated with a modern piece, featuring Farukh at long last, pretty much having tantric sex with a ballerina barely covered in red spandex to the sound of tabla drums. As I picked my jaw up off the floor after aerial split number four, I started quietly praying for atonement of my soul for all the nasty comments I've made about modern dance.

It's rather hard, not to mention tedious to anyone reading, to sit and describe the rest of the show. I don't know enough about ballet to make actual critiques about anything, and don't really have anything to contribute beyond naming the piece and trying to piece together a description from the vague memory impressions I have of a twirling skirt, or particularly graceful arms. The second act was just Farukh and another woman playing "Le Jeune Homme et la Morte". The piece may as well have been written for him-- images from it are seared into my head, somewhere right behind my eyeballs. I literally might not be able to watch it again without feeling vaguely cheated. The third act was collected pieces again-- a splendid black and white modern piece that seemed like some take on a Pygmalion story, then the leggy ballerina as the Black Swan, a scene from Evgeny Onegin that literally brought tears to my eyes (Tanya rejecting Onegin! Hah!), because I am a sap, and then finally, Farukh solo. All. Alone. On. Stage. Glorious dark-muscley-sinousness. It sounds like I'm exaggerating when I say I had to remind myself to breathe, but... I caught myself forgetting to do it sometimes. I'd gasp and then never let it out. So beautiful. I was saddened when it ended. The applause was nice for them-- they ended up taking 9 bows, but at the same time it meant we had to go out and face reality again and go away from the construct world that had grown up around us. While waiting for the bus, we saw the leggy ballerina-- taller than me-- limping home carrying her tutus and with her hair up in a scruffy bun. It was incredible that an hour before she had been an enchanted bird-woman creature, and now she was just a normal, if rather tall, thin and gorgeous, human being in sweats.

I don't think I can quite deal with humanity in people like that. Terrible habit.

1 Comments:

At 8:18 PM, November 27, 2011, Anonymous Alfred said...

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