The White Crow (2018)

A featured film analysis by Elizabeth Coulter

Freedom in Art

The main theme of The White Crow is the idea that freedom can be found through art. The film follows Rudolf Nureyev’s determined pursuit for the freedom to be the best of himself which he does through his art: ballet. The subthemes of ‘solitude and selfishness,’ ‘discipline, obligation, and obedience,’ and ‘The West versus The Soviet Union’ with the motif of ‘the train’ playing throughout work together to demonstrate Nureyev’s personal path to freedom.

The Train

The motif of the train, mostly in the form of a Trans-Siberian train, is visually presented and referred to throughout the film in connection to Nureyev. From the very first scene of the film, we learn that Nureyev was born on a Trans-Siberian train, a fact which Nureyev reminds us of at the end of the film when he says: “I can live anywhere. Remember, I was born on a train,” suggesting that the train is a representation of movement, as Nureyev moves both physically from the Soviet Union to the West, but also from a poor background to a world famous ballet dancer. An interpretation of the train perhaps more in keeping with what sets Nureyev apart from everyone else is the idea of the train as a symbol of progress. In traditional Russian literature, the train is a symbol of advancement, as Russia lagged behind the West for a long time before rapidly catching up, starting under Peter the Great. As such, the train, a product of industrialization that made movement and the modernization of such a huge country dramatically easier, from a Russian perspective came to represent modernity. In many of the flashbacks of Nureyev as a child there is a train or the young Nureyev plays with a toy one. Upon arriving in Paris, one of the first things Nureyev does is to find a shop where he can acquire a trainset which he later visits to get a trainset of the Trans-Siberian Express. To Nureyev, the train is important to him as a symbol of development and improvement which is what he strives for for himself with his ballet.

The idea of Rudolf Nureyev as a ‘white crow,’ from the Russian idiom used to describe an outsider, someone different, extraordinary even, establishes how Nureyev stood out from his peers, leading him to eventually become a renowned ballet dancer. In a flashback to Nureyev’s time in Saint Petersburg, Nureyev goes to a dance friend’s party. Nureyev is unsure as to how he should act in a group of people who want to talk about things that he does not really care about like politics, which is evident in his manner of speaking as he insists that he should not stay long. The reason as to why Nureyev seems to have decided to visit at all appears evident when he mentions that his friend was telling him about Rembrandt and that he would like to talk more about him. The divergence between what most people like to talk about such as politics and themselves and the specificities of art that Nureyev wants to talk about highlights a way in which Nureyev is different from many people. We also learn that Nureyev visits the Hermitage every day, something that we see carried over in France where he visits museums often, where he is usually alone. In flashbacks of Nureyev’s childhood, we also see Nureyev always alone, perhaps in part due to being raised as the only boy of four children with an absent father, as we see him struggle to fit in with ‘boyish activities’ or to connect with his father. Although we do see Nureyev engage well with people in the film, they are almost always dancers or people willing to talk with him about art and dance. As such, art to Nureyev is his world, separating himself from the world of sitting around and chatting like most ‘normal people’ like to do.

Yet to his separateness, there is a clear side of arrogance, selfishness, rudeness, and fragility to Nureyev. Because in the rest of the film he can be a very nice person, as well as the fact of course that he is the great ballet dancer Rudolf Nureyev, these flaws humanize him. We see Nureyev be very kind, for example to Clara Saint, with whom he becomes very close, helping her through her mourning over her late boyfriend; However, we do see Nureyev have outbursts of great temper even with Saint. It is difficult for us the audience to fully understand why Nureyev always acts the way he does quite shockingly at times, and it is Saint through who’s reaction the audience can relate. At a famous Russian restaurant with Saint, Nureyev becomes very upset, and upon being asked why by Saint, proceeds to say “I know what he [the waiter] thinks of me… Bashkirian peasant. He looks down. No manners. No education.” And when Saint says what we are also thinking during the scene: “…how do you know that? He hasn’t said anything,” Nureyev continues, “…Alright, I am a peasant from Ufa. I’m boy born on train. I play princes in theatre, but I’m not prince. Fuck him. Fuck Paris. Fuck you,” plainly revealing his insecurity about his past. Even though we have seen how Nureyev turns parts of his life such as his being born on a train into a symbol of the progress he wants to achieve and does, it is still a reminder to him that however much he progresses, he will always have started in great poverty. It is particularly a reminder of the flashbacks from Nureyev’s first days at The Leningrad Choreographic School where Shelkov is rude to him, seemingly due to Nureyev’s Ufa background. When Saint tells him to apologize, Nureyev continues to be very rude to her, finishing by saying “Little girl, if you like apologies, you’re with wrong man.” In her next encounter with Nureyev, Saint expects him to acknowledge his previous behavior, but Nureyev refuses to and Saint responds: “I forgive you for being the most selfish man I’ve ever met,” again reflecting how the audience is meant to react, as even though Nureyev seems to behave unnecessarily rudely at a few times, refusing to show any sign afterwards of recognition of the event or apology, not only do we know why Nureyev feels insecure and can somewhat sympathize, but we also see that the rest of the time he shows kindness and of course his admirable and respectable qualities of a great artist and so we too forgive him for all his flaws.

Discipline, Obligation, and Obedience

Art is generally perceived as something with no rules, that is meant to be used however the artist wishes to express themselves because freedom of expression and creativity are some of the wonderful things about art. These aspects of art make it hard for us to see just how discipline and learning can really fit into it. How can one learn about the arts when they are subjective? How can there be rules? The rules of art are made to be broken, but in order to break them, one must become an artist, someone who has reached the capacity to have freedom in art, a freedom that can only be found through discipline. Pushkin explains to Nureyev that “…technique is only a means…not an end…” and that the real purpose of art is story: to tell the story you want to tell. This idea recalls a flashback from the beginning of the film where the man to whom Nureyev goes to talk about how he is doing after the first few weeks at the Leningrad Choreographic School tells Nureyev that “Ballet is about rules, it’s about discipline. It has to be. That means it’s about obedience. Only through discipline can you find freedom,” meaning that Nureyev cannot expect to become a great dancer who can do what they want when he is just starting out. Back in the future Paris timeline, there are many clips in between scenes that show Nureyev practicing his technique alone and looking at many forms of art. He explains to Saint how he himself made changes in the ballet world by, as he puts it, “[taking] from the woman.” Nureyev states: “Before me, male part boring. Man only stands, does nothing.

Women leap, jump, turn… I ask, why not man be like woman?” showing us how Nureyev used his relentless practice of ballet technique and study of art to make innovative changes as to how he as a male dancer wants to express himself artistically. In a flashback to Nureyev in Moscow, we see him protest about being sent to the small city of Ufa, where Nureyev grew up, to dance. Nureyev points out that if he goes to Ufa, he will never be able to progress to a greater dance theatre such as the Bolshoi in Moscow as he would be too old. He is told by the lady at the ministry of culture in Moscow that “It doesn’t matter what you want,” because “The state paid for you. The Soviet people. Isn’t it time you did them the favour of saying thank you?” laying out the moral dilemma that Nureyev faces; on the one hand he has an obligation to the Soviet state and people that paid for him to become a dancer, and that in return they want him to dance where they need him to dance. On the other hand, Nureyev’s obligation to the state contradicts his obligation to himself to progress and learn, something he cannot do if he continues to dance in his hometown until he is too old to continue. Nureyev tells Lacotte: “I have an obligation. See as much as possible, learn…Picasso, Matisse, Rodin. Go everyday, new painting. Look, really look. See what it teaches,” explaining why we see him so often at art galleries. Nureyev’s passion and drive for progress in art through self-discipline requires him to travel and experience new things which he could not do if he stayed in his hometown. We are meant to feel torn here, as we know in hindsight the great things Nureyev goes on to do from the scenes where he is in France and he becomes a great dancer and the idea of stunting his artistic potential seems wrong. On the other hand, the ministry of culture lady’s point that Nureyev has an obligation to give back to the people that gave him the opportunity to learn ballet by sacrificing the time he could use to reach his artistic freedom to instead continue the rest of his dancing days in artistic discipline does have a moral point to it as both paths can be seen as one of selfishness or selflessness on the part of Nureyev.

It is in part due to Nureyev’s Russian background that makes his style of dance stand out in the West, especially since the arrival of the Kirov company is the first time since the second world war that they have come to the West. The famous French dancer Pierre Lacotte tells him: “It’s always Russia. It’s always the Russians. The French invented ballet, but the energy always comes in from the East…What you do is not technically perfect. Sometimes it’s even a little bit clumsy. But its spirit is perfect,” pointing out the differing qualities of Eastern and Western ballet, and in doing so, showing how Nureyev’s Eastern upbringing gives him a unique quality to his dancing for the Western audience. What really makes Nureyev stand out in the West is his drive to learn about the West, something highly controversial to the Soviets. When at a party for dancers, upon noticing that the room is split with Westerners on one side, Soviets on the other, Nureyev remarks: “Why aren’t we talking to each other? This is ridiculous,” and proceeds to speak to some Western dancers who he impresses with his knowledge of who they are, explaining “I see you in dance magazines. I study,” in English which he took upon himself to learn, stating: “I want not to be deaf and dumb when I come to West.” Again we see Nureyev’s striving to learn through and for his art, especially given that his art, ballet, is a French invention. Such commitment to being informed about the Western ballet world leads him to make connections with Western dancers such as Lacotte, even though such behaviour

is frowned upon by some Soviets. Nureyev’s taking initiative to “build the bridge” singles him out as someone different, someone who can move easily between the East and the West. Although from a Western perspective it is tempting to take away a view of the ‘good and free West’ versus the ‘bad and oppressive Soviet Union’ due to the fact that Rudi chooses the West over the Soviet Union for the freedom to dance he finds for himself there, the differences between the West and the Soviet Union between which Nureyev must choose are made more complicated by the fact that apart from Nureyev, no one else from the West or the East takes the initiative to understand the other. At the end of the film the French policeman gives Nureyev the choice between two doors: one that leads to France, and one that leads to the Soviet Union. Given the tense scene that precedes this one where the KGB tries to take Nureyev back to the Soviet Union because of his affection to the West, it seems, to a Western audience at least, that the obvious choice should be to choose France. However, we are brought back to the issue of obligation. The two doors can be reimagined as one that fulfills Nureyev’s obligation, but would mean never seeing his family or country that made him who he is again and the other fulfilling Nureyev’s obligation to the State and to his family at the sacrifice of his own wants. This is emphasized when we are immediately afterwards shown a flashback to Nureyev’s first dance lesson as a child with his dance teacher and his mother - the state and his family, where he learns traditional folk dances, reminding us of the Soviet influence that helps Nureyev in the West. The KGB accuse Nureyev of loving the capitalist life of money and being able to engage in selfish individuality, concluding that he does not care for the country that made him. To the West, it can seem that Nureyev surely chose the West for freedom from the unjust Soviet system. Both of these views are politically charged and impose their own political agendas to Nureyev’s choice. However, we are reminded throughout the film that Nureyev is not at all interested in politics – his drive is for his dance. A fact that even the audience can forget because we can be so tempted to think politically and favour our own system. At the end of the film, Nureyev tells the Western press: “I fell I will never return to my country. But I may never be happy in yours,” reminding us that although the West gives him the freedom in art he strove for throughout the film, it will never be able to give him the happiness of all he left behind in The Soviet Union.