Envisioning the East:
Russian Orientalism and the Ballet Russe

By Laurel Victoria Gray

Many of the twentieth century’s notions about Eastern dance came not from the Arab world, but from Russia. The most notable and successful exporter of pseudo-oriental dance was the Ballet Russe, the legendary company that enchanted the world with its portrayals of forbidden harems and provocative temptresses.
Anna Pavlova and Mikhail Fokine in Fokine’s Cléopâtra, I909

Included in the ensemble’s repertoire were the so-called “oriental ballets:”
Scheherazade, Cleopatra, Thamar, Le Dieu Bleu, Les Orientales and the
Polovestian Dances from Prince Igor. Here the genius of
Russian composers, dancers, choreographers, and theatrical designers merged to
create a dazzling vision of the exotic East, a vision so powerful that it
continues to shape popular notions about Eastern dance to the present day.1

The roots of the Ballet Russe must be sought in the Orientalist vein, which
ran through Russian literature and music of the nineteenth century, as well as
in the historical experience of the Russian people themselves. Geographical
proximity had always given the Russians exposure to Eastern peoples, although
this contact was sometimes unwilling, as in the case of the thirteenth century
Mongol invasion. As a result of the centuries spent under the Tatar yoke, Russia
was often viewed by the West as more Asiatic than European. The proverb “scratch
a Russian and find a Tatar” insinuated that beneath the Western facade lurked an
Oriental character. Clearly traditional kaftan worn by Russian noblemen and the
opulent splendor of the Kremlin interior reflected Asiatic style.

Russian literature of the early nineteenth century mirrored currents in
European writing of the period, including Romanticism. The emergence of
Romanticism brought exotic settings into vogue and “The East” became a popular
choice with many writers, artists, and musicians. But while the English and
French looked to faraway lands, such as India, Turkey, Egypt and North Africa,
Russians found inspiration quite literally in their own backyard. The East was
not a distant place, but contiguous with Russian territory. Indeed, descendants
of the Mongol hordes can be found all around, even in the best of Russian
families. Tsarist military ambitions of the early 1800s brought Russians face to
face with the fierce tribesmen of the Caucasus. Russian conquest of Central Asia
in the mid-nineteenth century added Turkestan to the empire, along the wild
nomads of the Asiatic steppe.

While the Orientalism of Western Europe often contained fantastic, invented
elements and described an East which existed only in the imagination, Russians
writers could use their first hand knowledge of the regions they described to
provide authentic detail. Tolstoy, Pushkin, and Lermontov all spent time in the
East, specifically the Caucasus. While convinced that theirs was the superior
culture, these writers admitted much that was praiseworthy of the Asiatic
peoples and admired the freedom native tribesmen — a freedom denied to Russian
intellectuals by their own repressive government.

A group of talented composers known as the moguchaia kuchka or
“mighty handful” explored Eastern coloring in their works. One trait that
distinguished Russian Orientalism in music was a sense of identification with
the East. Composers felt that to be Russian was somehow to be “Eastern” as well,
and included this in their attempt to express the Russian national character.
Not surprisingly, they attempted to capture Turkic, Persian, and Caucasian
elements in their music. The element vostochnyi—or “Eastern
element”—was first apparent in the compositions of Mikhail Glinka and was
identified by critic and scholar Vladimir Stasov. Both Stasov and Glinka
attributed this trend to the historical and cultural influences of the East on
Russia’s past. Stasov pointed to the impact of the Orient: “So much of the East
has always entered into the formulation of Russian life and all its form and has
given a peculiar, characteristic coloring.”2 Glinka felt that traces of this
influence could be distinguished in the melancholy nature of the Russian folk
song, which had somehow been transmitted though the inhabitants of the East and
their plaintive songs. As Glinka’s friend, Ivan Ekimovch Kolmakov, noted:
“Listen to the coachman along the Volga; his song is mournful, one can hear in
it the dominion of the Tatars…”3

Decades later, the Russian Orientalism of earlier generations would find new
interpretations on the concert stage. Between 1909 and 1912, the Ballet Russe
premiered six “Oriental” ballets in Paris: Polovestian Dances, Cleopatra,
Scheherazade, Les Orientales, Le Dieu Bleu, and Thamar. These
pieces depicted a wild and erotic East — passionate, sensuous, and violent. The
impact of the Eastern ballets on the Parisian public swept waves of Orientalism
throughout the world of fashion and art.

Guided by the genius of Sergei Diaghilev, the “Oriental” choreographies of
the Ballet Russe enjoyed tremendous success. With an “unparalleled ability to
orchestrate the talents of others,” Diaghilev — though neither an accomplished
artist nor dancer himself — drew the leading figures of the art world to his
banner.4 Under his direction, musicians like Igor Stravinsky and Maurice Ravel,
dancers like Vaslav Nijinsky and Anna Pavlova, and designers like Leon Bakst and
Alexander Benois, all combined their skills to create productions of singular
beauty and imagination. Not surprisingly, the music for these pieces came from
the nineteenth century Orientalist works created by composers such as Nikolai
Rimsky-Korsakov, Alexander Borodin, and Mily Balakirev. Even an Orientalist
literary work, Thamar by Mikhail Lermontov, became a spectacular vehicle for a
Ballet Russe choreography.

Music from Alexander Borodin’s opera Prince Igor inspired the
“Polovestian Dances.” The scenario for the original opera had been provided by
Vladimir Statsov in 1869.5 Borodin “imitated the folk music of the Polovstsy
after studying the Gunvalfi collection of their tunes.”6 (In the twentieth
century, Borodin’s melodies would be used as the basis for the Orientalist
musical Kismet.)

The Bakst costumes for the Polovestian Dances featured harem pants and a
nearly bare upper torso, covered only by strategically placed, pearl encrusted
hemispheres. (This was hardly the traditional clothing of nomadic tribes of the
Eurasian steppes.) Mikhail Fokine created a vivid spectacle with his
choreography. He borrowed from the dances of the Caucasus, placing long veils on
the heads of female dancers.

             First the oriental slave girls undulate with their crimson and purple veils 
             to the languid, voluptuous tune…. After a quicker dance of wild tribesmen, 
             pounding timpani bring on the Khan’s warriors…who charge and leap, brandishing 
             their bow…The slave girls hover and at the end of their number the warriors 
             fling them over their shoulders.7

Cleopatra premiered in Paris on June 2, 1909, with the title role
played by Ida Rubinstein. (An earlier version had been presented at St
Petersburg’s Maryinsky Theater in 1908 with different music and set design.)
Vaslav Nijinsky and Tamara Karsavina were cast as Cleopatra’s slaves. Mikhail
Fokine and Anna Pavlova were the requisite doomed lovers — an all too ubiquitous
theme in these oriental ballets. The score combined works by various 19th
century Russian composers: Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov, Mikhail Glinka, Sergei
Taneyev, Nikolai Cherepnin, Modest Moussorgsky, and Aleksandr Glazunov.

The staging was nothing less than spectacular, summoning the opulence and
pomp which audiences associated with the East:

            A messenger announces the approach of Cleopatra. To a triumphant burst of 
            music a glittering procession winds to the stage.....

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 http://thebestofhabibi.com/vol-19-no-1-feb-2002/russian-orientalism/

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