Nureyev was a great ballet dancer and a pop icon. I never saw him perform live, but when I was young, I saw him in films and on television (including a hilarious bit on the Carol Burnett Show in "Le spectre de la rose" that I cannot find).
He was a dance star before he left the Soviet Union in 1961 at the age of 23,, but when he defected, he became a world celebrity. You can catch of glimpse of why in this trailer for a BBC documentary Nureyev, The Russian Years:
His biography by Julie Kavanaugh presented much new information about his life before his defection, including the man who was his lover and filmed him before he left (and whose family suffered as a result).
This is a lovely Nureyev tribute video (with music by Jeff Buckley). You can see that his technique is not always polished, but his power and charisma are undeniable.
Nureyev danced roles choreographed or debuted by an earlier "god of dance," Nijinsky, such as "L'apres-midi d'un faune." If there still exists any actual film footage of Nijinsky, then it is as yet undiscovered. Rumor is that Cocteau had shot some footage, but Diaghilev wanted to preserve the mystique. Nureyev was to have played him in a film, but the project never came to fruition. Instead, a film with Alan Bates as Sergei Diaghilev )impresario and Nijinsky's lover) a very young Jeremy Irons as Mikhail Fokine, and ABT star George de la Peña was made by director Herb Ross.
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I remember just before he died – the pictures on the news and in the papers. All that wild beauty ravaged by disease. I was shocked. He looked hollow – a shell. Sitting in his chair – his eyes as open and lost as the day he defected. He just didn’t understand what was happening. What an awful disease AIDS is. It robs its victims of all that they are. The destructive physicality of it beggars the mind.
I wept for days after his death. It makes me weep now to think of it. And I wasn’t just weeping for him – I was weeping for all of my friends too. I used to fear to open Entertainment Weekly – reading through the death list – afraid I’d recognize another name. I’ve kept them – those issues - the ones that mentioned my friends and colleagues. I’d lost touch with so many after moving to Japan. Now I’d never have another chance to say hello. Oh - I’d try and get back to New York every couple years just to knock wood, make the rounds of the shows, tell them what I was up to (by then I’d stopped performing and was directing) – but it was hard. I’d had a bad run of luck, lived a difficult life. So - Entertainment Weekly ranked up there with Backstage and Variety in keeping me informed.
The week it announced that both Nureyev and Steve Merritt had died I secreted myself in the library. My husband found me there hours later, still crying. “Dead” was all I could manage. Beautiful, beautiful Steve – teacher, choreographer, task master. He was from my home town. We worked together. He and all of my friends – the ‘waiters’ from ‘Dolly’ - Larry Cole, Jerry Evans, Jeffrey Hornaday, Tim Michaels – off to see the world. Backstage at the Oscars, hanging out at The Dunes in Vegas – dead, dead, dead. Nureyev and Steve died within days of one another. It all coalesced – all those artists – the dancers, the directors, the actors. I never knew Nureyev – but he danced passionately, with abandon – and that I understood. That’s how I danced. I never fit in anywhere – my bare feet and balls to the wall style. I’d spin and twirl, up on my toes, down to the floor – always moving till the exhaustion took me. Dance as expiation. I slew all my demons on stage.
Now I write them away (mostly, anyway). But I miss the performing – I do. I miss being part of that world. So you speak of Nureyev and I remember. 15 years (god, it seems like both yesterday and forever ago). Steve too – gone and almost forgotten. All that’s left are bits and pieces: Jeffrey Hornaday’s choreography (just watch the moves in ‘Flashdance’ and you’ll see quintessential Steve. Oh – I know Jeff choreographed it – there are signature moves he always incorporated in his dancing – but Steve unlocked Jeff’s sensuality), episodes of Midnight Special and Solid Gold – body memories. At least with Nureyev there’s a complete photographic journal. I have nothing left of my performing days. Those photographs were lost when I divorced myself from my family. Somehow Nureyev’s part and parcel of that. Funny how we do that – pick people, places or music to represent our life. Ah well. Thanks for the remembering, my friend. I think I’ll dust off some more memories tonight – maybe write about them. I’ve been thinking about my performing days a lot recently. Must be the weather!
You must have some amazing stories to share. I'd love to read them.
I was not in dancw world, but I was living in San Francisco working part-time jobs in the food business while in graduate school, with my family. We experienced a similar series of losses. It was a cruel time cecause of the ignorance and fear.
Thank you, my dear - but I never was primarily a dancer. Actor/singer/dancer in that order, I'm afraid; though I'd have chucked everything for the dance if I could. I just wasn't the norm. I'd like to think I had the skill - but there were problems: I was too tall, and my dyslexia skewed my learning curve. I'd audition for a show, get shown the choreography, and proceed to do it backwards (initially) Steve Merritt was one of the few professional choreographers who took the time to understand. He noticed that after a little rehearsal - I was actually pretty good. Dyslexia wasn’t very understood back then (academically, yes – but not that it could affect other parts of a person’s life). Steve got me some kick-ass understudy roles; put me in front of the chorus line. Told me I had talent.
I will always love him for that. But dancing as a career in and of itself…..I never really got the chance, mores the pity. Primarily I was an actor who had a good singing voice (I paid my way through college singing in night clubs, amongst other less usual things) and could dance a little (I also entered dance competitions for cash – all 70’s disco stuff – The Hustle, The Bump – my partner and I regularly made the top three). When I began directing – my performing life did a slow fade. You go where the money is – and for me that was directing (I eventually had my own theatre company).
Then the accidents happened, I became compromised physically (I need leg braces to walk these days), and my writing career took precedence. But dance is where my heart lies – always has. I’m thrilled dance has made a come-back! SYTYCD is responsible for changing America’s vocabulary. People are once again entertained by dancers and dancing. Choreographers are known and discussed on a first name basis (Wade! Mia!!) It’s 1930’s redux! And I couldn’t be more thrilled.
I stumbled upon your blog today because I was thinking of Steve Merritt and did a little Googling to see what might be out there. How nice to see what you had to say about someone who helped me find my artistic voice, even though I was not a dancer by trade.
I still miss him -- especially his wicked little smile and his "What's wrong with this position?" comment as he would put his body into the most ungraceful and silly pose after everyone had just botched a run-through.
He choreographed me in a number of dinner theatre shows and I sang backup for Jeffrey for a couple of years as the Friends boys were all going their own ways & Jeffrey was working his way through the rock world. ;)
Your comments about Jeffrey's choreography are spot-on. Every time I've seen something Jeffrey has choreographed, I see Steve and some of his signature moves in the dances. That's not to take anything away from Jeffrey and his talents, but Steve brought those talents to the forefront, molded them -- and he lives on in those dances.
My favourite pics of Steve were from those pretty carefree dinner theatre days, and they make me smile, but the reminder that he's gone brings tears.
I remember when I was readying a live show in the early '90s and working with the choreographer... wishing that Steve was healthy and could have been there instead. The choreographer was a wonderful talent, a good friend and she really knew how to bring 'me' out in the songs, but I've yet to work with anyone who has matched Steve's inherent understanding of a person, their performance strengths, weaknesses and then make everything come together to make them look better than anyone ever thought they could.
Thanks for putting your words out there for others to see. They really touched me. They're a lovely tribute to a wonderful talent and a missed friend.
Hi, Gael
I'm going to make sure your comments goes to the blog The Fat Lady Sings, where the Steve Merritt reminiscenses originate. Thanks for sharing your memories here as well!
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