You just can't kill "The Red Shoes". Fifty years after its release, the
1948 Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger film continues to fascinate and
influence audiences, both cinematic experts and ordinary moviegoers. It
is widely shown on public and cable television channels and at revival houses.
A videocassette is available, and a new state-of-the-art version has
recently appeared on DVD/LaserDisc. Washington Square Press has even
reissued a paperback edition of Powell and Pressburger's novelization of
their own screenplay (it doesn't read too well on the printed page, but
no matter).
Now in her seventies, Moira Shearer -- the ravishing redheaded Scot without
whom, Powell said, he could never have made the film -- is still queried
about it, most recently in an online interview by
Dan Lybarger in Pitch Weekly of January 22, 1998, where she once
again describes how reluctant she was to interrupt her ballet career to
make
the film and how physically grueling the experience turned out to be.
Even an extraordinarily unsuccessful attempt at a Broadway musical version
in 1993; a less-than-thrilling Lar Lubovitch ballet excerpted from the show;
and a recent poorly received effort by Denmark's Flemming Flindt, Legs of
Fire, can't seem to diminish the public's interest in the story, very
loosely based on the far more grisly Hans Christian Andersen tale. Martin
Scorsese, who ought to know, has named the film one of the five greatest
of all time (his other choices: 8 1/2, Citizen Kane, The Leopard, and The
Searchers), and British alternative-rock singer Kate Bush, apparently
obsessed, produced a 1993 CD and video inspired by TRS. The package cover
illustration for the CD features the obligatory gorgeous, undanced-in red
satin pointe shoes.
British film reviewer Ian Christie noted that The Red Shoes "launched a
thousand dance careers," and he has probably underestimated the number.
Young, predominantly female, audience members, seeing the film at a highly
impressionable time of life, were drawn to the irresistible blend of
glamour, intense work, love, and sacrifice represented by Victoria Page,
the beauteous ballerina who seemed to have everything but couldn't hold
on to it.
New York City dancelover Cynthia O'Neal states on page 100 of the June 1997
Dance Magazine, "You know, I was one of those little girls who saw The Red
Shoes twenty-seven times ...," and she is by no means alone. One former
dancer who now teaches recalls that dance was always her first love, long
before she saw the film. Brought up on old lithographs of Taglioni and
photos of Pavlova and Markova, she was afraid that, as a blonde, she could
never look like a ballerina. Seeing Moira Shearer's glorious red
hair -- practically the raison d'etre of the film -- made her realize that
one
need not be a brunette to succeed, and she went on to a rewarding career
in ballet. An actual redhead, Dance Magazine's Oklahoma correspondent, Lili
Cockerille Livingston, author of the recent American Indian Ballerinas,
who danced with the New York City, Harkness, and Joffrey ballets, writes:
"Ah, The Red Shoes. The first time I saw the movie in the early riffles,
I was completely awed by the beauty, romantic overtones, and (I can now
articulate) the ... dance movement. Yes, I dreamed about it and, as a
redhead, could certainly identify with the aquamarine chiffon gown and
poignant delicacy of Moira Shearer. [Leonide] Massine fascinated me,
and -- having the opportunity to work with him in the Joffrey Ballet's revival
of Le Tricorne -- I came to understand why.
"Later, as a professional dancer, I was often compared with Shearer and
enjoyed ... living and performing in Monte Carlo [where much of the film
is set] with the Harkness Ballet. I even bought my own aquamarine chiffon
dress and was wont to wander on the beach under the road and train tracks
directly below the Opera House.
"Seeing the movie later in life was not a disappointment. The magical,
incredible focus of the characters -- regardless of less-than-pristine
technical abilities -- remained awesome. Indeed, a tree classic in the genre
of dance films."
"Ruth," also from Oklahoma, posted this on the Internet: "I wanted to be
a dancer after seeing the movie. It was such an inspiration to a little
Okle girl.
Although Moira suffered and died, I didn't care. Something was very
moving and compelling about the suffering -- to be so devoted and dedicated
to the art, to give up love, and to sacrifice. Now I see it as silly and
immature, but sometimes soulful little girls need or want to have something
to believe in. I suppose some are drawn to religion at this stage in life,
but my religion was dance."
In yet another Internet posting, an academic writes that seeing the film
made her think that a dance career was too difficult, and she became an
archaeologist instead. She adds, "Silly me."
Over the years, students at various New York City open ballet classes have
been treated to the sight of a dumpy woman of more than a certain age
stumping around in reddyed pointe shoes, presumably in memory of
Moira/Vicky. (Lately, she seems to have switched to pink; perhaps she has
used up the local supply of red dye.) The woman has become something of
an American ballet legend, with people from as far away as Albuquerque having
heard of her. At least she hasn't dyed her hair red as well!
From a dance perspective, it must be said that the level of ballet technique
in the film is not up to current standards. Turnout is not sufficient,
pointe work is sometimes mushy, and beats frequently lack clarity. What
the dancers do demonstrate, though, is a wealth of character and personality
often missing today. From Mexico, another dancer writes: "Even if the
dancing is not brilliant and at times turned in even, how many times do
we all see brilliant technique and no artistry nowadays?" She also mentions
that a friend of hers is planning a flamenco version of the story.
The passage of time has caused many admirers to rethink the film's
relationships more fully in light of the women's movement of recent decades.
The fact that Vicky's life was totally controlled by men -- that she was
definitely not the master of her fate -- has more resonance today than it
did in 1948, when women had been forced back into the kitchen after World
War II in spite of having proved themselves fully capable of dealing with
life and careers on their own in factories, in business, and in the armed
services.
And of course, the problem has not disappeared; it has actually become more
visible.
Although a gifted woman, Vicky is still subjected to such egocentric types
as Ljubov, the ballet master and choreographer portrayed by Massine, and,
above all, to the Diaghilevesque impresario, Boris Lermontov, perfectly
embodied by Anton Walbrook. Rather early in the film, Lermontov's attitude
toward a woman who has a life outside dance is established by his automatic
assumption that when Boronskaja (Ludmilla Tcherina) gets married, she will
leave the ballet.
Vicky at first endures few hardships. She appears to come from an affluent
and aristocratic background and obviously does not have to earn her own
living, except by choice. She is already dancing principal roles with a
small company (the real Ballet Rambert at its Mercury Theatre with Marie
Rambert herself watching). She wears designer clothes and is feted by her
aunt, Lady Neston (Irene Browne), at a lavish London party, where the aunt
hopes that Lermontov will see Vicky dance. After her marriage to the
composer, Julian (Marius Goring), who is not presented as independently
wealthy, the couple live in an apparently spacious flat that no young
composer could possibly afford on his own (and is much bigger than almost
any London flat, even today). Our heroine's path to a starting career in
ballet is made unbelievably smooth. This may be another factor that
attracted impressionable young women to a life in ballet. They would not
only dance and be loved and admired as Vicky was, but they would also live
very well.
I was always under the impression that Vicky did not purposely leap to her
death, but that, hastily pursuing Julian, in her confusion and despair she
overshot the balcony above the Monte Carlo railroad tracks and went over.
However, others have said that they thought she was definitely a suicide.
But lately, reading more recent commentaries on the film, I find that the
consensus seems to be that Vicky's death is ambiguously presented and that
the filmmakers apparently wanted it that way. In any case, the
art-versus-personal-happiness conflict is fatal, and even today there is
great debate over whether or not a woman can indeed "have it all." Today
people might find the seemingly mild-mannered Julian as much of a villain
as the domineering Lermontov. These characters, poor dears, were products
of
their time and culture.
LERMONTOV (to Victoria Page, at Lady Neston's party): Why do you want to
dance?
VICTORIA: Why do you want to live?
LERMONTOV: Why? I don't know exactly why, but -- I must.
VICTORIA: That's my answer too.
Okay -- it's only a movie, folks!
RELATED ARTICLE: Movies That Drove Us to Dance
Dance has long been well represented in the movies, with 112 titles
appearing when the word dance is typed into the search box of the Internet
Movie Database (http://www.imdb.com). In addition to The Red Shoes, these
films really made people wanna dance!
The Gay Divorcee (1934), directed by Mark Sandrich, typified the wonderful
escapism from the cares of the Great Depression that all of the Fred
Astaire-Ginger Rogers 1930s films provided. A delightfully frothy
plot -- aided by some marvelous character actors -- was combined with such
entrancing dance numbers as "The Continental," pictured here, with Fred
and Ginger in clover. [Picture not available]
An American in Paris (1951), directed by Vincente Minnelli, starring Gene
Kelly, and choreographed by Kelly and Carol Haney, had the priceless
advantage of music by the great Gershwin and the winsome gamine presence
of the very young Leslie Caron. Less well known is the fact that the screenplay
was by none other than Alan Jay Lerner. Almost all of the dancers in the
film had worked with major ballet companies, a change from the usual
Hollywood practice. It won the Oscar for best picture.
Seven Brides for Seven Brothers (1954), directed by Stanley Donen and
choreographed by Michael Kidd, emphasized dance as a super-macho activity.
Four of those brothers were important American dancers, including Matt
Mattox, Tommy Rall, Marc Platt, and a teenaged Jacques d'Ambroise, on loan
from New York City Ballet.
The Turning Point (1977), directed by the former choreographer Herbert Ross,
introduced charismatic Mikhail Baryshnikov to the moviegoing public. Other
"name" dancers in featured roles were Antoinette Sibley, Starr Danias,
Daniel Levans, Scott Douglas, and James Mitchell. The great Alexandra
Danilova, thinly disguised as "Madame Dahkarova," more or less played
herself. Costar Leslie Browne.
Tap (1989), written and directed by Nick Castle, gave us Gregory Hines as
Max Washington, who, just released from prison, has to decide which of his
professions -- burglar or tap dancer -- to resume. Hines with his dynamic
costar, Sammy Davis Jr. This film, which also featured Savion Glover,
exemplified the rebirth of tap dancing in a more contemporary style.
Dance Magazine December 1998 66(1)
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