THE KIROV LOSES FOCUS

By Martha Duffy

The breakup of the Soviet Union was bad news for its performing-arts institutions. Struggling to survive without government support, most are now heavily dependent on potentially lucrative international tours. So it seems churlish to say the historic Kirov Ballet, in New York City last week and soon to embark on a six-city national tour (Washington, Los Angeles and Seattle are among the upcoming destinations), is a disappointment. The Kirov nurtured George Balanchine, the greatest choreographer of modern times, as well as such stars as Pavlova, Nureyev, Baryshnikov and Makarova. In addition to their individual gifts, these dancers reflected the discipline and the poetry that they learned in Leningrad.

But the Kirov's artistic focus seems insecure, even wayward. In the decades when such companies as the Kirov and the Bolshoi were rarely glimpsed, they had a potent aura of mystery. Classical ballet and the music of Tchaikovsky were, after all, their heritage. When a Nureyev or a Baryshnikov fled the country, people imagined that the Kirov was full of such melancholy geniuses. Now, with frequent touring, it is easy to decide for oneself the quality of the emperor's clothes.

In its current visit, the Kirov is offering three programs: an evening of Fokine ballets (Chopiniana, Scheherazade, The Firebird) and two full-length works, Swan Lake and Cinderella. The latter two have been staged by the Kirov's artistic director, Oleg Vinogradov, and it is here that the difficulty lies. In an effort to "modernize" the old fairy tales, to make them less bizarre, he has flattened the stories and made them, if anything, harder to follow.

In Swan Lake, why is Prince Siegfried so overwrought when he goes hunting if his mother has not commanded him to find a suitable bride? In this version she just hands her boy a bow and arrow and trips off, doubtless to a good gossip with her courtiers. Or why make such a fuss about a glass slipper when Cinderella's prince walks into her house and recognizes her without fitting the slipper on her foot?

Vinogradov treats the choreography in a similar way--one could call it departicularizing. These old tales, which are not meant to be realistic anyway, need their familiar, traditional components. The Cinderella production is ruined by streamlining. Near the beginning, there is customarily a charming dance for the heroine partnered by her faithful broom. When the Fairy Godmother appears in a vision, she is usually accompanied by the Four Seasons, who have pretty, technically challenging variations. Here all this is replaced by pointless, dull sequences for the corps de ballet, who cross and recross the stage, smiling vacuously. Actually, Cinderella cannot very well dance with her broom because she is shackled by clogs of cartoon ugliness. Even if she is down on her luck, Cinderella is a ballerina and should wear pointe shoes. And dance.

The time to pay court to some kind of Russian mystique is over. American Ballet Theatre's Swan Lake is better than the Kirov's capricious version in both concept and execution. With one exception: the Russian troupe's marvelously schooled corps de ballet in the so-called white act. With 30 women moving as a single impulse, a single exhalation of breath (A.B.T. has 24), the scene is rapturous and mesmerizing: unforgettable. It also shows that the Kirov is still capable of supreme classical dancing. Every troupe must refresh itself with innovation, but the evidence from New York is that with the classics, the company should trust its heritage and count on the performers to bring it alive.

Among the ballerinas, Yulia Makhalina seems to have pride of place, having danced the first performance of both Swan Lake and Cinderella. She is the latest exemplar of a type of dancer Vinogradov likes: tall, elegantly slender, chilly and lacking the turned-out hip position most classical dancers have. Makhalina will remind audiences of Galina Mezentseva, the director's beautiful but glacial favorite in the '80s. Younger ballerinas are developing, especially the limpid Zhanna Ayupova, who redeems Cinderella with a shy, radiant, technically assured performance in the lead role.

The Fokine bill is a showcase for the company's talent, stronger among the women than the men. The troupe seems to relish exotic plumage. The Firebird production is a grandiose set-piece, reveling in the folk story instead of flattening it. It also underscores the fact that the Kirov's best ballerina is still Altynai Asylmuratova, 34. In personal beauty and musicality, she is exquisitely refined, but she dances with a boldness that is thrilling. From the moment she leaps onstage, there is no question that this supernatural bird will conquer the evil sorcerer. No mannerisms, no attempt to extract fire out of ice. Many ballerinas have a grand attack. Asylmuratova has magic.