Even for her young age little Polina (Veronika Zhovnytska)
stands out from her peers in ballet class. She moves stiffly, more determined
to demonstrate precision than grace. It comes through in her gaze as well: a
direct stare cutting straight ahead, rather than the romantic, soft focus of a
ballerina. When she asks her instructor Bojinski (Aleksey Guskov) why he does
not watch her in rehearsal his answer is as frank as her look. Little Polina is
not yet good enough to watch, he says, which is a hindrance to her and her
parents’ dream that she become a famous dancer with the Bolshoi Ballet. By her
teens this is no longer the case. Now she begs off from parties with friends to
practice for her audition with an approving Bojinski. Yet the honor of a position
with Russia’s premier dance company isn’t enough for Polina (played for most of
the film by Anastasia Shevtsova), who decamps to Paris with her boyfriend
(Niels Schneider) after a contemporary performance entrances her.
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| Aleksey Guskov and Anastasia Shevtsova in Polina |
There she studies under the passionate Liria (Juliette
Binoche), who demands more feeling than technicality. A disconnect between
dancer and dance remains, and an injury only stalls Polina’s once bright career
further. In the simplest terms, Polina
traces an artistic coming-of-age. We follow the title character across Europe
as she searches out the choreography that speaks to her, before finally
creating it herself, forever with that determined look in her eye.
Determination does not always equate with passion, though. While a few, brief
moments of emotion leak through they feel startlingly rare in comparison to
other tales of artists seeking perfection.
The result is a film so quietly understated that it can
border on lifeless. Directors Valérie Müller and Angelin Preljocaj (an
accomplished contemporary dance choreographer) move Polina along at a deliberate pace which many will consider slow.
Those with the patience, however, will find ample rewards in the
cinematography. Wisely shooting the pivotal dance in long, full-body takes, Müller
and Preljocaj build up to it by uniquely showcasing each performance. A bird’s
eye view from the rafters, a ballerina’s slippers pattering across the floor, and
the close framing of a dancer’s face all suggest parts of the whole that Polina
seeks. Whether she finds it may rely somewhat on each viewer’s outlook.
As Polina, Ms. Shevtsova gives a curious performance.
Whether because of cultural differences or the precedent set by films that have
come before, one wishes for a greater range than the unwavering forbearance on
display for most of the movie’s runtime. Yet when we finally glimpse her
indulging a small smile, it’s more satisfying than a toothy grin on anyone
else. A trained dancer herself, Shevtsova is a delight to watch when practicing
her craft, particularly in that final dance.
Lastly, at one point Polina demands the return of a role she
lost due to injury. The instructor Liria demurs, telling her that she is too
obsessed with herself and her work, that “an artist is someone who observes”.
It’s not difficult to take that as a direct refutation of previous films like Whiplash and Black Swan which insist that only through such self-obsession is
artistic transcendence achieved. Not everyone connects or agrees with the
notion that great art destroys its creator; those who appreciate a more
benevolent philosophy will enjoy following Polina’s journey of self-discovery.
RATING: ★★
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