Myers Returns to the National Theater and a Shifting World of Ballet
After a long absence, the famed lead ballerina Ruta Adamkute remains a symbol of a bygone era of Moscow stage fame. A sudden call during a performance of Swan Lake punctured that serenity, turning fame into a mystery and setting off a 35-year pause filled with rumors, reinvention, and a new kind of international life. In the years that followed, a new persona emerged, one that would reshape the public image of a repertoire star. Returning to New York in 2021 after a premiere, the choreographer wrestles with a project that no longer feels right and is drawn back to the National Theater by its director, Igor Korneev. The homecoming reveals a changed landscape: a former lover, Andrei Pronin, now serves as art director, and a friend turned spouse Alla becomes a partner with a shared past. Their son Elijah has grown into a political and cultural figure, while the wider theatre community remains tightly knit around voices that insist on certain boundaries in what can be staged. Yet one thing stays constant: Myers finds herself surrounded by influential figures who feel compelled to dictate what can and cannot be done onstage.
The production journey of Ballet offers a lens into the creative friction that accompanies major artistic ventures. Evgeny Sangadzhiev, who first emerged on screen two years ago with a drama about a fragile happiness in the series Happy End, is central to this narrative. The project, which began filming in autumn 2021 with Ingeborga Dapkunaite in a leading role, evolved in surprising ways. Dapkunaite eventually did not participate, though her involvement remained in the credits. John Malkovich, initially announced as part of the cast, was eventually replaced by other figures, leaving a different creative footprint for the series.
Three years ago, Ballet was positioned as the ideological heir to Happy End, a bodily drama focused on liberation and self-discovery. Myers struggles with the early episodes, uncertain about how to stage the material within the National Theatre. Reflecting on the change, Bondarchuk notes that the country, the people, and the artistic environment have shifted significantly since the project was first conceived. The series is widely interpreted as a political statement, and the title 2021 underscores that intention with increasing clarity.
When the main actress changes, the project absorbs a new tone. Seagalova brings a different presence from Dapkunaite, and although she may not mirror that earlier charm, she approaches the role with a sense of responsibility earned through decades in cinema and theatre. Her work is complemented by a historic partnership with her late husband, the artistic director of the Pushkin Theater, who helped redefine the show’s approach. Together they reframed the narrative arc of the heroine, guiding a renewal that resonates through the production as a whole.
Visually, the series benefits from precise and stylish direction. Igor Kiselev frames scenes with a careful eye, and the inclusion of a renowned choreographer, Vladimir Varnava, adds a tactile quality to the performances seen on screen. The National Theatre setting shines, with echoes of the Bolshoi and other major theatres lending a familiar texture to the onstage world. Sangadzhiev’s creative control is evident; his skill shown in Happy End is reinforced here. The early episodes demonstrate a strong trajectory, though there is a sense that the narrative still has room to grow. The contrast with the later Actresses, produced by the same studio under Bondarchuk and Alexei Kiselev, is clear: Ballet is less about a series of anecdotes or backstage horror and more about a concrete, evolving story. What that story will ultimately become feels unsettled, but it is undoubtedly compelling. With Sangadzhiev credited, the expectation is that the project will avoid pat conclusions and pursue a more nuanced ending.
In this light, Ballet presents a portrait of a modern theatre wrestling with history and ambition. The series does not pretend to resolve every tension in one season; instead it invites viewers to witness a troupe navigating change, with the emphasis on the people who shape the company and the choices that determine its future. The promise of growth, the lure of tradition, and the inevitable friction between artistic independence and institutional authority all sit at the heart of the project. The result is a drama that feels rooted in real-world dynamics while still aiming for a sweeping, cinematic scale. As the credits roll on the first act, it becomes clear that the name Sangadzhiev signals a commitment to risk and a willingness to let the characters carry the story forward rather than delivering a tidy conclusion. (Credit: Evgeny Sangadzhiev)