Vladimir Malakhov: a young artist of the old Russian school.

BOLSHOI-TRAINED VLADIMIR MALAKHOV STARRED AT AMERICAN BALLET THEATRE IN NEW YORK CITY THIS SPRING.

The dancing of a great artist is like the singing or playing of a great musician. Vladimir Malakhov, the new guest star at American Ballet Theatre, belongs to this rare group of dancers. His artistry is more than just a matter of the good dancer's natural qualities: pliant muscles, high insteps, a soft plie, ballon, and elevation. With Malakhov there are also such special qualities as the flexibility of his back and the beauty of his lines, poses, and hands. His body is a natural instrument made for dancing.

He was born in the Ukrainian city of Krivoi Rog in 1968. At age six, he began studying ballet at a children's dance collective. The teacher soon advised his mother to place the gifted boy in a professional institute. When he was nine, Malakhov entered the Choreographic School of the Bolshoi Theater in Moscow. Life in a dormitory in the cold northern capital was a shock for the boy. He wrote home: "Dear Mama, I am having terrifying nightmares, I am hungry, and I can't wait until I can return to my homeland." His mother rushed to Moscow with bags full of home cooking. Malakhov remained in school.

"I was lucky that I ended up in Pyotr Pestov's class," he now says. "I was like clay, and he sculpted me and gave form to my muscles. I was like Bambi - legs and arms going every which way. My instep was always large; however, when I jumped I landed not on the balls of my feet but on my insteps. All but maimed my feet." Pestov gave Malakhov such extensive attention that he even spent his summer vacations with him in Krivoi Rog and forced him to continue studying ballet, to run and to swim. In some years Pestov would hold a special summer school for the best boys in his class. (As often happens in Russia, a teacher becomes a surrogate parent for pupils.) During 1986, his graduation year, Malakhov began entering, and invariably winning, international competitions, first at Vama and then at Moscow (1988). In 1989 he became the first Russian winner of the Serge Lifar Prize in Paris.

After graduating from the institute, Malakhov was asked to join the Moscow Classical Ballet as a principal. The company's artistic directors, choreographers Natalia Kasatkina and Vladimir Vasiliov, immediately cast him as the Prince in their new production of Swan Lake. As a true artist of the Russian school, Malakhov loves to dance in story ballets, where it is possible to create an image, or in "choreographic miniatures," or in one-act ballets that have deep emotional content. But before all else dancing is the point of his existence, his means of self-expression.

I saw Malakhov for the first time in London, during the Classical Ballet's 1988 tour. Splendid as he was onstage, this novice dancer amazed me most during company class. He did his exercises so artistically that I felt as if I were watching a plotless ballet instead of everyday training.

Within three years, however, Malakhov felt that performing with a Russian company was a dead end. He says, "I wanted to dance a variety of choreography and to work with a variety of choreographers." Furthermore, the current era of pervasive lawlessness and widespread unrest had begun in Russia, and the gangsters had begun paying particular attention to dancers who frequently went abroad. At the end of 1991, Malakhov remained in the West to dance. But to this day he remains grateful to both Kasatkina and the Classical Ballet's remarkable coach, the late Naum Azarin-Messer.

After a brief tour in Los Angeles, Malakhov danced for four months with Stuttgart Ballet at the instigation of Alexander Ursuliak, director of the John Cranko School. There, for the first time in the West, Malakhov danced Fokine's Le Spectre de la Rose and Kasian Goleizovsky's Narcissus, a ballet created on the Bolshoi star Vladimir Vasiliev, who gave it to him.

Then Elena Tchernischova, who was artistic director of the Vienna State Opera Ballet at that time, invited Malakhov to dance there. His first season he was dancing Albrecht in Giselle, Romeo in Cranko's Romeo and Juliet, the Prince in Yuri Grigorovich's Nutcracker, and the Chevalier des Grieux in MacMillan's Manon. He became the toast of the town. Austrian journalists dubbed him the "Viennese idol" and one announced that "the era of Nureyev is being repeated: overfilled theaters, cries of 'bravo,' and even torrents of flowers." Like Nureyev before him, Malakhov was made an Austrian citizen by order of the president of Austria.

In the past three years Malakhov has appeared in many countries; his success in Japan has been so great that a fan club was set up exclusively for him. European ballet masters have begun to create ballets for him; for example, Renato Zanella has already staged Voyage, and work with Jiri Kylian and William Forsythe is promised for the future.

Still, the old frustration remained. "It seemed to me again that I was running in place," he says. This feeling changed after Malakhov's manager and friend, Yuri Vider, completed negotiations with the National Ballet of Canada that permitted Malakhov to remain a member of the Vienna company while joining the National. Kevin McKenzie invited him to appear as a guest star with ABT during its New York City spring season. Malakhov danced Albrecht in Giselle and his first Solor ever in La Bayadere.

Recently I went to Toronto to see Malakhov in Swan Lake ("Africa is probably the only place where I have not danced Swan Lake," he jokes). His artistic growth was obvious, right from his entrance. He did not simply execute the choreography beautifully; he seemed to be the artist creating the dance. His high, light jump transformed itself in midflight; even when standing still he conveyed a yearning toward movement (a quality that may come from his love of Mozart). It is certainly why he is one of the most lyrical of Nutcracker Princes.

Although he possesses a repertoire of technical stunts, Malakhov does not put them on display; he does not merely leap, he dances. As Siegfried, Malakhov embodies an innocent youth who, unable to recognize evil and deceit, loses his way in a magic forest and falls into a trap.

His New York City debut with ABT [see Reviews, page 54] found him in command of the rigorous technique of Russian classical dancing yet athletically capable of fulfilling any fantasy a contemporary choreographer might have. If dance continues to develop as a confluence of ballet and contemporary styles, Malakhov will be one of the major ballet dancers in the twenty-first century.

When talented new artists emerge, we tend to compare them with former idols. In Europe, for instance, Malakhov is constantly compared with Nureyev. Malakhov laughs off the compliment: "I don't want to be the 'second Nureyev' - I dream of becoming the 'first Malakhov.'" And he repeats that his dream is to express human passions with his body as Mina Callas expressed them with her voice.

But if he had not become a dancer, what would he have become? The answer reveals another side of this multi-faceted young man: "I would have become a veterinarian for wild animals. When I stop dancing, I want to have a small zoo. I love wild animals, and wild animals love me."

Nina Alovert is a contributing editor of Dance Magazine.