“It was great. It was fun. And sometimes you got paid. What more do you want?” Only a lucky few manage to live their passion, fewer still gain international recognition or applause. Yet a group of Russian émigrés found exactly that when asked to join a fledgling dance company. The Ballets Russes was born, found lasting fame if not fortune, and went on to tour the world, thrilling audiences relentlessly for the first half of the last century. Documentarians Geller and Goldfine brought together the surviving performers, most of whom had not seen one another since the group’s last performance in 1962. Now in their eighties and nineties, they share the colourful past that was their life’s work.

“Your knees will be stretched” were the frightening words that launched Tamar Tchinarova’s career. Gossipy Frederic Franklin talks about the feather weight ballerina ‘who weighed a ton!”. This was a company that immortalised choreographers Diaghilev and Massine, designers Picasso and Matisse, Stravinksy’s compositions, Nijinsky’s performances. Despite world wars and internal battles that forced the development of two Ballets Russes, the name had become a byword for excellence and innovation.

By contrast, this is a straight-forward production. Ballets Russes eschews visual tricks, relying on talking heads and archival footage to maintain our interest, though with a two hour running time its fortunes dwindle in direct proportion to that of the company. Nonetheless, there is enough heart, warmth and extraordinary material to ensure fans and newcomers embrace the dancer’s memories. The sentiment is captured when Nathalie Krassovska persuades George Zortich (both in their eighties) to dance the coy introduction from Giselle. The Ballets Russes was a titan of its era, one that will never be again.

// COLIN FRASER