The White Crow (2018)

Directed by: Ralph Fiennes | 127 minutes | biography, drama | Actors: Oleg Ivenko, Ralph Fiennes, Louis Hofmann, Adèle Exarchopoulos, Sergei Polunin, Olivier Rabourdin, Raphaël Personnaz, Chulpan Khamatova, Zach Avery, Mar Sodupe, Calypso Valois, Aleksey Morozov, Nebojsa Dugalic, Igor Filipovic

Rudolf Nureyev (1938-1993) was a world-famous dancer with a charisma that transcended the Iron Curtain. Ralph Fiennes’ biopic ‘White Crow’ opts for classic drama, with flashbacks, string music and sepia tones. That requires a strong lead, the film’s weak point. The Ukrainian ballet professional Oleg Ivenko is dramatically under-skilled and speaks poor English, which is reinforced in dialogues with, for example, Adèle Exarchopoulos (Paris girlfriend Clara Saint). An energetic young dancer in the ballet scenes is Ivenko, a militant anti-hero from a Bordewijk novel out there.

Could that have been the intention? Do not think so. There is certainly a resemblance (Ivenko looks cool and attractive) and everyone tries their best – including Fiennes as a ballet teacher, with Russian neatly memorized. Too much authenticity and too little life? Perhaps Fiennes should have played Nureyev himself in an earlier stage of life. Perhaps as a director, Fiennes isn’t much of a party number on set. The dialogue-rich film makes a decent, formal impression, despite the visual panache and occasional glances of Exarchopoulos, but those are interludes or belches in the film based on the biography of Julie Kavanagh, who co-wrote the script.

This biopic demands convincing drama. In fact, reality reads like a novel. A Russian boy is born on a train and as a dancer struggles to escape poverty and eventually communism. Nureyev’s bisexuality was an open secret, even in the Soviet Union; he fled to the west. The problems surrounding these developments are translated by Ivenko within the possibilities. This creates an image of Nureyev as an arrogant, shrugging youngster, intelligent enough to understand others, but not very empathetic and not very charismatic. Ivenko may not be blamed for the latter, but the compelling power of the real Rudolf Nureyev is missing.