l5885028630_8698we saw “ballerina” tonight, a documentary by bertrand normand which uses five russian ballerinas at different stages of there careers to examine the life of a ballet dancer.

i am pretty sure i was the only man there who dragged his wife along, and not the other way around.

I fell on love with ballet in Russia, when I first saw a production at the Marinski — the theatre featured in the documentary — when I was in high school. in college, I was the resident light designer for the dance department for my last two years.

and no, I’m not gay … thankyouverymuch.

the film was beautiful, with stunning shots of st. petersburg mixed in with great behind the scenes footage of the dancers rehearsing and performing. I was in heaven.

one of the opening scenes showed a class of first years at the prestigious Vaganova Academy, with their tiny builds and their incredibly petite features … which made me think:

first, this could never have been filmed in the united states, because our seven year-old look like NFL linebackers by comparison.

second, if baby sparklet is a girl, she has no future in ballet unless, well, she isn’t actually related to either the lady sparkler or myself. neither of us have any discernible coordination, nor could we be mistaken as petite, I’m the least flexible person on the planet, and my wife would have punched the artistic director in the nose after his first note on her performance.

little sparklet can be pretty much anything she/he wants to be when when [it] grows up …

… but not a ballet dancer.

… and it kills me.