From the Ballets Russes, BFI

This is the second part of a series that has passed a little too quietly for comfort. The V&A’s grand Diaghilev show has received all the noise in the press – “fabulous”, “sumptuous”, “exotic” – in fact, all the words that were used at the time to describe Diaghilev’s company. The only word that isn’t being used is “dancer” – we get relatively little chance to think about movement in South Kensington. However, Jane Pritchard, curator of that show, has now redressed the balance on the South Bank with a remarkable collection of films.

At first glance, the season might seem ordinary – Omnibus programmes from the 1960s and 1970s, talking heads, di-dah di-dah. But don’t be fooled. Pritchard has laced these old favourites, many previously seen by balletomanes, with some of the most extraordinary rareties.

On Monday the old Omnibus film knitted out of clips of Pavlova was paired with one of the greatest discoveries – both filmic and balletic – to have been made in decades. A Belated Premiere was a compilation of films made by Aleksandr Shiryaev between 1900 and 1909. Shiryaev was (vaguely) known to the ballet world for his work on character dance and his theoretical writings. But he will, if there is any justice in the world, quickly become known as one of the pioneers of film animation.

In 1900 he suggested to the management of the Imperial Theatre (the Maryinsky), where he worked as a dancer and ballet-master, that he film the dancers, to preserve the choreography for posterity. He was refused. (“This film business: a flash in the pan – who needs it?” could be the paraphrased response.) Nothing daunted, he filmed himself and his wife performing character dances. Revelation one: after watching Pavlova’s little bits of fluff, bouréeing about aimlessly to plinky-plonk music, here is a dancer of bravura and formidable technique performing complex and beautiful choreography. Any ideas that dancers 100 years ago were not able to do what dancers today do can firmly be dismissed.

Revelation two is, however, even more thrilling. First Shiryaev, in an attempt to record dance, created little pencil sketches, one sketch per gesture. Sure enough, he soon put them on a strip of paper, and – today – spooled out like film, the figures "dance": early animation. Then, Revelation three: he moved to stop-motion animation, using foot-high marionettes. Not just one or two, but over a dozen puppets dance full ballets (Harlequin and Columbine, staples of Victorian theatre, perform an entire Harlequinade, that traditional pantomime romp that has entirely vanished). And if their choreography is anything to go by, we will have to rethink all our ideas about what was possible, and what was performed onstage too.

Revelation four: Move over, Wallace and Gromit; Shiryaev has his puppets "paint" their own backdrop scenery, a house which then develops a "real" window, out of which more puppets enter and exit. Fantasy, reality, technical expertise and filmic developments – all decades ahead of the real film world.

This film should not be confined to the ghetto of ballet geekdom, but studied in film courses everywhere. Kudos to Pritchard for bringing it to the BFI; now let the BFI publicize it to the film-studies world.

The season continues until 12 October, and if this is anything to go by, more discoveries can be expected. Most of the films are in the small NFT2 theatre, so hurry!

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