NR | 1h 50m | Biopic, Drama, Dance | 2024
“The American” is a biopic based on the true story of American prima ballerina Joy Womack (which is why it was originally titled “Joika”), who has the rare distinction of being the first American ever accepted into the vaunted Russian Bolshoi Ballet Academy’s training pipeline.
It’s got everything one would expect from such a story—the outsider who goes where angels fear to tread, the icy and merciless home-team diva star student, the virulent and pervading “who-does-she-think-she-is” hostility, the seemingly unfair torture by the teacher, and the soul-wrecking self-doubt.
Talia Ryder, who incidentally has the same name as, and an uncannily similar look to, Winona Ryder when she was the same age (no relation), plays Joy.
The Hero’s Journey Is Dangerous
It’s no secret how competitive it is to become a prima ballerina. But one tends not to consider the sabotage aspects, like the furtive sprinkling by classmates of broken glass shards into the toe boxes of a ballerina’s pointe shoes, the spitting in the face, the stealing of alarm clocks, the cursing unto death.
But then, of course, that sort of thing is going to happen if one from a former Cold War superpower, an American, has the gall to even think about coveting a top spot in the culture-defining epitome of the former superpower Soviet Union’s Bolshoi Ballet.
The brutality of ballet is legendary—the pain and sacrifice necessary to attain that floating, effortless grace and perfection is akin to Navy SEAL training. It attracts a particular type of warrior spirit that actually takes joy in the hardship and the pain.
However, it’s one thing to watch muscular men destroy themselves in the pursuit of martial-skill perfection. The pale and wan waifs, the little ballet bun-heads, with their long-suffering, tear-and-mascara-streaked, underfed faces are obviously much more painful to watch.
Gatekeeper
Joy’s future is dependent on her main dance instructor, Tatiyana (Germany’s Diane Kruger), who brings new nuances to the stereotype of the conservatory perfectionist Nazi teacher. She’s a female version of J.K. Simmons’s Nazi drum instructor Fletcher, in 2014’s “Whiplash.” She might not share Fletcher’s borderline sociopathic tendencies, but she still makes Joy pirouette her toes into a bloody mess to see if she'll quit. But, as Joy mentions at the outset, “I don’t imagine they could put any more pressure on me than I already put on myself.”
The tension in the love-hate relationship between Tatiyana and her outrageously talented student is what keeps “The American” riveting. The problem is, while Tatiyana sees and grudgingly acknowledges Joy’s already significantly polished diamond-in-the-rough potential, she also knows that suggesting to the Bolshoi movers and shakers that an American might be the cream of the Bolshoi crop could put her career in serious jeopardy. And so the connection between student and teacher eventually ends up in the same symbiotic territory as “Whiplash.”
It’s Not What You Know
In the film’s second half, Joy, of course, eventually has to face the fact that entry into the Bolshoi boils down to politics more than anything else, but all that is lightly touched on (except for one desperate green card bid). The fact that Joy became the second American in history to sign a contract to dance for the Bolshoi (though it wasn’t a happy outcome) is also given short shrift.However, since Joy now dances with the Paris Opera Ballet, “The American” is still a hero’s journey tale with a magnitude of inspiration to spawn a Hollywood telling. But while most underdog tales end on a warm inspirational note, the display of grit from all involved to be the best of the best and stand on top of the heap is slightly sobering and gives one pause.
When it comes to dance, I like the Chinese classical dance concept of “bearing,” best described as an internal spirit, breath, intent, personal aura, and deep emotional expression. In essence, the spirit leads form, so that form is imbued with spirit. Hopefully ballet incorporates that philosophy again someday, because then the art won’t be about what you know, or who you know—it'll be about who you really are.
