What a perfectly structured documentary, tightly focused on the art without any sideshows about Nuryev's personal life. The point being: the artist's work is his life.

I didn't realize until after it ended that the camera never leaves the rehearsal space or performance hall. All the scenes of Nuryev unwinding at "home" are actually in a dressing room, empty except for the bare essentials. There's really no hint of him having a life outside those walls, no hint that the world even exists outside those walls.

Even the narration is noticeably absent for most of the presentation. Rather than dissecting every move, the narrator only tells us what we need to know, and I think this effectively forces us to pay attention and interpret the actual dance. The performance scenes are shot with dazzling style & visuals (technicolor?). I kept wondering if these scenes were taken from a movie but the end credits don't mention any borrowed clips so I'm guessing it was all filmed specifically for this documentary.

I saw this was nominated for a Golden Globes best documentary in 1975 but didn't win. Cryin shame. This remains mostly obscure. I never would've heard of it if it hadn't been released on the Film Movement catalogue.