On the evening of June 29, 1974, after a tour with the Bolshoi Ballet in downtown Toronto, Mikhail Baryshnikov walked out of the stage door, through a crowd of fans, and took off running.
The then 26-year-old Baryshnikov, already one of the biggest stars in the ballet world, made the momentous decision to flee the Soviet Union and pursue a career in the West. On that rainy night, he had to dodge KGB agents and autograph-seeking spectators as he rushed to meet a group of Canadian and American friends waiting in their cars a few blocks away.
“That car took me to the free world,” Baryshnikov, 76, recalled in a recent interview. “This is the beginning of a new life.”
His stealthy escape made him a cultural celebrity. The New York Times declared on its front page: “Soviet dancers in Canada perform poorly on Bolshoi tour”.
But the focus on his decision to leave the Soviet Union sometimes unsettled Baryshnikov. He said he didn’t like the sound of the word “defector” in English, which conjured up images of traitors who committed treason.
“I’m not a defector – I’m a chooser,” he said. “That’s my choice. I chose this life.
Baryshnikov was born in Riga, Latvia under Soviet rule, and moved to Leningrad (now St. Petersburg) in 1964 at the age of 16, where he studied under the famous teacher Alexander Pushkin. At the age of 19, he joined the Kirov Ballet (now known as the Mariinsky Theater) and quickly became a star in the Russian ballet world.
After defecting, he moved to New York, joining the American Ballet Theater (where he later served as artistic director) and the New York City Ballet. As a prominent male dancer in the 1970s and 1980s, his star power helped elevate ballet’s status in popular culture. He has worked as an actor, appearing on stage and in several films, including “The Turning Point” and the TV series “Sex and the City.” In 2005, he founded the Baryshnikov Center for the Arts in Manhattan, which presents dance, music and other programs.
Baryshnikov, who holds American and Latvian citizenship, has become more politically outspoken in recent years. He criticized former President Donald J. Trump, comparing him to a “dangerous totalitarian opportunist” in his youth. He also publicly opposed Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, accusing Russian President Vladimir Putin of creating a “world of fear.” He is the founder of “True Russia”, a foundation that supports Ukrainian refugees.
In an interview on the 50th anniversary of his defection, Baryshnikov reflected on the 50th anniversary of his defection; his father who remained in the Soviet Union (his mother died when he was 12); his pain over the war in Ukraine; and what Russian artists face today challenge. These are edited excerpts from the conversation.
What are your memories of June days in Toronto?
I remember feeling a sense of comfort and safety after seeing some very friendly faces in the getaway car. But I’m also worried that it could go the other way – that it could collapse at any moment and become like a bad cop movie. I am starting a new life, a completely unknown life. This is my decision and my responsibility. It’s time for me to grow up.
You have describe Your defection was for artistic rather than political reasons. You said you wanted more creative freedom and the opportunity to work abroad more frequently, but the Soviet authorities would not allow it.
Of course, from a distance, this is a political decision. But I really wanted to be an artist, and my main concern was my dancing. I was 26, middle-aged for a classical dancer. I want to learn from Western choreographers. Time is running out.
At that time you say: “What I did is called a crime in Russia. But my life is my art and I realize that destroying it would be a greater crime.”
Did I speak so confidently? I do not believe. Maybe someone corrected it with correct syntax. But I still agree with this. I realized early on that I was a capable dancer—that’s all I could do and nothing more.
You fear that your defection might endanger your father, who is an army officer in Riga and teaches military topography at the Air Force Academy.
I knew the KGB department was going to interview him and ask him if he was involved and if he would write me a letter and stuff like that. He did nothing. I have to say, “Thank you, Dad. Thank you for not bending over. He refused to write me a letter asking me to come back.”
Have you contacted him again?
I sent him two or three letters saying, “Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. I hope everyone in my family is healthy.” He never responded. Shortly afterwards, in 1980, he died.
You started studying dance at the age of 7 and a few years later studied at the Riga Dance Academy (State Ballet Academy). What did your parents think of your dancing?
They found out interestingly that I belonged to some kind of vocational school when I was 10 or 11 years old. But my father always said, “You have to go to real school, study arithmetic and literature, and get good grades.” I was a very bad student. He said: “If you fail in a real school, I will send you to a military school and, like Suvorov, they will correct you.” He was, of course, bluffing. I have fallen deeply, deeply, deeply in love with theater. I fell in love with the atmosphere – I belonged in this big, beautiful circus.
When you came to the West, did you feel you had to forge a new identity?
I felt a huge sense of freedom. When you don’t have authority over yourself, you start having crazy thoughts about yourself: “Oh, I’m like Tarzan in the jungle right now.” But that’s enough. I told myself: “You’re an adult now. You have to do something serious. I know I can dance, and I already have some tracks in my bag.”
Are you still dancing?
Dancing may be a loud word, but theater directors sometimes ask, “Would you feel comfortable if I asked you to move?” I say absolutely. I welcome this. But I don’t miss being on stage in a dancer’s costume.
You’ve shunned politics for much of your career, but lately you’ve weighing Various issues including the war in Ukraine. Why are you speaking out now?
Ukraine is a different story. Ukraine is our friend. I dance Ukrainian dances and listen to Ukrainian music and singers. I know Ukrainian ballets, such as “Song of the Forest”, which I also performed in Kiev. I’m a pacifist and an anti-fascist, that’s for sure. That’s why I’m on this side of the war.
You were born eight years after Latvia was forcibly annexed to the Soviet Union; your father was one of the Russian workers sent there to teach. How did your experience growing up there influence your views on the war?
Having spent the first 16 years of my life in Soviet Latvia, I know the other side of the coin. I am the son of an occupier. I know what it is like to live under occupation. The Russians treat it like their territory and land and they say the Latvian language is rubbish.
I don’t want Putin and his troops to enter Riga. Latvia finally achieved true independence, and they did it well. My mother is buried there. I feel like when I come to Riga I come back to my home.
you wrote one open envelope Sent a letter to Putin in 2022, saying he had created a “world of fear.”
He was a true imperialist with a completely strange sense of power. Yes, he spoke in my mother’s language, the way she spoke. But he does not represent the real Russia.
How have you changed since you left the Soviet Union 50 years ago?
I’m a very lucky person. I really do not know. I want to write a beautiful sentence. But now is not the time for good sentences, people like Alexei Navalny are sent to prison and destroyed for their honest lives.
Will you return to Russia?
No, I don’t think so.
why not?
This idea has never occurred to me. I can’t answer you.
sometimes i imagine you thinking or dreaming About your time there.
certainly. I occasionally speak Russian and read Russian literature. This is my mother’s language. She was a very simple woman from Kostovo, near the Volga River. I learned my first Russian words from her. I remember her voice, the music unique to the Volga region. her voice. hero. Her vowels.
Some Russian artists such as Bolshoi Ballet stars Olga SmirnovaCurrently working at the Dutch National Ballet, he left Russia due to the war.
I saw her dance in New York and met her after the show. She was a great dancer, a lovely woman, and very, very brave. Moving to the Netherlands after serving as principal soloist at the Bolshoi Theater was a big change. However, she is in great health and is very proud to perform with the company that adopted her. I support her.
Are you surprised that artists are leaving Russia again due to concerns about politics and repression?
There is a word in Russian for refugees and escapees: bezhentsy. This is for people who are dodging bullets, bombs in this war. Some Russians – dancers, and perhaps athletes – run more gracefully than others. I’m trying to support them in my own small way. Eventually, we all run away from someone.
