Squandering talent is easy When you were blind, I was your guide to the unknown. Now you have seen and my back is blocking the sun.
"Visit to the Minotaur", 1987, dir. E. Urazbaev
It is good when our inclinations appear in early childhood. Imitating someone, something. An idol, say, from a television screen or an older, experienced companion living next door. Thirst to be the same. The desire to breathe one air. And follow-follow-follow on the heels... And accelerate, accelerate, accelerate without getting tired. Match everything. Even in style. Even in habits. However, one copy is sometimes not enough. You also need talent. There has to be a natural make-up. Then as you evolve, you progress. With the best, you improve.
Sometimes that's not enough. Life is too multifaceted. Her river is too wide. Where you are, where you are, is hard to see. Whether he will nail to the right bank, or to the left dock, who knows? A guide is required. Careful hand, outstretched palm - lean on yourself, hold tight, I'll lead you. Pilot? Yes, if you like. Usually this is a wise parent, a teacher who is wise in his profession, a teacher who helps to open up.
In front of the audience is a special tape. And although in the abstract, the stingy strictly position it as the life path of the black Cuban dancer Carlos Acosta, it is much more multifaceted. It's a parable of laziness and hard work. It's salty sweat and pandering to your base self. It is “necessary” and “want” eternal opposition to the essence of man. Having received a gift from nature, we do not want to use it. For the ghostly “blue bird” rush to the unknown. Where do you think? Why? Follow your star. Ah, no. God knows where. God knows why. And if so, then there are radical methods of "correcting" uncomfortably unheard. Through arseholes, through a belt in punishment, through the word, in bringing to understanding understanding. . .
But it's not easy to get a slave out of you. Deep at the gene level lies stubborn.
Cuba is before us. 350 years of slavery for generations living here today. Memory. Grandparents carried the yoke of a white man. As cattle were used on plantations in cultivation. It's been the same for centuries. Centuries! They were even mated like animals. A strong male principle fertilized a dozen or two women “on the tribe”. Feed, but moderately. We did, but only for small things. Slaves are slaves. But that was before. That was a long time ago. Recently. Before the revolution. . .
Amazing data - body, flexibility, stretching, sense of rhythm attract the seven-year-old boy interest in ballet school. The father sends his son to study. If the potential is revealed, the dirty wilderness, the “wash pit” of poverty will not threaten the offspring. However, stubbornness and laziness, it seems that they were born before Carlos himself.
Almost two hours for boyish pranks, youthful rebellion and meaningful adulthood is offered to us by the author. Ballet as such? Yes, there is. But I can't say he's in charge here. Moderate composition from scenes of everyday life, faces of the main characters, search for yourself. No clamping. This is partly a psychological thriller of struggle. The struggle for the crystallization of character. The father's role here is great. He is secondary, but he is also dominant.
You can be a genius. If you want to... Just remember that on the way, like road robbers, geniuses guard three enemies: idleness, wealth and fame. As sirens they pounce on the main virtue - hard work. . .
8 out of 10