On Saturday 16th November, the world awoke to a statement from the Mariinsky: “Tonight, the public’s favorite, the star principal dancer of the Mariinsky Theatre, Honored Artist of Russia Vladimir Shklyarov, tragically died. This is a huge loss for the entire staff of the Mariinsky Theatre. Our condolences to the artist’s family, friends and all the many fans of his work and talent.”
Shklyarov was a dancer I only saw a few times in live performances, but every time I did, he made a lasting impression. What was most memorable about him was his buoyant jump, his impeccable technique and his warmth and charm. He had a strong stage personality. He projected. This was especially apparent in Ratmansky’s Little Humpbacked Horse, in which he played the bumbling Ivan the Fool to perfection.
Perhaps his finest role was Solor in La Bayadère. Shklyarov and Tereshkina guested with ABT one summer. Solor is a difficult role: partnering in the Kingdom of the Shades scene has to be seamless, but Solor’s variations also require strong virtuoso technique. Shklyarov’s chemistry with Tereshkina (a strong, implacable Nikiya) was sizzling.
If male dancers are often either an Apollo or a Dionysus, Shklyarov was the rare dancer who could be both. He looked like an Apollo, with a conventionally handsome face, long tapered legs and arched feet. And he had that typical Mariinsky refinement with the exquisitely tight fifth position and liquid arms and back. At the same time, he had the explosive jumps, feline grace and bravura excitement. Shklyarov had incredible ballon. He was one of those dancers who had springs in his legs and could seemingly freeze-frame during a jump.
For this reason, he was extremely versatile. While he shone as Albrecht in Giselle, Siegfried in Swan Lake, he would proceed to bring the house down as Ali, the slave in Le Corsaire or the Mazurka in Études. He was equally good in both Balanchine’s Rubies and Diamonds.
Critics praised him everywhere he went. NYT critic Alastair Macaulay said about his Albrecht in Giselle: “Ardor beamed outward from his steps. His dozens of glittering entrechat-six — his feet rapidly crisscrossing in the air while his arms slowly ascended as if to suggest he was reaching a transcendent delirium — will stay in memory.” About his Solor, critic Robert Gottleib called him “simply the most brilliant young danseur noble we’ve seen in a long time. Virile and romantic, he’s as fine a Solor as anyone since Baryshnikov.”
When he guested with The Royal Ballet as Des Grieux in Sir Kenneth MacMillan’s Manon (opposite Natalia Osipova), the Financial Times gushed: “Shklyarov, with his matinee idol looks and quietly brilliant technique, is ideal for the shy, bookish young man of the opening scenes but the Russian star’s intelligent, nuanced performance plots every stage in Des Grieux’s moral decline from lovestruck seminarian to the desperate killer of the final act.”
Thankfully, Shklyarov’s career came at a time when ballet companies started streaming performances for public consumption. That means that many of his performances are just a click away: his complete La Bayadère (with Viktoria Tereshkina); Romeo and Juliet (with Diana Vishneva); Cinderella (also with Vishneva) are all available. A number of private films are available too, on YouTube. The digital age has been a blessing for dancers’ legacies.
There is an extraordinary film of him as a child in this brief pas de deux. He was aged just 12, a third year Vaganova student, so the technique is not quite what it eventually became. But the springy legs; the buoyant jump; the elegantly pointed feet; the charm – all already there. It's impossible not to smile.
Maybe the most eloquent tribute to Shklyarov came from Mariinsky prima ballerina Diana Vishneva. She wrote: “You were light-hearted and charming, sharing your warmth and light. You always brought with you smiles and joy. You searched for new things, reached new people, new art and experience.”
As a dancer, Shklyarov radiated joy. He was only 39 when he died, but gave audiences more than 20 years of happiness. After the sadness and the shock, I think his admirers around the world will feel gratitude that he was so generous in sharing his talent. He was a star, and not even death can dim his light.
