Brimful

“Cipollino”
Bolshoi Ballet
Bolshoi Theatre (New Stage)
Moscow, Russia
March 08, 2025 (matinee and evening performance)

by Ilona Landgraf
Copyright © 2025 by Ilona Landgraf

The boy Cippolino (Little Onion), the hero of Gianni Rodari’s 1957 children’s book Adventures of Cipollino, enjoyed an international career. He was especially popular in eastern countries and a famous cartoon and film figure in the Soviet Union. A ballet adaption by Genrikh Mayorov (1936-2022) entered the Bolshoi Ballet’s repertory three years after its Kiev premiere. Cipollino was revived at the Bolshoi earlier this season and still attracts crowds. Though a children’s fairy tale, adults can appreciate the production, especially when danced at top quality. I saw a matinee attended primarily by children and their parents as well as a sold-out evening performance.

The young Cipollino and his family are members of jovial townsfolk who are anthropomorphic fruits and vegetables—Cobbler Grape, Professor Pear, Godfather Pumpkin, and the Radish family, whose daughter, Little Radish, becomes Cipollino’s best buddy. They’re ruled by the high-handed, eccentric Prince Lemon whose court includes an acerbic guard, ludicrous knights, and the two overexcited Countesses Cherry. Signor Pomidor (Tomato) and his police officers work on behalf of the prince and, in principle, against the townsfolk. It’s no wonder that Cipollino and his friends revolt against their ruler. Luckily, they find allies at court: Little Count Cherry and Magnolia. Guided by loyal friendship and a solid sense of justice, the townspeople persevere and eventually triumph over Prince Lemon. He and his police state go up in smoke, and a peaceful, self-determined life is restored.
At first sight, nothing suggested the smoldering conflict between the ruler and his subjects. Resting snugly in fruit baskets, their hands and legs fluttered in the air, celebrating the shimmering sun. Behind their quaint, nested houses twinkled a Mediterranean sea. The colors of Valery Leventhal’s set and costume designs (revived by Olga Medvedeva and Maya Mayer) were as bright as only delicious, sun-kissed fruit and vegetables can be. The sumptuous flower garden surrounding the palace distracted the eyes from the narrow dungeon next to the entrance gate where Cippolino’s father Cipollone and then then Cipollino were incarcerated.
The matinee’s Cipollino (Ivan Sorokin) was a gutsy, clever guy who grew with the challenges his happy-go-lucky attitude sometimes inflicted upon him. Watching Sorokin, you wouldn’t believe that he’s a member of the corps de ballet. His jumps and turns had vim and ease, and his acting seemed intuitive as if he was a Cipollino by nature. Sofia Maymula’s Little Radish was his fabulously perky companion. Her pirouettes were so neat and crisp and the white and red of her bulging skirt so fresh that I thought of a radish cut into rings by a slicing machine.
The life spirits of Little Count Cherry (Denis Zakharov) were revived once he made friends with Cipollino and Little Radish. They blew away his heavy melancholy, gave meaning to his life, and, as a result, wings. Magnolia (Maria Koshkaryova) was the fourth anti-royal conspirator and exuded an intoxicating fragrance. Initially, it even made Little Count Cherry swoon (though Gardener Cactus (Nikita Oparin) repeatedly warned him against getting too close to Magnolia). This scent came in handy when Little Count Cherry and Magnolia had to get rid of the palace’s three watchdog knights (Danila Klimenko, Alexei Matrakhov, and Filippo Ferdinando Pagani, wearing ringed and frilled underwear) to free Cipollino from the nearby dungeon. When the scent was applied generously around their noses (like Puck did in A Midsummer Night’s Dream), the watchdogs made sheep’s eyes at Magnolia and then teetered off stage.
Pavel Smirnov’s Prince Lemon was a crackpot detached from reality. He exhibited a pompous gait, vigorous foot stomps, and an index finger that shot out like an arrow that made his sway ridiculous. Used to flattery, he took a frightened leap backward when confronted with his subjects’ clenched fists. Always at his service, the red-faced Signor Pomidor (Anton Savichev) wasted no chance to harm the townsfolk—for example he kicked some dirt on the homeless Godfather Pumpkin (Egor Sharkov) after deconstructing his dwelling—but was too stupid to be successful. Blinded by over-eagerness, he usually shot himself in the foot.

The evening’s Cipollino was Dmitry Smilevsky, the company’s latest principal. I’ve seen Smilevsky twice before and was impressed both times. As Cippolino, he made my jaw drop. He not only delivered magnificent leaps, skyrocketing tours en l’air, a perfect technique, and vibrant acting but also embellished the choreography with myriad intricacies. It felt like a dream. Makar Mikhalkin as Little Count Cherry did a great job living up to Smilevsky’s standard.

The evening’s second highlight was Semyon Chudin who was scheduled to dance Prince Lemon on Sunday but by a stroke of luck was on stage on Saturday. Compared to the garish wackiness of Smirnov’s prince, the eccentricity of Chudin’s was deeper, more nuanced, and smoothed by inborn elegance. A priceless funny figure! Daria Khokhlova’s Little Radish played a little girl at times but had grown into a self-assured young woman whose empathy translated into action.
If Magnolia’s fragrance characterized her dancing, the evening’s Magnolia (portrayed by the seasoned Maria Vinogradova) must have smelled delicate and light compared to the matinee’s earthier scent.
Nikita Kapustin’s Signor Pomidor swaggered less bumptiously than Savichev’s at the matinee, and I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him when Cipollino and his fellows paraded his foolishness.
Sergei Kuzmin played the evening’s Godfather Pumpkin who, despite his old age, walked as if on springs. Pavel Smirnov was Gardener Cactus; Denis Ivanov and Gleb Asadchenko danced the role of Professor Pear whose violin cheered up Cipollino; Andrei Koshkin and Genki Alexander Khoshi wielded a bold hammer as Cobbler Grape.
Seesawing their hips with every step, the court guard looked irresolute, but matters turned serious once their arms targeted their opponents as if shooting crossbows.
Cipollino has a colorful score by Karen Khachaturyan, the verve and comedy of which the Bolshoi Orchestra (playing under the batons of Alexei Bogorad at the matinee and Pavel Sorokin in the evening) made the most.

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