Artist Andy Warhol's parents emigrated to the U.S. in 1913 from Miková in eastern Slovakia, so he is something of a national hero here. Last night at the new national theatre, I saw an ambitious full-evening ballet Warhol, choreographed by Mário Radačovský, the new company director.



I was surprised at the poor attendance. When I tried to enter the balcony, the usher said we should all go downstairs to the orchestra level for seating; that was still about 1/3 empty when we were all seated. I was unable to get tickets to their productions of the 19th-century classics La Bayadere and Sleeping Beauty, and my ticket for Swan Lake tomorrow night was one of the last available. Slovaks revere Warhol, but don't seem as comfortable with contemporary, experimental ballets.

I should avoid playing pop-psychologist, but I wonder if Slovaks might appreciate the fact of his celebrity more than the content of his artistic innovations. Or perhaps his innovations in visual art have not yet permeated the performing arts audiences. I'm writing a lengthy essay for another publication about this ballet season, so I won't go into critical detail on the ballet here. Suffice it to say that it was a worthy and ambitious effort -- sometimes too ambitious -- to portray highlights of Warhol's complicated life through dance.
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