Mikhail Baryshnikov on Ageing, Friendship, and the Metaphysical Rendezvous with Joseph Brodsky

By Kristina Moskalenko

From May 3–7, London’s Apollo Theatre will host the one-man show “Brodsky/Baryshnikov.” In this intimate performance, Mikhail Baryshnikov, widely regarded as one of the greatest ballet dancers of all time, reflects on ageing, life, mortality, and the profound topics rarely discussed. The premiere in Riga, Latvia, sold out in just 10 minutes. Ahead of the London debut, we sat down for an interview with Mikhail Baryshnikov to discuss the show, his deep friendship with Nobel Laureate Joseph Brodsky, and the creative process behind this powerful performance.

In “Brodsky/Baryshnikov,” Mikhail Baryshnikov brings Joseph Brodsky’s words to life, navigating the delicate themes of memory, loss, and eternal connection. This performance is not just a showcase—it is a spiritual dialogue and a powerful reflection on the legacy of Nobel Laureate Joseph Brodsky, beautifully exploring the human condition.

Kristina Moskalenko: Mikhail, how did you meet theatre director Alvis Hermanis and created this collaboration?

Mikhail Baryshnikov: I first encountered Alvis through his work, particularly his play based on Shukshin’s stories. Even in the recorded version, I could see his talent. Later, I saw his opera productions in Europe, which deepened my appreciation.

When we met in Italy, we had a long conversation about Latvia (where we were both born), art, and life. He asked thoughtful questions about Joseph (Brodsky), whom he admired greatly. His passion and vision as an artist made it easy for me to share my memories.

Later, Alvis proposed a performance based on Joseph’s poetry. After a few lengthy discussions, I decided to move forward with the idea.

Kristina Moskalenko: Why dou say “decided” rather than “agreed”?

Mikhail Baryshnikov: Because this wasn’t a simple decision! It’s something very personal to me. Any time someone wants to create something connected to Brodsky, I always ask myself: What would Joseph think of this? He was uncompromising when it came to art, and I feel a deep responsibility to honour that. This time was no different.

Kristina Moskalenko: What can audiences expect from the “Brodsky/Baryshnikov” show?

Mikhail Baryshnikov: This isn’t a traditional reading or dance performance. Brodsky/Baryshnikov is something else entirely—an encounter with a poet, a friend. The greater the artist, the richer this posthumous dialogue becomes, evolving with new ideas and associations. Alvis wanted the audience to witness something akin to a spiritual séance, shaping the performance as precisely that—a conversation between two souls, brought to life on stage.

Kristina Moskalenko: Are you portraying yourself on stage, or is it a different character?

Mikhail Baryshnikov: It’s a symbolic character—a combination of Baryshnikov and Brodsky’s lyrical hero. He is made up of different fragments of my own “self,” finding himself in a space that feels both familiar and distant, as if he has been there before and now returns by chance. There are no direct historical references, yet subtle details—the worn suitcase, the strange, old alarm clock—suggest the passage of time. I have no doubt that Joseph would have appreciated it. To me, it beautifully conveys the nostalgic undercurrent of his poetry—its endless return to the past.

Kristina Moskalenko: You’re known for dance, yet you read poetry in this performance. How does it feel?

Mikhail Baryshnikov: This performance is not a retelling of my friendship with Brodsky. When I read his poetry, I experience his presence as something vivid and real. And the audience senses it too.

I read some poems from memory, others from a script. We also blend in some dance elements: flamenco, Japanese Butoh, and kabuki theatre movements to respond to the poems’ cadences. It’s more about instinct and improvisation than dance choreography.

Kristina Moskalenko: How did you and Alvis select poems to include?

Mikhail Baryshnikov: Alvis focused on simplicity, choosing poems that were easy to understand. He wanted the audience to feel the meaning, regardless of their language. Brodsky believed poetry was ‘hopelessly semantic,’ so Alvis embraced that idea in selecting the simple pieces that could shine through even in translation. In this case I followed his experience and direction.

Kristina Moskalenko: How did you work on the performance while living in different countries?

Mikhail Baryshnikov: Over Skype and in person. We worked in Zurich, in my summer house in the Dominican Republic, in New York, and on the set in Riga. Alvis is a European director, focused on inner emotion that’s often restrained. But inside, he is passionate and intense.

He believes it’s better for an actor reading poetry to sit, as it helps avoid excessive drama and focus on the words, the rhythm, and the tone of voice.

His demands were clear to me, especially after working with American director Robert Wilson, whose approach is similar. Both Wilson and Hermanis share the principle: Less is more. Everything must be simple and precise.

Kristina Moskalenko: You’ve known Brodsky’s work for decades. Did you know his poems by heart?

Mikhail Baryshnikov: Some of the poems I knew by heart, having first encountered Brodsky’s work when I was 16. At that time, his writings were restricted, so I read them in secret. Later, when I moved to the United States, I had the privilege of meeting Brodsky, and we became friends. As a result, many of his poems have become an integral part of me, woven into my memory and my life’s narrative.

Kristina Moskalenko: And yet, you read his poetry for 90 minutes on stage. It’s a lot. How did you approach memorising new pieces?

Mikhail Baryshnikov: In the performance, the main action is driven by my live voice, occasionally accompanied by a recording. I alternate between reading and reciting from memory. When I memorised the text, I learned the entire performance, which took about six months. This habit reflects my Soviet education, where I had to memorise poetry for oral exams. I’ve never had a talent for declamation, but the poems I did memorise resonated with the rhythms of my heart.

Kristina Moskalenko: How about Brodsky’s iconic reading of his poetry. Was it hard to find your own way to do it?

Mikhail Baryshnikov: Alvis wanted subtlety. He encouraged me to find my own tone and pace, distinct from Brodsky’s melodic recitation, that had been almost like a liturgy. Joseph’s readings were magical, and often I was the first to hear his poems. His metaphysical phonetics resurface when I read: “The century will soon end, but I will end before it does. / I fear this is not a matter of perception. / Rather, it is the influence of non-being / on being…”

But I needed to find my own voice. The meanings and subtext of his lines allowed me to create our dialogue’s structure. He spoke those lines to me and to the world—through me. And I, in turn, spoke to him through them.

Kristina Moskalenko: You mentioned earlier that you never had a talent for declamation. It’s quite different from dancing. How did you prepare to NOT dance on stage?

Mikhail Baryshnikov: It’s difficult to perform when the audience consists of people who grew up with Brodsky’s poetry. So there were about nine mutual friends with Joseph to whom I read a lot. You see, you can’t read to yourself, as it’s the gaze of others that helps calm the nerves.

Kristina Moskalenko: So we have covered poetry, dance. Is there music in the performance?

Mikhail Baryshnikov: There is no traditional music, only the subtle stridulation of crickets—natural sounds digitally transformed into something almost otherworldly. It appears only briefly. We also chose to forgo a choreographer, as movement is intuitive rather than structured, evolving with each performance.

Kristina Moskalenko: How about the language, who translated the poetry?

Mikhail Baryshnikov: We have an exceptional translation by Jamie Gambrell, a former student of Joseph’s. She knew his work intimately and rendered a precise, non-rhymed translation, as Alvis wanted clarity over poetic form.

The translation is seamlessly integrated, appearing as a luminous thread of text gliding above the stage. I speak slowly to allow the audience to follow. “Brodsky/Baryshnikov” is as much a visual experience as a spoken one, with Gleb Filshtinsky’s (from Mariinsky Theatre) masterful lighting adding depth and emotion.

Kristina Moskalenko: How emotionally demanding was Brodsky/Baryshnikov for you?

Mikhail Baryshnikov: It is undeniably a profound challenge each time I perform it on stage. The nervous anticipation feels like preparing for a long-awaited meeting. However, I’ve gradually embraced this metaphysical encounter. We’ve performed in Riga, Israel, New York, and will soon perform in Switzerland, Germany, Serbia, Romania, and the UK. Over time, the performance has solidified both structurally and emotionally, yet Brodsky’s poetry still reveals nuances I hadn’t fully grasped.

Kristina Moskalenko: What do you feel when speaking to a departed friend on stage?

Mikhail Baryshnikov: The performance begins with the poem: “…My voice, hasty and unclear, / Will trouble you with pointless sorrow…” These lines encapsulate the essence of the performance. The poem’s tone sets the stage, transforming the entire piece into a living nerve. I recall Joseph reading those verses. At one point, an old tape recorder plays, and his voice fills the air. It’s deeply poignant. There’s a profound longing—both for the conversation with the departed and the inability to embrace him. Yet, unexpectedly, New York subtly emerges, even though the set doesn’t suggest it. How this unfolds, I can’t explain.

Kristina Moskalenko: In one of your interviews, you mentioned how Joseph liked to talk about a sense of justice…

Mikhail Baryshnikov: When he looked at something that delighted him, somewhere in Rome or Venice, he would pause, smile, and say, “Isn’t it true, Mouse (he called me Mouse), that a sense of justice comes over you, when you feel that we are here, sitting, looking at all of this?” As if to say, how lucky we are. And now, while performing this play, I too clearly and painfully feel this sense of justice.

Kristina Moskalenko: Ageing and death are key themes in the show. How do you personally feel about them?

Mikhail Baryshnikov: Brodsky’s reflections on ageing resonate deeply with me, perhaps because of my own age. He once said, “My aging! The slow flow of blood. Once a trim body, now it disturbs my sight.” He was acutely aware of our fear of death—something we all confront in our own way. Brodsky often quoted Cesare Pavese: “Death happens to others…” But ultimately, it becomes a conversation with yourself.

Photos: Bird&Carrot Productions