In the throes of achieving a fine balance

Soon, the curtain will rise. Backstage, sopranos' scales slip from dressing rooms and costume matrons fly down corridors on tiptoe, gowns and wigs slung over their shoulders. From the orchestra pit rises the piping of flutes, the saw of strings and the squall of brass.

The pre-curtain flurry is a familiar rite in the iconic Bolshoi Theatre, commissioned by Catherine the Great in the year of American independence. But these days an edge of worry has crept into the wings as Russia's financial woes force the theatre to scrimp for savings.

“For any performer, progress means new roles,'' says Maxim Paster, a Ukrainian-born tenor who pounds on piano keys, paces his dressing room and bellows out notes to loosen up for his role in Dmitri Shostakovich's opera Lady Macbeth of the Mtsensk District.

“Now the world is consumed with this hassle; we are afraid there will be no more new productions.''

This year's budget constraints forced the Bolshoi, literally “big'', to scrap a premiere of Otello and call off a ballet tour of Mexico.

Fattened in recent years on oil and gas revenues and pampered by a crop of nouveau riche businesspeople, the theatre has grown unaccustomed to such indignities.

“We had cancelled productions before because we were not satisfied with the artistic value,'' general director Anatoly Iksanov says wistfully. “But never for financial reasons. Never for that.''

The uncertainty at the Bolshoi Theatre is emblematic of the anxiety gnawing at Russia as sudden economic upheaval whittles away at national touchstones.

Russians are seeing the realisation of the unthinkable — the price of oil tumbles, the popular Bookberry bookstores go bankrupt, towering “oligarchs'' shed their billions.

The cost-cutting is particularly bruising to the Bolshoi, treasured by generations of shifting empires as proof that superior European culture could thrive in Moscow.

The theatre has been an empirical gem, a defiant symbol of Soviet artistry beloved by Stalin and, more recently, an opulent showcase invigorated by capitalism and visited frequently by Prime Minister Vladimir Putin.

Over the last decade, the theatre's budget swelled to 12 times its former size, a historically typical reflection of the benevolence of an increasingly powerful and wealthy Moscow leadership.

“[International] directors and designers think Russia has endless money and if they have limited themselves in their own country, in Russia they can do anything and everything, without limit,'' Iksanov says.

“And a few years ago, it was true. When oil went to $130, $135 [a barrel], people just lost their minds.''

But along with the rest of the state budget, the Bolshoi's government sponsorship was slashed this year by nearly one tenth.

Corporate sponsors are bowing out or asking for extra time to scrape together their dues. Even as the theatre braces for further cuts, inflation eats at the salaries of the 1,000 dancers, singers, musicians and other artistes.

“We're looking through history to see, if they reduce by that amount, we will do this,'' Iksanov said.

At the same time, the much-anticipated renovation of the Bolshoi's main stage has been bogged down in delay and expense, leaving the company stranded on the boards of a more cramped, less prestigious side theatre.

The opening date was first pushed to 2009, then 2011. It is now expected as late as 2013 for all facilities.

There is a palpable pining for the bigger stage among members of the troupe, many of whom sacrificed their childhoods for exhaustive rehearsals in the dim hope of one day strutting the famed stage.

“Every singer in the world dreams of singing on the stage of the Bolshoi,'' says opera singer Irina Rubtsova. “Nothing can compare with its acoustics or the feeling you get when you walk out and see this black cosmos before you.''

Iksanov said he was confident that the government would continue to pour money into the desperately needed renovation. Putin is keeping a tight eye on the progress, he says.

Still, the performers fret over whether the combination of rising expenses and falling wealth will conspire to prolong their relegation to the temporary theatre.

“Now they're saying 2013, but who knows?'' says Svetlana Adyrkhayeva, who first danced Swan Lake at the Bolshoi in 1960 and today trains the younger ballerinas.

“This crisis! We don't know what's going to happen. It's very, very hard on us.''

It is also hard on profits. With only 750 seats compared with 2,000 in the original Bolshoi, the smaller stage generates less cash in ticket sales at a time when the theatre is in need of increased revenues.

Eager to ease frayed nerves among the performers, Iksanov recently wrote a piece for the theatre's newspaper.

“I told them life is not as before and there's a new price for everything,'' Iksanov says. “But culture in Russia has lived through even harsher times and the Bolshoi always survived.''

“Of course,'' he says, “everybody is still worrying anyway.''