"There are very few cases in Russia when important people are involved that you wouldn't get a letter like this," Sergei Glebov, a Russia expert at Smith College told me.

He doubts that there is a satisfactory resolution to be had here, but politically speaking, there aren't many repercussions for those at the top.

"What the administration has traditionally paid attention to is the polls. This isn't going to change how the polls look" because though the attack was shocking, the shady legalism of its aftermath is "the norm in Russia...people are used to it and see it as further evidence of a general air of decay," not an 'earth-shattering' revelation. If anything, Glebov says, it's more a "sign of confidence" the government has in itself that such a scandal could happen and they can get away with it -- which also goes to show just how far the Bolshoi has fallen out of political importance since its golden age in the sixties.

Those in government directly involved in running the theatre, however, are bound to feel a bit of ire from the presidential office through which the Bolshoi leadership has ties. "I suspect that their first reaction will be to distance themselves from the Bolshoi institution," Scholl, the Oberlin ballet scholar, said.

That leaves the Bolshoi ballet without much of an ally, for the first time without the kind of support from the state -- the source of patronage and purpose -- it has enjoyed throughout its existence. No wonder many within the theatre (including Tsiskaridze), nostalgic for bygone days, apply pressure against modernizing the aesthetic, and clamor for emphasis on preserving the Soviet Bolshoi style as a path to return to former glories.

Despite how important ballet remains in Russia, the Bolshoi itself isn't guaranteed to be. It stands directionless after this acid attack, threatened by artistic irrelevance, operating with old-fashioned Byzantine machinations while also flashing, as David Remnick described, the contemporary streak of bespredel, lawlessness. Many have taken the violence as a sign of general degradation in Russian society, reflected in one of its storied institutions. The expression of disbelief in government jurisprudence is certainly also in keeping with the times, but it leaves the Bolshoi ever further bereft of options. For the current government, all this might make the Bolshoi Ballet feel all the time more like it is turning into a tiresome liability, one it will never be able to off-load. But the fate of the company in that case will be far worse than the nuisance it brings on the state. Without the government's good graces, there will be diminished incentive for upkeep, money and care for ensuring the Bolshoi ballet's prominence.

Even now, the Bolshoi's marquee names -- Svetlana Zakharova, Evgenia Obratzova, David Hallberg -- are outside talents brought in on favorable artistic arrangements (Zakharova and Obratzova were both poached from the Mariinsky Ballet). Meanwhile, the Bolshoi's own top stars, Natalia Osipova and Ivan Vasiliev, jumped ship to join another theatre.

"And who would want to dance there [at the Bolshoi] after this attack? If Filin can't return, who's going to want to take that job, and run that company after this?" Scholl asks.

If the answer proves to be "no one," then there won't be a much of a company to speak of.

"There is no happiness in our past," the Soviet Bolshoi ballet star-cum-company impresario Vladimir Vasiliev once said. "And there will be none in our future."

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