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Apollo versus Dionysus - The triumph of Terpsichore Belgrade
National Theatre
06/10/2026 - & June, 11, 12, 15*, 16, 2026
Zorba the Greek
Konstantin Kostyukov (choreography), Mikis Theodorakis (music)
Serbian National Ballet & Students of the Lujo Davico Ballet School
Chorus of the National Theatre, Jelena Miljevic (chorus master), Orchestra of the National Theatre, Aleksandar Kojic (conductor)
Sasa Senkovic (sets), Olga Mrdenovic (costumes)
(© Ossama el Naggar)
The Serbian National Theatre concluded its ballet season with a production of Zorba the Greek, a ballet premiered at the Arena di Verona in 1988. In part due to the familiarity of the general public with the story and Zorba’s famous dance, it has already entered the permanent repertoire. Judging from the sold‑out performances, it is also a highly popular work.
The story goes like this: American tourist John, an intellectual, goes to Greece to enrich his experience by living in a small village. He befriends a free‑spirited local, Alexis Zorba, who teaches him to embrace life’s joys and tragedies through dance. John is immediately attracted to Marina, a beautiful young widow, intensely wooed by the son of the village elder. When the desperate young man commits suicide, the villagers turn against Marina and trample her to death. Soon after, Madame Hortense, an aging French courtesan, deeply in love with Zorba, dies of tuberculosis. The two devastated men find solace through dance, which eventually reconciles them with the locals.
The myth of Zorba is seen as a model for the human struggle for freedom and the zest for life despite all obstacles. Made famous by Michael Cacoyannis’ 1964 film based on Nikos Kazantzakis’ eponymous novel, the myth of Zorba can be seen in a more philosophical way involving Dionysus versus Apollo. Friedrich Nietzsche used these two gods as opposite ends of the two foundational drives that shape human nature and art. While Apollo represents order and rationality, Dionysus represents chaos and emotion.
The music for the ballet was composed by Mikis Theodorakis (1925‑2021), and is a prodigious show in two acts comprising twenty‑two scenes. Amusingly, the famous “sirtaki”, Zorba’s famous dance, is not authentic Greek folklore but rather a composite of “syrto” and “hasapaki” (slow and fast rhythms), expressly choreographed for the 1964 film.
Choreographed and directed by Konstantin Kostyukov (b. 1967), a Serbian ballet dancer and choreographer of Russian origin, this ballet highlights the tension between individual desire and social convention by balancing dramatic storytelling with expansive dance sequences that allow the music to breathe. Kostyukov’s choreography draws on Greek folklore without attempting authenticity. The brilliant juxtaposition of Zorba’s freestyle, folkloric dance moves with John’s more stylised, formal moves reiterated the essence of the story and its passion vs. reason argument.
Sasa Senkovic’s simple but attractive sets showed the village square and the sea in the background. Olga Mrdenovic’s vividly colourful costumes were equally appealing. The production’s greatest strength lay in its scale. Bringing together the ballet ensemble, orchestra, choir, and students from the Lujo Davico Ballet School, the performance created an impressive sense of communal participation. Large crowd scenes conjured genuine momentum rather than mere decorative grandeur. The stage often seemed filled with life, reflecting the communal values at the heart of the story. Yet the production also understood the importance of intimacy, allowing quieter moments to emerge naturally from the larger theatrical canvas.
The diversity of moods in this ballet were impressive: the erotic pas de deux between John and Marina, the languid one between Madame Hortense and Zorba, and the frequent dances between John and Zorba are utterly different. The most striking scene was Marina’s confrontation by the villagers and her eventual murder, choreographed as a primitive tribal ritual.
Under the direction of Aleksandar Kojic, the orchestra captured the lyricism and rhythmic drive of the music. The score’s progression, from reflective passages to increasingly exuberant climaxes, were handled with conviction, culminating in the famous final sirtaki sequence. What could easily become a crowd‑pleasing cliché instead functioned as a logical culmination of the drama: a celebration of endurance in the face of suffering.
Ossama el Naggar
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