There was no time for auditions.
When
"We didn't do an audition because it was an emergency," explained Alin Gheorghiu, who leads the ballet. "They didn't even have anywhere to stay; they didn't have anything."
The dancers – two women and three men – were offered "collaboration contracts" lasting six months to a year. Two apartments were secured, rent-free. A local restaurant offered meals.
None of the five have danced at the national level, so this was also an opportunity for them to advance their careers and further their training. "They understand it's a lot of work and they have to perfect a lot," Gheorghiu said.
Earlier that evening, one of the dancers, Bogdana Alekseeva, stood with head choreographer Antonel Oprescu in a practice room. "I'm very nervous – I don't know if I am good enough," Alekseeva had told him. He grasped her arms, encouraging her.
Alekseeva, 21, has danced with a regional company in Odessa since 2019. On Feb. 25, the day after
Originally from rebel-held Donetsk, in eastern Ukraine, Alekseeva knew exactly what war meant. She had lost her father in 2014, during the start of the Donbas war that claimed more than 3,000 civilian lives. And when the Russian bombardment began last month, Alekseeva's mother, who was in the hospital in Donetsk, stopped answering her phone. To this day, there has been no news of her.
Alekseeva crossed the border to Moldova, and then onto Romania, where she contacted the national ballet in Bucharest.
Lara Paraschiv, 23, studied ballet at Russia's Bolshoi Academy and in the US before landing a spot at Dnipro's ballet two years ago.
Once the war started, Paraschiv managed to convince three fellow dancers – Rodion Yatsyk and Jimi Kushtarbek, both 21 and originally from Kyrgyzstan, and her Ukrainian colleague, Aibek Ryskulbekov, 21 – to come with her to Romania.
"I told them that if they cross the border, they will have help from me. That's what I promised," said Paraschiv, a dual citizen of Romania and Canada. Her parents happened to be in town from Romania to catch their daughter's performances, and the four dancers squeezed into their car for the 700 mile drive to Bucharest.
"The roads were empty, like zombieland," Paraschiv said. "People evacuated cities or were hiding in bunkers. There were lots of tanks and army on the roads."
At the border, they encountered enormous lines. Ukrainian men between the ages of 18 and 60 are not allowed to leave and families were begging border guards to let them stay together.
"It was heartbreaking. I felt like I was in an old World-War II movie," Paraschiv said.
Yatsik, who has requested political asylum, worries about his parents and brother in Dnipro.
"Every moment, they're scared because they never know if the next day there will be a bomb, and they are going to die. If they're going to lose their home, or lose their lives," he said.
"I feel a lot better, but I feel strange," Yatsik said on the day of his debut performance in Romania. "The people here are different – different character and personality. We're neighbors but completely different cultures. But they're giving, open, and honest."
That night, Giselle opened to a packed auditorium. Each of the five dancers from Ukraine appeared on stage.
"I feel okay because I'm in the theater and I have a performance tonight, so I can already place my attention on the ballet, on something else," said Paraschiv.
"When I