29th June 2009 - Nikinsky - Brough Scott

How immeasurably apt and utterly poignant it is that this film should have been scheduled to come out in what was to prove the week of Vincent O’Brien’s death and this article on the actual day of his funeral. For Nijinsky was the absolute apogee of the O’Brien phenomenon.

When Nijinsky first ran in the summer of 1969 we all thought that the legend of Vincent O’Brien could reach no further into the sky. After all it was less than 9 months since Sir Ivor had bowed out of a Grand Criterium, 2000 Guineas, Derby, Champion Stakes and Washington DC winning career which had seemed to top all that Vincent had done before. But from the moment the massive and highly volatile son of Northern Dancer stepped on the stage the world reached for the superlatives. This is not the greatest film of all time but it is an unmissable current record of a horse with claims to be just that. And, best of all, of his trainer too.

It also gives us an opening image and statement that will never be bettered while our game cranks . it traverses the panorama of the heath. Over this the unmistakeable, unbeatable voice of Orson Welles says the words: “Earlier this century a dancer who would become a legend in his lifetime promised, on his deathbed, to return to earth as a stallion promised to come back to earth as a stallion - his name was Nijinsky”

The prophecy is unmistakeable and as a smashed-legged jump jockey glued to the TV in the summer of 1970 I can tell you that the fulfilment was something to behold. From his name onwards everything about Nijinsky’s public appearances suggested he was set for the stars. He was 11/4 on the very first time he ran and indeed was odds on in each of his 4 subsequent races in a two year old which culminates on our screens with a Dewhurst Stakes victory which makes “awesome” seem an understatement. Anyone using the phrase “cantered” up should check out this first time that Lester Piggott and Nijinsky took the stage together.

There was a dominance about them that I have never seen before or since. No one ever loomed up on the bridle and slid the knife home quite as smoothly as Lester Piggott, no horse ever suited him quite so perfectly as Nijinsky in that first summer of the seventies. That still shines out from the screen today, as does the reminder that while this was the ultimate outlet for the talents of the jockey it was also one of the most difficult challenges of the trainer’s career.

If Sir Ivor had been an easy horse to train, Nijinsky was the reverse. So wound up on his nerves that in his early days Vincent was afraid he might implode altogether. This revealed in a long, revealing, if rather sad faced interview which is especially fascinating at this time. In “The Year of Sir Ivor” neither O’Brien nor Piggott actually say anything to the camera, here they do which gives us a marvellous piece of historical record albeit rather stiffly staged and tempered by the unhappy dip in Nijinsky’s final defeats.

The scene when we watch Lester watching the great races again in a darkened projection room and then mutters away about what happened is one that no racing fan should want to miss. Not least because he is dealing with Nijinsky’s Derby and Nijinsky’s Arc, ultimate examples of soaring invincibility and unthinkable defeat

Looking back now what strikes you about that 1970 Derby is how real the challenge had seemed – heaven defend us Nijinsky even started at odds against (11/8) for the only time in his 13 race career. The principal reason was a huge, gangling, 17 hand, French based chestnut called Gyr who had shown such brilliance as a two year old that his legendary trainer Etienne Pollet had delayed his retirement. As Pollet also trained Gyr’s sire Sea Bird, this was an indication indeed and was only enhanced by Gyr winging up in his Longchamp trials in the spring. When Bill Williamson swept Gyr past Nijinsky and into the lead two furlongs out at Epsom with another talented French colt Stintino flashing up on the outside, the glove is thrown. Nijinsky and Lester will have to dance.

And dance they do. There’s a wonderful moment as O’Sullevan’s commentary switches from assumption to doubt and then back to glory again. There is a nice touch in the darkened cinema as Lester explains how he “just had to get hold of him a bit.” Nijinsky’s Irish Derby was a home town lap of glory, his “King George” his most majestic performance and his Triple Crown winning St Leger his most historic. But come and watch his Derby over again – this was the highest he held his crown.

And the Arc was when it slipped. It is the film’s misfortune that their biggest investment had clearly been reserved for the Arc and the Champion Stakes, but it does at least mean that no famous defeats have ever been so extensively covered and any remaining myths can now be shattered.

Chief amongst these is that Nijinsky would have won if Piggott had not dropped his whip in the final furlong. Oh no? What then is that astonishing fly-rod length thing in his right hand which flicks out in extremis over the Triple Crown winner’s quarters and is still present as he is led back into the bemused tumult of Lonchamp defeat?

Considering where Zarkava came from last year, Nijinsky didn’t even seem to be given that much too much to do. He got to Sassafras then ducked away under pressure. His nerves were obviously going and down at the Champion Stakes start next time we see the sweat literally bubbling out of him as the furies take hold. It’s a low key end but it still fails to dim what Orson Welles had promised in that opening statement. The horse, like his jockey and his now much lamented trainer, had become a legend too.