Sydney Morning Herald Online

  tv & radio     music     arts     books     fashion     good living  

Home   >   Entertainment   >   Film   >   Article

In good company

May 8, 2004

Printer friendly version Print this article
Email to a friend Email to a friend

Neve Campbell in The Company.

With Robert Altman putting dance back on the big screen, Jacqui Taffel reveals the real-life dramas at the Australian Ballet.

The Australian Ballet's artistic director, David McAllister, was about 13 when he saw a short for The Turning Point. "I just nearly wet myself - oh my God, a movie about ballet! - and then went and saw it about five times."

The 1977 film, starring Shirley MacLaine and Anne Bancroft, is one of a long line of behind-the-scenes ballet dramas, from The Red Shoes in 1948 to 2000's Center Stage.

But so far, The Turning Point remains the sentimental favourite, at least among Australian Ballet staff. It had drama, bitchiness, thrilling dance pieces, an arty sex scene with Mikhail Baryshnikov and a hilarious catfight between the two female leads. For the teenage McAllister, it "absolutely blew my mind".

It remains to be seen whether Robert Altman's new contribution to the genre, The Company, can compete. Starring Neve Campbell, known for her roles in Party of Five and the Scream films, with Malcolm McDowell as the campy artistic director, and the Joffrey Ballet of Chicago, it's a day-in-the-life film loosely following the central character of Ry, played by Campbell.

Campbell began dancing at the age of six. She later attended Canada's National School of Ballet, but injuries pulled her out of that career and into acting. The Company was originally her baby - she wanted to make a "realistic" ballet film and spent seven years developing the project. From the start, she wanted Altman to direct. Knowing nothing about the art form, he baulked when the script arrived, but eventually said yes.

Most dance films follow a similar trajectory - ambitious nymphette leaps over physical hurdles and love life disasters to star in a triumphant opening night. However, according to Altman, The Company "has no narrative". The film "exists as ambience", confirms the generally positive review in The New York Times ("seductive" says Rolling Stone; "obtuse" and "cliched", sniff others).

David McAllister sees most dance-related films and is looking forward to Altman's. Though he thinks movies beat up the drama, he admits ballet companies are a hothouse environment where things can get "pretty dramatic backstage".

A dancer might be cast in a plum role and learn it, for instance, only to have someone decide at the final hour that he or she is not suitable. "It's very crushing," says McAllister, who has been through that wringer. "Art is so subjective."

Then there's the horror of injury - McAllister recalls the time he tore his cruciate ligament a week before Madam Butterfly opened, putting paid to his lead role. "Devastating."

And then there are the private, or not-so-private, lives of dancers. "It's that thing when two people are trying to have a private assignation and all of a sudden everyone knows about it," McAllister says. Or, conversely, when couples split up. "All those dramas go on that have absolutely nothing to do with ballet but are magnified because of the close proximity and the physical nature of ballet."

This physical intimacy is clearly part of the attraction for filmmakers, but McAllister feels it's also due to ballet's mystique as a silent art. "Everyone is quite fascinated by this whole thing about dancers not speaking," he says. "Which means there must be a whole lot of stuff going on that they're not talking about."

Altman, who loved working with dancers, is quoted as saying, "It's ruined me, it really has. I pick up scripts now and think, 'God, shut up, why do we have to hear all this?'"

Despite the various cinematic exposes, McAllister believes most people still have no idea about the scale of an organisation like the Australian Ballet. During the 18 years he danced for the company, people often asked about his "real job".

"And you say, 'No, this is a full-time job and there are 120 other people who work to get us all on stage and looking like this.'"

Even his own attitude has changed since becoming artistic director in 2001. As a dancer, he says, the whole world revolves around you. "When people say nice things, you say, 'Yes, of course, I deserve that because I was fantastic.'" He laughs. "When you step out of performing and start working with all these people who make it all happen, you go, 'Actually, mmm, I didn't do it all by myself, did I?'"

Inspired by Altman's film, we went behind the scenes with the Melbourne-based company which is on tour in Sydney. It was mid-April, the day of the last performance of Mr B at the Sydney Opera House.

9.30am Kerry Cumberbatch, the ballet's head costumier, is in Sydney for some emergency refittings. Due to an injury there's been a casting reshuffle for the Southern Lights world premiere, opening on May 21 in Canberra. It's not just adjusting one costume - when one dancer moves to a different role, others in the 70-strong company are also moved around to compensate.

Cumberbatch worked in theatre and opera before joining the ballet 11 years ago. "Dance is very different because they have to do really bizarre things with their bodies." Part of her job is to combine attractive costumes with freedom of movement. A period costume, for example, must look authentic but allow the wearer to "put their arms and legs in places normal people don't".

During fittings, dancers demonstrate the moves they need to do - better that it rips here than on stage. Even so, things can go wrong. At an opening last year a dancer tugged too enthusiastically on his partner's costume and ripped off the train. Fortunately, it was a lighthearted piece, so he pretended it was part of the act. "He was running around after her with it. We were wetting ourselves by the end," Cumberbatch says.

The costume department has six permanent staff, but at busy times there can be up to 20 casuals hand-finishing costumes. Cumberbatch's main difficulty is time constraints. "You might be working on something incredibly beautiful but you can't take the time to appreciate it, all you can think is, 'Oh God, I've got to have this finished by three o'clock.'"

10am The dancers start to arrive and warm up for ballet class at 11am. The ladies' class is in the rehearsal room, the gentlemen's class is on stage in the Opera Theatre.

Noon Artistic administrator Frank Leo pins up the latest rehearsal schedule on the Opera House noticeboard.

Fitting in enough rehearsal time for a company of 70 dancers on the road for up to five months of the year is like assembling a giant jigsaw puzzle. This is Leo's main task. Usually several shows are rehearsing at once, with key dancers playing roles in more than one. "In an ideal situation, you'd be able to split them into three."

Leo is the point of contact for the rest of the company about the dancers' movements - he knows if they've called in sick, or need to queue for a visa, or are available for a fitting or an interview.

Leo was a dancer himself until back problems got in the way and he took this administrative job 10 years ago. The dance experience helps, particularly in dealing with the emotional side of the work. One of his tasks is to put up casting lists; sometimes a dancer doesn't get the role they were hoping for. He knows the feeling. "You know they're going to be upset - you can expect some sort of reaction."

12.30pm Rehearsals start. Today the focus is on Swan Lake, which opens in a week. The company is also rehearsing Southern Lights and La Fille Mal Gardee.

2pm Seated behind one of two pianos in a backstage room labelled Music Staff, principal pianist Stuart Macklin concentrates on a tricky piece of music. It's from the ballet Continuum, part of the Red, Hot & New triple bill that premieres in Melbourne in August. Macklin started learning it late last year.

He is one of the ballet's three pianists, who spend a lot of time in rehearsals "pretending we're the orchestra". They also play for ballet classes and performances, including the occasional solo. Compared with a concert pianist on stage, Macklin is out of the spotlight in the orchestra pit, but the pressure is still on. "If you do something wrong, it affects the performers as well. There's that sort of responsibility."

In 20 years with the ballet, Macklin has accompanied some tense rehearsals. Very occasionally he's copped some flak, which tends to come from younger performers freaking out under pressure. "Sometimes they let off steam in the wrong direction," he says. "You just bite your tongue."

3pm Rehearsal is over for dancers performing tonight. Anyone not going on stage might be required for rehearsals until 6.30pm.

5.30pm Tiffany Moulton, administration assistant at the ballet's Sydney office, switches the phone over to answer machine, turns out the lights and locks up. Tonight she gets to go home, but on other nights she might be called out to assist the Development team whose area is corporate sponsorship, or the Private Giving team which deals with individual donations.

There are frequent special functions for sponsors and patrons whose contributions ensure the ballet's survival. As well as handling her receptionist duties during the day, Moulton often helps out after hours with meeting and greeting at opening nights or corporate outings. She might even attend a screening of a new dance film such as The Company as part of the patron's program which includes events outside the ballet itself.

Moulton is a former dancer - she performed with the ballet for five years before she'd had enough. After a couple of years in "the real world" she returned to the fold in this very different role. Though she misses being on stage she doesn't miss the daily grind or the emotional highs and lows. "This environment is a bit more stable."

6pm The company's master electrician, John "Beryl" Berrett, is in the opera theatre for the evening's lighting check. He and his assistant run through each lamp, replace any that have blown, replace any faded colour gels and focus the floor lights.

It's not widely known in the company that Beryl, as he is affectionately known, used to dance at school. "Nothing professional, but I enjoyed the art form," he says, which made moving to the ballet in 1977, from being an Opera House technician, seem a natural progression.

On big shows Berrett is in charge of a team of up to nine electricians. For new productions he assists the lighting designer to come up with a workable plan. "Once they've given us the design it's up to me to transfer it to the different venues and reproduce the shows." This kind of work has its own dramas, particularly on tour when unfamiliar lighting boards don't always behave. Sometimes they decide to take the lights down in the middle of a scene; sometimes they pump lights randomly, turning "a nice classical piece into a bit of a disco".

But generally, he reckons, "It's a fairly calm life and with the kids [as he calls the dancers] being quite young you don't have that much trouble."

6.30pm There's a 25-minute optional warm-up class before the performance. Some of "the kids" are already made up, as time is tight. After the class they disperse to the dressing rooms to get into costume and full make-up. The curtain goes up at 8pm.

10pm The performance of Mr B is over. Susan Mayes, the ballet's full-time touring physiotherapist, breathes a sigh of relief. She hasn't been at the theatre tonight, but is always on call in case anything goes wrong. Now she can go to bed (though the mobile can go at any time, such as the 6am call from a panicked dancer who woke up on the day of an opening with a swollen knee).

The days of dancing until you drop are long gone - dancers often come to Mayes as soon as they notice cramping or stiffness so as to avoid anything more serious developing. Mayes works as a team with the company's full-time masseur, mostly on injury management and prevention.

One of her hardest tasks is deciding who is fit to dance what for each performance. Dancers are rarely pulled out completely, but Mayes can suggest modifications to their work. Another dancer might be enlisted to perform a small section that could aggravate the original dancer's injury. "Some days you're making a call about who needs a rest compared to others," Mayes says, "so we get through a whole season without losing anyone."

After 39 performances, Mr B is over. David McAllister has mixed feelings. "I'm sure the dancers were pleased to see the end of it, but you're also thinking, all that work and then it's gone." There's not much chance to get nostalgic, with another opening (Swan Lake) in a week's time. "You're pretty much straight into the next thing the next day."

Swan Lake runs until May 17.

The Company opens on Thursday.



More Film


More Music

TV & Radio

More TV & Radio


More Fashion


More Arts

Good Living

More Good Living


More Books


Get the freshest entertainment news by email.