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Early next morning you’re back in the theatre. Your theatre…
Your dressing-room feels familiar, there’s time for tea or coffee, and small-talk. Be in the studio early, and warm up. For some people it’s their private ritual (be sensitive, check out the situation) — for others, it’s sociable, chatting with friends until class starts.
Talking in class, however, is a definite no-no. If someone’s talking, smile politely and move somewhere else. Class matters to everyone; you, the Company, and the audience.
“Treat each class as if it were your first“. — Suzanne Farrell
In class, listen, and apply the corrections even if they’re unfamiliar. With luck and application, you’ll improve. Otherwise your technique can deteriorate fast. Dancers who can’t deal with Company class don’t last long. If necessary, maintain your technique some other way, even do your own training. (You’ll probably still have to come to class…).
“I do not try to dance better than anyone else. I only try to dance better than myself” — Mikhail Baryshnikov
In rehearsal, check the other people. Learn their steps, patterns and counts. In terms of money saved and performances rescued, every company’s most valuable dancer is the one who can jump in (sometimes without rehearsal) when someone’s off. Be that person. You’ll get lots to dance, and your career will flourish. (Be discreet, though. If you want to study principal rôles, learn them off the internet, and rehearse them in private.)
Just now, there’s pressure to get onstage. The box-office needs income, the audiences are impatient after holidays. Probably you’ll perform not only ballet, but also operas and operettas; these may be your first productions. Opera and operetta are not exclusively about dancers, so be efficient. There’ll be limited time; performances must be ready almost immediately. You’ll need to concentrate, take responsibility for yourself. Find where the stage is, how to get onto and off it, where are the crossovers, how far away is your dressing-room, the studio, the canteen? Where are the toilets? Make-up, the quick-change rooms, prop tables, the prompt corner? How many wings? How are the sightlines? Where’s the first-aid kit? The fire-extinguishers? The fire-exits? Is the stage raked, or covered with water, imitation grass, gravel, slippery body make-up, paper streamers, artificial snow, broken glass, props, costume? What is the floor-covering? Do sightlines or access change during performance? Are there light-stands offstage, people, furniture? Are there unsafe areas? Does scenery fly in or out? Where can you stay safely out of the way?
Keep warm, or warm up again properly between entrances. Maybe your dances are scattered throughout the show. It could be a long performance, even if you’re not dancing much at all. That doesn’t make it less important. Last year you would have loved to do this production. Devalue it now, and you devalue yourself. Everything you do is important, so do it well. You wanted to dance, remember?
“You dance love, and you dance joy, and you dance dreams. And I know if I can make you smile by jumping over a couple of couches or running through a rainstorm, then I’ll be very glad to be a song and dance man“. — Gene Kelly
Always be quiet near the stage and auditorium, — something important is usually happening there. To watch rehearsal, enter and leave the auditorium from the rear and stay there, so you don’t distract anyone.
You’ll probably be called for your rehearsal over the public address system (“tannoy”). Stop everything and listen. If it’s for you, react, and get ready immediately. Go to the stage, and if you’re not sure what’s happening, check with the stage-manager. This is the person with legal and technical responsibility for everything onstage, and you are obliged to obey his or her instructions.
Rehearsals may not run in performance sequence. Some scenes might be skipped or repeated. You might start with the Finale and work back to the Prologue, so the opening set can be standing ready for tomorrow. Check, and be ready, with the right footgear, props or hats.
Your practice bag belongs out of the way. It’s dark backstage, with people moving fast. Think what might go wrong – don’t cause an accident. Never block the sidelights – your shadow is visible from the auditorium. Be very careful onstage. You’ll probably be dazzled by the lighting when running into the wings — don’t jam your foot into a stand or stage weight. It might be your very last exit…
Final rehearsals with orchestra may sound different from what you expect. A full orchestra is loud, wonderful, and exciting, but possibly also confusing; what you now hear may be unfamiliar, possibly not ideal. If so, talk to the choreographer or ballet-master. Never complain directly to the conductor; he or she is already under stress in front of the orchestra. Conductors and musicians are experienced artists; respect them. Some conductors try hard to make sure you’re alright, and these are wonderful occasions. In one of my stage calls for “Aida”, in Verona, Placido Domingo stopped the orchestra after the Triumph to ask if I was happy with his tempi. (I told him I was; he looked pleased, and rehearsal continued).
Some conductors attend studio rehearsals — this is great, and gives you an ally in the pit. Individual dancers have varying requirements – one may have huge jumps and multiple turns, another may have lightning-quick batterie, both need tempi that facilitate their performances. Communication and mutual respect are essential.
Musicians’ contracts are negotiated through their union, possibly stipulating different conditions from dancers, singers or technicians. This affects their working hours. Beginning and ending rehearsals punctually is crucial. If scenes require repetition, later sequences might not get rehearsed because the musicians may have finished. It’s better to talk through corrections afterwards, separately, with the conductor, a pianist and the ballet-master.
“Dance is communication, and the great challenge is to speak clearly, beautifully and with inevitability.” — Martha Graham
Final rehearsal(s) are possibly in costume, with high heels, wigs, masks, gloves, hats, or spectacles. These are often interesting experiences. Lifts in costume are different from the same lifts in practice gear. Also, how quickly can you get changed? Quick changes need rehearsal. Shoes get priority — get them on and secured, immediately. You can go onstage partly unbuttoned, but you can’t dance without shoes.
Always check your costumes. If something’s wrong, tell Wardrobe immediately. This includes quick changes, probably pre-set somewhere (a temporary dressing-room or corridor near the stage). There may be many similar costumes, so Wardrobe will mark them by name — check that you’re not putting on someone else’s outfit.
Afterwards, take it off, make sure it’s not damaged (if it is, tell the dressers at once), hang it up properly. Sweaty tights, leotards, tops and socks get collected for laundry; someone will be round for these soon after rehearsal. Costumes must be washed, dried, repaired, possibly re-dyed and ironed, all long, slow jobs, so get out of yours promptly, don’t go to the canteen still wearing it.
In general, don’t eat, drink or sit in costume – you might damage it. It’s expensive to make and maintain; you don’t want to have to pay to replace it. Props, too, cost money to produce, repair or replace at short notice. Treat them carefully, and put them back when you’ve finished. If one gets damaged, tell Props or the stage-manager without delay. When you talk to the stage manager, wait until it’s safe, not in the middle of a rapid-fire sequence of cues. Stage-managers don’t like to be distracted; don’t bother them unnecessarily. If you must talk backstage, do it quietly. Unless it’s urgent, don’t talk at all. Noises backstage carry into the auditorium and may ruin the show.
Finally, it arrives, the day of your first professional performance, dancing for a paying audience — the buzz is tremendous. Today, rehearsals will be shorter, everyone concentrating on the show. Do class – that’s essential. Afterwards there may be corrections, then you’ve got the day off. Don’t go shopping, sightseeing or pub-crawling, get yourself ready to dance exceptionally, brilliantly well. Have a sensible lunch, maybe a nap. Plan enough time to wake up properly and get your body running efficiently. Be in the theatre early.
You know your steps, music, costumes and entrances, you’ve checked everything twice. Think about curtain-calls. Sometimes they aren’t set until the general rehearsal. With revivals, that’s not a problem. For you, though it’s the first time. As soon as the calls are set, write down where you stand, where you enter, who’s in front of you, who’s behind, who’s beside you. Do you hold hands, which leg, how many steps forward and back (staying, please, in line, even if heaps of flowers suddenly arrive), when, how and where do you exit? Watch the stage-manager; he or she will be signalling the moves to everyone onstage.
Because of all the magical things that happen there, a stage is a hallowed and wonderful place, deserving respect. You might go down there to run over the choreography in your mind. Then get made up, hair sorted, costumes and props checked – leave nothing to chance.
“People come to see beauty, and I dance to give it to them.” — Judith Jamison
An hour before showtime, do a warm-up class. The stage-manager will call the “half” thirty-five minutes before curtain. The “quarter” comes fifteen minutes later; time to make your way to the stage.
“There is a bit of insanity in dancing that does everybody a great deal of good“. — Edward Denby
You’ll find people milling about in work-light, practicing steps, or jumping about. Singers are trying out music sotto voce, or covering one ear, to make sudden pronouncements like “MMMMYAHHH!”. The director, choreographer, ballet-masters and conductor are talking to the principals. There’s a buzz of voices: the audience finding their seats, scrutinising programmes, talking excitedly, and a wonderful cacophony as all the musicians warm up at once. Then the work-lights go out, the preset lighting comes on, and everyone realises – this is IT. The orchestral chaos settles into one long, single note from the oboe. Then even that ceases, and for a breathless moment, silence reigns. The houselights dim, plunging the auditorium into darkness.
There’s applause as the conductor enters the pit and mounts the podium. He bows to the audience, turns back towards the orchestra, lifts the baton and steadies the players. A quick inward breath, and the show has started. This is what you’ve wanted, all your life. This is you, the professional dancer.
Your training kicks in. Peripheral vision keeps you in line, reacting to tempo and spacing. Everything’s sharp-etched, crystal-clear. You have eyes in the back of your head. You’re dancing hard and well, in character all the time, excited, delighted, relieved, thrilled, holding your concentration. Backstage, you’re quiet, watchful, concentrated — onstage, you give it all you’ve got, all night. You’ve always known this anyway; dancing is the most wonderful job there is, completely enthralling, utterly joyful. Yes, it’s difficult, exhausting, poorly paid, often painful, and incredibly demanding. But every time you go onstage, you know you wouldn’t change it for the world. It’s your life. Enjoy it!
“Anne came dancing home in the purple winter twilight across the snowy places“. — L. M. Montgomery
© Jeremy Leslie-Spinks
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