The Tower season of From Here to There
* Auckland's Aotea Centre from March 17 to March 20
* Wellington from March 24 to March 27
The myth of dancers being drama kings and queens couldn’t be further from the truth.
They swear, they sweat; snot runs from their noses. They fall down. That's only for practice. But they practice a lot, putting their bodies through a good eight hours of punishing labour a day.
Then, they eat chocolates and service station pies. When the show is over, they like to
party. Most drink, some smoke.
They love each other; they fight each other.
Forget all that business about ballet dancers being precious artistes, windblown flowers of delicate persuasion. Those ethereal beings that belong to this too-too gorgeous troupe belie the myths that precede them.
Like any dedicated, elite sportsperson, Jaered Glavin trains hard, exercises to extremes and eats well. Like the rest of his team-mates, he regards his body as an instrument: one tuned to perfection so as to perform beyond physical expectation.
The 21-year-old Briton is a dancer with the Royal New Zealand Ballet.
Their show, From Here to There, has been touring the country and trucks up from Hamilton to Auckland on Wednesday, before travelling down to Wellington.
Glavin hosted an Oscars night in his motel bedroom this week.
It was the dancers' one night off in seven days and they ate and drank and made merry while watching the awards ceremony.
"We live normally. We don't not eat. We don't not have fun. People think we're square - but we're not."
Now, the show will go on - even after the curtain comes down.
That is because the 32 dancers have had a few extra travelling companions as they've trotted up and across both islands.
A small Eyeworks television production crew has been with them throughout: before, after and during performances, capturing life behind the curtain in a sort of travelling Big Brother. The NZ on Air-funded series is to screen on TV3.
Producer and director Natalie Malcon was a child ballerina - but her only connection since has been as an audience member. "Behind the scenes is quite different to sitting in the theatre," she warns.
Let us then scotch some of the bigger myths.
Malcon: "There's always an assumption that male ballet dancers are very effeminate. In reality, if you met them in the street, you'd think some of them were builders."
It's art in non-stop motion. They train hard out from 8am to 6pm. There are classes, rehearsals - and in between, pilates.
That's when they're not on the road. When on tour, there are rehearsals between performances, and sometimes they might perform twice in one day. For leisure, a lot prefer more physical pursuits (dancer Jacob Chown likes skateboarding and hip-hop).
It's a hard life and the pay is comparatively rotten (a dancer's wage ranges from $30,000 to $60,000). There's a short shelf life too - unless you are the perennial Sir Jon Trimmer, 70, who is not touring this time.
All that hard work means there's little time for too much mischief. The dancers are either too young or too tired for trouble.
There are inevitable comparisons between ballet dancers and members of other gruelling physical codes, such as rugby and league.
Certainly, the rugby players get much bigger pay packets and more star status. But, says Malcon: "I've worked with rugby players and league players before, and they [ballet dancers] are far less precious than them."
Maybe it's got something to do with their way of life. Their diaphanous, disciplined on-stage presence veils their true origins. Explains Ballet spokeswoman Robyn McLean: "Being an arts company [means] every dollar is important. If it's cheaper to go by bus than fly, they do - even if the bus trip takes five hours."
And so it goes on. It's DIY behind the scenes. Ballet dancers share motel rooms. They do their own make-up; do their own hair. Touring is not glamorous, says Malcon. "Can you imagine putting some elite rugby players in a crummy motel?"
The cameras enjoy full and free access. But some areas have, on occasion, been designated no-go. For dancer Lucy Balfour, it was the final dressing room prep that got her particularly twitchy. Balfour's talents have extended to the rugby field.
In her Christchurch hometown recently, she and some colleagues spent a training session with the Crusaders. "I taught Dan Carter a bit about stretching for his hips - because he's really tight there. Also for his kicking leg."
He told her: "My physio is going to love what you're saying."
Is all the world a stage when you have a camera crew on your tail?
Balfour: "It is in your face, and that does take some getting used to - especially if you are in a sensitive mood."
For Glavin - the self-described class clown of the troupe ("I was a hyperactive, naughty child") - it's been a process that he's both welcomed and enjoyed. "As dancers, we're used to going on stage and that's it. But with TV, it doesn't stop."
From Here to There features three different works, each by a different choreographer. It's something of a ballet sampler with a mix of traditional and contemporary.
The non-narrative work has, says Glavin, been one of the hardest programmes - it's more demanding on the dancers - and one of the easiest tours.
The company tours seven months a year. Good, then, that they do get along. Says Balfour: "We're just like a family. We're there for the good and the bad and the ugly. It's like a sixth sense."
