Article by:
Kevin O'Hare
Wayne McGregor is now one of the most familiar figures in dance. He is one of today’s most exciting choreographers and an unmistakable presence, with his distinctive physique and boundless, dynamic enthusiasm. But I first met him when he was beginning to make his way as a dancer and choreographer and when I too was a dancer with Birmingham Royal Ballet (BRB).
In 1997, I’d been asked to organise a gala for a local education charity and someone mentioned this interesting performer called Wayne McGregor. He knew one of the BRB dancers, Catherine Batcheller, so I invited him to come to dance with her. Somewhere I’ve got a videotape of it – that’s how long ago it was – and I remember being blown away by this man and the way he moved. It defied expectations but made you want to lean in to know more about it.
I lost track of him while he was making his first works with Random Dance, and I wasn’t at the Royal Ballet when he choreographed Qualia, his first work for the main stage of the Royal Opera House. But in 2006, when I was company manager, I happened to be in the theatre on a Saturday and I popped into the first stage call of Chroma to see what it was like. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing; it was the freshest thing as if you were seeing dance for the first time.
All through the week before the premiere, every time Chroma was on set, I would rush down and watch it. It was so thrilling and so beautiful. The simple lines of John Pawson’s design against the bodies and the complex movement created a clear vision that was entirely Wayne’s – and entirely thought-through.
I felt then – and I feel now – that when Wayne puts a ballet on stage, what you see in the end is what he imagined at the beginning. He is always thinking deeply about what he wants to do with a particular piece to make it work. Immediately after Chroma, the then director Monica Mason appointed Wayne as resident choreographer of the Royal Ballet, the first since the early 1990s. Some people were shocked that such a role would go to an outsider, someone who had not come up through the company itself. I was very excited by the idea, along with the rest of the company, and felt that it was taking the Royal Ballet in the right direction. It was important to have a contemporary choreographer like him on the inside, working with the dancers and pushing them onwards. And the dancers themselves were ready for that sort of challenge. There was quite a whoop around the house when the notice announcing his appointment went out; t was a surprise but they absolutely welcomed it.
What Wayne brings to the Royal Ballet are intellect and intelligence. In the studio, he has a way of making the dancers part of the creation. His work isn’t improvised, it’s clearly directed, but he says, “here is the material, now let’s work out how this step can follow that step”. He stands back from it a little and asks the dancers to collaborate with him. Some people find it hard, obviously, but others eat it up and can’t wait to get their brains and their bodies around the work. His choreography engages everything.
He has a wonderful way in the rehearsal room. At the beginning, he talks to each person and gets them in the right frame of mind. He doesn’t wander in. He engages with everybody and makes them feel a part of what he is about to do. When you’re new to working with him, it must be tough because his brain is moving so fast and his eyes are everywhere. You have to be totally committed. There is no time out in his rehearsals. It’s fun but it’s absolutely full-on; an hour with him is like two with other people.
Some people have criticised him for making such extreme, extended movement, and putting great demands on the dancers, but I remember when I was in the Upper School a lot of people would say the same thing of MacMillan, arguing that his pas de deux were too acrobatic. That wasn’t ballet according to the people who were used to seeing Ashton and Cranko at the time and Wayne’s work is, in the same way, just the next, obvious step.
Over the 10 years, he has given us so much, but I think we have also given him something. With the Royal Ballet, he has been able to develop and grow, moving from the purely abstract, to finding his own way of communicating emotion and telling stories. He needed to find a way of engaging in a story that was the right way for him and linear narrative wasn’t going to be it. Last year, I went to watch the final rehearsal for Woolf Works from the amphitheatre and Wayne came up to join me. As the two of us sat watching I thought, we’ve got something here. He had created something that was moving, special and awe-inspiring, but it also felt as if those 10 years had come to fruition in that one work. I can’t wait to see it again when it comes back this season.
He’s been a great inspiration to the aspiring choreographers in the company too. Although it wasn’t a formal part of the role, he felt that being resident choreographer wasn’t just about doing pieces for the company. He’s really made it his mission to encourage people, challenging them to do their best. They don’t have to be like him; it’s not about that. But he has really tried to help the process along and I think that will be part of his legacy.
He’s a generous man, also an ambitious one, and I love his can-do attitude. He runs into my office all the time, full of ideas, full of questions. When he is creating, I’ll try to get up to the studio at the end of the day or he’ll come down and we’ll chat about what’s going on. Wayne is a man of the Royal Ballet. He came from outside but I believe his place is firmly here. He gives so much and helps us to not stand still. He is always finding ways to make us keep moving. In the right way. He’s a good guy. What more can I say?
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