Student life at the renown Vaganova Ballet Academy

Under communism, ballet students were driven to achieve international fame for the glory of the state. In Putin’s Russia, nothing has changed. Alastair Gee investigates the post-Soviet machine.

 

 

August 10, 2008

From The Sunday Times

Photographs: Rachel Papo

 

 

 

 

Zhenya Ganeyev is marooned on a sofa bed in the corner of his St Petersburg living room. A narrow, sinewy 15-year-old, he has been forbidden by doctors to walk since early June. So the ballet student rests on an elbow tucked behind his head, a position that seems to verge on contortionism but is not uncomfortable for him, and occasionally curls his long feet into the en pointe position. His schoolteachers, who have a distinctive take on such issues, are pleased about his injury.

Ganeyev is enrolled at the Vaganova Ballet Academy in St Petersburg, perhaps the most famous ballet school in the world. He suffered a compressed spinal fracture while lifting a partner. But he was thought by instructors to be too short, and they hope the bed rest will give him a chance to grow. If he doesn’t, he may not have much of a future at the academy. No matter how talented, dancers of the wrong height, weight or shape are expelled. Standards have not slipped in the age of Putin – though many young Russians these days turn away from the classical tradition.

The US-born Israeli photographer Rachel Papo spent five weeks photographing students at Vaganova and at the Mariinsky Theatre, where pupils perform after school. Papo herself studied ballet between the ages of 5 and 14 in Haifa, although she left after realising that she was less able than some of her classmates. She saw similar frustrations at Vaganova. “I was heartbroken the whole time I was there,” she says. “When they graduate, only very few will make it.”

 

                     

                

 

But how has the Soviet-era ballet system fared in the gaudy, wealth-obsessed new Russia? Boris Akimov, a former artistic director at the Bolshoi Ballet in Moscow and now a senior coach there, suggests it can weather anything. “Whatever the historical event – perestroika, the Soviet collapse – ballet is never touched.” Vaganova isn’t stuck in the past, however, despite its adherence to a notoriously strict training technique developed by the ballet dancer Agrippina Vaganova after the 1917 revolution and copied worldwide. As Soviet habits decline and Russia becomes richer, the school’s character and demographics are changing.

Vaganova occupies a colonnaded yellow building in a picturesque part of town, surrounded by titanic neoclassical and neogothic structures that enclose delicate parks. The school has been here since 1836, and is undergoing a £15m restoration as city coffers benefit from Russia’s soaring oil and gas profits. Laminate has replaced battered wood floors, and the changing rooms are fitted with handsome lockers, while boarders, about half the student body, have a computer suite and sleep two to a room (at Russian universities, four or more may share).

Students enrol at the age of 10, after a multi-hour exam that tests their ballet technique, rhythm and health. Five years ago, there were about 100 applicants for each place. Today, there are about 20, and there’s a specially steep decline in the number of boys applying. A contributing factor is parents’ awareness of the unremarkable salaries earned by most dancers other than soloists. “I live in a dormitory,” sighs Anna Lavrinenko, 21, a gentle, slightly built Vaganova graduate and a mid-ranking Mariinsky dancer. “The wages are enough to live on, but not enough to buy somewhere of your own.”

The Vaganova style fuses elements of the Russian, French and Italian ballet schools, and the academy produces dancers who move their upper bodies particularly well. The teaching is codified and precise – rivals at the Bolshoi school in Moscow suggest that St Petersburg dancers are overly focused on technical details. A quirk of the system is that beginners write essays on steps they have learnt, describing which muscles are used and how their bodies should move. They also write analyses of their mistakes.

Classes for Vaganova’s 350 or so students begin at 9am and continue till 6pm – or till 11pm and later if students are performing at the Mariinsky. Younger students have two hours of classical dance per day and five to six hours of academic lessons; older students have four to six hours of classical dance and fewer academic lessons. Historical, modern and character dances are also fitted in. It’s a six-day week, and the day off, Sunday, may be taken up by rehearsals. “You sometimes feel like you’ll die of tiredness,” says Aleksei Popov, 18.

 

 

While some teachers are miserly with praise, cruel behaviour, like that of a notorious teacher who enjoyed telling students they were worthless, has all but vanished. Younger, mellower instructors have been employed (and even getting inside the tightly guarded building has become easier). Still, the atmosphere is hyper-competitive. Students battle for favour and roles at the Mariinsky. “I don’t have any real friends at the academy,” says Popov. “On stage, they’re rivals.”

And there’s an ever-present risk of expulsion. Dancers are weighed two to three times a year and before exams, and girls who don’t keep their weight below 50 kilograms are considered too heavy for boys to lift; they lose marks in exams and, if they don’t slim down, will have to leave. “Practically everyone in my class diets,” says Alexandra Somova, 16. “Most of all, they don’t eat sweets, then things made of wheat.” Cases of anorexia, however, are said to occur only once every few years.

A girl’s legs, meanwhile, should be at least half her height, a rule that inspires bizarre exercises, according to Elena Apakova, an English teacher at the school. “Sometimes they attach heavy things to their feet and hang from bars. Swimming with flippers helps. And they stretch most of the time. I allow students to sit stretching on the floor rather than at their desks.”

All this, together with near-unattainable standards, contributes to a high attrition rate. Of the 50 students who enrol in the first year, 40-80% might not graduate. This year, there were 30 graduates. In 2009, there will be only 12. Of all the boys Popov enrolled with in the first year, he is the only one left.

These photographs will be on show at the ClampArt Gallery, New York (www.clampart.com ), from February 12 to March 14, 2009; www.rachelpapo.com

 

 

Copyright 2008 Times Newspapers Ltd.

Boys Take A Crack At Ballet To Shine In Holiday Classic

By JAMIE PILARCZYK

South Tampa News & Tribune

Published: December 21, 2008

 

 

William Dugan, 12, jumps higher then those around him during a ballet practice at the Patel Conservatory Thursday. Tribune photo by Jay Nolan

TAMPA – The crushed velvet costume, the thrill of sweeping onto the stage and the opportunity to dazzle an audience eager to absorb some holiday spirit are just a few of the reasons dancers in this year’s “The Nutcracker” are eager for Tuesday’s performance.

 

For others – those boy dancers sprinkled among the sea of girls – it’s an opportunity to shine.

“I think it’s fun and it’s inspiring,” said William Dugan, 12, who will play Fritz in the 7:30 p.m. showing.

Performing allows him to express himself, he said. “I love dancing for people.”

Jonathan Clements, a fourth-grader at Roosevelt Elementary School who’s dancing the role of one of Fritz’s friends, is a little more nervous.

“It’s very difficult,” he said. “It’s difficult to remember where you are supposed to go, whether to the left of stage or right. It’s very confusing.” That said, he can’t wait for Tuesday’s show.

“This is helping me to achieve my goals,” said Jonathan, who wants to become a famous dancer.

The boys are a bit of an anomaly in ballet. Of the Orlando Ballet School’s 200 students at the Patel Conservatory only 10 are male.

“There’s a tremendous need for male dancers,” said Peter Stark, director of the school. “In America, there is a stigma that little girls take ballet and little boys take soccer. But for boys, it’s a fantastic profession.”

Scholarships and leading roles for qualified male dancers are plentiful, Stark said. To become a star, though, means starting at age 7 or 8 to develop the necessary flexibility and strength.

In August, Stark started an Introduction to Ballet for Boys course at the Patel Conservatory. He commutes from Orlando to teach the weekly class’s five students. His reputation for training leading male dancers has mothers driving their sons cross-county for the class. William has been coming from New Port Richey four times a week – once for class and three times for “Nutcracker” rehearsals.

From left Preston Barber, 10, and William Dugan ,12, hold position during a ballet practice at the Patel Conservatory Dec. 18. There are five boys in the group which is growing. Tribune photo by Jay Nolan

“All he does at home is dance around the house,” said his mother, Lori Dugan. “I’m trying to raise a well-rounded kid, and this teaches dedication, manners and responsibility. And he loves it.”

Stark keeps the boys’ attention with calisthenics, slyly slipping in an arabesque between the push-ups and sit-ups.

“It makes it more of a guy thing,” Stark said. “Male ballet dancing is very athletic, and they respond to it like a sport.

“To be one boy in a group of 20 girls in pink is miserable.”

 

 

©2008 Media General Communications Holdings, LLC

From soccer field to `Nutcracker’ stage

By Jennifer Rumple
Correspondent

December 18, 2008

 

 

A trio of teen boys from Alameda have hung up their soccer cleats for the season and slipped on ballet shoes for this year’s production of “The Nutcracker.”

The Alameda Civic Ballet has cast Colin Brady, 13 and Harrison Royster, 12, as toy soldiers in the traditional holiday performance. Cameron Beene, 13, snatched the starring role as the Nutcracker prince for the third year in a row.

“I go to school with Colin. He and Harrison are also on my soccer team. It’s really great having them around during rehearsals because I’m usually surrounded by all girls and they just want to huddle up and talk about girl things,” said Beene, an eighth-grader at Beacon Day School in Oakland. “I like to joke around and mess around with the guys. I’m excited we’re all doing this together.”

Since October, the three multi-talented teens would play on Alameda Soccer League’s Red Star team Saturday mornings. They then would take off their sports gear and replace it with soldiers’ uniforms for their afternoon “Nutcracker “role rehearsals. The double-duty ended in November, when their team snagged the league championship title.

“Both are physically demanding. Ballet and soccer are completely different things, but the instructors’ expectations are kind of the same,” said Brady, also in eighth grade at Beacon whose parents are former ballet dancers. “My soccer coach has us doing a lot of exercise drills up and down the field and my dance instructor tells me to lift my knees higher and have greater movement when I march.”

ACB Artistic Director Abra Rudisill has guided these boys, and the rest of the Nutcracker cast, the last four years at the Alameda Ballet Academy. She started the studio four years ago after 20 years as a professional ballerina. Rudisill acknowledged there is a stigma in the United States against men and ballet.

“But, not with these boys. I think they’re all pretty confident, secure boys and have grown up in an atmosphere of seeing male dancers, like their parents and at their schools,” said Rudisill, whose husband Gail Foster and 13-year-old son Walker also perform in this year’s production. “When you grow up with it, it’s no big deal. It’s just another thing they want to explore. I think it’s fantastic.

Royster plays a high ranking Toy Soldier in the ballet and is also the under-study for one of the adult characters in the opening party scene. The Oakland School for the Arts seventh grader said most of his friends are very educated, artsy and open-minded.

“No one really cares if a dancer is male or female. Besides, dance makes you a much better athlete,” added Royster, who’s taking part in this year’s ballet and dance classes thanks to a scholarship provided by Rudisill.

“I play basketball, soccer, baseball and swim. Dancing has helped my balance, makes me loose and agile. It allows me to jump higher and keep up with the ball in whatever sport I’m doing.”

“The strength and stamina you get with ballet and sports really do complement each other,” said Denise Brady, ACB costume designer and Colin’s mother. “It’s really wonderful to see these boys working as a team both on the field and on the stage. They also complement each other.”

 

Copyright © 2008 – San Jose Mercury News

Dance dreams: Teen’s love of ballet takes him from Buffalo to Buenos Aires

By GALIA BINDER

December 03, 2008

 

“In Argentina you’d see these big men at the bars talking about soccer, and then all of a sudden they’re having a conversation about ballet and I’m like ‘no way,’” recalls Alejandro Ocasio, a freshman at the Buffalo Academy for the Visual and Performing Arts. “In America, if you see men like that talking about ballet, most of the time, they’re making fun of it.”

more…

11-year-old takes on role of prince in ‘Peanutcracker’

By Jody Covington • Special to Carson Times 

December 5, 2008

 

Fresh from nearly landing on Broadway and being pitted against a world champion Irish dancer, 11-year-old Ryan Vettel readies to perform this holiday season as “the Nutcracker Prince” in “Peanutcracker — The Story in a Nut Shell.”

Vettel, a Carson City sixth grader at the private St. Teresa School, knows well the condensed story based on Peter Tchaikovsky’s original ballet “The Nutcracker.” He has performed in the Sierra Nevada Ballet’s productions for six years, honing the part of The Brat, Fritz from 2004 to 2006.

The role likely tested his acting chops because he is described as anything but a brat by those around him. Starting at the age of 3, Vettel’s parents, John and Jessie, discovered their son‘s talent for tap.

“He was tapping around the furniture before he could walk,” said mom, Jessie Vettel. His natural ability, passion, dedication and focus allowed him to expand his repertoire to include violin, singing, acting, musical theater and various dance genres such as modern, hip hop, jazz and lyrical, according to his parents and teachers. His experience would be impressive for someone three times his age.

Experience impressive

In 2007, he played The Poet Boy in Sierra Nevada Ballet Company’s “The Unicorn, the Gorgon and the Manticore.” He’s played violin on stage and landed roles in many productions by various companies including Western Nevada Musical Theater Company, Nevada Civic Light Opera and Proscenium Players Musical Theater Company.

He has won “Best In Age” categories and other awards for his tap solos at dance competitions including Jump!, Dance USA Regional Dance Competitions and Dance USA National Competition. He also danced the role of the Little Hunter in Sierra Nevada Ballet’s production of “Peter and the Wolf” this past summer.

Only recently, he was one of 15 boys who received a call back from a national pool of about 1,500 to compete for a role in the Broadway play, “Billy Elliot, The Musical.” The part likely went to boys about three years older than Ryan, his parents said.

Vettel spends at least nine hours a week practicing and preparing in classes at Western Nevada Performing Arts Center in south Carson City. The amount of time increases depending on dance competitions, plays and performances. Extremely busy now, he spends about 20 hours a week.

“He likes a challenge,” said Rosine Bena, Vettel’s long-time teacher and artistic director for Sierra Nevada Ballet.

Exceptional focus

What accounts for Vettel‘s success: He is exceptionally focused for someone his age, Bena said.

Gina Davis, owner and director of Western Nevada Performing Arts Center, said Vettel is the most advanced tap student even at his young age that she has ever seen. Nationally, she said, he is right up there with the top.

But that’s not all.

“He’s a nice kid, a good actor. He has a beautiful voice. If people didn‘t know about (his acting and dance), they would think he was just another normal kid. He is a good-hearted child,” said Davis, who wouldn’t be surprised to see Vettel become her fourth student to make it to Broadway some day.

On his resume, his skills are listed as, “unusually skilled tap and ballet dancer (in advanced classes), great ear for music, excellent at memorization, superb reading skills, highly focused, understands character well, quickly masters accents, excellent voice.”

Then there’s the fact that he is an A student and extremely complimentary of his fellow dancers and cast members. Yes, he says, his passion is dance, but he also likes the camaraderie and putting a smile on audience members’ faces.

Camaraderie is key

“I’ve met a lot of friends there (at WNPAC) and they keep me company when I’m down or something,” said Vettel, speaking of the other dancers his age who are mostly girls. “We talk a lot and when there is absolutely nothing to do, we find something to do.”

Davis said the advanced class Vettel attends is by far the most talented group of students she has worked with in her career. Each, she says, helps advance the others. “None of them want to be left behind,” Davis said of the students.

Pushed for anything negative, Vettel could only say that sometimes the technical part of dance and balancing school work with the many hours at the studio can be a challenge.

But when it comes down to it, he said, “There’s nothing that I don’t like.” Even being teased as “ballerina boy,” doesn’t dampen his spirits. Not too long ago, a group of boys picked on Vettel until they watched him perform in the school’s talent show. Afterwards, they apologized for being mean, he said.

Vettel said perseverance is the key and “the core of what you do.” “You can’t let anyone bring you down,” said the 85-pound, 4-feet-11-inch boy.

 

Copyright ©2008 Reno Gazette-Journal

Her Job Is Herding Mice in Toeshoes

By CLAUDIA LA ROCCO

Published: November 27, 2008

 

Garielle Whittle, the City Ballet’s children’s ballet mistress, with Lance Chantiles-Wertz.

EARLIER this month, Maria Gorokhov and Callie Reiff paused during a busy rehearsal day to explain their stage strategies.

Do learn ballerinas’ names, so you can send notes requesting used toe shoes. Don’t touch the soldiers: some of them get angry and make frightening faces. And do, certainly, have a plan should you get nervous: last year, Ms. Reiff said, she followed her mother’s advice and pictured “my mom and my brother in underwear.”

Ms. Gorokhov, 10, will dance in the New York State Theater Friday when the New York City Ballet opens its annual “Nutcracker” run. She is the first-cast Marie, the ballet’s young heroine (she performed the role last year), and will alternate with Ms. Reiff, who is 9.

Chantiles-Wertz, 11; Callie Reiff, 9; Joshua Shutkind, 12 and Maria Gorokhov,10

The girls have much to remember. But they needn’t fear forgetting the steps George choreographed in 1954. For two months they have rehearsed meticulously with Garielle Whittle, their teacher at the School of American Ballet and the City Ballet’s children’s ballet mistress. A City Ballet dancer from 1969 to 1983, she became ballet mistress in 1983, the year Balanchine died. For 25 years she has been the guardian, down to the tiniest detail, of his marvelous choreography for children.

Paramount among her responsibilities is “The Nutcracker”: One hundred and five children. Seventy-one roles. Twelve angels. Sixteen soldiers. Eight mice. Eight candy canes. Party scene boys and girls (six of each, plus two teenagers). Eight Polichinelles. One bunny. Hundreds of rehearsal hours. Forty-six performances. And only one Ms. Whittle. It begins with the all-important casting session.

SATURDAY, SEPT. 27 “No talking!” Striding into the studio, one of her ever-present bottles of diet soda in hand, Ms. Whittle greeted the hopefuls with a sharp command: “If you’re talking, I won’t use you.”

Silence. The children executed short phrases as she took notes and checked heights. The girls angling to be Marie were easy to spot: all wore their carefully curled hair down. Marie or mouse, the pay is the same: $10 a performance.

Marie Gorokhov and one of last year’s princes, Joshua Shutkind, 12, knew they would reprise their roles. Callie Reiff and her prince, Lance Chantiles-Wertz, 11, were cast on the spot. Callie’s eyes crinkled in shocked delight, yet her face remained composed; there is no stoicism like that of young dancers up for a part, and the children were careful not to rejoice if chosen, or sulk if passed over.

Ms. Whittle makes her final decision.

They saved their reactions for the lounge, which is the farthest their sometimes inappropriately zealous parents are allowed. Squeals, “oh my gods!” and bear hugs greeted them. Save for a few candy cane hopefuls who were deemed too tall, only a handful of auditioners this year were not given a part. That “makes things much easier,” Ms. Whittle said. “You don’t have as many broken hearts.”

SUNDAY, OCT. 5 One Balanchine saying Ms. Whittle often repeats is “Ballet is about behavior.” These early party scene rehearsals were the first time many of these children, some as young as 7, were dancing with members of the opposite sex. As they digested a stream of minute corrections, they were learning more than how to hold their hands the City Ballet way (like the petals of a flower opening, Ms. Whittle told them). They were also learning how to learn, how to respect the past, how to treat a partner.
 
Ms. Whittle was strict but never mean, deft at maintaining the line between raising her voice and yelling. Jennie Somogyi, a City Ballet principal who played Marie as a child, laughingly described her former teacher as being like a friend, only “you were still afraid of her.”

SATURDAY, NOV. 1 When City Ballet’s ballet master in chief, Peter Martins, first saw Balanchine’s “Nutcracker” in 1967, he said, he was astounded at the complexity — choreographic and emotional — of the children’s roles.

“The angels break my heart every time, especially when I stand in the wings,” he said. “It’s like little autobiographies are sailing right past me. One is a big smile, one is almost crying and sad, one is sort of non-engaged.”

He emphasized that audiences must see real children, not miniature dancers. Lance, with his golden curls and only two years of ballet training, fits the bill. At this solo rehearsal, while he awaited Ms. Whittle’s return from a much-needed break, he repeatedly practiced his crucial mime scene, studiously consulting Ms. Whittle’s notes (written in a “Little Prince” journal, naturally).

Initially overwhelmed by the role, he was practicing at home, even exercising with his father to strengthen key muscles. Lance is far more delicate and vulnerable than Joshua, a strong performer who is princely indeed — and also something of a ham. Once last year he blew air kisses to the audience. A letter of apology, Ms. Whittle said, was promptly sent to Mr. Martins.

THURSDAY, NOV. 20 Eight days to go. Ms. Whittle recently confided in friends that she despaired of things coming together this year — only to be reminded that she despaired every year.

In this last full week she had scheduled marathon sessions. Now it was late afternoon, her nerves were frayed and the second party scene cast was fidgeting, giggling and otherwise acting altogether too much like 7-year-olds.

Ms. Whittle, playing Herr Drosselmeier, was teaching the children “tickling”: waggling their outstretched fingers as they surrounded her in a tight scrum. It seemed she would momentarily be devoured by angelic-looking little hellions: an apt metaphor, really.

She called a five-minute break, smacking her forehead and rolling her eyes as they scampered out.

“I usually have them so over-rehearsed that they’re perfect,” she said, leaning against the piano, diet soda in hand. “This year I don’t know what’s going to happen. I’m going to talk to Peter and just say, ‘Listen, I’ve got some very young kids.’ ”

TUESDAY, NOV. 25 “Nutcracker” performances can get monotonous for City Ballet dancers. The children’s excitement “gives you a boost of energy,” said the corps dancer Ralph Ippolito.

Watching the first joint company and children’s rehearsal, the battle scene between soldiers and mice, his words resonated. On one side of the studio, petrified youngsters; on the other, professional male dancers, lounging nonchalantly— and clearly tickled by their diminutive foes.

In the middle, the ballet mistresses Rosemary Dunleavy and Ms. Whittle sought to impose order. The chaotic scene demands finely calibrated performances (the corps member Matthew Renko sported a bloodied forehead, courtesy of a child’s errant sword). But its playfulness is irresistible, particularly the moment when each mouse picks up two soldiers and carts them, legs kicking, offstage.

Giggling and blushing abounded. But this year’s bunny, Ever Croffoot-Suede, was daunted by her task of pulling the tail of the Mouse King (a swaggering Henry Seth, brandishing a large, scary sword). She dissolved into a brief crying jag. The adults quickly surrounded her in a comforting circle.

“It’s my first ‘Nutcracker,’ ” she whispered. “And I’m very nervous.”

WEDNESDAY, NOV. 26 When Ms. Whittle was offered the post of children’s ballet mistress, her first response was an incredulous refusal. In her years dancing “The Nutcracker” she, like many colleagues, had been too focused on her own performances even to notice the little beings rushing about underfoot. Now she is keyed into these youngsters’ lives — and to a particular swath of Balanchine’s choreography — in a singular way.

At the dress rehearsal, the children’s first onstage, her eyes rarely strayed from her charges, who were bearing up impressively well in the pressured situation: parents in the audience, Mr. Martins towering over them, the adult dancers they dream of becoming swirling about them. Not to mention props, costumes, light cues and that giant tree.

This was but a taste of what it would be like the next night they appeared onstage. And Ms. Whittle wouldn’t be there. But she would be close; in the wings, most likely, calling out counts — and making sure each step was done just as its choreographer intended it should be.

 

Copyright 2008 The New York Times Company

Boys jump at dance

It’s not just girls learning their moves for the ‘Nutcracker’

By Shelby Martin

The Register-Guard

Nov 29, 2008

 

 

The “Nutcracker” ballet may be a holiday tradition, but one thing is different at the Oregon Ballet Academy’s production this year.

“There are 20 boys doing the Russian Trepak this year,” said 12-year-old dancer Simon Longnight. “There’s never been more than three before.”

Classes at Oregon Ballet Academy are coed, but tend to be dominated by female dancers.

“We always have just a handful of boys,” said John Grensback, the program’s director. To draw more young male dancers, Grensback sought funding from the Oregon Ballet Foundation and the Lane Arts Council and set up a tuition-free Wednesday class for male dancers only.

The class attracted two dozen dancers ages 9 to 22 with all levels of experience.

“It was a mixed bag of shells,” Grensback said.

As boys improve, they can start taking more advanced ballet classes, but many opt to stay in the all-boys’ lessons as well.

Thirteen-year-old Mayim Stiller has been taking ballet for three years, and he said the all-boys’ class is different from his other lessons. “It’s like working out at the gym,” he said. “We get to do a lot of big jumps.”

The boys also practice lifting, catching and carrying a partner — important for dances such as the expressive “Nutcracker” pas de deux.

“In ballet, we say the men are there to make the women look pretty,” said Ellis Hoffmeister, 18.

To pull off that goal, the boys’ practice includes push-ups and pulls-ups. “We have to be strong to lift the girls,” Stiller said.

Longnight said he does extra push-ups during TV commercials at home.

“Ballet is harder than any other sport,” he said. “You have to withstand pain in your feet without showing it on your face.”

Grensback also spoke to the dedication required to be a successful dancer. “It’s a real strength,” he said. “It opens doors.”

Stiller said he sometimes gets teased for taking ballet, but he had some advice for other boys interested in dance. “You should try it, and not get discouraged by people who say it’s stupid and dumb,” he said. “It’s really fun.”

For more information, go to www.oregonballetacademy.com

 

Copyright © 2008 — The Register-Guard, Eugene, Oregon, USA

 

Leaping onto Broadway

Trent Kowalik of Wantagh bounds into New York, where he puts his best feet forward as the star of ‘Billy Elliot’

BY ROBERT KAHN

November 9, 2008

 

About six months ago, Trent Kowalik came within seconds of a perfect 300 in Wii bowling, until nerves scuttled his chances in the 10th frame. On Sunday afternoons, he likes to go out on his cousin’s boat, motoring into the Great South Bay. And like any teenage boy, he gets a little impish when talk turns to his sisters.

“The less you see them, the more you appreciate them,” he says. It never registers with him that this might be construed as funny.

At 13, Trent could pass for any freckle-faced, basketball-obsessed teenager from
Wantagh. But suppositions about “average” tumble out the window once you witness his acrobatics. The kid bounds around the stage like a Cirque du Soleil gymnast whose DNA has somehow been spun with an ABT soloist.

Evenings this autumn, as his peers are getting their homework checked over, Trent will embark on 2 1/2 hours of tapping across (and levitating above) the Imperial Theatre stage, where he’s one of three boys alternating the lead of “Billy Elliot,” the Broadway musical based on the spirited 2000 movie. It opens Thursday.

Of the three “Billys,” only Trent has played the role before, in London’s West End, where he spent the first half of 2008 perfecting his “Geordie” dialect, a reference to the people of Newcastle-upon-Tyne, England, where most of the action transpires. The triple-casting is required, producers say, because of the sheer stamina the role requires (not to say a thing about child-labor practices).

“Billy Elliot: The Musical,” like its cinematic counterpart, is set in 1984, as the British National Union of Mineworkers has gone on strike to protest threatened closures by Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher (who appears in “Billy” as a giant villainess puppet). The strike lasted a year, until the union was broken.

Within this dark setting comes the fictional story of an 11-year-old boy coping with his mother’s recent death. Billy stumbles into a ballet class while on his way to a boxing lesson and realizes that his future may lay on a different path. But the pursuit invites scorn from his blue-collar family and insinuations from classmates that he’s a “poof.”

“Billy just wanted to dance. He didn’t care that other boys didn’t do it,” Trent says during a recent rehearsal break, noting one of the few similarities he sees between Billy’s circumstances and his own. He is sitting in the upper mezzanine of the Imperial, talking between forkfuls of rigatoni from a plastic bowl.

“When I was young, I didn’t realize that other boys didn’t dance,” Trent continues. “When I got older, I realized it – but that didn’t stop me from doing it. A lot of parents might not want their sons being dancers. My parents were all for it.”

Michael and Lauretta Kowalik had already shepherded their three older girls through Irish dancing classes, and Trent had shown an interest in the form early on. A family story circulates about him “borrowing” sister Daria’s tap shoes, finding cutting boards in the kitchen and mimicking her moves in front of a VHS tape of “Riverdance.”

At 3, though, the boy would have to wait another year until he was allowed to enroll in the hell-unleashed, foot-stomping lessons he was eager to try.

It was around this time that Michael Kowalik saw an ad in the Wantagh-Seaford Citizen with an offer of free training for boys at a Bellmore dance school. There were no age restrictions at Dorothy’s School of Dance, so Michael, a surveyor, and Lauretta, a church organist, took their son to meet the owner.

In Trent’s life, Dorothy Medico is something of a parallel to Mrs. Wilkinson, the colorful dance instructor who first points Billy toward a barre. While Mrs. Wilkinson chain-smokes in front of her tutu-clad charges, Medico, who has operated Dorothy’s for 31 years, gets an occasional nicotine fix “in hiding” outside her Merrick Road studios.

“The children,” she notes, “are impressionable.”

Medico’s first impressions of young Trent were that he was “a real spitfire.” At Dorothy’s, Trent started off in ballet and tap, and then, as he got older (say, 5) moved on to jazz, hip-hop and acrobatic tumbling. At almost the same time, he began “doing Irish” – a vernacular employed by those in-the-know – at the Inishfree School of Irish Dance, which held classes in Massapequa, Port Jefferson and elsewhere.

 

Stepping into dance styles

Tap and Irish are both hard-shoe dances, but tap requires a loose upper body. In step-dancing, the upper body is held stiff as a board. Throughout his childhood, Trent simultaneously studied both forms, a junior Fred Astaire one day, a miniature Michael Flatley the next.

“Thank God, he was able to find the difference between the two,” Medico says.

In April 2006, Trent, then 11, became the youngest American to win the World Irish Dancing Championship, in Belfast. It was just about six months earlier that the Kowaliks had first heard from an Irish dancing teacher that a search was on to cast actors for a proposed American version of “Billy Elliot.”

Trent had seen the film sometime after its arrival at Blockbuster, but long before composer Elton John, lyricist Lee Hall and the movie’s director Stephen Daldry ever dreamed up the stage show that debuted in London in March 2005 and has since been seen by 2.4 million fans in England and Australia.

He attended an open call for auditions in November 2005. There was no word for a year; then, a second tryout, where he was introduced to one of the boys leading the London cast.

As Trent and his family waited for more news about “Billy Elliot,” they had a dilemma. Trent was offered a part in the revival of “Gypsy” that was coming to City Center and later would storm Broadway. But that bird in the hand, if accepted, would conflict with the schedule of final auditions for “Billy Elliot” in June 2007 … auditions Trent had not yet been invited to attend.

This spring, when Trent was officially introduced as Billy at a New York launch event, Lauretta Kowalik recalled the conversation she had with her son that day. She told him, “You’re going to have a decision to make. I’m not Mama Rose. What do you want to do? “He said, ‘Mom, I think I’d make them a really good Billy Elliot.’ So I said, ‘Bye-bye, nine grand.’

Trent, of course, was invited to the third audition, an eight-day intensive for 12 prospective “Billys.” And a month later, he was offered the part. That itself wasn’t much of a surprise to the Kowaliks. What was stunning was that producers wanted Trent to first take the stage in London. The move meant leaving seventh-grade at Wantagh Middle School.

Trent was with the London cast from fall 2007 until this summer, when he moved into a midtown apartment to prepare for the Broadway opening; he’s watched over by a rotating member of the family. Sunday visits home, now, mean time with his sisters (Carine and Siobhan round out the trio) or a rousing game of “Super Smash Bros. Brawl” on that Wii.

Casual athletics, such as basketball, are looked upon dubiously because an injury could endanger his ability to appear onstage.

Agewise, Trent is a few months younger than his preternaturally poised counterparts, Kiril Kulish (from San Diego) and David Alvarez (New York City, by way of Montreal), both of whom are international ballet champions. The difference in their respective skills has been worked into the choreography, with one strength emphasized over another, depending on which teen is performing.

Sometimes, not even the boys know who will go on until a few hours before showtime, with matters of mere exhaustion factoring into play. Protocol requires that they do not watch each other’s performances, except to catch glimpses from a monitor in their dressing rooms.

 

Over-the-hill ‘Billy’

Billy Elliot has to battle mockery on his journey to the Royal School of Ballet, but for Trent and his co-stars, a different obstacle looms: puberty. Peter Pan had the luxury of not growing up, but these guys have a shelf-life. In London, some Billys have lasted six months; others have gone on for two years. It depends on how bodies and voices mature.

Different vocal arrangements are readied to accommodate the predictable need for a key change. Each Billy (globally, there have been nearly 30) is contracted for a half-year, and casting associates are staying in contact with dance schools around the country, hopeful they can keep candidates in the Broadway pipeline. Trent, who would like to continue acting post-”Billy,” says he tries not to think about it.

“I think I have more stamina now than when I was in London. I think my voice has stayed pretty much the same. I’m a bit taller,” he says.

He’s 4-foot-11.

“Growing up is going to happen,” he says.

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