More is not more!

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Superstar dancer Steven McRae believes dance training needs a big shake-up. He talks to Susan Bendall on the eve of a documentary about his recovery from a major injury.

Dance films, dance series, dance docos. These are all addictive nectar to any hungry dance fan. We can't get enough of stories, real or imagined, about our beloved passion. The journeys of dancers, their triumphs and especially their near career-ending moments are compelling. And we all long for the happy ending where the hero or heroine triumphs over adversity to return to the stage, even more glorious than ever. We want our ballet stories to follow the formula of a ballet libretto – Act 1: happy and carefree with a dark shadow appearing at the end. Act 2: turmoil and drama. Act 3: A triumph and resolution. But, sometimes it is heart-aching defeat.

Royal Ballet Principal Dancer and ballet royalty, Steven McRae, is living out his own story; of triumph, extraordinary talent and attack, a dazzling career, a beautiful family and a series of injuries that have stalled, though not ended, his career. Most importantly, McRae wants control over the trajectory of his story.

With a film, A Resilient Man, about to be released documenting his recovery from a snapped Achilles tendon, I spoke to McRae about the film, injury and recovery. It was a wide-ranging discussion about life and what he wants to pass on to the next generation of dancers.

Rehab.
McRae (foreground) receiving treatment.

McRae and film director Stephane Carrel had talked about working together but had not firmed up a project until a career-changing incident in 2019 provided an unfortunate "angle". As McRae describes in the film, during a performance of Manon, he felt his Achilles tendon snapping and found himself “screaming in pain” in front of the Royal Opera House audience. Apart from anything, as he tells his wife in one of the film's gentler moments, the incident left him feeling “humiliated”. When he is later forced to cancel some of his return performances, after a relapse in his Achilles pain, he expresses feeling “embarrassed”. This and other vulnerable moments in the film are insights into the complex emotions experienced by an artist whose instrument is suddenly and profoundly compromised.

McRae says that making the documentary was an opportunity to showcase how well the Royal Ballet supports its dancers. He is grateful for the positivity and belief of Royal Ballet Director Kevin O’Hare. “It was him who flipped the switch in my head, saying ‘you will get back onto this stage' – and he said that 20 minutes after it happened.”

When the film was being made, neither he nor the filmmaker knew how it would end: would he recover? He took a leap of faith and trusted Carrel even when he didn’t like the way his body looked in some camera angles. McRae tells me that it is important for young dancers to see that everyone has flaws. Interestingly, McRae’s response on seeing the first edit of the film was that it was “too vanilla icecream”, adding “there’s no point showing the shiny version of something".

I was especially impressed by the portrayal of McRae’s dogged approach to rehab throughout the film; session after session, after session. When it came to returning to class and repertoire, the meticulous coaching of Leanne Benjamin and later, Lesley Collier (long time RB coach), are masterclasses in both precision and nurturing of the dancer.

Steven McRae at home with his own children.
Steven McRae at home with his own children.

It’s not over until it’s over

Since making A Resilient Man, McRae has suffered yet more injuries, in particular a full knee ACL reconstruction (meniscus and lateral ligament included). “You have to learn the art of patience and [that] time is the greatest tool to help aid recovery,” he tells me. He reflects that "far too many people are still returning to dance too soon after serious injury".

Changing the culture of dance

McRae sees the documentation of his own slow rehabilitation from both injuries as a way of finding better ways of recovering, while sending a message to the next generation about taking control over their own bodies and injuries. “We obviously have to make big changes in the culture of our industry, but until those changes happen, we need to take back the power,” he declares. In the past “the injury would dictate what was going on with your career and what your career longevity was. Now we have the tools to come back from virtually any injury. It’s not easy of course, but I feel that it’s the most powerful message that I want to convey to the next generation.”

More is not more!

So, what specifically would he change in the current culture of dance? On this he is passionate: “The mentality that more equals more. It’s not the truth. I hear of children dancing seven days a week. And in the professional life, the notion that 'the career’s short so I have to do it now'. Well, the career would be longer if we all managed it in a slightly different way. That’s a very difficult thing for a young artist to learn because they haven’t had the experience. It starts from the grass roots level … Having teachers know that they might help a young kid more by having them dance three days a week."

That applies to the workload for professional dancers too, he says. "Sometimes you’re working intensively with a choreographer who has only a short amount of time to make a work. It's that choreographer's responsibility to learn that more is not more. It’s a huge shift that needs to happen culturally.”

McRae knows all too well the result of pushing beyond your limit. (He spent years using pain relief and other "band aids" to keep dancing rather than addressing the extent of his injury.)

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Nurturing the next generation

McRae believes there is not enough awareness of the dangers of overtraining. “At the small studio level it’s driven by fear and wanting to keep their students. If a student or parent is maybe a little too pushy and doesn’t feel that their child is getting enough, then of course they will just move on elsewhere … It must be very difficult for teachers to be brave enough to say, ‘your child will get more if they actually do less".”

He adds: “At such a young age to be so honed-in on what it is that they want to do. The reality is that no 11-year-old has any concept of what it means to be a professional dancer let alone to be an adult." (He reflects that his wife, former Royal ballet soloist Elizabeth Harrod, started at the Royal Ballet School at 11 and spent her professional life there. In contrast, McRae danced part-time at his local Western Sydney ballet studio until he was almost 17 when he won the Prix de Lausanne that took him to the Royal.) “Young people need to be allowed to grow and develop, keep their minds open and explore other worlds, bring those other worlds into dance. That’s a healthy balance."

Throughout the interview, McRae reveals himself as a strong advocate for dancers being “whole people”, and not the sum of their last performance or even their entire body of work.

Reimagining the profession

This leads us to a discussion of the changes McRae would like to see in training and the workplace. “For me, it’s the workload and workload management. Do we need to dance six days a week? No.” Part of McRae’s recovery had him taking Wednesdays as a rest day to allow for proper recovery. 

“Dancers are expected to be at a peak level for an extended period of the year. You can’t sustain that.” From a performance perspective, dancers are not doing a "one off" event, they have to repeat everything every day. He says: “Chemically and scientifically, that has an impact on us. We all ignore that and come in the next day and say, ‘Oh yeah, I’m just a bit tired.’ Your body’s trying to recover from the shock of adrenaline that’s racing around it.”

Tapping into the whole artist

On a lighter note, McRae is a "mad tapper", so much so that Christopher Wheeldon created the role of the Mad Hatter in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland to showcase this talent. I ask him about the role of tap in his life and whether ballet and tap are complementary or contradictory. He answers brightly and emphatically. “Totally complementary. I wish every dancer did it!” He believes that other forms of movement help develop musicality and expand artistry.

What’s next?

McRae plans a return to the Opera House stage for the English summer season. He will be returning to dance in Alice, tap shoes at the ready. As for a life after dance, he says that the nature of the career means that everyone is always thinking about the future. He has undertaken academic studies but says that “genuine artists – those who really love it – will never stop performing in some capacity".

“I adore the profession and the artform and want to absolutely be part of the culture, pushing it forward and making it even more extraordinary. Getting more people connected with it.” McRae baulks at the elitist nature (and reputation) of the balletic artform and expresses a passion to open it up for everyone in rather than making it rarified or exclusive. 

He also advocates for the physical and mental wellbeing of young dancers. He believes that it is not just about education but also creating environments that enforce a healthier approach to training. “I’ve seen way too many young people burn out before they’ve even started their professional careers because they simply went at it too hard. How can you help navigate and nurture that intensity so that they can have the enjoyable long career they deserve?”

Meanwhile, this resilient man is focused on nurturing his own career, and the world awaits his return to the stage.

The release date of 'A Resilient Man' had not been announced at the time of going to press. The BBC has renamed the film 'Dancing into the Light'.

This article was first published in the July/Aug/Sep print issue of Dance Australia.

 

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