Madam remembered
Giannandrea Poesio and Nicola Katrak on Dame Ninette de Valois who died last week
Ninette de Valois, the exceptional lady who gave Britain the Royal Ballet, an internationally renowned ballet repertoire, one of the world's best ballet schools and who was the last of the great leaders of the dance world, died last week aged 102.
Unlike many self-professed disciples of Diaghilev, who tried to emulate blindly the highly individual, inimitable vision of the Russian impresario, de Valois laid the foundations of her long-lasting achievements on a personal absorption of the artistic and organisational principles she had learnt while dancing with the Ballets Russes. Not unlike Diaghilev, whose initial aim was to make Russian culture known all over the world, she too strove to create a dance reality that relied mostly on homegrown talents. And like Diaghilev, the man responsible for changing her original name, Edris Stannus, into the more poetic and aristocratic one she was known by both inside and outside the ballet world, de Valois believed firmly in a fluid and constant collaboration between the various arts.
In line with the successful formulae of the Ballets Russes, she too gathered around her some of the finest artists of the 20th century, turning ballet into a truly 'high art' form. At the same time, she went a step further than her illustrious predecessor, for she understood that the lasting success of a ballet venture depended greatly on the creation of an institution where dancers could receive both the technical training and the artistic preparation needed to build up a first-class company.
It is interesting to note that the majority of standard dance-history manuals refer to the creation of what eventually became the Royal Ballet School, but tend to overlook de Valois's own contribution to the development of a training method. De Valois's ballet syllabus, with which generations of excellent artists grew up, stemmed from a carefully filtered amalgam of the learning experiences of its creator, who had studied with great pedagogues such as the Italian ballet master Enrico Cecchetti. And so her syllabus was both a precious link with a glorious dance tradition and one of the vital informing factors of what became known as the English style.
A refined artist, who combined wit with a voracious intellectual curiosity, this 'idealist without illusions' (to quote the title of Kathryn Sorley Walker's splendid biography) was also an exceptional dance maker. Works such as Job (1931), The Rake's Progress (1935) and Checkmate (1937) stand out still not just as valuable testimonies of a bygone choreographic era, but as lively and unique examples of the choreographic craft. May Dame Ninette's legacy last forever and inspire a worthy successor. G.P.
During my first term as an 11-year-old boarder at the Royal Ballet School, I remember trying to overcome the embarrassment of wearing non-trendy mufti to a school party, a situation Mabry Towers and
the Princess Tina Ballet Book had ill-prepared me for. Suddenly a hush fell over the salon and Madam appeared, our teachers in reverent attendance. Our founder had come to see her children's children at play.
It was hard to be natural in front of a living legend, but as we performed our party games, eager to be noticed by her, her merry chuckle made me feel she didn't care a hoot for Sixties fashion.
Though she had retired, we still sensed Madam's influence. She loved the boys the most — rare creatures who were cherished and appreciated even when naughty. When she gave a masterclass once, we girls were terrified, but although her comments were forthright she acknowledged intelligent work as well as innate talent.
Years later, when I was a member of Sadler's Wells Royal Ballet, Madam and her infamous stick hobbled into our rehearsal studio to supervise a revival of The Rake's Progress. Though in her eighties, she could still stomp her way through passages of the choreography, emphasising the detailed arm movements she insisted we mastered. Sometimes she changed steps or counts as if on a whim and, when our inaccuracies or slowness exasperated her, impatience could turn to scathing criticism. Yet how illuminating it was to see the way in which she injected a fresh vitality and meaning into the choreography. Several members of the staff and management who ruled our lives had been young dancers under Madam's daily scrutiny and now it amused us to see them jump to attention whenever she spoke.
One dancer she rehearsed relentlessly was David Bintley but, as soon as she saw he was someone who instinctively understood what was needed, she visibly softened and relaxed. How appropriate that it was David, as director of Birmingham Royal Ballet, who led the tribute. in Birmingham, to Madam on the night of her death. On stage before curtain up on that most English of ballets, La File Mal Gardee, he articulated what we had all always known: without her vision we would not have been there. During the minute's applause (instead of silence), I thanked Madam for my rich dancing life.
Once I had a rehearsal of the Betrayed Girl in Rake alone with her. After some corrections, she suddenly praised me for a well-executed detail and became kindness itself, as if she now trusted me. Afterwards she chatted about Ashton's pas de trots in Les Rendezvous, a role I had danced when new in SWRB. Puffing my way round this mini-marathon in pointe shoes, I had wondered which superstrong dancer Sir Fred had originally choreographed this for. Of course it was Ninette de Valois and now she was telling me how it had made her calf muscles sore. It still seems extraordinary to me that the great pioneer of British ballet also suffered cramp. N.K.
Nicola Katrak was a principal dancer with Sadler's Wells Royal Ballet and now teaches at the Royal Ballet School.
Previous page
