Featured Articles


Signing On With Matthew Bourne and His New Adventures Company!

In the last five minutes of an audition it is possible I might see 'something' that really intrigues me," Matthew Bourne said, as he began to explain how he chooses his dancers at the daunting exercise called an audition. "I let them stay the entire time," he said. "If I discover that indescribable quality in one of them, then it is worth the extra time." That extra time invested measures out to be a large part of how Bourne's reputation as a nice guy in an otherwise highly competitive not-always-nice world has developed. "At an audition I have found the best thing to be is honest," he continued. "Instead of beating around the bush I try to be positive and realistic when judging someone. Will they be right for me?"

We met for coffee one afternoon during the Brooklyn Academy run of "Edward Scissorhands" last March in New York. There was not a trace in Bourne's low-key, soft-spoken demeanor of the choreographic CEO he has become, employing over 70 dancers in a variety of his productions that run for months, often years. "I am not very well-trained in managerial skills or dealing with people's lives," he noted rather sheepishly, "and I am not a therapist. But I do like dancers, appreciate their hard work on my behalf, and try very hard to treat them fairly."

In the early days Bourne worked with a band of strolling players, now his shows use a huge cast. For "Scissorhands" he needed to construct six families of diverse people; for "Swan Lake," four defined roles, plus a stage full of partygoers, and a corps of strong male dancers who would bring legendary status to white-feathered pedal pushers. But before he makes any choices he observes the dancers from the moment they walk into the room. How do they present themselves? What are they like as individuals? Are they real or not, natural or forced? Do they interact with other people in the room? Do they ask a question or ask too many, and are they sensible questions? We will spend a lot of time with these people, and I am bringing them together to go on a long journey."

Many of Bourne's ballets are plot-driven, and he must find dancers who will fit into an exquisitely told tale where feats of dancing may not be primary, but the ability to draw a character fully is an absolute. "I like to watch them when they are not dancing," Bourne said. "Where do they place themselves in the room? Do they go down front and center, or hide away a bit. Some hide away so much that you wonder why they have come at all. They are never in your eye line. Then there are those who are in your face all the time. Either one requires pause for thought. Often I will put them together with a partner and ask them to connect in an intense bit of choreography, possibly the royal waltz from my 'Swan Lake.' It is slightly raunchy, and they do have to look at each other," Bourne explained. "Could be a bit embarrassing when you are dancing with strangers; however, it will show me self-confidence or lack of."

In London in the mid-eighties, Bourne's fledgling "New Adventures in Motion Pictures" settled in with a homey group of six dancers, adding one more for "Highland Fling" which made a total of seven. They got together to make dances in small venues. Over the years that group, now known as "New Adventures," has burgeoned into somewhat of a conglomerate. The big step forward came when plans for a turnabout version of the beloved ballet classic 'Swan Lake" was set in motion. This production opened in London in 1995, exceeded all expectations, and is still playing all over the world. It has set Matthew Bourne's name in dance history and given him a financial cushion from which to experiment and explore new ideas without worry. But in the beginning the project seemed only a daring departure and a tremendous risk.

Adam Cooper was a 23-year old tall, lean, lanky-limbed dancer who worked consistently in the corps of the Royal Ballet but not prominently in principal roles. "Yes, I remember seeing Adam at the ballet, often watching from the back of the house," Bourne said. "He seemed like a creature from another world, and exactly what I needed for the swan. He had the long arms and fingers that seemed quite right for the role. I liked him because he was a complete dancer and rather a fine actor. He could see instinctively what the character was and knew how to make it work."

Bourne acknowledged that the proposition of Cooper playing the swan was dicey for both of them and could have been damaging to Cooper's ballet career. "Could have been," Bourne laughed, "but certainly was not. Adam was not a star when we took him, he became a star in the production."

Scott Ambler, a member of the original New Adventures Company, took on the role of the prince playing the inhibited, love-starved, self-destructive royal personage whose path was leading to suicide when he comes upon the swan. Ambler did not need to audition for Bourne because of their performing history together, but Bourne also needed a supporting cast -- a stage full of dancers to play assorted characters. What role did smooth, sturdy technique play in his decision-making? Bourne sipped at his coffee as if to take time before responding. "I do feel sad for dancers who think technique is what auditions are all about," he said. "I guess for some choreographers extraordinary technique is essential. For me, it is still the ability to draw a character that counts. Then again, they do have to dance," he added smiling.

"Car Man," Bourne's adaptation of the Bizet music from the opera "Carmen" came to Los Angeles in 2001 after a successful London engagement. But the aftermath of the tragedy of 9/11 forced a cancellation of further performances and only a very few saw it. The production will be redone this summer in London, then hopefully travel to America. Bourne claims it evolved from the movie "The Postman Always Rings Twice," one of his favorites. It is a sinister story of illicit love, murder, punishment, full of volatile hard-edged movement that essentially takes place in a garage. Bourne needed to find a real "lad," a rough-edged "bloke" to give the part the right juice. Alan Vincent, a solidly built dancer took the role and ran away with it. "It became Alan's," Bourne said. "People often describe Alan as 'not really a dancer.' True, he does not move as gracefully as a fully trained ballet dancer might, but there is something dark and sexy about such a performer. On stage he can electrify an audience."

As a child Bourne loved movies and movie stars. Their uniqueness fascinated him and stood in opposition to the sameness of chorus people where everyone moved identically. In casting his shows Bourne is convinced that filling his stage with "individuals" makes much more interesting visual theater. In his award-winning "Play Without Words" based on the movie "The Servant," he did just that. Bourne wrote a play without words, tacking on the title before he realized it would be performed under that name. He looked for mature dancers with a good deal of acting ability. "The piece went against all my theories," he admitted. "Usually, my first challenge is to make the story clear to the audience. When I made this piece I had no thought about choreography. It wasn't foremost in my mind."

The performers loved "Play," and Bourne succeeded in labeling all of them principal actors, and was able to get more money for them. "I do believe that dancers are looked down upon as actors," he said. The list always goes actors, singers, and dancers -with dancers at the end. We had twelve principals, and each one had a second and third interpretation - three dancers playing one role differently but essentially at the same time." This scenario could have been unnecessarily complex, Bourne admitted, but it worked beyond expectations. "The evening became more theatrical rather than just the mood piece about early British cinema that I had first intended. Somehow the audience got it and got into it. The piece went on to have a life."

About ten years ago Bourne began to work on "Edward Scissorhands," his newest piece, based on the 1990 Tim Burton film. In casting the part of "Edward" Bourne felt that vulnerability would be the key trait to look for. "Edward" is a child who has a handicap, large steel appendages shaped like scissors in place of hands. Chosen to alternate the title role, Sam Archer and Richard Winsor worried a lot. Could they handle the demands of carrying around these cumbersome, heavy additions and let their bodies bring out the demands of the story? "Well, I did have to prod them," Bourne recalled. "But they both worked with me in 'Car Man' so I knew it would be fine. They both shared in the creation of 'Edward.' Sam is witty, quirkier. His father is a stand-up comic. Richard had more technique and a partnering facility that comes from ballet, and he loves being hammy. They watched each other, exchanged notes, shared a dressing room and the publicity, and are good friends."

With a show running somewhere in the world all the time Matthew Bourne now feels he can have the luxury of experimenting. He has done musical theater productions like "Oliver," "My Fair Lady," and "Mary Poppins" in London, and "Poppins" is presently running on Broadway. But a return to the full-evening ballets is nagging away at his thoughts. A hint of a Hitchcock-inspired project; perhaps "The Picture of Dorian Gray:" or an all-male "Romeo and Juliet. Whatever he chooses one can bet dancers who can tell the story (multiple pirouettes notwithstanding) may just find a job with him.

Bourne's successful tenure in the dance world has not been entirely clear of obstacles and certain disappointments often centered on dancers he has brought from the back row to the front. Contractual dealings have broken down leaving him without those he may have counted on. Bourne doesn't always get what he wants. But from the fund of performers he has met along the way new ones have been added and have worked out successfully. Even the gargantuan feat of reassembling his New Adventures Company, when administrative obstacles and a divergence of opinions at the top actually wiped out the original company, did not stall Bourne's imagination. The 47-year old choreographer forged ahead and with the help of his coterie of devoted dancers continues to thrive at the top of his field.

After 16 years of working with Matthew Bourne, Scott Ambler still insists he would be nowhere else. "Getting started on a new project with the 'originals' Etta Murfitt, Lez, Brotherston, Matthew and me, sitting down together, tossing out ideas is just plain fun," Ambler said. "Matthew is a decent bloke, very fair, never loses his temper with performers and great fun to work with. We are very lucky!"