Leanne Benjamin: Built for Ballet – extracts
Below, Leanne Benjamin has kindly shared a selection of short extracts from her revealing new memoir.
“I was too open and outspoken to be a ballerina…”
Ironically it was my big sister Madonna who first dreamt of being a ballerina. Her bedroom was dedicated to photographs of the famous ballerinas of the past and her plan was to follow in their delicate footsteps. Her role model was Margot Fonteyn, a beautiful dancer with impeccable manners and grace in all she did. She studied the Princess Tina ballet annuals, and even carried round a little black book in which she wrote poems about the ballerinas. She had reason to think she could succeed: she was really talented and completely dedicated. At that stage, I didn’t take ballet seriously as a career, however much I loved it as a practice. Even then, I was clear in my own mind that I was too open and outspoken to be a ballerina. I didn’t fit the grain of ballet like Madonna did—I was the mischievous little sister to her good, serious personality. I was the one who asked questions, not the one who unquestioningly followed discipline.
“The injury jeopardised all my plans…”
At the end of my first week at the Royal Ballet School, on 24 September 1980; My parents had been allowed to come in to watch class and it was all going beautifully. Then we got to the final section of the lesson, where the dancers start to jump across the room. I was always a good confident jumper, so I took off happily into the final grand jet. But managed to land awkwardly on the floor, bashing the side of my foot. The pain was excruciating, and Miss Kilgour immediately whisked me off to Charing Cross Hospital for an X-ray which confirmed the worst. I had a hairline fracture in my fifth metatarsal. I went to stay for the weekend with Madonna, who pampered me and made me feel better, but she couldn’t wipe away my disappointment: after my brilliant start, I was going to be out of action for six to eight weeks and could only sit and watch class. The injury jeopardised all my plans. I had hoped to take my RAD Solo Seal exam that autumn, and also to enter the Adeline Genée competition, which had been held by the Royal Academy of Dance ever since the 1930s and awarded its gold medal to the most promising young dancers. Madonna had won the top prize two years earlier; I knew how important it was as a marker of talent and I was so downcast.
“Discover the best level you can attain…”
Dancers thrive in different ways. I knew from the age of fourteen that I would have a career in ballet. Other talents burn more slowly. If you don’t have the confidence to stand at the front of class or the ability to pick up the technique as quickly as someone else, you can get slightly left behind or become insecure. One thing about dance that I am not sure is clear to the outside world, is that companies need a great range of dancers. They require corps de ballet, soloists, and character dancers as well as principals. You can have a wonderful career in ballet without being an internationally known star, so if you have talent and the desire to make it your life, the important thing is to discover the best level you can attain. There are a lot of dancers who won’t be principals, but who are more than happy to be in the Royal Ballet or another company, and not get leading roles. As a teacher, it’s satisfying to work with them one on one to help them reach that ambition.
“Commitment and attitude…”
“It’s not all about technique or talent or brilliance. It’s not even always the best dancer who gets a role. Sometimes getting to where you want to be as a dancer is about commitment and attitude, with a little bit of luck thrown in. Take Adam Cooper, who became known to so many people when he danced the swan in Matthew Bourne’s brilliant version of Swan Lake. He wasn’t by any means the best technical dancer in the Royal Ballet, but he was pleasant, quick, a good partner, a brilliant actor and he cared about his performance. That’s why I loved dancing with him, and I suspect that’s why Sylvie Guillem, who was famously (and justifiably) demanding about who she worked with, was happy to be partnered by him in difficult ballets. When I’m teaching, I talk about people like Adam. I think it’s important to realise that if you work hard, then someone might see something in you. The young dancers I am drawn to are the ones with a desire to succeed in their eyes. They might not be the best, but I know that person will work to fulfil their ambition; they are the ones practising all the time at the back of the class, they aren’t doing the steps once and then sitting on the floor chatting. Character matters, in dance as in life.”
“I was happy to challenge myself physically at all times…”
[After Thomas was born] I thought I would return to the stage for a year, that I would see how it went with juggling a child at home and a career as a ballerina. Then I went back and he was fine, and I was enjoying myself, so a year became two, then three. My body felt great, and my repertoire was expanding. All of a sudden it was another ten years. I think if I hadn’t had a baby, I would have called it a day much sooner, retiring in my early forties, which is already later than most dancers hang up their pointe shoes. But I really felt rejuvenated after Thomas arrived. A lot of factors played into that. One was luck. Anthony Dowell once said that dancers are forced to retire just as they reach their peak artistically. Their bodies fail them at precisely the moment their knowledge has increased to the point where they will bring new perceptions to their work. It’s not always true. My body allowed me to carry on dancing at my peak; if anything, the absolute break from dancing my pregnancy had enforced seemed to strengthen me. I didn’t feel worn out. I felt refreshed and ready to go. The second quality that helped me was my mental attitude. I never got bored. I saw dancers younger than me who had lost interest, but I was happy to challenge myself physically at all times. It became a virtuous circle. Because I was interested, I wanted to push my technique and so I kept up my standards. I would have felt a failure if I hadn’t pushed myself and I didn’t want to fail, I wanted to keep doing what I loved. That meant I did everything to the best of my ability, with the best of intentions, and with the most rehearsals I could squeeze in while still giving plenty of attention and love to Thomas. What’s more I was mature enough to know how to manage my time and my dancing to sustain myself. I regarded every show as a bonus and danced each as if it were my last. That makes a difference. In the last decade of my career, too, a terrific new generation of choreographers was emerging, and they were interested in seeing what I could bring to their works. They kept my mind as pliant as my body, by allowing me to explore more contemporary ballets alongside a band of much younger dancers. It was thrilling for me to give myself over to them, to make the decision to stay current and to embrace the new, not just to stick with the classics. As a result, I helped to create more new works in the last decade of my career than I had in the previous two.
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