As I step through the stage door, Tom Rogers, a former soloist turned creative digital producer, becomes my guide through this theatrical labyrinth.
“This half is like where we live, and the other half is the theatre,” Rogers says, a grin lighting up his face as we navigate the corridors, which start to feel like a maze. “Try and remember this bit of the journey in case you need to come back to the office.”
Turning yet another corner, we stumble upon a small leather box perched by the service lift.
“That’s what you live out of on a big tour. I used to pack salt and pepper and olive oil,” he says, offering a glimpse into the nomadic life of ballet performers.
Further along, we uncover a treasure trove of costumes, where rolls of cloth in a myriad of colours and textures stretch into the distance. “Sleeping Beauty is 40 years old now,” Rogers says of the Birmingham Royal Ballet (BRB) production. “The costumes are also 40 years old and meticulously looked after.”
In a room tucked away amid the sea of fabric, Michael Clifford, the shoe supervisor, tends to hundreds, if not thousands, of carefully organised shoes. “Tonight, Aurora, the main part, will get through two pairs throughout the show,” he says.
This explains the enormous pile of pointe shoes overflowing by the recycling bins. It’s a stark reminder of the physical toll every performance takes, with shoes often breaking before the end of each show. Some are even repurposed into a Christmas tree by a former dancer, while others undergo makeshift repairs by the dancers themselves, with lines of freshly glued shoes drying on the radiators.
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Clockwise from top left: tuning the timpani. Eilis Small as Lilac Fairy watching from the wings with Beatrice Parma behind her, poised for bluebird pas de deux. Prompt corner where the performance is coordinated. A dancer peeks through the shadows of the wings
Passing through studios, a gym, a spray-paint room, and a wigs room described as “very, very stressful” by Rogers, we finally reach the orchestra pit.
It’s a strangely peaceful oasis after the extensive journey to reach it. Snacks adorn the musicians’ stands, providing a little boost before the night’s performance – the second violinist has opted for Choco Boy. It is details like this that highlight the ordinary quirks and personalities behind the artistic machine that is the BRB. As the musicians take their places, I overhear playful banter about some missing mints.
The audience begins to trickle in and the rich sounds of tuning instruments fill the air. The tension is palpable as we wait for the conductor to arrive, but the silly faces of some nearby orchestra members cut through and transform it into pure excitement. The bassoonist sends a final text. The audience falls quiet. Suddenly the music begins: it is loud and heavenly. In the brief moments of quiet, the sound of dancers’ feet above us signals the imminent rise of the curtain.
Between acts, I dash upstairs to the wings, where what appears chaotic at first glance is surprisingly ordered upon closer inspection. In the darkness at the back, leads pace with fierce concentration, while closer to the stage, dancers playfully pose and I even spot some twerking.
Amid the shadowy world of the wings, small details are perfectly framed – a watchful dancer’s eye in the darkness, performers flipping tutus to make room as they pass, and a rosin box where dancers can dip their toes for extra grip. Rogers likens it to a pond for a wildlife photographer.
Most of the dancers are young, prompting thoughts about their future beyond the stage. Rogers mentions one who recently became a florist, a testament to the diverse paths dancers may take after their intense careers.
As the show ends, I capture a few final snaps of the bows, before a flow of dancers from the stage make passing through the corridors almost impossible. By the time I have reached the street I recognise many of the leads already on the pavement in their civvies. It might be the fastest dress change of the night.
Exiting the Hippodrome, I bid farewell to Rogers, who reflects on the evolving nature of ballet. “A ballet always has its roots in tradition,” he says. “But it’s evolving into so much more now … we’d rather tell a contemporary story than rehash a traditional one into something modern.”
The BRB seamlessly merges tradition with a vibrant, playful atmosphere, allowing the unique personalities of its dancers and musicians to shine amid timeless artistry.
