👍 Who Is The Last Celebrity Joining Strictly

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Les Dennis is the fifteenth and final celebrity contestant confirmed for the brand new series of Strictly Come Dancing.  The multi-award-winning entertainment show, produced by BBC Studios, will return to BBC One and BBC iPlayer for its new series this autumn, once again bringing glitter, glamour and glorious dancing to homes across the nation.

Les Dennis is a TV Personality, actor and entertainer.

Les Dennis has been in showbiz for over 50 years, including famously hosting Family Fortunes for 16 years.   

Les Dennis started his career as a comedian on the Working Men’s Club circuit in and around his native Liverpool.  He got his big break on TV Talent show New Faces, and went on to star in sketch and variety show The Laughter Show, forming a double-act with the late Dustin Gee.  

 His TV career includes roles in Extras, Brookside, Death in Paradise and Midsomer Murders and two years in Coronation Street.  

On stage he’s starred with the Royal Shakespeare Company, the English National Opera, and in hit plays and musicals such as Hairspray, Legally Blonde The Musical and 42nd Street.  

Les Dennis said: “I’m thrilled to be doing this iconic wonderful show as I approach my 70th birthday! In my career I’ve always gone for challenges outside my comfort zone and this is the ultimate one! Can’t wait.”

All of the Strictly Come Dancing contestants for 2023

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This ‘90s Dance Group Blazed A Trail For USC’s First Black Majorette Team

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Twenty-five years ago, Lisha Bell and Maya Mitchell decided to create their own safe space at the University of Southern California. They wanted to showcase a talent they loved: dance.

Bell and Mitchell were in their sophomore year when they started the USC Fly Girls, named after the dancers from “In Living Color” who were “our sheroes of the ’90s,” Bell said. They had joined other dance teams — Mitchell was a part of the USC Song Girls and Bell danced on the Trojan Dance Force — but they both desired a space to fully express themselves as Black women who dance.

Now, a new team at USC is following in their footsteps. USC’s first Black majorette team, the Cardinal Divas, has already made its mark on campus and continued to educate and captivate its audiences through dance. Since the Cardinal Divas’ viral debut in September, Bell and Mitchell couldn’t be prouder that their legacy is being carried on for the next generation.

“It makes me feel proud,” Bell said. “As an alum, when I see them, it lets me know that Black women are still being seen.”

Bell first learned about the Cardinal Divas in 2021 when team founder Princess Isis Lang, her Delta Sigma Theta sorority sister, mentioned it in their group chat. The Cardinal Divas’ beginnings reminded Bell and several alumni of the Fly Girls’ start.

Bell and Mitchell named the team after the dancers from “In Living Color."

Bell, who was born and raised in Southern California, always loved to dance. She was a part of her high school’s cheerleading team and met Mitchell, her future college roommate, on a trip to Paris.

“We were both song leaders at our respective high schools and captains as well, so of course, we wanted to carry that tradition into college,” Mitchell said.

When they started at USC in August 1997, Bell and Mitchell auditioned for its most famous dance team, the USC Song Girls, which performed with the school’s marching band.

“We were both going to continue our love for cheer and dance by applying for the USC Song Girls,” Bell said. “But when we got there, reality hit.”

While both Mitchell and Bell applied to be a part of the team, only Mitchell was selected. “I was told by the now-infamous Song Girls coach that I was too hip-y for the skirt,” Bell said. “And from the angle that the viewers watched, there had to be a certain look that the girls needed to have.”

At the time, the USC Song Girls were coached by Lori Nelson, who, according to a Los Angeles Times investigation, has a history of openly discriminating against her athletes. Ten former Song Girls described a “toxic culture” in the dance team, where Nelson “[rebuked] women publicly for their eating habits, personal appearance and sex lives,” Ryan Kartje reported in April 2021.

The USC Fly Girls was a dance team where Black girls could express themselves freely.
The USC Fly Girls was a dance team where Black girls could express themselves freely.

“I think Black dancers realize that if they are auditioning for a predominantly white squad, they’re probably going to be the only one that makes it,” Mitchell said. “Especially at somewhere like USC, when you look at the history of what their Song Girls look like, many don’t look like us.”

Bell still wanted to be a part of the dance community at USC, so she auditioned for the Trojan Dance Force, which is the official dance team of USC athletics and is known for performing at men’s and women’s basketball games. But she didn’t make it the first time she tried out.

“They already had a Black girl, so I didn’t make the squad until the Black girl graduated,” Bell said.

While USC is located in a predominantly Black and Brown community, the lack of diversity on campus was a shock to Bell. Only 158 students in Bell’s and Mitchell’s freshman class were Black.

“We were frustrated by the idea that only one of us could make one of these squads and that it was always going to be a competition whenever more than one woman of color was auditioning,” Mitchell said.

One of the main reasons that Bell and Mitchell wanted to create the Fly Girls was visibility. Bell wanted Black students and specifically Black women to be seen and celebrated more on campus. Besides the Divine Nine fraternities and sororities, there weren’t many other Black outlets on campus, Bell said. So they strategized in Somerville, a predominantly Black floor in one of the university’s dorms.

Enter the USC Fly Girls, a dance team where Black girls could express themselves freely. Bell and Mitchell made it a point to have women of various shapes, sizes and ethnicities as part of their team. Mitchell said many people have a stereotypical idea of what a dancer is supposed to look like: often white and slender. The Fly Girls wanted to change that narrative and showcase that anyone could be a dancer.

“We were frustrated by the idea that only one of us could make one of these squads and that it was always going to be a competition whenever more than one woman of color was auditioning.”

- Maya Mitchell, a co-founder of the USC Fly Girls

The team had its first performance during Black History Month 1998 in front of the famous Tommy Trojan landmark. “We performed to ‘Rosa Parks’ by OutKast and it felt magical,” Bell said. “We were surrounded by the Black Greeks, and we were just in our circle of love and support. Everyone was cheering, and it felt so good to be seen and celebrated.”

While they received love and support from their fellow students, the Fly Girls faced backlash from some USC administrators.

“We did a dance to Ice Cube’s song ‘We Be Clubbin’’ and that was my jam so you couldn’t tell me nothing,” Bell said. When the performers walked off the basketball court, they received rude comments from coaches and teachers, telling them not to ever dance like that again. “That’s a reality of doing ethnic dances or being too Black in white spaces,” Bell said.

The Fly Girls’ last official performance was in 2008, but the team reunited for a performance in 2015. “We did a Fly Girl reunion, and everyone kept asking what happened to the team,” Bell said. “At the time, there was a movement of competitive dance teams that kind of flourished and then kind of disappeared.”

Competitions such as the World Hip-Hop Dance Championship, which was created in Los Angeles in 2002, helped to publicize hip-hop dance teams. Two years later, the USC Hip-Hop Showcase was created. Teams such as Vanguards Crew, Chaotic 3, iGroove and USC Fly Girls put on biannual performances for students to showcase their skills. Chaotic 3 is still active nearly 20 years later.

“Movement is something that is innate to us. This is not something that can be bottled up,” Bell said. “These are our traditions and we deserve to share them.”

Mitchell said she hopes the Cardinal Divas keep doing what they love, regardless of what others say, and creating a space that’s not only uplifting Black women on campus but also making sure future Black USC students know that a safe haven exists for them on campus.

“We just want to be seen as who we are,” Bell said. “For little young girls who are entering these daunting spaces of minimal diversity, they can see them and know that they can thrive, flourish, be themselves and not have to assimilate to the dominant culture.”



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‘I was never interested in being famous’: dance legend Yvonne Rainer on her gloriously weird film career | Movies

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Yvonne Rainer is the iconoclastic choreographer who, beginning in the 60s, pioneered the deconstruction of modern dance in a manner closely associated with minimalist art. No Manifesto, published in 1965 (“No to spectacle. No to virtuosity. No to transformations and magic and make-believe 
 no to moving or being moved”) announced a rejection of modern dance’s conventions and cliches, in favour of a vocabulary of movement that prioritised the ordinary, alienating or plain over narrative structure and emotional projection. She turned to film-making when she felt that dance alone couldn’t express what she wanted to say, and produced more than a dozen uncompromising film works over three decades.

“Oh no,” says Rainer, 88, when I bring up No Manifesto, which she later disavowed, during our conversation at her Manhattan apartment. “That was a certain point in art history – the manifesto was a way of asserting yourself publicly. I never meant it to be a doctrine that would govern my decisions.” She moved on from it “almost immediately”.

By the end of the 1960s, Rainer, whose anarchic, boundary-pushing and gloriously weird films are celebrated with an ICA retrospective this month, was looking for a new way to explore the thicket of identity, memory, emotion and politics, particularly her alignment with the feminist movement. “I didn’t feel that the kind of dancing that I did could accommodate those interests,” she says. “That’s when film entered the picture.” It helped that a mutual friend introduced her to the acclaimed French director and cinematographer Babette Mangolte, who taught her the art of film editing.

While her choreography shunned conventional narrative form, Rainer’s 1972 debut feature film, Lives of Performers (subtitled “a melodrama”), experimented with shards of storytelling. It depicts a love triangle between two women and a man, who may or may not be performers seen in a rehearsal. She dipped in and out of styles for her characters’ tangle of emotions: mime, dance, off-camera dialogue rendered teasingly flat, and tableaux vivants of performers in various poses of abjection and desire. “I gave Babette free rein to shoot rehearsal,” she says. “I was very interested in filming people just sitting around talking to each other 
 in combining the look of ordinary interchanges between people and then dramatic presences.”

A rebellious streak coursed throughout her subsequent films, full of ruptures and strange juxtapositions, or the soundtrack juddering out of sync with the images. She says this disruptive inclination springs from her childhood in San Francisco, as the only daughter of political radicals Jeanette and Joseph. “Nominally, they were anarchists,” she says of her parents. “But they were conservative in a lot of ways,” with strict expectations when it came to her behaviour and boyfriends. “There were these contradictions that I became aware of and used when I was trying to separate myself from my parents,” she says.

Rainer rehearsing in New York in 1962.
Rainer rehearsing in New York in 1962. Photograph: Robert R McElroy/Getty Images

The separation came in the shape of a relationship with the abstract expressionist painter Al Held, when she was 20. A year later, she moved with him to New York, to a loft on 21st Street and 5th Avenue, where she immersed herself in the art scene. Enamoured with Held, his painting and a new city, Rainer tried her hand at acting (“I was no good at it”) and then dance classes, with the choreographer Edith Stephen. “I was strong and I loved moving around,” she says, but she was not a classical ballerina: she had short legs and a long torso; in childhood acrobatics classes, she had been ungainly rather than graceful. She studied for a year under the dancer and choreographer Martha Graham at her famed studio, the bastion of modern dance. “Structurally, I was not made for that technique, but I learned a lot,” she says. “I realised very early that I would have to make my own dances if I was to become a professional.”

By the early 60s, Rainer had helped to found a now-legendary experimental collective, the avant garde Judson Dance Theater. It was part of a wave of New York artists dissecting and rejecting the establishment, eschewing affectation and grandness in favour of repetition, indeterminacy, the movements of the mundane and everyday. “We were all running to the windows and looking out at what people on the street were doing, as though we had never examined them before,” she says.

A still from Murder and Murder (1996).
A still from Murder and Murder (1996). Photograph: Zeitgeist Films in Association with Kino Lorber

This desire to deconstruct the ordinary things going on around her mutated on screen. Rainer’s films also grew more personal and political. She continued to interrogate the medium with overlapping discordant storylines, or by splitting a character among performers – “leveraging cliche as base to life’s acid”, as the critic Natasha Stagg put it.

Some scenes feature melodramatic recitations, while others play in silence, such as the sequence from Film About a Woman Who 
 (1974), in which Rainer sits mute before the camera with scraps of her script glued to her face. Her films were collages of melodrama, dream images, documentary, slapstick, archival footage, polemic and loose memoir. Her final feature, Murder and Murder (1996), told the story of a midlife lesbian love affair between two academics with a 10-year age difference, a tuxedo-clad Rainer delivering a darkly comic meditation on ageing, romance and surviving breast cancer.

Rainer, who has lived with the academic Martha Gever for 30 years, said in her 2006 autobiography, Feelings Are Facts, that her films increasingly grappled with “the challenge of representing and fictionalising the inferno of my own passions”. Or, to quote her 1990 artist’s statement: “My films can be described as autobiographical fictions, untrue confessions, undermined narratives, mined documentaries, unscholarly dissertations, dialogic entertainments.”

A still from Film About a Woman Who... (1974).
A still from Film About a Woman Who... (1974). Photograph: Zeitgeist Films in Association with Kino Lorber

They also got harder and harder to make. “I wasn’t about to go into traditional Hollywood-type narratives,” she says. By the mid-90s, she found it impossible to finance further experimental features, so she returned to choreography. “I never liked the process of making long films. I’m a technological idiot,” she says. “It was a relief to go back to what I loved, dealing immediately with people.” Her most recent composition, Hellzapoppin’: What About the Bees?, an exploration of racism in the US using movement based on the 1941 musical comedy of the same name, was staged in New York in 2022.

As Rainer approaches 90, she continues to look forward: to a future spin on Trio A, her most famous solo work; at the prospect of returning to a studio. Her view on past work, particularly her films, is clipped and matter-of-fact. “I don’t prescribe,” she says when asked what her work means. “I don’t expect to be on Broadway, or proselytise. I was never interested in being famous. In fact, someone described me as the most famous unknown choreographer around. And that suits me.”

Yvonne Rainer: A Retrospective runs until 27 August at the ICA, London, with Rainer appearing for a Q&A on 17 August

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Flying High at the Beach: Birds, Dancers, Merce and Michelson

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With outstretched arms, dancers skimmed across the sand like gliding birds, soundless against the pressing wind and somehow soaring without actual wings. They tipped forward from their hips, leaning their torsos ever so slightly forward. They stood still while holding up a quivering, bent leg. Sometimes, as they lingered in a position, gradually lowering an arm or bending to the side, a sea gull flew past the glinting sun, dipping and then rising before disappearing into the horizon.

The glittering scene seemed like a dream. Surveying the shoreline of Rockaway Beach on a recent morning, Patricia Lent, from the Merce Cunningham Trust, was elated. “This is a dream come true,” she said, adding: “It’s someone else’s dream — but it is a dream come true.”

Cunningham’s “Beach Birds” has finally made its way to the beach.

An adaptation of this 1991 dance is part of this year’s Beach Sessions Dance Series, at Rockaway Beach on Saturday. Staged by Lent and Rashaun Mitchell — both former company members and trustees — “Beach Birds” comes to life in a setting where the sand, the sea and real birds create, along with 11 dancers, a humming summer landscape.

Cunningham, one of the most innovative choreographers of the 20th century, who died in 2009, experimented with conventions, introducing elements of chance into his dances, which featured precise, articulate and highly technical movement. Music existed independently in his works, which allowed a dance to be a dance instead of choreography tethered to a score. Like the composer John Cage, his collaborator and companion, Cunningham pushed boundaries.

The idea to present “Beach Birds” at Rockaway came from Morgan Griffin, a producer of Beach Sessions and a former student of Mitchell’s at New York University. “There’s this notion that Merce’s work will diminish with the people who are aging and who followed his work,” Mitchell said. “But I think it’s so beautiful that a young person who hasn’t met Merce and who didn’t see the company, wanted this work to be reconstructed.”

There’s an added draw to this year’s Beach Sessions. The 20-minute performance of “Beach Birds” (on the sand at Beach 108th Street, beginning at 5:45 p.m.) will be followed by a response to the dance by the choreographer Sarah Michelson, whose premiere will start on the boardwalk at Beach 102nd Street.

Michelson, a MacArthur “genius” grant winner, never performed with Cunningham’s company, but has a history with many of its members and its school. In the early 1990s, about the time that “Beach Birds” was being made, she moved to New York from San Francisco and ended up at the Cunningham studio as a scholarship student. Many of her peers were steeped in the world of Cunningham.

Her choreographic response will explore her relationship to “Beach Birds,” as well as to Cunningham and his legacy; wrapped up in that is her experience being a part of a community of dancers that formed their artistic ideas in the early 1990s. “We all were friends,” Michelson said, “living and thinking and dancing and just growing up together.”

It was during that time that Michelson presented her first dance, at the Cunningham Studio. As she looks at Cunningham’s legacy and her own choreography, she said, “I really understand that that work influenced me,” adding that it gave her “a deep understanding of abstraction and structure and trust in those things.”

In considering a choreographer to respond to the Cunningham work, Sasha Okshteyn, the artistic director and producer of Beach Sessions, thought of Michelson because of her history with the Cunningham organization and for another reason, too. “I’ve just been a fan of her work for so long,” Okshteyn said. “I was like, that would be an amazing duet.”

The Rockaway performance will be the third iteration of “Beach Birds.” The original, set to a score by Cage — it won’t be played at the beach, which provides its own score — was created for the proscenium stage. In 1993, it became a film, “Beach Birds for Camera,” directed by Elliot Caplan. (The film will be screened on Friday, with other dances on the sand, as part of Rockaway Film Festival at Arverne Cinema.)

In digging through Cunningham’s notes about the dance, Lent realized that the adaptation from stage to camera was more dramatic than she first thought. While the underlying structure for “Beach Birds” is about space divided into four sections, each version started differently.

“Camera space is entirely different than the proscenium space,” she said. “Also, he added three dancers, including myself, three people that had not been included in the stage dance for various reasons. It was more than just making a film of ‘Beach Birds.’ So therefore, I felt that opened the possibility to make a new version for a new venue.”

Cunningham saw “Beach Birds” as a nature study, not just of birds but of people — and also of perspective. “One of the things that I love so much on shores,” Cunningham said in David Vaughan’s “Merce Cunningham: Fifty Years,” is “the way you are looking at a rock and you go around it, and it looks different each time, as though it were alive too.”

The dancers were uniformly costumed in leotards and tights, designed by the painter Marsha Skinner, in which the top — a portion of the collarbone extending to the arms and gloved hands, is black — while the rest is white. The new version for the beach is a rash guard top and shorts.

Michael Cole, an original dancer in the work who also assisted with the staging, said that Cunningham was mysterious during the creation of “Beach Birds.” At an early rehearsal, he handed out satin gloves.

“He told us to keep our fingers close together, including our thumbs, as one unit,” he said. “It was like, what is happening? This is so weird.”

But those gloves are key. A series of works by Skinner featuring brushstrokes, some winglike, preceded the dance. “Her reason for the black gloves and that black stripe was to have a continuous line like the ink in her paintings,” Lent said. “The dancers were instructed to not let their fingers spread — to be a wingtip, essentially. And even just the shaping of the arms, it has that sort of bow of the wing.”

At Rockaway, the dance will begin with a prologue as the performers start out on a rocky jetty and make their way down to the sand. Some of the movement is limited; jumping is hard on sand because you can’t get the same power as pushing off from a floor. “But the jumps that we are doing, like these little hitch kicks on the edge of the water or with the sand are pretty great,” Lent said. “It stirs things up!”

Skips have become delicate, sand-skimming runs. RelevĂ©s, when dancers rise to their toes, are problematic: Feet sink into the sand. Lent said, “We eliminated quite a few relevĂ©s because it’s just a lot of effort that doesn’t actually read.”

What does read? Stillness — especially in contrast to the lively environment. “On the beach, there’s the waves and the wind and the birds and the sounds,” Lent said. “So just a still figure is quite striking.”

Nyah Malone, one of the dancers, said of dancing on sand: “It’s a stage that’s slipping out from beneath you every time a wave crashes to the shore. The hardest part was really getting your bearings — like trying to balance on one foot. I couldn’t really turn.”

But the upsides are more than worth it. “It was visually just stunning being in the water and then also just having this feeling of the sand and the sun,” she said. “And the water coming up around your ankles. It was really, really cool. I definitely felt like a beach bird. I felt like a sea gull.”

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The Royal Ballet in Los Angeles: Mayerling

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This summer, Linda and I pulled a switcheroo with our home companies, seeing that San Francisco Ballet visited London in June, and that The Royal Ballet came to Los Angeles, a regular (and new favourite) ballet destination for me since my move to California two years ago. I was torn between the two programmes being presented by the company in L.A., as I could not stay in town for both. The new Wayne McGregor, Inferno, drawing from a collaboration in AI with Google looked compelling, but when the other ballet on offer is Mayerling... that is unfair! As you can see from my bio, it is one of my all-time favourites. I just can’t resist it.

Thiago Soares as Crown Prince Rudolf. Photo: © Alice Pennefather

There’s also something interesting going on with Mayerling at the moment. We have been observing a renewed interest in the piece. When we first researched it, in order to write a cheat sheet during the 2009 revival, we noticed it was rarely performed outside the confines of The Royal Ballet, as it’s such a demanding theatrical work. But recently, the ballet has entered the repertory of many other companies, including Houston Ballet, Stuttgart Ballet (where it’s getting rave reviews) and, surprisingly (given it’s a company I associate with technical perfection more than with powerful acting), Paris Opera Ballet. What is it about a ballet that portrays the decadence of the Austro-Hungarian empire that is so attractive to audiences these days? Is it because of the surprising political shifts we are seeing around the world?

Thiago Soares as Crown Prince Rudolf

Thiago Soares as Crown Prince Rudolf. Photo: © Alice Pennefather

Judging from the reaction in L.A., Mayerling remains as impactful as ever. It was met with a standing ovation, and my companion at the Sunday matinee performance loved how contemporary the choreography felt and how the costumes were a marvel of engineering (they truly are!). The last time I had seen Mayerling live (not counting the 2018 cinema screening, which is being released on DVD soon), was in 2017, with Edward Watson and Natalia Osipova, and watching the company in L.A. brought back great memories of all these years attending the Royal Opera House and of so many great performances of this ballet. Yet, the first contact I ever had with this MacMillan masterpiece was the 1994 DVD with Irek Mukhamedov and Viviana Durante, who convinced me this was a much better ballet than Onegin (which I had seen around the same time, and had found extremely disappointing. I still do).

Many Mayerlings on, Thiago Soaresñ€ℱs Rudolf had somehow always eluded me. Finally, here was a chance to see him alongside the Mary Vetsera of Lauren Cuthbertson. Thiago is by far the most sympathetic Rudolf among the current Royal Ballet roster, which is surprising given he is a tall dancer who can project great power (for instance, as Lescaut in Manon). He has found a way to play the character that is unique and works for him: this Rudolf might look like a powerful man on the surface, but he’s fragile and introspective, as projected in small gestures and in the duets with his different partners. His dancing also has a touch of modern expression. Despite being injured, Thiagoñ€ℱs partnering skills and physicality were as impressive as ever, especially with Anna Rose O’ Sullivan’s Princess Stephanie (in an excellent debut) and with Lauren’s fiery and impulsive Mary Vetsera.

Lauren Cuthbertson as Mary Vetsera and Thiago Soares as Crown Prince Rudolf

Lauren Cuthbertson as Mary Vetsera and Thiago Soares as Rudolf. Photo: © Alice Pennefather

This is the first time I have seen The Royal Ballet perform outside its home theatre and I could, therefore, observe that most of the production elements and sets are preserved on tour, with the exception of the “Habsburg” ancestor pictures, which did not appear during the scene transitions. It also helped that I had amazing seats and that I could notice every detail and even secondary characters, like Princess Stephanie’s father, the infamous King Leopold of Belgium. With a new DVD set to be released soon (the third DVD version available), and with so many performances scheduled around the world, now is the perfect time to either discover or revive your interest in MacMillan’s fabulous Mayerling. 

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Cupcakes & Conversation with Yuri Kimura, Principal, The National Ballet of Japan

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CUPCAKES & CONVERSATION IS BALLET NEWS’ FLAGSHIP INTERVIEW SERIES WITH PROFESSIONAL BALLET DANCERS GLOBALLY. FOR MORE THAN A DECADE, BALLET NEWS HAS BEEN ASKING THE QUESTIONS YOU WANT ANSWERS TO.

National Ballet of Japan
Yuri Kimura. Photo by Yusaku Kondo

What motivates you at 8am on a Monday morning ?

I wake up early and take time to warm-up my body. As my body gets ready, I feel like my mind is also set and motivated.

If ballet chose you, as many dancers say it did, what is it that has made you stick with it ?

Dancing makes me realize that I am alive. I like that feeling very much.

[embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JaMj3QhdQzU[/embed]

What are you looking forward to dancing this season & what are the big challenges likely to be
for you ?

Nutcracker (choreography by Wayne Eagling). I am looking forward to dancing Clara (and the Sugar Plum Fairy) again. Last season, I was injured when I was dancing the same role. Physically I am recovered but it will be a kind of challenge for me mentally to overcome the accident.

Who would you most like to dance with & what would you dance ?

I am fortunate to dance with the wonderful partners in my company, but I would like to dance with myself being a male dancer and to point out my faults. Could be any repertoire. It might also give me a real perspective of the male dancer.

If you could dance anywhere in the world (not only in a theatre), where would you dance ?

I would like to dance in the universe. I wonder what it would be like to dance in space, without gravity surrounded and by the planets.

How do you prepare your pointe shoes ?

Basically I sew the platform and cut half of the inside sole of my new shoes. The procedures are always slightly different depending on the shoes.

National Ballet of Japan
Romeo and Juliet. Photo by Takashi Shikama

What is your daily routine at the moment ?

Gyrokinesis ! I have been doing this for almost 10 years, but recently I am convinced that the method is good for me to start the day. I feel my entire system is awakened.

What do you eat during the course of a typical working day ?

I eat Onigiri (rice ball) from the cafeteria in the theatre. There are many kinds of fillings and I find Takana (leaf mustard) is good!

Would you like to see any improvements in ballet, and if so what are they?

Not particularly in ballet, but for me, I have a tendency to evaluate myself too strictly and think too seriously. I want to be kinder to myself and be more optimistic.

You can ask six famous people to dinner – who would you invite ?

Very difficult question


I would like to have dinner with my favorite grandfather who passed away few years ago. If it has to be famous people, then Shohei Ohtani (baseball player), Hiroyuki (internet entrepreneur), Yoshikazu Namiki (spiritual counsellor), Harry Ticker (Japanese comedian) & Zenaida Yanowsky!

National Ballet of Japan
Manon-MIstress. Photo by Hidemi Seto

What would surprise people about you ?

When people meet me they say they are surprised that I am smaller than they thought.

Who inspired you to dance ?

My mother took me to ballet class when I was a little girl. At that time, I was thin and didn’t eat much, so she thought that my appetite might increase if I participated in the class and moved a lot. That’s how it started.

What is your best piece of advice ?

These are not my own words, but I like the idea that “even if you find it hard and stressful, don’t forget that you were not only chosen but you did make your own choice”.

How do you prepare in the hours before a show ?

Most of the time, I do some exercises with a Thera-Band until the last moment.

How do you deal with the stress of performing ?

After the performance I go to Sentou (Japanese style public baths) the next day. I have to take a train to go to the public baths but I like it.

National Ballet of Japan
Giselle. Photo by Takashi Shikama

Which role has tested you the most & how ?

The Queen of Hearts in Christopher Wheeldon’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, and Lescaut’s Mistress in Kenneth MacMillan’s Manon were the two challenging parts for me. To act and dance a mature woman was not easy. I really studied and observed a lot.

If you were asked to design your own ballet costume, what would you create ?

I love the paintings by Mark Ryden (American painter of Pop Surrealism). He even created a ballet piece called Whipped Cream. I would love to make a ballet costume which has a world view of Mark Ryden’s art.

What do you look for in a dance partner ?

Someone who is easy to talk to. I want to exchange ideas.

What is your favourite quote ?

Circumstances don’t matter only my state of being matters.

Do you have a ‘signature step’ – one that comes naturally to you ?

Signature step??? I love fouettés. I was able to turn without any difficulties when I was a little girl. I was just turning round and round and felt happy.

A phrase I use far too often is 
 ?

None, that I cannot think of. I think you should ask my colleagues.

National Ballet of Japan
Copperia. Photo by Hidemi Seto

What’s been your best on-stage moment so far ?

Difficult to pick one, but I was so happy and relieved after I accomplished being a substitute.

Do you have a secret skill which no-one knows about ?

I don’t think it is a big secret but I love drawing. During the injury I was drawing some animation. There are some on the internet.

In terms of your ballet career, where would you like to be in a year from now ?

I’d like to keep in good condition, stay healthy, and avoid injury so that I can feel inspired and keep dancing.

Who would you like to have a conversation with ?

I would like to talk with a person who has an ability to see the previous life. I am curious to have a talk around my previous life.

What is your exit strategy, for the time when you stop dancing, and how did you plan it ?

I don’t really have a strategy. But I have an interest in Gyrokinesis, the method to maintain body condition. It would be nice if I can help people, not only dancers, with their physical maintenance. I even have a machine at home.



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In England, Morris Dancing Is Loved, Mocked and Getting a Makeover

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Four women in gold lamĂ© jumpsuits with painted faces and floral headbands leaped in tandem, their shins bedecked with silver bells. Hands — each gripping a white handkerchief — cut the air at angles above their heads. Two enormous papier-mĂąchĂ© beasts — a sheep and an owl — were being manipulated to dance at the edge of the stage. Joy beamed from each dancer’s face. The crowd was whooping. But what on earth was this spectacle?

The women, part of the all-female company Boss Morris, were performing the Cotswold Morris, an often mocked English folk dance that was having a rare moment on the proscenium stage at the Southbank Center in London in May. But this was not Morris dancing as it has come down through the ages. “We go a bit wild,” said Rhia Davenport, a founding member of Boss Morris.

In Morris dancing, a folk form performed to live music (fiddles, concertinas, melodeons), movements can be discrete or dramatic, from rhythmic stepping and one-legged hops to gentle gestures. For years Morris was relegated to rural England, the province of passionate amateurs, attuned to an inherited history.

“Try everything once — except incest and Morris dancing,” a popular saying goes in England. But now Morris, long a poked-fun-of example of British eccentricity, is opening up to younger dancers who approach it as a living tradition. For some, this means exploring ways to pull apart and reinterpret the form. And for traditionalists, it means perfecting ancient technique.

Morris dance is believed to have started life as a form of Royal court entertainment in the 15th century. Over time, it became the preserve of working-class men in the villages from which the dances originated, often performed in front of a pub. Costumes usually consist of white shirts and pants, hard black shoes, sashes with village colors, and bells and ribbons. Each village’s dance is different from the next — in formation, footwork or character work.

England is “at the end of the cycle of folk revivalism, which exploded in the 1970s,” said Michael Heaney, an expert on Morris dancing and author of the recently published book, “The Ancient English Morris Dance.” “People are dying off. A new generation is taking over. There was once an orthodox canon of what Morris dancing was. That is changing. Younger dancers are much freer in their interpretation of what counts as Morris.”

One less-orthodox collective is Folk Dance Remixed, which has led workshops at the Royal Opera House and performed across the country. Their signature piece — “Step Hop House” — is danced as a “conversation between Cotswold Morris, capoeira and hip-hop,” said Natasha Khamjani, a co-founder of the company. “Those three styles are highly aerobic. Most of the time you are trying to get the dancers to fly. It is hard work.”

A particularly rousing phrase has eight dancers staggered in two rows, legs seamlessly moving between whacking and popping and the distinctive capers (hops), galleys (lifted knees) and jigs of Cotswold Morris, all with handkerchiefs working as extensions of arms.

Kerry Fletcher, the other co-founder of Folk Dance Remixed, said that when the company began exploring the connections among forms, in 2010, “we were shocked to find that Morris dancing steps look like what came out of the East Coast hip-hop scene” in the United States. One crossover is the use of unusual time signatures. “In one dance, we have a jig danced to a 9/8 rhythm — with a beat boxer and bass guitar,” Khamjani said. “A dancer of ours who trained at the Northern Ballet was really struggling.”

For Khamjani, “street dance is the folk of today.” So why, she added, “should native English folk styles like Morris not be reflected in our work?”

Damien Barber is director of the Demon Barbers, another company probing the unlikely relationship between Morris dancing and hip-hop. Mr. Barber’s signature show, “The Lock-In,” premiered at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. Performed with a folk band onstage, the piece includes a vignette in which a male dancer in a football shirt performs a vertiginous Morris jump followed by a languid fall to the floor — and then starts break dancing.

Barber is quick to stress the technical prowess required to dance Morris. “Like any dance form, it takes years to perfect the nuances and physicality,” he said. “What people misunderstand is how difficult simple leaps are — and how tiring. You are stamping your feet into the floor, sometimes jumping in clogs. After every performance we strap ice packs to our shins — it is not for the faint-hearted.”

Each Morris dance consists of a repertory of 20 to 30 discrete moves. Layered on top are “so many possible variations in each movement, the wider structure and the characters,” said Ben Moss, 32, a folk performer who trained at Trinity Laban Conservatoire in London and each year does Morris dancing in full regalia — all-white costume, bells, hankies and clogs — for the 26 miles of the London marathon.

His formal training informs his Morris dancing, including references to Martha Graham technique. “I interrogate where my weight is distributed before I jump, I locate my core when spiraling,” he said. “You are always seeking a lightness, never giving into the ground.”

“I want to see Morris pulled apart and seen in serious dance spaces,” Moss added. That sentiment was echoed by Fletcher, who said: “Morris dancers don’t train like ballet dancers — but we should.”

Actually, some do. Ballet Folk was founded in 2019 by Deborah Norris, a dance teacher and academic who wants to bring ballet to folk dance (including Morris), and folk back to ballet. “This fusion is important because it appeals to a wider demographic,” Norris said. “We arrive in a van and perform in pointe shoes on a field.”

Ballet Folk takes balletic form and turns it on its head. “For example, a simple pas de bourrĂ©e leading to a jump has been adapted to a folksy syncopation,” Norris said. “Ballet dancers are conditioned for a totally different takeoff and landing to Morris dancers. We upend that, so the leaps counterintuitively land on the beat.”

At the other end of the Morris dancing spectrum are those interested not in genre-bending but in fidelity to form, like Alun Pinder, a 28-year-old data analyst. “I am a high Morris snob,” he said. “Most of the amateur groups you see out in the community — well, you could barely slide a piece of paper underneath their feet as they leap.”

“There are probably three teams in the whole country who are up to the standard that we should be striving for,” Pinder said. (There are approximately 800 active national Morris teams.) By his own estimation, his team, Fool’s Gambit, a roving collective that performs most weekends across the country, belongs in that top three. Another member, Charlotte Dover, 31, a civil servant, said, “We are looking to elevate the standard but keep true to the heart of what Morris is — a community dance.”

That also holds true for Westminster Morris, a group whose first performance was at Elizabeth II’s coronation in 1953. “Morris has been passed down to us from the fog of history — we have to respect that,” said James Jack Bentham, 29, an actor who dances with the group. The Westminster dancers are proud of their command over one of the more distinctive elements of Morris: the flicking and waving of handkerchiefs. “We have trained ourselves to lower our hankies at a certain velocity so that they are almost in tandem and vertical,” Bentham said.

The group has a diverse roster — “we have Indians, Australians, Americans, Japanese, French,” Bentham said — an intensive training schedule and occasional international touring commitments. Still, Bentham insisted, “Westminster Morris belongs in the streets of England. Morris dancing has survived so long precisely because it has remained there, outside institutions.”

But Katy Spicer, the chief executive of the English Folk Dance and Song Society, said: “It is only a matter of time before Morris dancing is properly instituted as a stage art.” Yet there have been obstacles. For Barber, what holds Morris back from this prospect is mainly “the dearth of performance opportunities for young dancers to aspire to.” Norris and Khamjani cite the paucity of available funding.

Unlike other folk traditions of the British Isles — Irish dancing, say, or Scottish Highland dancing — Morris has no formal training rubric or formal opportunities for competition, save the occasional regional folk festival. “Why can’t we do something like Riverdance in the UK?” Spicer asked. “It’s simple. Irish dance is followed as a syllabus. It is examined, stamped and badged.”

There is no equivalent for Morris dancing. Aside from a loose network of organizations representing the Morris dancing community, there exists no governing nor examination body. And Morris dancing receives next to no state funding. Despite its ubiquity in regional English life, it is still relegated to the cultural fringe.

Part of the reason may be that, for many, the form still has the reputation of being “pale, male and stale” — undesirable in an England trying to navigate a post-Brexit identity. “Morris dancing is still synonymous with slightly racist, old white men flicking handkerchiefs,” Spicer said.

All the young Morris dancers I talked to for this article were adamant about rejecting those associations. For them, Morris is appealing precisely because it looks back to a preindustrial time, largely untainted by England’s sticky colonial legacy. “Young people are casting around looking for a way to comfortably engage with their nation,” Moss said. “Morris and the folk scene offers so many opportunities to do this.”

One way is by exploring England’s Arcadian tradition. “The landscape is another connection to our history,” Davenport of Boss Morris said. The group regularly performs at ancient sites, like Glastonbury in Somerset or the giant stone circles of Avebury in Wiltshire, said to predate Stonehenge.

As Morris dancing is slowly pulled into a more progressive place, the demand for it to be transplanted to more mainstream dance spaces grows. And for those seeking engagement with their folk traditions by way of faithful recreation of the past, “professionalizing Morris would not need to kill off or replace what has been around for centuries,” Pinder said. “And it does not need to be the butt of the joke.”

Boss Morris may be the flashiest torchbearers for modern Morris dancing, but others are waiting in the wings. “Watching a terrible standard of dance is laughable,” Spicer said. “But when done well, it suddenly becomes an art form.”

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Revisiting Akram Khan’s Giselle | The Ballet Bag

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After a prolonged gap, the first performance in our autumn dance calendar was English National Ballet’s revival of Akram Khan’s Giselle at Sadler’s Wells last month. The production was hailed a triumph when it premiered in 2016 and we were definitely among its many fans. We liked that Khan had gone beyond than just re-dressing the ballet and that, together with his dramaturg Ruth Little, he had set the story in a garment factory of migrant workers against the backdrop of a wall. This wall separates them from the “others”, the landlords, who in turn exploit the migrants as cheap labour.

Since then, this production has toured widely, winning new fans around the world. Tickets for this revival at Sadler’s Wells were like gold dust, and it seems the ballet has managed to bring in new audiences, who will hopefully become ENB regulars. This was my first time revisiting the production, so I wanted to look at it with fresh eyes and see if the ballet would impress me again. I jotted down some quick thoughts to share here:

Artists of English National Ballet in Akram Khan’s Giselle. Photo: © Laurent Liotardo / ENB

1) An Universal Giselle

Despite changes in the ballet’s setting, its character motivations and in the actual choreography, Giselle remains the woman who gives her heart away to the wrong man and whose love eventually saves him. I noticed that Khan’s Giselle is perhaps more mature, and that the language he gives Giselle in her exchanges with Albrecht is more sensual. Giselle’s gestures and the way she touches Albrecht’s face indicate a degree of intimacy not found in the traditional version, and it is interesting to also note how two seasoned traditional Giselles, Tamara Rojo and Alina Cojocaru are fully at home in this new version.

2) Hilarion’s Star Turn

In the original run, César Corrales almost stole everyone’s thunder as Hilarion. I remember getting the feeling that Khan had been more invested in this character, who is trapped between two worlds and rejects his community, his own origins. He certainly gives the best moments to Hilarion, and this time around, the impression remains, with Jeffrey Cirio taking the character and making it his own. Dazzling and energetic, Cirio leaves a lasting impression and I’m still trying to understand how he could move at such speed.

3) The Scary Wilis

Stina Quagebeur remains a terrifying and authoritative sight as Myrtha. Akram Khan’s “white act” is eery and dramatic and makes me think of the army of white walkers in Game of Thrones (yet another wall!). We might not know who they really are, but we know they show no mercy towards Hilarion, who pays the ultimate karmic debt for his duplicitous behaviour.

Jeffrey Cirio as Hilarion with Fernanda Oliveira and Fernando Bufalá in Akram Khanñ€ℱs Giselle.

Jeffrey Cirio as Hilarion with Fernanda Oliveira and Fernando BufalÃ¥ . Photo: © Laurent Liotardo

4) The New Score

I enjoyed Vincenzo Lamagnañ€ℱs score even more this time around. Amidst layers of electronica and percussion, he calls back Adolphe Adam’s classic score  in a clever and effective way, setting the mood for each scene. The energising rhythms fuel the corps de ballet, driving their super fast movements across the stage. It’s the right choice for Khan’s choreographic style.

5) A Theme that is Eternal 

At its premiere, Khan’s ballet suggested connections to the migrant crisis and Trump’s wall. But in 2019, what resonates with me is how it speaks about divided populations along a variety of lines, and of the current cultural wars. If forgiveness, understanding and love are messages that Giselle is supposed to embody, these are cleverly emphasised Khan’s version. They are made even more explicit than in the traditional ballet. This is what makes this version so successful: it preserves the essence of the original, while allowing for new interpretations that are more relevant to our times – but is, at the same time, evergreen.

Alina Cojocaru and Artists of English National Ballet in Akram Khan's Giselle

Alina Cojocaru and Artists of ENB in Akram Khan’s Giselle. Photo: © Laurent Liotardo

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Hong Kong Ballet Unveils its ‘Larger Than Life’ 2023/24 Season

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Dancers (from left): Yao Zhenyuan, Ashleigh Bennett, Yang Ruiqi | Photography: SWKit | Courtesy of Hong Kong Ballet

Hong Kong Ballet ‘s Season Features The Great Gatsby, The Nutcracker, Swan Lake & International Gala of Stars and The Rule Breakers

Hong Kong Ballet (HKB) proudly announces its ‘Larger Than Life’ 2023/24 Season showcasing eight beloved ballets. With delightful classic ballets, ground-breaking contemporary works and an exciting Beijing tour, HKB is taking over the city like never before! Audiences will be thrilled by an encore of HKB Artistic Director Septime Webre’s The Great Gatsby and The Nutcracker as well as a captivating new Swan Lake world premiere.

Webre shares, ‘Our artists are larger than life both on stage and in our community, leaving an impactful footprint in all corners of our vibrant city. This season we’ve got interactive free family activities, a bold series of mainstage productions and a lot to look forward to.’

In July, HKB had its world premiere of Sam and her Amazing Book of Dinosaurs with co-producer 59 Productions (UK), kicking off International Arts Carnival 2023 and HKB’s thrilling 2023/24 season. Fusing ballet with cutting-edge arts technology, the innovative production received critical acclaim, with RTHK Radio 4 Arts News enthusing, ‘The audience, especially the children, were immersed and inspired by the performance even without 3D glasses. The production allows young dancers to showcase their talents, fully demonstrating the vitality of ballet.’

2023/24 Season highlights include:

  • Encores of Webre’s enthralling Roaring Twenties melodrama The Great Gatsby and festive family favourite The Nutcracker
  • Principal dancers from great dance companies Marianela Nuñez, Victor Caixeta, Daniil Simkin, Fang Mengying and Chen Zhuming
  • A dazzling world premiere of Yuri Possokhov’s mesmerising Swan Lake starring Matthew Ball from The Royal Ballet
  • Carmina Burana in Beijing with over 300 artists from across China (Hong Kong, Beijing and Macau)
  • Up to 15% discount on early bird tickets

In September, Ballet Carnival for Kids, a thrilling gala performance for younger audiences, features excerpts from beloved classics Swan Lake, Don Quixote and exciting contemporary works. Designed for families, this is the perfect introduction to the magical world of ballet, offering entertaining, age-appropriate insights on choreography, music and creativity.

The much-anticipated The Great Gatsby returns for eight performances in October after its sold-out 2019 debut, which was called, ‘another triumph for Asia’s premier ballet company’ and ‘a feast for the eyes’. Academy Award-winning designer Tim Yip’s original Art Deco sets and costumes delightfully capture the sound and exuberant energy of the Jazz Age, as Gatsby dreams of being reunited with his long-lost love.

Spotlighting HKB’s stellar artists alongside some of the world’s most talked-about international superstars like Marianela Nuñez (The Royal Ballet), Victor Caixeta (Dutch National Ballet), Daniil Simkin (Berlin State Ballet), Fang Mengying and Chen Zhuming (National Ballet of China), the grandInternational Gala of Stars 2023 promises to be an enthralling must-see event with a glittering programme of thrilling masterpieces and stylish contemporary works in November.

During the holiday season, Webre’s heartwarming The Nutcracker returns to bring festive cheer in a wonderous celebration of early 20th century Hong Kong’s history and characters. Full of magic and lots of local cultural elements like a bun tower climbing competition, lion dance and blossoming bauhinias, the exuberant production has been described by critics as ‘full of vitality and freshness’ and ’sure to be loved by locals and visitors alike for many years to come’. 

In January 2024, join HKB’s Beijing Tour with Carmina Burana, an extravagant feast for the senses, dancing through a journey which begins in medieval times and works its way to the present. More than 300 artists from across China will join forces, including the Macao Orchestra and over 150 singers from Beijing’s China National Symphony Orchestra Chorus on dizzying eight-metre scaffolding that evokes a medieval cloister.

Get ready for an electrifying evening of contemporary works celebrating some of ballet’s most influential choreographers in The Rule Breakers in March 2024. This dynamic programme features William Forsythe’s ground-breaking work, In the Middle, Somewhat Elevated, Andonis Foniadakis’ thrilling world premiere ballet and HKB’s Choreographer-in-Residence Hu Song Wei Ricky’s ravishing The Last Song.

One of 2024’s most anticipated events in international ballet is the world premiere of a dazzling new Swan Lake from San Francisco Ballet Resident Choreographer Yuri Possokhov. An enchanting tale of love overcoming evil, this beloved classical ballet has delighted generations of ballet fans and is reimagined with Possokhov’s trademark energy and sophisticated choreography. We’re also thrilled to have The Royal Ballet’s charismatic principal dancer Matthew Ball joining HKB on this fabulous stage.

Get fabulous early bird discounts of 15% off for Friends of Hong Kong Ballet members and 10% off for non-members for the best available seats at The Great Gatsby, International Gala of Stars 2023, The Nutcracker, The Rule Breakers and Swan Lake. Friends of Hong Kong Ballet can also enjoy special discounts at the Sugar Plum Shoppe, which offers exclusive HKB merchandise like stylish t-shirts, tutus, gym bags, and brand new 2023/24 Season items.

Hong Kong Ballet

Ticketing and Information

Tickets of The Great Gatsby and International Gala of Stars 2023 are now available at Popticket.com during the early bird period from now on until 16 Aug 2023. After that period, tickets will be available at URBTIX from 28 Aug 2023.  

For ticketing information of other programmes, please visit hkballet.com for details. 

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How Celebrity Choreographer Sean Bankhead Uses TikTok

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To read about the other Culture Shifters, return to the list here.

In 2020, Sean Bankhead thought he had reached his peak. After working with Missy Elliott, Fifth Harmony and Normani, the choreographer wanted to take a break and figure out his next steps. Then, the world stopped due to COVID-19 — and thanks to TikTok, he went viral yet again. This time, it was his choreography for Cardi B’s “Up.”

“When ‘Up’ came out, it was not supposed to be some viral dance. I made it a music video dance, not a TikTok dance,” Bankhead said. “There’s a difference.”

Bankhead is a stickler for perfection, so when he saw people doing the dance wrong, like any good instructor, he sought to correct them. He and his assistant Ahsia got on Instagram Live, gave a one-time mini-tutorial, and that was the end of that. Or so he thought.

He woke up the next day to find his voice had been turned into a TikTok audio: “We said big bag bussin’ out the Bentley Bentayga / Ooo, ooo! A backa backa bop! It’s / Ooo-crack, a bookie bookie boo!”

“I heard my voice on a video that was on my timeline,” he said, noting that he was mortified because he hates hearing the sound of his own voice. “This kid was reenacting the sounds of the video, putting stuff in his backpack and pulling out bags of chicken. I just was like, ‘OK, that was funny.’ I didn’t think anything of it. That night, it was everywhere.”

Shortly after that, Normani’s music video for “Wild Side (feat. Cardi B),” which Bankhead choreographed, was released. Fans replicated the dance moves online, and he gained more and more recognition.

“2021 was just a very surreal year for me publicly and on TikTok,” he said. “I think a lot of the work that I have put in, people were really recognizing that this was the kid that we’ve been watching from YouTube. Now, he’s doing big things.”

Before Bankhead was a choreographer to stars such as Lil’ Nas X, Katy Perry and Latto, before he was a Theta Nu Theta Stepper in “Stomp the Yard 2: Homecoming,” he was a young dancer under the username @seanalator on YouTube, posting concept videos that he shot and choreographed himself, including one for Beyoncé’s “Run the World (Girls).”

Tracy Nguyen for HuffPost

Sean Bankhead, who describes his younger self as a “nerdy, gay band kid,” is the brain behind today’s most-buzzed-about music videos and online dances.

Now, Bankhead, 34, is on the way to becoming a household name. With credits on series such as “Star” on Fox and serving as a judge on MTV’s “Becoming a Popstar,” he is the brain behind today’s most-buzzed-about music videos and online dances.

Born in Philadelphia and bred in Atlanta, Bankhead grew up in a home filled with the sounds of Anita Baker, Maxwell, and Earth, Wind & Fire. You might assume that a celebrity choreographer was an attention-seeking child, naturally gravitating toward stages and captivating audiences, but Bankhead was, in fact, very timid. He was a self-described “nerdy, gay band kid.”

“I got bullied. I was wearing the preppy Abercrombie polos and skinny jeans. It was tough for me because I really didn’t have the confidence that you might assume. You quickly see how kids change on you,” he chuckled.

Occasionally, he would put on family talent shows with his cousins, but his earliest memories of organized dance started on his church’s mime team. Bankhead is a student of Michael and Janet Jackson, Usher, Aaliyah and Britney Spears, and music videos introduced him to the world of performance.

“I watched the ‘Thriller’ video — scared out of my mind, when I was a kid. My mom would say, ‘You would just stand in front of the TV and try to mimic everything that they did in every video that you saw,’” he recalled.

The first music videos that really stuck out to him were Missy Elliott videos.

“I was old enough to really understand what was happening: the creativity, the production value, the choreography, the costuming, the set design, the lighting and special effects,” Bankhead said. “She was a pioneer in music, period, creating these visual moments that you couldn’t wait to see what Missy was going to do next. Times have changed. Budgets have changed.”

Bankhead wouldn’t say that music videos are a “long-lost art,” but the landscape has shifted. He noted that today, there’s often a lack of artist development and care for visually personifying one’s music and identity. Often, artists and choreographers are merely given two days to rehearse, he said.

Bankhead says he has “a love-hate relationship” with how TikTok has impacted choreography and the dance world.

Tracy Nguyen for HuffPost

Bankhead says he has “a love-hate relationship” with how TikTok has impacted choreography and the dance world.

“I’m at that level of my career now, where if I do something, I want to say something. I want to make a stamp,” Bankhead said. “[With] Normani, I think we have the same understanding. She grew up watching music videos, too. When we first did ‘Motivation,’ everyone was like, ‘Wait a minute, hold on. Videos are back.’”

One music video, in particular, changed his life: Tiffany Evans’ “Promise Ring” featuring Ciara in 2007. Wearing a black and yellow ensemble, baggy jeans and rectangular frame glasses, he danced with Evans as her love interest, earning her coveted promise ring. In just 24 hours, he went from cowering in the hallways to brushing shoulders with Ciara and appearing on “106 & Park.”

“I never really talked about this, but being in that music video and playing the boy she gives the promise ring to,” Bankhead continued, “I was very insecure because I was, at the same time, dealing with my sexuality. I didn’t really feel cool. I didn’t feel hot. I didn’t feel like I could play a straight boyfriend. I was really in my head, but I knew I could dance.”

Bankhead wanted to keep on dancing, no matter the cost. That experience gave him a glimpse into life on set and the life he wanted to create for himself. He went to conventions, such as Monsters of Hip Hop, where students were hand-picked to compete in an end-of-year showcase in Los Angeles. He was selected when he was a graduating high school senior.

“After the week of rehearsal on the show that we put on the next day, I was supposed to start college,” he said. “I didn’t want to go to school. I wasn’t going to school for anything that I wanted to go for. I was going for my parents, so that became a big thing.”

So, Bankhead attended Georgia State University. For four days. Then, he dropped out.

His father was livid, to say the least. “Those were dark times,” Bankhead laughed. In retrospect, he extends his younger self a bit of grace: “I was a bit of a rebellious child. I was an artist trying to figure myself out.”

Bankhead stayed in the dorm for the year and took classes from different choreographers in Atlanta and built relationships with them.

He met Brian Friedman, Britney Spears’ choreographer, and Chuck Maldonado, who later cast him in “Stomp the Yard.”

At 19, Bankhead was hungry to make his dreams come true, and he turned to the internet to build an audience. He taught classes at a dance studio called Dance 411 and posted videos of choreography on YouTube.

His first video, posted in 2006, garnered 1.6 million views. Taking a hands-on approach, Bankhead personally edited every single video he shot. He garnered so much online attention that people across the globe would request him to teach classes. By 22, @seanalator was flying to Poland, Russia, Japan and countless other destinations.

“I was a bit of a rebellious child. I was an artist trying to figure myself out,” Bankhead says.

Tracy Nguyen for HuffPost

“I was a bit of a rebellious child. I was an artist trying to figure myself out,” Bankhead says.

But the online notoriety didn’t exactly translate professionally. The dance industry was slow to catch on to his online appeal.

“There’s always this kind of rank system when you get to certain industry parts of it,” he said. “I had a real struggle trying to break into the industry to choreograph those music videos.”

Known as “the YouTube kid,” young Bankhead still hadn’t landed a major job yet. When an opportunity to choreograph a BeyoncĂ© music video came up, he knew he wanted to get the gig. Bankhead flew to LA, entered a room full of choreographers, but was unable to get to the front of the line. After that missed opportunity, he revisited the drawing board.

“I ran back home to Atlanta with my tail between my legs, and I was like, ‘I’m just going to shoot this choreography by myself with my own girls,” Bankhead said. “I’m going to rent a camera; I’m going to style the girls, I’m going to find a little abandoned location.’ That was the beginning of these highly produced dance concept videos.”

On May 1, 2011, Bankhead published his stylized choreography of Beyoncé’s “Run the World (Girls),” which has garnered over 8.4 million views. While that video launched him into stardom, he appreciates the years of growth that preceded it.

“That slow, steady rise really works out in the end. It gives you longevity,” he said.

The gradual ascent gave him a good foundation, and he spent the next eight years cultivating performances and creating dance routines for talent such as Migos, Kehlani, City Girls, Flo Milli and so many others.

Though the internet has propelled his career, Bankhead has “a love-hate relationship” with how TikTok has impacted choreography and the dance world. Yes, it has democratized the art, but Bankhead said that it has “overly glamorized simple dance.”

“I’m not a hater. Times change. You gotta stick with the kids. You gotta see what the young kids are doing because back in the day, people would be like, ‘Is the Dougie real dancing?’ or ‘Is the ‘Lean Wit It, Rock Wit It’ dancing?’” he recalled. “But it was culture. It was fun, it’s inclusive. It was a little bit more full-bodied. Now, with TikTok, you might not even be able to see people’s legs.”

On the other hand, he empathizes with the struggles of dancers who ascended to fame online. His ultimate hope is that aspiring dancers become more well-rounded so they can book music video opportunities.

He continued, “A lot of up-and-coming dancers are solely watching TikTok instead of doing real research and taking classes. Because now what we’re seeing is these kids who are blowing up through TikTok, but can’t hold their own in a real, eight-hour rehearsal. They can’t make it when you have to go on tour and do an hour-long show. It’s not allowing the real dance community to expand, per se.”

Visibility has been a double-edged sword, and Bankhead has been susceptible to criticism. In August, Megan Thee Stallion’s “HER” music video premiered, which Bankhead choreographed. It featured wristwork and moves such as the duckwalk that originate from the underground, queer ballroom scene.

Two days after the video came out, transgender ballroom pioneer Leiomy Maldonado tweeted and posted a now-deleted Instagram story criticizing the video and the appropriation of ballroom aesthetics. Maldonado is a judge on “Legendary” who has earned the title of the “Wonder Woman of Vogue.”

The comments sparked online discourse, and Maldonado tweeted that the onus is on choreographers to do better. Bankhead chimed in via an Instagram comments section and offered up an apology and explanation. He said that it’s “a very touchy subject,” but he also respects Maldonado and other pioneers in the ballroom community.

“When you’re not officially in the ballroom scene, people that are in ballroom can take offense to successful or public entities, whether it’s a choreographer or a show writer, involving ballroom culture without them being involved,” Bankhead said. “I get where they’re coming from. I’ve been to so many balls, clubs, classes, and I’ve vogued around my house with my friends since I was a kid. I think that’s a conversation to be had with more members of the community and me. I am not above respecting their opinion and their feelings involving ballroom culture and pop culture.”

Bankhead said his inspiration for the “HER” video was Jonte’ Moaning, who did a lot of early BeyoncĂ© work like “Freakum Dress.”

“Their style was more cunty and feminine and it wasn’t, per se, vogue-inspired,” Bankhead said. “I wanted to speak up and make sure that I don’t want anyone to feel as though I’m disrespecting or stealing.”

Bankhead notes that he always tries to incorporate dance moves that speak to the present. Using his musical roots, he developed and honed a method to his madness.

“I’m a bit of a mad scientist. Making choreography is never hard for me. I grew up playing instruments as well: piano, saxophone and drums. I can never get bored with creating because I know music really well. I understand music. Music paints a picture,” he said, imitating the rising musical scales with a corresponding dance move.

“I’m at that level of my career now, where if I do something, I want to say something,” Bankhead said.

Tracy Nguyen for HuffPost

“I’m at that level of my career now, where if I do something, I want to say something,” Bankhead said.

Bankhead likes to choreograph while sitting in the car, zoning out and driving down the highway, which is where he says the possibilities are endless. Feeling dictates the movements as opposed to optics, so he refrains from choreographing in front of a mirror. He tries his best not to be influenced by other choreographers he admires, but rather put his own spin and flair on his work. A lot of that inspiration comes from his home city of Atlanta.

“There is a lot of culture, heart and swag in Atlanta that I’m glad I’m always around because I’m not losing my soul. If it’s hot in Atlanta, it’s gonna be hot everywhere else.”

When Bankhead saw Atlanta native Lil’ Nas X on the rise, he knew he wanted to work with him. Months later, the choreographer crossed paths with the artist and his creative director Hoda Musa, who wanted them to work together.

“In the back of my head, I was like, ‘I already know if I get him, I’m going to take him to the moon.’ I got the job, and we clicked instantly. That’s my little brother. Outside of work we just connected, him having an older, gay Black dude from Atlanta mentor him.”

The first performance Bankhead choreographed for Lil’ Nas X was his performance of “Call Me By Your Name” on “Saturday Night Live.” After that, it was the historic and provocative 2021 BET Awards performance.

“It just was that pop culture moment that every pop star kind of gets to, when it’s time for them to really kind of take off, when they have that creative team or those people that helps them feel confident. It was all intentional. He is so bold and brave, and he’s like, ‘Let’s do it.’ He’ll be nervous as all get-out, but he knows the platform that he has.”

The same could be said for Bankhead, who never takes an opportunity for granted. After being a judge on MTV’s “Becoming a Popstar” series last year, he hopes to continue embarking on projects that put him in front of the camera. With a pending film and four upcoming music videos on his plate thus far, he’s ready to go in 2023.

“Top of the year, I had a good break. I’m ready to hit the ground running. By the time I’m 35, I’m retiring, though. My body hurts,” Bankhead laughed. “My mind is like, ‘Sean, what else can you spit out?’ But clearly, there’s more if I’m getting the opportunity.”



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