BalletBoyz at 25: ‘We still have the same desire to discover’

William Trevitt and Michael Nunn are the original BalletBoyz, but they haven’t danced on stage for 15 years. To mark the 25th anniversary of the first performance of their company, they are performing an extract from Russell Maliphant’s Critical Mass, one of the works with which they launched all those years ago.

“We’ve decided to come out of mothballs,” says Nunn, with a grin. “It’s mildly depressing.” Trevitt jumps in: “In a lot of ways, it immediately came back, but I have a feeling that we never properly knew it.” 

Nunn adds: “We were dancing six other pieces as well – that’s why.” 

Has the routine been changed at all? “Russell’s just made a couple of things much more awkward and more difficult,” says Trevitt, deadpan.

They both smile broadly. This is what a conversation with Nunn and Trevitt is like. Friends since they met at the Royal Ballet upper school in 1984, they finish each other’s sentences and thoughts.

Together, they are two of the most significant figures in 21st-century dance; pioneers in making the art accessible for the widest possible audience. At the Royal Ballet for 12 years, they came to prominence – and got their nickname – in 1999 when they made a groundbreaking video diary of their life backstage at the Royal Opera House for Channel 4. It was vivid, and unvarnished. 

A year later, Nunn and Trevitt left the Royal Ballet to go to Japan, and when that venture didn’t fulfill their creative expectations, they set up their own company, originally called George Piper Dances (their respective middle names). But the catchier BalletBoyz stuck.

Their first performance – in a bill called Pointless at the Roundhouse in Camden, north London, in 2001 – featured both male and female dancers. But the current lineup – excerpts from their greatest hits, plus a first glimpse of a new piece by the up-and-coming Seirian Griffiths – is all-male, four of the dancers new to the company.

The principle of the new programme – Still Pointless – is to show the range the company has covered, spanning commissions from classically based choreographers such as Christopher Wheeldon and Liam Scarlett, to contemporary masters such as Maliphant and Javier de Frutos, to talents like Xie Xin and Iván Pérez, who Nunn and Trevitt spotted and encouraged. The works vary, too; there is the drama of Young Men, which conjures up the fallen of the first world war, or the brawling energy of Bradley by Punchdrunk’s Maxine Doyle.

“It shows our versatility,” says Nunn. Trevitt adds: “There’s a kind of restlessness. I think we haven’t ever settled on one thing. You could say we have, in terms of being all-male or focusing on double bills. But, where possible, we are trying to explore.”

We are talking in their cluttered office above their studio in Kingston, south-west London, where they’ve been based since 2013. Nunn can’t quite believe the anniversary has arrived. “It certainly doesn’t feel like 25 years. It still feels like we’re on the edge of bankruptcy half the time. It’s an old adage, but you’re only as good as the last thing you’ve done. Everyone forgets everything else.” Trevitt says: “We’re always lurching.” 

What has sustained the pair is their desire to do good, adventurous work and always to expand their vision. On that first night at the Roundhouse, they wrote a letter addressed “Dear Audience” and signed “Love Michael and Billy.” It read: “Our aim is to present theatre of the highest quality … we will present work that not only challenges but also entertains … extending our horizons in every direction.” Trevitt explains: “We could have started with something small, but we wanted to say, ‘This is the scale of our ambition.’ Then we went without any money at all for the next three months. We were completely broke. That continues. We don’t want to make it appear like it’s hand-to-mouth, but the reality of the funding cycle is that the money hasn’t changed, and the costs keep going up. We have to continually work out how to make good, valuable work.” One quality that has distinguished the company is that it makes films of and about dance, as well as commissioning pieces for the stage. Do the films sustain the live work? They speak simultaneously. “No. They both lose tons of money.” Then laugh. 

They receive Arts Council funding, but it represents a tiny proportion of what they need. The rest comes from fundraising and the box office. Touring – they will take the Still Pointless programme across the country for 26 dates – represents a particular strain. When they began, there were a lot of contemporary dance companies touring with mixed repertory. Now they are in a tiny minority; partly because of the cost, and partly because the networks of small regional theatres that used to contribute funds have broken down.

“The maths don’t add up,” says Nunn. “If you’re touring 10 dancers, with 10 hotel rooms and a truck, and the price of diesel has gone up and the venues are on their knees, you could fill every theatre every night and you’d still lose money. We are lucky that venues know us and know the audience is there. So being booked for shows isn’t a problem – it’s just that we have to subsidise them so heavily.”

BalletBoyz is one of the companies that has shaped the UK dance landscape for a generation. Nunn and Trevitt have been remarkably skilful at spotting and nurturing talent: Griffiths, who will make a full-length work for the company in the autumn, is the latest rising star to fall within their ambit. But it is getting harder for a new generation of choreographers to break through. “There’s not enough support, really,” says Nunn. “You need support to be able to take artistic risks. A lot of people leave dance school and immediately start their own company and make small projects with friends because that’s all you can do.” 

Trevitt adds: “There’s nothing to coalesce around, no medium-sized groups.” Nunn says: “We’re a gateway. If we like what they do and they want to work with us, we can give them 10 bodies, time, space and an element of mentorship.”

That’s where the advantage of having a permanent base comes in. “It’s a home for the dancers to come to,” says Nunn. “Just being able to invite someone in to work is such a luxury.” Apart from the cost of heating – about £200 a week in winter – they can offer people who are starting out free use of the studio. “We’ve developed quite a lot of work that way,” he adds.

Nunn and Trevitt admit that they are lucky in that they are answerable mainly to each other. “We do infuriate people,” says Nunn. Trevitt adds: “Because we change our minds.” Nunn interjects: “Not in a flaky way. But, sometimes, people act on what we say and we go: ‘No we didn’t actually want to do that. We want to do this.’”

The two are still friends off stage, and say they never actually argue. Their families – both are married to former Royal Ballet dancers – socialise. “There might be differences of opinion,” Trevitt says, “but it’s ultimately leading to the same thing. We want it to be good on stage and we have the same taste.” 

Nunn adds: “And the same work ethic,” before Trevitt continues: “And the same desire to discover, whether it be a collaboration, or a voice, or a composer. That’s not altered.” 

They agree that part of their success is the hands-on nature of their commissions. “I don’t think we have ever commissioned anything and waited until first night to see it. I think that is deadly.” 

Trevitt smiles. “We had seen that happen when we were dancers because the choreographer was allowed to do what they wanted. And then it was terrible. So we interfere quite a lot. We’re present throughout creation and steer it so it fits in with our vision – for better or worse.” 

That vision has carried them a long way, and they show no sign of stopping – taking risks, coming up with ideas. But now is a moment to celebrate all they have achieved. “Twenty-five years. That’s a quarter of the life of the Royal Ballet,” says Trevitt, with wonder. “That’s ridiculous.” Nunn nods his head in agreement. “Yeah. And I still don’t feel that we’re established.”

BalletBoyz’s Still Pointless is at Sadler’s Wells, London, from 12-16 May, then touring

Photographs by Peter Avery, BalletBoyz