Mackrell reviews There are not many on-line - boo to the Guardian.

Don't ever upset Judith Mackrell - unless physical violence and being slapped about the head particularly appeals that is...

I kid you not, that is what she did to a drunken pair at Covent Garden who had talked all the way through a performance by Asylmuratova. Would other critics have got physical? Would you have got physical?

Mackrell in fact it turns out is not only physical but emotional at times as well, “I cry a lot. I'm quite a cryer actually..”. What's more Ashley Page's work has been known to bring together both the physical and the emotional... “Ashley can do sex” she says, speaking purely choreographically. But then candidly admits “You know I had to take my husband home after one show. I said Ashley!”. Can a Mackrell review ever possibly read the same again?

Judith Mackrell is best known as the Guardian's dance critic, but she contributes to many other publications including Dance Now and also can be heard on radio and TV from time to time. As critics go she seems to inhabit a unique position - more than a few balletomanes think she is very modern and so does not really appreciate classical works and - of course - some modern dance folks think she has sold out and gone all classical over the years! Betwixt and between are many readers who appreciate a questioning style that covers dance in the round (if not the story ballets - of which more later).

Like her or not, Mackrell is part of a newer generation of critics raised on more diverse fare and is supportive of the new and different as well as the old. The old / new theme is reflected in where we meet - it's the Mackrell family residence which is in a Victorian terrace. Outside all is 'normal' but inside it's an eclectic mix of antique furniture and bold new design. Not a lot of chintz here.

As a critic Mackrell is also unusual in that she has actually been a dancer, teacher and choreographer. What's more she “.. even got a bit of Arts Council money to do stuff”. This was at Oxford (the Old Fire Station) where she was also doing a second degree in English. As she puts it, it was a “nicely balanced lifestyle”. Unfortunately the dreaming spires were unlikely to cough up a paying academic job and so what else to do?

“I'll be a dance critic! This is the only decision I've ever really made. My subject was English and I was used to kind of taking a critical view of art and I was passionate about art: I'll be a dance critic.”

She wrote to the Guardian: quite brave given that Mary Clark (the legendary Dancing Times Editor) was resident critic. But Mackrell was talking about a different criticism of a different product that wasn't really being covered at that time.

“The editor passed the letter on to Mary Clark who instead of just throwing it away and saying ‘you presumptuous little trollop(!)’ wrote me a letter: ‘I think that it's very interesting what you are saying about the lack of criticism informing the art form. Would you write a piece for the Dancing Times?’ Amazing!”. A very nice gesture indeed.

After that there were pieces for Dance Theatre Journal who “gave me a lot of space and let me just flail around and make all kind of mistakes and try out my writing skills. Which I have to say doing a DPhil does not equip you with - makes you pompous and long winded!”. She also did the classic thing of going into a newsagent and going through all the publications... work followed with Tatler, Literary Review and Workout (for whom she wrote about musicals and tap dance!).

Then there was Review - a new arts magazine for which she was dance critic. It was a major opportunity but she had to move from Oxford to London: “I gave up everything, all my teaching. Came down to London, wrote for the Review for

“You are going to be our Dance Critic and I will make you famous.” Mackrell quoting the man who started Review.

about 6 issues and of course it went bust and there was nothing. That was a disaster.”. Despite the setback Mackrell had assembled a good portfolio and the Independent was starting... and "Cinderella went to the ball" was the candid way she puts her biggest break.

“I cannot say strongly enough how amazing they were because they were so willing to take risks with their writers because there were a lot of us at the time on the arts page with hardly any (newspaper) track record.

“You know I had never done a newspaper deadline in my life. It took me about 3 months to realise that when they said 400 words they meant 400 words and that if it was interesting - 'Oh this is really interesting' - I'd give them 600 and then I'd be actually furious because they cut 200. It took me ages to understand how a newspaper was run and that it wasn't like a term essay.”

So how does she ‘review’ - what's the process? When Mackrell first started she used to take notes during the performance “.. but I soon realised that that was self-defeating because I couldn't read my handwriting afterwards anyway - I have terrible writing. It's just totally indecipherable!”. Tricky indeed. Now she takes odd notes if she is doing a long review (that would be 2,000 words typically) or for an overnight review, of which more later. For her ‘normal’ reviews, of 400-500 words, she finds she remembers the key images - like taking a mental snapshot almost. Then “I get up the next morning, take the children to school and then just write it.”

The hardest thing is the first paragraph - effectively finding a way into the review. It's the more difficult of course if the performance was rather ‘wan’ as opposed to being incredibly good or bad. But once she has found the first sentences everything else generally comes together. The typical 400 word Guardian review takes about 1½-2 hours and there is one draft before the final version goes out. It's all done on a portable computer and electronically submitted. Sad to say that she has no web access as yet.

“Overnight reviews -                     they're scary!”

“The overnight reviews - they're scary - because they have to be in by 11:30pm and so I have to come out of the theatre at 10:15 and be home by 10:40. And they're 500 words and that's quite hard”. To help she might write the first paragraph (100 words?) to set the scene, but the rest is all hammered out in 45 minutes.

“Sometimes reading them the next day I feel ‘Oh I'm not sure I've got the tone quite right’. The thing (normally) is having a night to sleep on things - even though I stop thinking about the show when I leave the theatre. Somehow it all settles overnight and usually I have a pretty clear idea of what I think about in the morning even if I've not been consciously analysing it.”

Forty five minutes to write a review which is read by tens of thousands over their cornflakes seems very scary to me. But not quite as scary as being sued for libel - an experience Mackrell is not keen to repeat either. Grigorovich, the Bolshoi Director took exception to some of her coverage on the controversies around the Bolshoi at the time of their last visit.

“I was very naive then. I didn't know enough about the libel laws. I thought that if I was simply reporting things that other people said and views other people held - that was all right! ... You need to prove you are right.

“The problem was that most of our chief witnesses were in Russia. So it would have been very expensive to actually get everybody, or sworn accounts, from them. Fortunately at the time it was early on and Andreas Witham Smith (editor of the Independent at that time) took the view that it was winning your spurs for a young journalist to get sued, so they fought it for me. In the end Grigorovich settled for about £5,000.”

“It was horrible, it was vile, I was pregnant and you know I was ready to cry about anything at that point.” On being sued by Grigorovich

If falling out with people in the trade is an obvious professional hazard, so is getting too friendly with them. “The general rule is that you can't get that involved with someone really and when you do you obviously have to be pretty careful. It's a shame because you are meeting people and you are both passionate about the same thing.” On the other hand she notes that many great dancers and choreographers can be incredibly focussed on what they do... “So in an odd way, dancers and choreographers are the last people to talk about dance with.”

Those familiar with her writing know Mackrell has long been a ‘fan’ of Darcey Bussell and in the writing of Darcey's book they got even closer than ever:

“I was aware that I was going to have to be very careful ... and obviously I would not have done the book if I had not liked her a lot from previous interviews. The counterbalance to those worries were that I knew her work, I know that she is a fabulous dancer and I didn't think that I was actually going to compromise myself because most of the time I find something to admire in her shows and if I don't admire something - there are things that go wrong - I know she knows all about it anyway. So she she would never regard it (a critical view) as a betrayal.”

I ask if she feels connected with her readership? Yes, and she does get letters. And some of them are nice letters, some aren't and some people just want to tell her what they think of it all.

“Thank you, I liked that and I went to see it and I wouldn't have seen it without you!” An example of the nice correspondence that Mackrell gets

She does get criticised and occasionally will respond with further justification or thoughts, but overall she believes her reviews stand: “You know if I haven't covered something already then I'm not really going to do it in a letter.” She has also had some vicious letters which surprised her - “You can't always tell how people will read your intentions or words”.

Besides readers thoughts, she often gets feedback from colleagues at the Guardian - Arts Editor, subs and other departments' editors for example. It's important because she works from home and does not have the office contact you

“I think I was pretty ruthless when I first started. I think I've become kinder.”

might expect. I'm also intrigued to know if she thinks her perspective has changed over the years. She feels not and notes that those who see a move from modern to classical are balanced by those who see her going the other way. “I'm not aware of any shift at all!”

While she is not aware of any meaningful change in her core beliefs and approach, circumstances do change. Editors naturally want the 'sexy' and accessible stories and she works hard to bring in the less well-known as well. The other thing is that her knowledge of ballet has grown with greater access to it. When she was younger she did not have the opportunity to see so much ballet - not least because of the expense, particularly of seeing the big companies and touring companies that came over from time to time. She well remembers the impact of some Makarova and Asylmuratova performances:

“I'm glad that some people think I'm modern still - it gives me hope!”

“You know it was only when you see really, really, great artists that you kind of get an exponential increase in your appreciation and I think that changed over the years and I feel more confident about comparing performances.”

Mackrell's independent and wide view is typified by her admiration for Ashley Page's work and her support of the Royal Ballet (RB) at a difficult time.

On Page “When he gets it right it's incredibly exciting - in terms of the movement I find it incredibly enthralling and I find it incredibly sexy. I mean Ashley can do sex. I think he should be considered a national treasure. I don't understand why he is not more valued.”

‘He's not universally enjoyed’ I say (something of an understatement at times). “I know he's not. Which I find amazing.”

On the Royal Ballet (RB) front, I, for one, was surprised that Mackrell wrote a strongly supportive piece at a time when everybody was bashing them, or rather the ROH. It was during the Sadler's season in late 1998 - crunch time re the new contracts and the ROH trying to lower its costs and change its working

“The one thing I haven't lost is total respect for anyone who gets up on stage .. I might boo the choreographer, but I will clap the dancers.”

practices. She had to fight hard for the space in the paper - screamed down the phone even! - and having won it proceeded to back the company whole-heartedly. As she puts it, there were rumours going around about sacking everybody and starting again.

“And I thought if by January the threats are carried out and the Royal Ballet is finished, what am I going to feel like if I did not stand up and say 'This is a company worth saving'.

“I just thought knocking the Royal had become a kind of habitual thing - by some who don't know any better and I'm not going to mention colleagues' names. There are a couple of people around who frankly don't know what they are talking about and make very loud statements which actually have no basis in fact - questions of taste apart.”

She freely admits that the RB still has problems, but notes “When I first started reviewing for the Independent the Royal was in a terrible state and the difference between it then and now I think is amazing. There is still a way to go.”. For good measure she adds “I adore Michael Kaiser.” (now if I had a penny for all the people that talk so positively about him I'd be a very rich man indeed) “He is a phenomenon, I'm really, really optimistic about the future.”

Optimism about the overall future of ballet and dance is a little more tempered:

“My worst fear is that it will go down the glossy diverts, kind of easy listening, easy watching (route). I mean I have written in print of my loathing of the 3 act story ballet.

“I suppose because I come from a literary background I cannot see the sense in simply trying to replicate on stage sheep shearing competitions and Wuthering Heights.

“Just doing stories for the sake of doing stories fills me with despair really. For me that is not really what dance is about. I love dramatic dance. I love narrative dance. I think it can only tell a story in a very specific way and trying to stick too much to literary models really does it a disservice. But I know that's what sells and .. if I'm pessimistic I imagine endless re-writes of 19th Century literary classics - Dickens, Jane Austen you know. A whole field out there - heritage story ballets. Don't like it.”

“I think an awful lot of great dance can still come from that technique and that knowledge” Mackrell on ballet.

Mackrell is more upbeat about the increasing links she sees between classical ballet and those involved in modern dance. Classical technique seems to be increasingly valued as a way of preparing the body and she talks of Forsythe, Lloyd Newson (DV8) giving his dancers class, Siobhan Davies doing a piece with the RB and Ashley Page of course.

Her thoughts on the future for dancers strike a chord although I had not thought about it before:

“Ballet dancers are no way going to be as docile in the next century as they have been in history. I think it will be much harder to find dancers prepared to just stick with a limited repertory. People like Sarah (Wildor) going off and doing AMP will become much more common place.

“Ballet will lose a lot of its best dancers. You know the intelligent ones are going to want more. ”

“You know however much and however passionate they are about doing the classes - and rightly so - they will also want more self-determination. I think nearly all the classical companies will have some kind of upheaval and there will have to be a way, I would assume, of reconciling the immense discipline of classical training with people's mental and relational independence. I don't know how they will do it.”

On repertoire her despair of a future filled with story ballets does not extend to the classics: “Well I feel it's really important that we do the classics and we do them incredibly well. On the whole I take the view someone like Matz Ek takes, either you do them properly or you totally change them. I hate that half-way house mucking around - I hate gimmickry. They are wonderful works, let's just see them or let's do something very different with them.”

She would also love to see dancers get more education in doing some of the early 20th century works. They need to understand the culture and just what kind of people they are dancing - similar sentiments to those of Sylvie Guillem in tackling her recent Giselle.

“I suppose I want everything!”, she says as she goes on to look forward to a future with more new works as well... with fewer Swan Lakes and Sleeping Beauties every season. For the rebuilt Opera House she has high aspirations for the Studio Theatre and fervently hopes that it will help start to break down the divisions between classical and modern audiences:

“I think there's a huge potential for newness - there's a huge appetite for it. I think people, certain people in control, need to be braver and a bit more imaginative: I think it would happen.”

She is also keen to see things put on elsewhere by RB - possibly some more Sadler's Wells performances: “I think it's a lot to do with the venue. If you can get the RB out of the Opera House and into other venues where it has the chance to play - it needs to play. You know it's been serious and grand and stuffy and responsible for too long really.”

Time's up and Mackrell the mum has to go and pick her kids up from school. I block the door (easy!) and ask about her best experience:

“The first time I saw Asylmuratova's Giselle - I wept. Seeing Merce Cunningham in Pictures - I wept.... there have been a lot of good experiences ... that is what keeps me going”

and weeping too it seems!