The curtain comes down on the latest dance sensation to hit Moscow – a troupe just in from England. There is silence while the audience digests the beauty of what they have just seen. Then they are on their feet cheering and hurling bouquets at the exhausted but triumphant performers of the Larondina Dance Company. The response is all the more overwhelming because every member of the Battersea-based troupe has Down’s syndrome. From South London to Siberia, these dancers are challenging perceptions about what people with disabilities can achieve. “I love people watching me dance,” says Emma Wilson, a 27-year-old from Streatham, one of the nine dancers who regularly perform abroad. “All those faces looking up at me.” “When I dance, I smile all the time,” adds Rebecca Blackwell, 35, from Croydon.
People with Down’s syndrome generally have poor muscle tone and difficulties with co-ordination and balance. Yet the Larondina dancers perform routines that include turns, arabesques and even handstands. Their performance isn’t likely to pose a threat to the Bolshoi – they are, to use a tennis analogy, competent club players, rather than Wimbledon champions – but everyone who watches them in action is entranced. “Their technique may not be perfect, but their dance is so heartfelt, their concentration so intense, that their performance is completely honest and unforced,” says Angelina Alessendre, the 59-year-old founder of the company and a former professional ballerina.
For the Moscow audience, it is amazing that such a troupe even exists. In Russia, people with Down’s are accorded little respect. Doctors will often tell the mother of a baby with the syndrome that her child is destined to achieve nothing and be nothing. Estimates in the late Nineties suggested that nearly 90 per cent of babies born with Down’s were abandoned to orphanages at birth, with almost half dying before their first birthday. So, seeing the Larondina dancers striding out on stage, at ease with themselves and dancing gracefully, is truly revolutionary. Changing attitudes is an important part of the company’s work. Indeed, Downside Up, a charity dedicated to helping children with Down’s syndrome in Russia, estimates that the number of babies given to orphanages has fallen by nearly 20 per cent within the past ten years, partly as a result of such awareness-raising activities. A video of a Larondina performance is now available in Moscow maternity hospitals for parents who have just discovered that their baby has the disability. And Alessendre has trained a local dance teacher, who has recently opened her own special-needs dance school in the remote reaches of Siberia. However, changing attitudes at home is equally important. David Simpson, 29, from Croydon, is one of the troupe’s most accomplished dancers, and a true showman. He recently led a dance workshop at Cheltenham Ladies’ College as part of the school’s disability-awareness programme. “I wasn’t nervous at all, because I’m a natural,” he says. “I showed the girls how to do some of the dances and they were quite good. I like dancing. It gives me confidence. I like helping other people learn, too.”
It is 15 years since Alessendre started her dance school. She had trained at the highly regarded Vacani School in London from the age of three, and time spent in Hungary as a teenager had ignited her interest in the work of its world-famous Peto Institute. Originally state-funded but now private, the institute uses a series of exercises taught by specially trained “conductors” to help children with cerebral palsy learn to sit up by themselves and even walk. The techniques have been adopted by many countries, including Britain. Alessendre, who had witnessed first-hand the physical improvements that resulted from conductive education, felt that dance, too, could improve the posture, co-ordination and fitness of children with disabilities, and offer a much-needed outlet for self-expression. She began putting her theory to the test and created a special-needs syllabus in ballet, tap and modern dance. The first intake of dancers improved past her expectations and she soon realised that they had the ability to perform professionally. The Larondina Dance Company was formed to showcase their talents and was soon being invited to perform both here and abroad.
Alessendre believes that one of the reasons her dancers accomplish so much is that they all master correct technique, albeit at their own pace. Beginners may spend weeks or months learning simple exercises such as taking two steps, followed by two claps – the sort of exercise that children without disabilities can learn in ten minutes, but which can be so difficult for those with poor co-ordination. Keeping the head held high has to be taught, too. A daintily elegant blonde, she is extremely patient, always engaging eye contact and offering encouragement, but with a stern look for anyone who messes around. “She’s bossy,” says David. “But she’s good.”
Frank Kinch, 59, who works in the finance department of an NHS trust, agrees. His children – Mike, 22, and adopted daughter Katy, 13 – both have Down’s syndrome and, every week, he makes the four-hour round trip from their home in Hastings so they can attend classes. “Angelina’s expectations of them are high, but she never puts them down and always praises them when they do well,” he says. “It’s wonderful what they achieve.”
Katy started off in the local dance school, her father explains. “But it became harder for her to keep up as time went on. The others took exams and got certificates, and the gap kept widening. She loves dancing and here she can achieve at her own pace.”
It is ironic that while the Larondina Dance Company is regarded as astoundingly progressive abroad, at home it has found it difficult to attract funding, possibly because its emphasis on teaching children with special needs separately is seen as retrograde. Many of the parents of the young adults in the Larondina Dance Company are fed up with having the Government mantra of integration “rammed down our throats”, as one puts it. All want their children to be accepted and to lead fulfilled lives, but some are dubious that forcing them into the mainstream is the best way. Sally Vinter, a 55-year-old former teacher from Chiswick, for instance, gives a revealing description of her 20-year-old daughter’s time at the local comprehensive. “The other girls were kind to Susie – when they remembered – but as the gulf between her and them inevitably grew, she didn’t have true friends, only people who took a kindly interest. Here, she really feels comfortable, she has a social life, she achieves.”
Elizabeth Blackwell, 63, mother of Rebecca and a translator for social services, who also designs costumes for the dancers, feels that being part of a troupe of young people with similar abilities is better for her daughter’s self-esteem. “It allows them the chance to give rather than just receive. The performing aspect is very important for that, and for improving their confidence.”
Alessendre is supportive of mixed-ability dance companies, but is uneasy about going down that route herself. She feels she would find it impossible to set a workable pace to cater for such a differing range of abilities. “I could just have our beginners running around pretending to be aeroplanes and butterflies, but why do that when everyone can learn real technique?”
She is delighted that her work is being adopted by other groups. After witnessing a performance by Larondina, Dadia Conti, the 52-year-old founder of the Inclusive Play Opportunities Project (IPOP), which supports disabled children in mainstream activities, asked her to train staff so they could start their own classes in Barnet. “Their show left our youngsters open-mouthed,” says Conti. “They’d never seen people like themselves as such positive role models. Most of our children have communication difficulties, but you don’t need language to dance. They come out smiling and the parents are so positive about the benefits.”
Alessendre is delighted at the success of this collaboration and is hoping to link up with another group in Birmingham. A recent foot injury has made her aware her own dancing days are numbered. “I need to pass this work on, but I have so much still to do,” she says. “In Russia, we played a part in changing attitudes towards disability, and we could do that in other parts of the world, too – we’re hoping to set up a tour to Ecuador soon. Here, it would be wonderful if every dance school could offer even one session a week for children with special needs. But it all takes funding and that’s hard to find.”
She grimaces with pain as she hobbles to the battered community centre that is home to her company. The dancers cluster eagerly around her slight frame as she helps them to fix their hair or find a prop. Then she gives an imperious clap and David Simpson leads the warm-up. There is an air of confusion as steps are muffed and timings forgotten, but the dancers get into their stride and, by the second number, are poised and relaxed. Watching them, the distinctive facial features of Down’s fade from view. Instead, all you see is a performance full of passion, control and humanity. And that is just what you’re meant to see.
For more information about Angelina Alessendre’s dance classes and the Larondina Dance Company, visit asneeds.org.uk; IPOP, ipop.uk.com
