He was sacked from the Paris Opera Ballet after homophobic and sexist online rants. In an exclusive interview, he talks about the joy of self-sabotage – and his Vladimir Putin tattoo
It is four months since Sergei Polunin used Instagram to destroy his career. And what a job he made of it. When the Royal Ballet’s youngest ever principal dancer praised Vladimir Putin and showed off his chest tattoo of the Russian president, told his male colleagues that they’d better man up and suggested that fat people needed a slap, he pretty much alienated the whole world. In January, the Paris Opera Ballet announced it had fired the Ukrainian, just after announcing it had hired him to play the lead in Swan Lake. The bad boy of ballet lost virtually everything – acting and modelling jobs, a Ted talk, sponsorship.
It was a supreme act of self-sabotage – but by no means his first. This is the man who walked out of the Royal Ballet eight years ago, aged only 21, when he was already being compared to Rudolf Nureyev and Mikhail Baryshnikov.
Last week, I received an email from Tatiana Tokareva, Polunin’s manager. She asked if we could meet because the dancer “is looking to explain his recent activity on social media”. I told her I know nothing about ballet. That’s good, she said, because Polunin hates talking about ballet.
The next day I climb four steep flights of stairs to arrive breathless at the London attic flat where he is staying. The door is open. Polunin is sitting in a chair, topless, having his photograph taken. I can’t stop staring at his torso. The Putin tattoo takes pride of place, among a series of slash-like scars to left and right, a howling wolf, the Grim Reaper, a circle of swastika-like symbols on his stomach and “I am not a Human” inscribed along his waistline.'
“Make yourself feel at home,” he says with a smile. “Would you like something to eat?” He passes me a bag with two fresh croissants inside, and gets straight to the heart of the matter.
“For many years I saw the world as two sides: east and west, two powers. And I was trying to search what is white, what is black. Both sides wanted me,” he says with endearing gravitas. When he was in Russia, he always heard that Britain and the US were bad, and vice versa. He says he believed he could stay neutral, embrace all sides and teach the world to love. At times, Polunin sounds messianic, at others like a lost little boy.
He looks like a punk Baryshnikov. His face is as sculpted as his body, and he has a sweet tattoo on his cheek – a dove and a figure three shaped into a heart. He says this dates back to last September when he stood in Red Square in Moscow and declared he wanted to “unite England, Russia and Ukraine”. (Although he was born and grew up in Ukraine, he has always regarded himself as Russian.) Again, it was all about love. “But nothing happened,” he says. He sounds baffled rather than disappointed.
Fast-forward a couple of months to the night of his 29th birthday, 20 November. He was in Qatar to make a short film, thousands of miles away from home. The film-makers left him alone in the desert for a couple of hours. All he had for company were the stars. When he got back to his hotel, he was still buzzing. That was when he decided to create a manifesto of love, to put out on Instagram. Polunin shows it to me. “Plant or animal, black or white, gay or straight, man or woman, I always see things deeper than just a surface. I always look deep inside the person and you will see a beautiful person in every human being.” But the message refused to send. He thought this was a sign.