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Mr Saturday Night
Bryony Gordon meets Strictly favourite Anton Du Beke
‘I’M ON A CONSTANT QUEST TO BE BETTER. THAT’S WHAT I HANG OVER THE MIRROR IN MY DRESSING ROOM’
As Strictly returns, everyone’s favourite dancer is hanging up his top hat to take his sunny demeanour on to the judges’ panel. But behind the smiles is a constant quest for perfection
– a result, he says, of his difficult upbringing.
From the moment he walks into the photographic studio to the moment he leaves, some seven hours later, Anton Du Beke could be the poster boy for joy personified. Through endless outfit changes, his cheer does not falter. He cracks jokes, hands out compliments, swirls assistants around the studio. He is, in short, the consummate professional, charming the pants off everyone. Exactly as he appears on the telly.
Later, he tells me that whenever he leaves the house he sees himself as being in show-business mode. He used to carry Sharpies around with him so that he could give out autographs on the spot, but now he finds that people are more into selfies and videos for their mum. ‘I’m always happy to do it because I love it. I will do a three-act opera for them sometimes.’
But, I wonder, as we sit down to chat, does he ever get, well, tired of it all? ‘No!’ he says, aghast. ‘It’s a total joy. I love it. I love the business. And this is part of the business. Also, it takes longer to say no. I can’t refuse a photo and then ask the same person to come and see me in the theatre. It doesn’t work like that. My job is entertaining people.’
And it cannot be denied that Du Beke is very good at his job. He is the only professional dancer from the original series of Strictly to remain on the show 17 years later, and this autumn he will become a permanent judge. Or as permanent as one can be on Strictly, which is constantly shaking things up, from the dancers to the cast to the introduction of same-sex pairings.
Some have argued that moves such as this are turning the BBC’S flagship light-entertainment show – which pulled in some 13 million viewers for its 2020 finale – ‘woke’, but Du Beke has no time for such criticisms. He is excited to see which male dancer John Whaite, the chef and food writer, is paired with, and he is also thrilled about the inclusion of Rose Ayling-ellis, a deaf actor from Eastenders. ‘There are same-sex people who dance [together] in the UK. There are people with disabilities who dance in the UK. It’s perfectly natural to have a representation of the UK in your line-up, and why wouldn’t you?’ He scoffs at the notion that the viewers are anything other than ‘open-minded’, and says that most viewers are only really fascinated with one element, and that is ‘how the contestants are going to get on. That’s it, basically. That’s the interesting part. All the other stuff is not.’
He also thinks the show has always been far more inclusive and diverse than people give it credit for. ‘You’ve got people of all ages. From the start, they didn’t just say, “Let’s just get a load of 25-year-olds and put them in a dancing competition.” That wouldn’t have been very interesting, or reflective of the people watching.’
He is endlessly positive, and his energy is utterly infectious. Yet his dance partner, Erin Boag, once described him as a ‘monster in the nicest way’ – because he’s also incredibly driven. Where does that drive come from, I ask. ‘The fear of unemployment,’ he responds, deadpan. Does he ever have dark moments? ‘Well I’ve had a few on Strictly,’ he says, referring to the endless dud celebrities he has been partnered with, from Ann Widdecombe to, most recently, Jacqui Smith, who was the first to be voted out of the competition last year. But he is only joking, teasing in that oh-so-anton way.
‘I have an expression: “What’s the other option?” To get grumpy? Because that is not a viable option, so you crack on. But also, I just don’t want anyone to be upset by anything I say or do. So maybe I have more of a positive disposition in an effort to not upset or offend. I’ve always wanted to be the best at what I do, and I don’t think I’ve achieved it yet.’ He can’t imagine reaching a point where he can pat himself on the back. ‘I worry about thinking I’ve cracked it,
because then it’s going to end. I’m always waiting for the tap on the shoulder. The person saying, “There you are! We’ve been searching for you for some time, now go back to where you belong!”’
Where Du Beke belongs, many would argue, is exactly where he is: one of the best-loved stars of one of the UK’S best-loved shows. But for the dancer from Kent, who turned 55 in July – ‘I know, you’re thinking, “Never!”’ – he will always be the kid who left school at 15 with barely any prospects.
He took to competitive ballroom dancing relatively late in life, as a teenager, having discovered his local dance school at the age of 10. ‘I had this fear immediately that everyone else had started when they were six or seven, and by the time they were my age they were already champion dancers. So I was always playing catch-up, and still have a determination to get better quicker, to the point that I can be a lunatic. Sometimes it’s a help, sometimes it’s a hindrance. It can be as constructive as it can be destructive.
‘It’s sort of in my DNA. I always look back and think, “I could have done that better.” There’s never been a situation where I think, “That was amazing.”’ Never? ‘NEVER!’ He almost shouts. ‘I’m on a constant quest to be
‘I still have a determination to get better quicker, to the point I can be a lunatic’
better. That’s the thing I hang over the mirror in my dressing room: BE BETTER! What’s the other option?’
To relax? ‘I relax! I play golf! I’ve got children!’ There aren’t many parents of four-yearold twins who would describe the process as relaxing, but that’s Du Beke for you. He is a devoted husband and father. His wife, Hannah Summers, a 44-year-old businesswoman, whom he married in 2017, is ‘the most remarkable thing. She’s amazing.’ They met at a party at a golf club in 2011 – he says he knew he loved her almost the moment he saw her. Their twins, George and Henrietta, will start school just as he starts his new role, which he is just as excited about. ‘I love everything about being a father, to distraction.’
It’s all relentlessly upbeat, although I am doing my best to put Du Beke through a session of armchair psychology. Has he ever suffered from depression? ‘I’ve been sad. I’ve been disappointed a lot. Mostly with myself.’ I ask him about his father, Antal, a violent alcoholic from whom he was estranged until his death. ‘Well, there’s nothing to say about that,’ he says nonchalantly, as if I have just asked him about his
accountant. ‘Am I defined by my past? No. I’m defined by my future.’ He is teetotal, and people often ask him if that is because of what he witnessed with his father. ‘No, I don’t drink because I don’t like it. I got drunk when I was 18 and I weed myself. I had no constitution for it. And I thought, “I don’t know if I can afford the dry cleaning so I’m going to knock this on the head.”’
It’s clear that, in Antonworld, everything is a performance. Trying to get a sense of him outside Strictly is like trying to get a sense of the Pope’s interests outside Catholicism – he is Mr Showbiz, an old-school entertainer in the style of his hero Bruce Forsyth, who doesn’t have an off switch. He won’t reveal another side, perhaps because that side doesn’t actually exist – if it does, it is buried deep beneath his top hat and tails.
But he will concede that his work ethic comes from his childhood in Kent. ‘I’m a product of parents who escaped the countries they were born in. My mum is Spanish and had to leave Franco’s Spain during the civil war. And you’ve got my father, who left Hungary during the uprising. They both ended up in Sevenoaks and they both had two jobs their whole life. My father was a hard drinker and not a very nice person, as I remember. So if you come from all of that, the attitude at home is one of work, because you don’t have an education to fall back on, only your two jobs – and we’re talking £200-a-week jobs here…’
His admiration for his mother, and what she went through, means he holds all women in high regard. Is he a passionate feminist? ‘Yeah, I think I probably am. But I find the whole men-versus-women thing a nonsense. That, “Women shouldn’t be able to do this, don’t pay them as much as that,” and all that bollocks. I’m just staggered that it can even be a serious conversation, that it even needs addressing.’
He has always said that his journey into dancing was a bit Billy Elliot, with his beloved mum supporting him all the way. He was a successful professional ballroom dancer in his late 30s by the time Strictly came along, competing on the international stage – he was in China when he got the nod for the show. Did he expect it to be as big as it is, or to come as far as he has on it? ‘No! I don’t think even the BBC thought it would be. We were all a bit nervous about it. There were no acts. The big name was Brucie. And then there were these eight professional dancers that nobody had ever heard of. Everyone was in tail suits and Latin costumes and we were all DEADLY serious about what we were doing. We kept saying, “You’re not going to take the mickey out of us!” We thought maybe we shouldn’t do it.’
He laughs at the memory. ‘The BBC said, “Well, we’re going to do it anyway, so we can either do it with you or we can just get musical-theatre people instead.” So we decided we would rather be in it than not. But I remember, at first, that nobody was really interested in it. I couldn’t get my friends to watch. And then it started and everyone said, “What’s this? It’s amazing!” and away we went. I never did another competition after that.’
The first series was so popular that another was commissioned immediately. ‘We had two series that first year, 2004,’ he recalls. ‘The great thing about it is that there’s no prize money in it. There’s no contract at the end. Nobody’s getting a record deal or going to the West End. You’re just trying to win this trophy.’
Initially, he and the other professional dancers entertained fanciful ideas that they might have some influence over the programme. ‘But the thing is, as soon as you step through the doors you realise that no one is bigger than Strictly. Nobody is listening. It’s too big for anyone to go, “By the way, what I’d like is…” No. Crack on and learn your dance. Everyone is just doing their job. And if the pros have any idea about getting above their station…’
He pauses and chuckles to himself. ‘You just realise that you’ve got to do the bit you are responsible for, which is to make this partner of yours as good as they can possibly be. And remember this: she’s the star, not you.’
But, I say, Anton, you are the star! Without you, there is no Strictly! ‘If that’s what the viewer regards, then that’s fine. But I’m not going to start getting ahead of myself. In series one, I made a decision: to be myself and to remember, “This is not about you, old son.” My only job is to teach you to dance.’
Well, actually, his only job now is to join the judging panel, replacing Bruno Tonioli, who has been stranded by Covid in America, where he works on Dancing with the Stars.
But Du Beke is not ready to rest on his laurels yet. He says that the most crucial person on the show is the fifth judge – the audience. ‘The most important judge! I want them to vote in a way that will get up the judges’ noses. Because it makes the show fun. There’s nothing more exciting on Strictly
than when the whole of the bottom three go through, and you get the so-called good ones in the dance-off. Oh, I love that!’ He pumps his fist in glee. ‘Love it! I can’t wait.’ Strictly Come Dancing begins on BBC One on 11 September