Up until the 20th century, a ballet was almost always a full-length, multi-act extravaganza based on an entertaining and exotic storyline. The plots were taken from mythology (most 17th and 18th century ballets), legends and fairy tales (La Bayadere-1877; The Sleeping Beauty- 1889; The Nutcrakcer-1892), or the supernatural (La Sylphyde-1832; Giselle-1841; Swan Lake-1846).
Although these classics are still performed, the advent of Diaghileff and the Ballets Russes in 1909 introduced the 20-40 minute one-act ballet, and this format has become the default for modern dance and contemporary ballet. Choreographers were freed from having to tell stories, and abstract ballets eventually became the norm. Today larger ballet companies occasionally premiere a new full-length ballet, and the stories come from many sources, such as Shakespeare plays (Romeo and Juliet, A Midsummer Night’s Dream), contemporary plays (A Streetcar Named Desire), or books and films (Dracula).
However, there are virtually no full-length abstract modern/contemporary dances.
Why is that?
Audiences need stories in order to be engaged for more than the 20-40 minutes danced in a single, one-act piece. That’s what I’ve observed in my 50 years of watching dance, and 12 years of producing it. Without a compelling story, there’s simply no reason to want to return after an intermission. After absorbing the music, the mood, the overall concept, and the choreography for about half an hour, the audience is happily exhausted and ready for something different.
However, if the fate of the principal character or characters is up in the air, the audience will be eager to see what happens in the next act. A well-conceived scenario will do this; it will provide solid framework for extending the choreography and the music for another 30 minutes—or longer.
Who writes ballet scenarios, anyway?
Sometimes a choreographer has a gift for storytelling, sometimes not. Creating a scenario is a separate talent and skill more akin to writing a screenplay than creating movement to music. As far as I can tell, there is no training available to men and women who aspire to this kind of job. It’s learned through practice.
In 2015 I wanted to present a full-length ballet for Marigny Opera Ballet, and thought one could be adapted from an opera plot: Monteverdi’s Orfeo. I got the libretto and started working to streamline the thing to fit our needs. We had and have a small stage and eight dancers, and no money for a full orchestra. Naturally, I ran into problems right off. It became clear to me that the libretto couldn’t be edited down; the whole thing would have to be rewritten. I worked with choreographer Maya Taylor to try to come up with something viable, based on the bare bones of the opera plot, shedding characters and entire scenes. The result was a scenario, rather like a screenplay, minute by minute, engineered to tell a clear story without words.
I like to think Orfeo the ballet was a great success, but when I watch the old video I can see now that the action could have been clearer, tighter. It’s the same reaction I have re-watching any of the full-length ballets we’ve produced since: Giselle Deslondes, Midsummer Night’s Dream, Book of Saints, Follies of 1915, A Streetcar Named Desire…
For Winterlight, the ballet slated to open our 2025/2026 Season, I worked diligently with choreographer Christian Denice, with phone calls, zoom calls, emails and texts, collaborating to build a plot structure underneath the vision he had for the piece: the winter solstice. Through our conversations a story emerged: the Nordic Hero falls in love with the Sun, a beautiful golden woman who disappears on the longest night of the year. I think we went through five drafts of the scenario, always clarifying and simplifying.
I hope you’ll come see the resulting ballet, and if you do, I hope you will return to your seat after the intermission.
Dave Hurlbert, Executive Director