According to Kevin O’Hare, director of the Royal Ballet, the dance world is currently in a “lucky” period, with fewer rigid boundaries between genres. “It all kind of melds a little bit, but not in a bad way”, he says, speaking on a call from the Royal Opera House. “There don’t seem to be barriers to people expressing themselves in different ways.”
In 2026, it may seem natural for choreographers such as Wayne McGregor and Christopher Wheeldon to move seamlessly between creating for classical ballet and contemporary companies, yet this fluidity was made possible by the work of trailblazing artists in the late twentieth century. One such innovator was Glen Tetley, an American dancer and choreographer credited as one of the first to combine ballet and modern dance.
Drawing on his training with pioneers such as Martha Graham and Hanya Holm, Tetley’s works featured a unique approach to storytelling and unconventional music choices. This attracted attention on both sides of the Atlantic: while he created many ballets for North American companies, including American Ballet Theatre and the National Ballet of Canada, in 1969 he became co-director of the Netherlands Dance Theatre. Then, in 1974, he moved to Germany to lead Stuttgart Ballet. “Not many people did that”, says O’Hare, explaining how limited exchange and movement used to be between American, British and European dance scenes. “It’s interesting that the Royal Ballet jumped in there in the 1970s [to add his work to its repertoire]”, he adds. While the company has its own legacy and tradition, “[we must have thought] that this person could give us something different and open our eyes to a new world”.
Tetley, who died in 2007, is being celebrated this year on the centenary of his birth. Until March 1, the Chicago-based Joffrey Ballet is staging Voluntaries (1973) as part of its American Icons programme. It’s a popular choice: Norwegian National Ballet, Ballet am Rhein and Stuttgart Ballet will also be performing it at various points in 2026.
In the UK, the Royal Ballet chose to mark Tetley’s anniversary with a revival of Pierrot Lunaire (1962), one of his earliest yet most influential pieces. “It’s a unique work in the whole ballet canon”, says O’Hare; challengingly set to Arnold Schoenberg’s remarkable atonal song cycle, which used twenty-one of the German translations of Albert Giraud’s poems inspired by commedia dell’arte. The white-faced clown Pierrot, or Pedrolino, was originally danced by Tetley. Pierrot’s defining trait, described in the Royal Ballet’s programme text as being “as much inspired … as terrified by life”, resonated with the choreographer’s own shy personality. “For somebody of his talent, [he] was very understated”, says O’Hare, who knew him in later life. “He was hugely famous, but he didn’t feel like this grand choreographer. He wasn’t that man.”
In the Royal Ballet’s performance in the Linbury Theatre on February 11, the company soloist Joshua Junker takes on the role. The curtain opens to reveal him alone atop a tall, metal climbing frame, swinging with his back arched over a horizontal pole like a crescent moon suspended in the night sky. After a few seconds, he snaps into action. Mouth agape, eyes wide and playful, he repeatedly extends his limbs outwards, carving sweeping circles in the air before recoiling. Joints break at jagged angles in time with stark, irregular piano notes, and pantomimic expressions ranging from fear to joy flash across Junker’s face in a continuous loop.
Panic surfaces when Pierrot tumbles and falls down his tower, a structure he returns to throughout the work, embracing it like a bastion of security. Yet despite his ingenuous exterior, he always catches himself, deftly hooking the crooks of elbows and knees onto bars like a monkey grabbing branches while descending through a dense canopy of trees. When safely on ground level, Pierrot mimes teetering along tight ropes and executes floor-based shoulder rolls and upright turns bordering on classical ballet in equal measure, the diversity in his movement vocabulary a clear demonstration of Tetley’s hybrid style.
It’s impossible not to sympathize with this melancholy yet mischievous figure, whose guilelessness is endlessly endearing. Yet performed in contemporary times, Pierrot Lunaire suggests how such innocence can make even the most well-meaning of us vulnerable to manipulation. The emergence of the muscular Brighella (danced by Patricio Revé), for example, leaves Pierrot entranced and attempting to emulate his macho movements. His relationship with the courtesan-like Columbine (Natalia Osipova) also hints at a susceptibility to external influence. After playful, courteous interactions – from ducking and dodging through a washing line pegged with felt clothes to morphing their bodies into a series of symmetrical poses – Pierrot feels entitled to grab at Columbine’s breasts. She slaps him and stomps off stage, an action that sends him spiralling into a solo of self-pity and frustration.
As Pierrot throws aggressive, annoyed fists in Columbine’s direction, it’s hard not to relate his dual attraction and anger towards his female counterpart to the recent radicalization of young boys by far-right online personalities. Though it plays out humorously on stage, the sudden switch from sweetness to rejection-induced violence brings up uncomfortable resonances of toxic content in the “manosphere”.
It doesn’t go that far for Pierrot: despite getting his hands on Brighella’s sword, his blade-wielding merely results in him sticking it comically through his legs – evidence that, no matter how hard he tries, he’ll always remain the lovable fool. It’s a fact that ultimately seals his sad fate: Pierrot ends up stumbling across the stage with long elastics attached to his wrists and ankles, manoeuvred like a marionette by Brighella and Columbine. Eventually, Brighella stabs Pierrot and steals his clownish outfit – disguising himself as a harmless jester to trick future victims into compliance, perhaps? This trick, too, feels uncomfortably familiar.
Perhaps it demonstrates that there are always new perspectives and resonances to be found in the revival of classic works – Tetley created Pierrot Lunaire created sixty-four years ago. It’s a notion that will become increasingly relevant in the coming months and years, as the British dance scene gets ready to mark several major milestones of its own. Rambert, the UK’s first dance company, which also staged Pierrot Lunaire in 1967, bringing the work wider recognition after its UK premiere in 1963, will celebrate its 100th anniversary this year, as will the Royal Ballet School. The Royal Ballet will have its centennial in five years’ time.
Rambert has chosen to take a forward-looking approach. In June, the company will premiere a programme comprised solely of young, fashionable, commercial-leaning choreography at Sadler’s Wells, rather than classic works from Rambert’s repertoire by British dance titans such as Christopher Bruce, Siobhan Davies, Richard Alston and Shobana Jeyasingh. While we can’t turn back the clock, watching Pierrot Lunaire at the Royal Opera House and reflecting on Tetley’s legacy is a compelling reminder that looking to the past is far from regressive. Reflection helps us to understand how we arrived here – and to consider where we want to go next.
Emily May is a Berlin-based writer and editor specializing in dance and performance. She writes for publications including Dance Magazine, ArtReview, Frieze and the Stage.
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