February Arts Off 75: Romantic Ballets for the Month of Love

The most romantic month of the year is upon us, and with it comes a familiar pull toward stories that remind us why love remains one of art’s most enduring subjects. Across stages and disciplines, artists return again and again to love’s full spectrum. Desire, betrayal, loss, redemption and the quiet hope that love, when tested, can still conquer all.

This season, audiences in both Dayton and Cincinnati are gifted with two of classical ballet’s most iconic love stories. Cincinnati Ballet presents “Swan Lake,” the ultimate tale of devotion undone by deception, and Dayton Ballet brings forward “The Sleeping Beauty,” the fairy-tale romance where true love’s kiss restores harmony and hope. Together, these works form a poetic dialogue about love’s fragility and its power.

While both ballets are visually sumptuous feasts, filled with lavish costumes, grand court scenes and Tchaikovsky’s unforgettable scores, “Swan Lake” occupies a singular place in the artistic canon. It is not simply a love story. It is a psychological drama, a meditation on illusion versus truth and one of the most demanding tests of theatrical honesty in classical dance.

Created during the late Romantic era, “Swan Lake” reflects a time when ballet shifted beyond decorative spectacle and toward emotional depth. Tchaikovsky’s score does not simply accompany the movement, it drives it. The music gives voice to longing, doubt, seduction and despair, demanding that dancers listen as deeply as they move. This is why “Swan Lake” endures. It asks its performers to be more than technicians. It asks them to be storytellers who make the audience believe in love.

I know this story intimately. One of the great honors of my performing life was being cast as Prince Siegfried. Like all love interests in classical ballet, he is royal, but that title carries little weight without emotional credibility. Siegfried is not a heroic caricature. He is conflicted, vulnerable and painfully human. The role is considered an elevation to principal status not because of the steps alone, but because of what it demands emotionally and psychologically.

Classical principal roles require a very particular kind of coaching, often passed down orally from one generation to the next. This lineage is sacred in ballet. Coaches carry lived experience in their bodies, memories of nuance and intention that cannot be captured fully on paper. Many of the most revered coaches danced the female roles and spent decades absorbing the ballet’s emotional architecture. In my case, my artistic director brought in the legendary Laura Alonso, an internationally renowned instructor from the Cuban school of ballet. Her reputation preceded her, and I knew immediately that this would not be an ordinary rehearsal process.

Before her arrival, we had already learned the choreography for the famed Black Swan Pas de Deux in Act III. Like most dancers, we carried the familiar nerves that come with wanting to prove ourselves worthy of a classic. On the day of coaching, I arrived having taken a full 90-minute class, followed by an additional hour of warming up and stretching. I felt prepared. Or so I thought.

Miss Alonso and my artistic director entered the studio and sat quietly at the front. We were asked to take our places. The regal brass intro of the music filled the room as we entered from opposite sides, meeting center stage. Then, suddenly, silence.

A heavily accented “No” cut through the air.

“You don’t even stand in the wings like a prince.”

In that instant, humility arrived without warning. For the next three hours, every step, gesture and intention was surgically dissected. We stopped. We restarted. We questioned motivation. We returned to the beginning again and again. This relentless process continued for nearly three hours, all for a section of choreography that lasts barely ten minutes onstage.

Miss Alonso took no prisoners. Her goal was not polish. It was transformation. That coaching revealed the difference between technical proficiency and commanding presence. “Swan Lake” ultimately teaches that same lesson. Technique can be trained. Presence must be earned through vulnerability, discipline and the courage to move beyond comfort. Ballet, at its highest level, demands emotional risk. Did I collapse from sheer exhaustion after that rehearsal? Absolutely. Did it lead to a personal and artistic breakthrough? Without question.

This is why “Swan Lake” continues to resonate with audiences and artists alike. It mirrors our own struggles with desire and choice. It reminds us that love is rarely simple, and that beauty is often forged through rigor and humility.

Whether you’re celebrating Valentine’s Day with your loved one or enjoying date night another evening this month, if you find yourself in the audience in Cincinnati or Dayton this month, allow yourself to be swept into the romance of these stories. Let the music carry you. Let the dancers remind you that behind every exquisite moment lies the enduring human desire to love fully, even when the cost is high. Oh, l’Amour!

Rodney Veal
CET and Think^TV Producer and Community Arts Liaison