A new generation of Korean ballet takes the stage

Last month’s Ballet Festival Korea opened with the 40th-anniversary performance of "Shim Chung," a homegrown show inspired by the local folktale of a devoted daughter who sacrifices herself into the sea to restore her blind father's eyesight. 

Premiering in 1986 as the country’s first large-scale collaborative ballet production with international partners, the full-length original work has since been staged in more than 40 cities across 12 countries and remains a staple of the local ballet's repertoire.

Yet successful original Korean ballets have been few and far between since "Shim Chung."  Universal Ballet’s "The Love of Chunhyang" (2007) and the Korean National Ballet’s "Heo Nan Seol Heon - Su Wol Kyung Hwa" (2017) are among the rare full-length productions that have been staged regularly over the past two decades. 

In 2026, Korean ballet looks markedly different. Moving beyond the narrative-driven neoclassical drama ballets that have long shaped the genre, a new wave of homegrown productions is embracing striking visuals, hybrid movement languages and collaborations that blur the boundaries between ballet, Korean tradition and contemporary performance.

The Seoul Metropolitan Ballet, the country’s only publicly funded contemporary ballet company, drew attention this year with its latest meditative production, "In the Bamboo Forest."

Choreographed by Kang Hyo-hyung, a former principal dancer with the Korean National Ballet, the work depicts a modern individual, burdened by a restless mind, entering nature to breathe, empty oneself and restore inner order, using the tranquility and vitality of a bamboo forest as its central metaphor.

Bamboo, hollow at its core, serves as a multilayered symbol. As one of the “Four Gentlemen” in East Asian art, it represents resilience and elegance. At the same time, it signals a desire to empty oneself of preconceived notions and fill the space with the breathing rhythms of Korean dance to create a new movement vocabulary.

The music, merging geomungo (plucked zither) with modern band arrangements, was composed by gugak (traditional music) musician Park Da-wool.

The production's highlight moves from its music to the dancers in the second act, with the vertical energy of bamboo perfectly synchronizing with the movements of the female ensemble on stage, maximizing the ballet’s inherent visual beauty.

Then, the dancers remove their pointe shoes in the third act and exhale deeply, symbolically casting aside the rules of ballet. In the emptied space that remains, male dancers then emerge in a powerful and dynamic ensemble, depicting seeds taking root and growing explosively in the fourth act.

“By expressing the distinctly Korean texture of bamboo through the dancers’ rough inhalations and exhalations, the work firmly fused Korean sensibilities with contemporary ballet, moving beyond mere visual borrowing, said dance critic Jang In-joo. "However, it was disappointing that the production did not more clearly differentiate the structural character of each section in the latter half. If it were to introduce greater variation in dramatic depth and visual effects to strengthen audience immersion, it could establish itself as a signature repertoire piece for the Seoul Metropolitan Ballet.”

Another anticipated homegrown production was "Tale of Tales," staged in May and directed by visual artist Jung Ku-ho. Jung previously led a wide range of cross-disciplinary projects, including the fashion brand KUHO, and has overseen stage direction, set and costume design for major state-run arts institutions such as the national dance, ballet and opera companies.

For this production, he collaborated with contemporary choreographer Kim Sung-hoon, creator of the critically acclaimed "Ilmu" (2022) also known as "One Dance," to deconstruct and reimagine classical ballet through his signature minimalist aesthetic.

The work could be described as a “ballerina’s odyssey.” The protagonist travels through scenes in iconic classical ballets such as "La Sylphide" (1832), "The Sleeping Beauty" (1890), "Giselle" (1841) and "Swan Lake" (1877). 

Drawing on the essential elements of full-length classical ballet — technical virtuosity, pas de deux and large ensemble scenes — the production reconstructs familiar material into something entirely new.

Jung, whose Korean dance works often stripped away overt emotional expression in pursuit of “dance for dance’s sake,” takes the opposite approach here. He presents a narrative of liberation, in which a ballerina passes through love, anger and loss, overturning the passive emotional roles traditionally imposed on female ballet dancers as she emerges as an autonomous individual.

"It is a narrative of liberation, in which a ballerina journeys through a tunnel of love, anger and loss, overturning the passive emotionality long expected of female dancers in classical ballet and leaping toward an independent sense of self," Jung described the show. 

In all its scenes, excluding the prologue and epilogue, dancers embody emotional states that function almost as classical ballet clichés. Beginning with longing through a solo inspired by "La Sylphide," the performers dance to the theme of obedience from "The Sleeping Beauty," love from "Giselle," and emotional collapse from "Swan Lake." 

In the epilogue, the protagonist rejects the emotions tied to the four male dancers who have appeared throughout the work, sweeping them away with a series of 32 fouetté turns and declaring transcendence.

The production also reads as a tribute to classical ballet. Beneath Jung’s signature visual language — stark contrasts of black and white punctuated by bold accent colors — lie undeniably beautiful music and refined technique. The highly structured traditions that contemporary dance often seeks to escape instead become objects of admiration, allowing the work to transcend classical ballet while reaffirming the very qualities that make the art form so moving.

Jung’s return to ballet is itself significant. Having previously transformed Korean dance through his willingness to break boundaries and invite outside influences with Korean National Ballet's "Poise" (2012), he once again demonstrates that innovation often comes from crossing disciplinary lines.

“The effort to expand the boundaries of expression through a collaboration between a designer and a contemporary choreographer was commendable, and I also appreciated the decision to place a veteran ballerina like Kim Ji-young at the center of the work, evoking a sense of nostalgia," said dance critic Shim Jeong-min. “However, had the production featured more young dancers with sharp lines and youthful energy to match its sophisticated costumes and mise-en-scène, it would have felt more dynamic and the collaborative elements would have stood out even more.”

"Ballet Arirang," which ran on June 6 and 7,  pushed the idea of boundary-breaking even further. The production was created in collaboration with MUTO, a media art collective led by multimedia artist Park Hoon-kyu, known for visually striking stage productions in the world of popular music. The group set out to create “a ballet unlike anything audiences have seen before.”

The collaboration came about after festival artistic director Kim Joo-won was captivated by MUTO’s reinterpretation of pansori (traditional musical genre with spoken lyrics and a drum) classic Simcheongga.

“At a time when Korean ballet needs to develop original repertoire capable of reaching a global audience, we wanted to create a distinctly Korean production by reinterpreting Arirang for the present day," said Kim. “MUTO had no prior connection to ballet, but I believed that the group’s powerful, fast-paced staging — demonstrated through its digital imagery and work with popular music artists — could expand the appeal of ballet, an art form often perceived as slow and analog.”

One surprising choice was the absence of the familiar "Arirang" melody itself. Instead, the production borrows only the emotional spirit of  "Arirang" — Korea’s best-known folk song, often associated with sorrow, longing and resilience — to create a lyrical portrait of the nation’s past and present.

In the first of two acts, sorrow dominates. Geomungo strings are scraped with a bow, producing mournful sounds reminiscent of weeping, while dancers in pointe shoes remain largely within the formal framework of ballet, expressing suffering and endurance. Their silhouettes are projected onto towering LED columns, creating images that are beautiful yet somehow confined.

“The ballet offers an abstract representation of the sweeping currents of Korean history, encompassing colonial rule, war and national division. Rather than focusing on the story of a specific individual, it reveals the vitality of a people through abstracted emotions and dynamic ensemble choreography," said dance critic Jeong Ok-hee.

The following act, by contrast, is a dance of liberation. The LED columns appear to split open like molten lava, revealing futuristic digital imagery. The music embraces stronger Korean colors through percussive geomungo techniques and the piercing sounds of the taepyeongso (Korean double reed wind instrument). Ballet, Korean dance and contemporary dance performers intermingle freely, incorporating movements inspired by traditional forms such as salpuri (Korean folk dance rooted in shamanic exorcism rituals) and ganggangsullae (a 5,000-year-old traditional Korean folk dance that combines singing, dancing and circle formations).

The symbolic center of the production is soloist Choi Ji-won, the only performer to connect both acts. She appears at first as a fragile figure struggling alone, but eventually breaks free from her shell and transforms into a blazing firebird, spreading her wings and embracing those around her.

"Elements of ballet, Korean dance and popular dance intermingle, bringing together han [a uniquely Korean sense of sorrow, longing and resilience] and heung, [the exuberant energy of joy and celebration]," said Jeong. 

BY YOO JU-HYUN [[email protected]]