On Monday, December 9, I sat down with Amy Watson for a podcast interview about Bournonville.

This was the first in a series of conversations with dancers, choreographers, teachers, historians, and critics exploring the Bournonville repertoire, style, tradition, and the life of Danish choreographer August Bournonville.

Called ”Conversations on Bournonville”, the series is inspired by the American critic Tobi Tobias’ archival project ”An Oral History of the Royal Danish Ballet and Its Bournonville Tradition” (1983-86), serving as a contemporary record of today’s artists’ and historians’ personal and professional relationships with Bournonville, as well as their perspectives on his work.

The episodes also address the challenges and opportunities in preserving Bournonville’s heritage and ensuring its relevance for modern audiences.

In this full transcript of our conversation, we talk about Amy’s long-standing relationship with Bournonville’s works and her vision for the future of the Royal Danish Ballet. We also discuss her thoughts on the Bournonville tradition, the challenges of maintaining it, and her approach to bringing Bournonville’s legacy to new generations of dancers and audiences.

AMY WATSON
– CONVERSATIONS ON BOURNONVILLE #1

Recorded at Store Kirkestræde in Copenhagen on Monday, 9 December 2024.

Alexander Meinertz
Thank you for joining me, Amy.

Amy Watson
Thank you for having me. I’m excited to be here.

Alexander Meinertz
We’re going to start at the start. I’d like to begin by asking you about your personal history with Bournonville, which goes a long way back. I know you’ve shared this story in other interviews, but it’s such a wonderful starting point: I’m thinking of A Folk Tale in Orange County in 1995. Can you tell us about your first meeting with Bournonville and the Royal Danish Ballet?

Amy Watson
Yes, it’s funny, because it’s such a core memory for me. I can remember it like it was yesterday—the feeling I had auditioning for the Royal Danish Ballet in this huge studio at the Orange County Performing Arts Center. The Royal Danish Ballet was on tour, I was a young teenage girl, I think around 13 or 14, and I knew that ballet was the thing I loved most in the world.

When I first heard about the audition for the Royal Danish Ballet, I thought, “Okay, the word royal—what does that even mean?” Being American, I didn’t know much about it at the time.

I remember this very petite woman with a boisterous laugh entering the room—it was Mie Vessel. I didn’t know who she was at the time. Then, this stately gentleman walked in—it was Frank Andersen. He said, “Okay, we’re going to do a waltz. We’re looking for four young ladies.”

We started doing the waltz—the bridal waltz. At that moment, I had no idea it was Niels W. Gade’s beautiful Bridal Waltz.

I clearly remember them pointing at us: “You, you, you, and you, come here and talk.” Then someone checked to see if the costumes fit. And then I was chosen. I thought, ‘Wow, this is amazing. I’m going to go on stage for the first time with a professional company!’ I’d never done anything like that before.

We started rehearsing, and when we got on the stage, the dancers were speaking in this other language that I didn’t recognize at the time—it was Danish. I thought, ‘That sounds funny.’ But all the dancers were so beautiful—both artistically and technically. I’d never seen anything like it before.

There were also a lot of Danish children playing the trolls, and I thought, ‘Wow, this is a whole other world. I’m stepping into a world of trolls and ballet.’ I had just pictured tutus and all the usual things you see in ballets.

As I started watching from the wings, I thought, ‘Okay, this is really special. They’re telling stories, and it didn’t feel like any other ballet I had seen before.’ I’d seen Onegin, Don Quixote, and versions of The Nutcracker in small studios, but nothing like this with a professional company. It was so different and captivating.

Then I got to try on the costume. That was the most beautiful thing—I remember the purple dress, the big sleeves, and the pearl headband.

Alexander Meinertz
That was the Queen’s costumes. And they were sort of almost historical, Renaissance I think, historically accurate.

Amy Watson
Exactly, I felt like a princess. The steps fit the costume perfectly—it was beautiful.

I remember looking up at the two ballerinas who were playing Hilda, the ones we were waltzing around—Rose Gad and Silja Schandorff. I had never seen such articulate, stunning artists up close. Spending those few evenings with them was a real treat. I even have some pictures taken with them, with Mie Vessel, Johan Kobborg, and others. It was an incredible experience.

But I did have that realization from the start—that this was different from the other ballets I had seen. At the time, I don’t think I was as reflective as I am now, but it was the story and the essence of what was happening on stage. It was something completely different from what I had witnessed in other performances.

It was a really special moment. From then on, I became a little obsessed with both Rose and Silja’s careers and followed them along the way. I also admired other dancers like Petrusjka Broholm, Henriette Muus, and all the women from that time.

I carried that inspiration with me everywhere.

Alexander Meinertz
Fantastic! But then again, American ballet is a completely different world, with thousands of schools and many companies…

In Denmark, there’s one school, which is very closely associated with the Royal Danish Ballet. Well, it used to be just that one school, though now there’s Tivoli and others as well.

The ballet world in America is also incredibly competitive, with ballet competitions, which we don’t have in Denmark.

So it’s a whole different concept of what the art of ballet is. For you to realize that and see it at such a young age…

Amy Watson
I was very lucky. But I was also fortunate enough to have a very influential teacher named Lisa Avery. In fact, I’ve never participated in a single competition; I never got involved in anything like that. She was a very serious woman, but also kind. She’s still a very close person in my life—almost like a second mother. For her, everything was about what you put on stage and the artistry.

She also taught me the Cecchetti method, and I was raised first in that. She had a huge impact on me. So, I didn’t follow what I think is the norm of the American dance school. We didn’t do recitals or anything like that. We did perform in The Nutcracker, but performing wasn’t the main focus, and definitely not the competitive aspect.

Alexander Meinertz
So maybe that explains part of your fascination with Bournonville and how you reacted to it—recognizing something in that kind of ballet?

Amy Watson
I’ve never thought of it that way, but I did recognize one thing that stood out to me: the humanity. The way the characters were portrayed, especially the ones I was watching from the wings in both the first and third acts. Maybe not so much in the troll world, but the human characters in A Folk Tale felt easier to relate to than when I saw Onegin.

Onegin felt so distant from my childhood. I didn’t really connect with it. I remember looking at the program with my mum when I was older and saying, “The first ballet I saw at nine years old was Onegin? Really? Okay, that’s an odd choice.” And I don’t remember anything from the performance, actually. So, that says a lot, I guess.

I remember a little bit about the music, but I didn’t have the same feeling that I had when I saw the Royal Danish Ballet. Perhaps it’s because I was performing in it—I’m not sure—but it felt different. The company I saw perform Onegin didn’t leave a lasting impression, and I never followed them after.

Alexander Meinertz
But also, there’s the age difference. You were nine, and then you were 13, so a lot happens in that time…

Amy Watson
Absolutely, absolutely. But it wasn’t the impact that it had on me at all.

Alexander Meinertz
You later trained at the School of American Ballet and worked with Suzanne Farrell in Washington, but Bournonville kept popping up in a way.

I think you had some Bournonville classes and even performed some Bournonville in a recital at the School of American Ballet. As a dancer at that time, you likely encountered challenges in connecting with the style.

So, I want to ask you: what were some of the hardest parts of embracing the style at that age?

Amy Watson
Yeah, I went to the School of American Ballet from age 15 to 19, until I joined the Royal Danish Ballet here. And Suzanne Farrell, yes, she was a huge influence on me. I spent every summer with her at the Kennedy Center. I was one of her founding members in this small company that she had when I had my last semester at the School of American Ballet. She actually had a big impact on my connection to how I told stories and how I performed. She really taught me how to be an artist, so I have to give her full credit there.

With Bournonville, I had Stanley Williams the first two years – he passed away during my second year at the school, unfortunately – and there were huge Bournonville influences. I wouldn’t say we knew all the steps exactly, but there were huge influences—long adagios, very difficult tendu combinations, very simple steps.

Nikolaj Hübbe had also been teaching the men at the School of American Ballet for a while, but I was in his first female class. He also set the Bournonville school, Konservatoriet. My graduation performance was actually Konservatoriet, set by Nikolaj.

It was interesting because the style of Bournonville dancing actually came more naturally to me than the Balanchine style. I struggled with that as a teenager because, at the School of American Ballet, all you want to do is desperately get into New York City Ballet, right? Everyone is like, am I getting in? Am I getting a contract? Does Peter Martins like me? And of course, I wanted that too. But somehow, my anatomy and the way I danced, the strengths I had, fit the Bournonville style more easily.

The staff seemed to recognize it. Colleen Neary, who came to represent the Royal Danish Ballet at that time, found me and said, “We’d like to offer you a contract.” I really struggled in that moment because I thought, “Oh, but I’ve been training Balanchine my whole teenage life. Is this really what I’m going to do?”

But somehow, I knew in the back of my head that I was actually more suited to the Bournonville style. It became a blessing, but as a young, vulnerable teenager, I didn’t know what was up and down at that point. It was a bit of a confusing time, but it actually felt right.

Alexander Meinertz
Interesting. I was going to ask you if there was a moment where it sort of clicked and suddenly it all fell into place?

Amy Watson
I really remember Nikolaj teaching me this particular section in Konservatoriet where one woman and one man do a crossing of glissade, pas de bourrée, glissade, pas de bourrée, and then jeté battus. He said, “I want Amy”—and I think it was a young man named Bryce Corson, I believe—“to try this section.” And it fit like a glove.

It was so easy for me to do that, and I thought, OK, this actually feels right.

In the meantime, I was also rehearsing Balanchine’s Stars and Stripes, the Tall Women section, and that should have been easy for me, but it wasn’t. It actually felt uncomfortable compared to Konservatoriet.

So that moment really clicked for me and did something to my head that I don’t think I was ready for at the time, but I’m so happy I took the contract with the Royal Danish Ballet, said yes, and did everything that led me here.

Alexander Meinertz
What did you know about the Danish ballet before you went? Did you know anything apart from… Well, you followed, you said, Rose Gad and Silja Schandorff’s careers.

Amy Watson
I sure did.

Alexander Meinertz
As you matured, when did you first realize just how rich and unique the Bournonville heritage truly is? Because you then came to Copenhagen, you started seeing more of the works… Or did you already know them? Had you been watching videos?

Amy Watson
I knew the big ones. I’d known La Sylphide and Napoli, for sure. And A Folk Tale, because of my experience with the Royal Danish Ballet in Orange County in 1995. And Flower Festival, of course, I knew. And Konservatoriet. I knew a bit, but not Kermesse in Bruges, say, or La Ventana.

So, not knowing too much, but knowing enough that compared to the tunnel vision I had as a young student of only New York City Ballet, I knew more about the Royal Danish Ballet than any other company after that. I knew less about ABT, which was in the same vicinity as New York City Ballet.

I knew nothing about The Royal Ballet, nothing about Stuttgart, nothing about San Francisco Ballet. It really was New York City Ballet, The Royal Danish Ballet, and a little bit of Miami, because Edward Villella was there, and I was interested in working with him. But, no, it was very much on my radar.

So I knew quite a bit. And I just didn’t know what to expect when I got here.

Alexander Meinertz
And which year did you come to Copenhagen?

Amy Watson
August of 2000.

Alexander Meinertz
So, just in time to really get to know the company, learn the style, and find your place for the Bicentenary in 2005?

Amy Watson
Oh, yes.

Alexander Meinertz
Which was essentially the last time the company performed the full repertory. I’m not sure if you participated in any of that, but alongside the performances, the festival also featured discussions, debates, panels, and exhibitions— lots of chances to really dive into all sides of Bournonville’s life.

Amy Watson
Yeah, it was fantastic. Actually, I participated in almost everything—it was such a huge privilege. I think I was a soloist at the time, and I performed Irma in Abdallah once. I was in the Pas de Six in Lifeguards on Amager, and also did the Pas de Sept in A Folk Tale and the Pas de Six in Napoli.

So, I did quite a bit that year. I also had other debuts, like in Konservatoriet. At certain points in my career, I had performed both ballerina roles, though I’m not sure which one I debuted that year. It was definitely a packed year—really exciting!

Alexander Meinertz
2005 was really a pinnacle, a climax for Bournonville. It’s hard to believe that it was almost 20 years ago now. But since then, there’s been less focus on Bournonville within the company.

The company has changed a lot, and and a lot of people question whether Bournonville is still relevant? I think it’s one of the big questions of our time.

But for me, without Bournonville, the Royal Danish Ballet would be just another company. And it’s not just about the ballets themselves, but about the unique sensitivity that shapes the dancers as artists. This sensibility also influences how they interpret the works of other choreographers.

So, in your opinion, what does the Bournonville tradition mean to dancers beyond the technique and style? How does it shape them as individuals? And how do you hope to continue and revive that legacy?

Amy Watson
First and foremost, I think it’s storytelling. But really, as artists, you’ve hit the nail on the head with the sensitivity of his characters.

Sometimes we talk about the simplicity of Bournonville. That definitely applies to his technique, yes. But there’s also something about the simplicity in his mime, in his characters. Within that simplicity, though, are complex human emotions. What I love about almost all of his ballets is the dualism between light and dark. As humans, we experience that too, right? But how far do we go to the dark side? Why does the witch in La Sylphide go to the dark side? What is the light side of the witch, and how do we represent that?

I think with these characters, playing something so human actually becomes more difficult. I always felt more vulnerable in some of Bournonville’s roles because you see more of me as a person. In contrast, when I play Sleeping Beauty, I can hide behind Princess Aurora. She has nothing to do with who I am as a person. I’m standing in an arabesque, I’m royal, I’m doing all of that, and it’s a façade.

But with Teresina or the Sylph, for example—characters I played often—I found a way to influence them with things I can relate to, but also keep it clear that they’re separate. However, sometimes those roles would take over me, which was interesting.

With the Sylph, for instance, it was hard to let go of her after a performance or during the rehearsal period. I could relate to so many details of her character—she’s a seductress, she’s ethereal, she’s funny, she’s a figment of someone’s imagination. And what does that mean? It’s a huge spectrum of human emotions that you’re given to play with.

That sensitivity one has to bring to these roles can shape how you approach other ballets as well. But how do we keep them alive? That’s a great question. I think it’s about having a deep understanding of what Bournonville was trying to draw out of these characters and how he wanted the audience to connect with them.

In today’s world, with things like Instagram or Netflix where everything is at our fingertips, people may expect something more complex, but the balance of good and bad, light and dark, is still relevant. So, what are the fine details we’re going to look at together? What are the underlying emotions of those characters?

Alexander Meinertz
I was going to ask you this earlier, but the discussion took us in a different direction. It’s a big question, and since you’ve been talking about light and dark, it’s been on my mind: If we were to talk about what’s central to Bournonville’s world—his ideas, his values—what would that be? What was important to him?

Because, in a way, he was a moral artist. He believed deeply in the role of art in shaping civilization and, essentially, humanity. Do you think that’s an accurate way to view him? Was it part of his conviction that art should contribute to the development of human culture?

Amy Watson
I absolutely agree with you. I think if you look at the endings of most Bournonville ballets, there’s always a moral to the story. Take A Folk Tale, for example—how does it end with Hilda and Junker Ove getting married? And what happens to Birthe? What’s her fate?

It’s the same in La Sylphide. What is the fate of James? And what happens to the witch after the curtain falls?

I think that’s incredibly relevant. Our imagination can take us places, but we can also look back and reflect—what does that relate to in our own lives? What’s the deeper meaning of the story? I think that’s very modern, considering these ballets were created nearly 200 years ago.

So, there’s always a lesson to be learned in most of his works. Napoli has that wonderful ending, but even there, I’ve often wondered about Teresina’s father. What is her relationship with men, especially if she hasn’t had that male influence in her life?

And what about her relationship with Gennaro? Where does the love come from? Then there’s her connection with Golfo—there are some very interesting layers to explore.

Alexander Meinertz
I spoke to a friend last week and asked her this question, and she said, ‘I would like to quote Lis Jeppesen, who once said in an interview, “To me, Bournonville is about beauty and love.”’

I think that’s very true. But if I were to add something I would definitely say, it’s also about life. It’s about choosing life, it’s about joy, it’s about hope. There’s always hope, I think, except in La Sylphide—but that’s a different story. It wasn’t originally Bournonville’s story, and he also had some trouble connecting with it.

But I do believe hope is the overriding message, along with a belief in good and beauty.

However, those are also things that are hard to communicate in art today, I think, without falling into a trap. Bournonville was very aware of that—he was careful not to fall into the trap of being cute, coy, sweet, or sentimental. It’s a very delicate and complex world to portray.

And I think that’s one of the great challenges of Bournonville’s work. It’s why it’s difficult for some people to take it as seriously as it deserves.

Amy Watson
Absolutely. Yeah, I agree.

Alexander Meinertz
How do you bring all that back?

As the new Artistic Director of the Royal Danish Ballet, you’re now at the helm of preserving and interpreting that legacy. How does that responsibility feel to you personally? Do you ever find yourself thinking about Bournonville’s presence in the room? I know you have the paintings in one of the studios. Do you think about him when you’re making decisions for the future of the company?

Amy Watson
Yes, I mean, the responsibility of it is huge. I think, again, with the experiences I’ve had over 24 years, the key is also to make it a huge conversation among as many people as you can, and learn from everyone. I remember being in the room sometimes with Lis Jeppesen, Sorella Englund, and Flemming Ryberg, and them just debating and discussing, like, what was the right way? What was the wrong way? Amy, do this. Amy, don’t do that. What is the story we’re telling? How do we do the steps? How do we do the style? And I think that’s what makes it exciting and alive still.

I think we’re at a point now where we have to really develop not only my generation, but the generation below me, and the generation right above me, who need to start taking responsibility. How are we going to renew it?

How are we going to preserve it? How are we going to get people excited about all of these wonderful story ballets that may seem simple but are incredibly complex? That’s a huge responsibility.

I’m very confident, though, that there are some significantly talented people around me, and I have specific ideas of who should stage what and why, and their connection to those ballets. All of them have had a huge influence on me, whether it has been technically, artistically, emotionally, or even spiritually. But I think to give them that opportunity, we have to start somewhere.

Because we are sitting with a vast repertoire that has only been staged by a handful of people for a while. And they’ve done it beautifully, but now we have to move on, and we have to see who can take that on with me and my vision.

Alexander Meinertz
I think that’s very interesting, because, to me, one of the key questions must be about the tradition itself. Bournonville isn’t just a style, and it’s not just about the ballets. In fact, you could argue that without the tradition, discussions about the style and even the ballets lose meaning.

The difference between the Russian and Soviet traditions and the Danish ballet historically lies in the ability of the Royal Theatre to maintain continuity, passing on the heritage from one generation to the next, almost collectively. So when you talk about a broad discussion, I think that’s the key. It wasn’t so much a question of one sort of dominant voice, but it used to be that everybody knew all the ballets because they saw them from when they were children.

So when you staged the ballets, it wasn’t really very hard because everybody knew them. It was just a matter of restaging what people had seen before and maybe, hopefully, bringing individual interpretations to the roles.

I’d like to read a quote from Hans Brenaa, who said:

“That is very important for us – to keep the real Bournonville! Don’t change it! Because next time, a new producer or a new ballet master, he will change it too! So where will we be, after twenty years? No Bournonville anymore, changed and changed again.

If I say to people: “That’s wrong! You must do the step the way Bournonville said!”, they reply: “Oh no, no, that’s OK, it doesn’t matter!”.

So we have to take care of Bournonville. We have the tradition for that. But if we lose that tradition, we are finished.

Because every company in the world can do “Bournonville”, but when I see them, it’s not right, they have no style, not Bournonville’s style, and the steps have changed, they are changed. So we have to take care.

I’m sorry I’m so old. I should be twenty years old, to take care (laughs)!”

And he said this in May, 1987. So this was a year before he died.

Amy Watson
Yeah, it’s a tough one because I think, I’ve been around the world and I have seen other places do Bournonville, and I’ve seen them do it beautifully. I’ve been with Frank Andersen, Eva Kloborg, and Mie Vessel at Oregon Ballet Theater, and they were staging Napoli, and it was done so stunningly.

I think it’s how you bring the essence with you, whoever is in the room. I was so privileged to have Flemming Ryberg, Sorella, Mie, Frank, Nikolaj, Lis Jeppesen, and all these great people pass it on to me. I wasn’t raised in this style, but I feel that I’ve had a huge education in it from the age of 15 all the way up until I retired at 40.

But it’s that constant search one has to have about what the essence is. How are we going to educate people, motivate them at the same time, and preserve it without it becoming a museum? So I’m looking at new ways to do this and get people on board and excited about it.

But it is something we have to be very careful with. But I also am not nervous, but I am not keen on using the words ‘wrong’ and ‘right.’ I think that can become really dangerous with Bournonville.

The great Dinna Bjørn has always said to me, ‘There are many interpretations. You can do the tendu this way, and you can do the tendu that way. And the head can go here, here, here, here, here, here. Some may think this is the right way, but for you, it may not be the right way. For Gudrun, it could be this way. For you, it could be that way.’

So there is still some sort of freedom, but within the framework of the vocabulary. So I always try to keep that in mind as well.

Alexander Meinertz
Well, the key is finding the spirit, right? In Danish, we say “ånd”.

Amy Watson
Yeah, exactly. The essence and the spirit.

Alexander Meinertz
This is going to lead me to two different questions. So, we just touched on it briefly, but for the first time in history, there’s a generational gap in passing on the style and the understanding of Bournonville. There’s a link, I think, that is missing.

So, what steps do you think you can take to bridge the gap? And is it possible to re-establish the tradition? I think, in many ways, it’s not, because the world has changed.

The Royal Theatre used to be a very insular place, and it used to be one big family. There was nobody coming in from the outside. People, as I said, grew up learning the ballets from childhood.

And also, the Royal Theatre had all three arts in the same house. The dancers took part in plays, and actors were in the ballets. That whole world has changed.

Amy Watson
Yeah, yeah. Well, I was lucky enough to also participate in that world a little bit. It was a fantastic and magical place, but I do think we’ve had the opportunity to create more art since then, which is exciting. But I think, with the feeling of family, I’m also weary of using that term because I would rather say that we’re a community, and that we’re working together. How do we work together and create this community and keep Bournonville alive?

We are at a point right now in history where I think it’s vital and of the utmost importance. I must say we have to do it now, with the generational gap, because the stagers who have been holding the heritage up for the past 20 to 30 years are all getting older.

Somehow, I’m trying to use them all as consultants—‘Can you come in maybe for this production and consult?’ But as consultants, to help the next instructors and stagers. ‘Okay, this is how we did it back then. This is how you could do it…’ but not have the full physical responsibility because that’s what takes a toll on us as we get older, right?

How do we show the masses of steps and teach a whole new team of Napoli and everything? I think where we can focus with these wonderful artistic consultants is actually on the characters, especially the character dancers and the mime.

That tradition is really not easy to pass on, and I recognize that. I think that’s almost more difficult than the actual dancing. The Pas de Six in Napoli, for example. I think there’s quite a good amount of us who can pass on the tradition and the style and the technique for that, but I think passing on a character like Teresina’s mother or The Witch in La Sylphide is incredibly vulnerable at this point. So I think having those older generations help us get all the information and the knowledge they have for the next generation to pass on— that’s where we need to focus right now heavily.

Alexander Meinertz
I spoke to Dinna Bjørn and her husband Eric Viudes a couple of weeks ago, and Eric said something quite funny, but I think also quite right. He said, “I’m so interested in Bournonville’s musicality. For a person who was not trained in Denmark, that’s really fascinating, and that’s the singular thing about Bournonville that really is different from any other tradition. But when I ask the Danes about it, you know, what’s the secret? They can’t tell you. They can do it, but they can’t tell you how to do it.”

He says he’s trying to really find the key to the musicality, because he believes the musicality is central to Bournonville.

Amy Watson
And he’s not wrong. I think there’s sometimes a fascinating relationship between Balanchine dancers and Bournonville dancers, and it often comes down to two things: the petit allegro—the fast, intricate footwork—and the musicality.

Dancers trained either in the Balanchine school or the Bournonville school share an innate sense of music. The way Bournonville classes are structured around music, with those specific steps, might initially seem awkward if your body isn’t accustomed to it. But the moment you internalize it, I promise you—it becomes so natural, so easy, and so light.

It’s the same with Balanchine’s style and technique. The more your ear is trained to that dynamic, working with composers like Stravinsky and similar, the more seamless it becomes.

That connection between musicality and movement is where the two styles find common ground, and I think that’s why so many dancers from the Balanchine school can transition into Bournonville. They already have that fast petit allegro, and their musicality aligns naturally with the demands of Bournonville. Personally, I think this alignment has also felt easier for me, perhaps subconsciously or unconsciously, because of my background. It’s something very special.

Alexander Meinertz
Okay, I’m going to take us back to the 2005 Festival because, as we discussed earlier, it marked the last comprehensive presentation of what had been passed down from the repertory. Some of the works shown then, such as Far from Denmark and The Lifeguards on Amager, haven’t been performed since. Looking back at 2005 from the perspective of 2024, are there any of those works that you believe should be consigned to history?

I understand that Far from Denmark includes elements that would need to be addressed if it were to be staged today. But even beyond those issues, I’m not sure that it’s a work that would resonate with audiences now. Do you think it could still work?

Amy Watson
Yes, and I think it will work. I already have plans for it, and I’ve asked someone to stage it—a very talented Dane whom I truly believe in. We’ve already started discussions about how we’re going to approach it and, more importantly, why we’re doing it.

The “why” is simple: it’s Bournonville.

One of the fascinating things about Bournonville is how many of his ballets take place outside Denmark or bring different cultures to Denmark. Why is that? Perhaps because, at the time he created them, most people weren’t traveling abroad. Maybe he wanted to inspire others to explore, or perhaps he wanted to bring those experiences back home—or even imagined living there himself.

I do believe there’s a way to make it work today. I can’t give too much away, but I’m excited about the project. I don’t think Far from Denmark should be consigned to history. I think we can learn from it and make it more relevant—absolutely. Hopefully, you’ll see it in a few years.

Alexander Meinertz
In Russia, figures like Gorsky, Vaganova, and others created new versions of Petipa’s ballets, whereas in Denmark, the originals were kept alive through new stagings. I think there’s an important difference between a new staging and a new version.

The first person to create entirely new versions of Bournonville’s Napoli, A Folk Tale and La Sylphide was Nikolaj Hübbe. Personally, I don’t consider these to be Bournonville’s works in the traditional sense, as Hübbe’s interpretations fundamentally diverge from Bournonville’s intentions. In fact, Nikolaj himself doesn’t seem to present them as Bournonville’s. He billed them as Nikolaj Hübbe’s La Sylphide, Nikolaj Hübbe’s Napoli, and so on.

Will we ever see a Napoli set in 1841 again? By that, I mean Bournonville’s Napoli—the ballet as he envisioned it.

Amy Watson
Napoli will celebrate its 185th anniversary in 2027! That’s something I’m really excited about. I can say that I’m deeply inspired by all the Napoli productions I’ve seen on record, and we’re fortunate to have an extensive collection of them preserved in our archives.

It would be a dream to somehow connect all of these productions and present a kind of passage showing what Napoli has been through the years and generations. Perhaps the oldest members of the audience, who’ve seen many versions of Napoli, might recognize hints from different productions. That’s my big hope and dream, and I’m actively working on it.

I think Napoli has this central, heartfelt quality that I love, especially with its happy ending and joyous celebration. I really want to share that with the company and teach the new dancers what it feels like to be onstage for such a joyous ballet. So many ballets are tragic or heavy, and this one is so refreshing in its lightness and joy. I’d love to put Napoli at the forefront and celebrate its anniversary in a big way.

Alexander Meinertz
What about A Folk Tale? It’s such a special work—many regard it as Bournonville’s finest creation. Bournonville himself thought that it was with regards to, quote, “its Danish character.” However, I also think it’s the most challenging of all his works to truly revive.

Capturing the Danish character is central to the ballet, and that makes it a fascinating challenge, especially in today’s globalized world and within a company as international as the Royal Danish Ballet is now.

Amy Watson
Right now, I’m taking some time to consider where and how we might place A Folk Tale in the coming years. It’s not in my immediate plans yet.

I’m being cautious with this ballet, exactly for the reasons we’ve discussed. It’s such a delicate work, and I think it’s important to approach it thoughtfully. While the company is very international, most of us feel deeply connected to Denmark. Many of us have been here for a long time, carrying on the heritage and immersing ourselves in it.

For me, it raises big questions. I often ask myself: what does it mean to be “Danish” in this context? I didn’t study at the Royal Danish Ballet School—am I Danish enough now? Have I become Danish enough because I’ve danced all these incredible roles and embraced Danish culture?

This is why I’m being so cautious about going down the road of what’s Danish enough, and how to approach A Folk Tale. It’s a significant question for me, and I want to get it right.

Alexander Meinertz
Yeah, it’s interesting. Obviously, as we talked about earlier, it’s something that perhaps even Bournonville himself might have felt to some extent. But I wanted to ask you—do you know the stories of Fokine and Balanchine in connection to A Folk Tale?

Amy Watson
I know a little bit, but why don’t you enlighten me?

Alexander Meinertz
They’re actually a little bit similar. Fokine saw A Folk Tale during the time he lived in Charlottenlund, just north of Copenhagen. He lived there for two years, just after World War I. He never worked at the theater, but of course, he attended performances, had a big school, and even created a work for his students. When he saw A Folk Tale, he made an interesting remark: he said something along the lines of, “It’s a great ballet, but the Danes don’t know how to stage it.” That’s quite fascinating.

The other story, about Balanchine, comes later. He saw A Folk Tale in, I think, 1977 or 1978—I’m not exactly sure. This was at a time when the Gamle Scene was under renovation, so the company was performing at Tivoli. They had to adapt some productions to fit Tivoli’s stage, and one of them was A Folk Tale.

At the same time, the New York City Ballet came to Copenhagen to perform at Tivoli, and there was a slight overlap. Balanchine managed to see A Folk Tale during this visit. He had, of course, worked in Copenhagen earlier in his career, though I don’t know if he saw the ballet during that time. What’s interesting is that by the time he saw it in the late ’70s, as an older man, it seems to have been a revelation for him.

Like Fokine, Balanchine reportedly said, “This is a great ballet.” But the really surprising twist is that he expressed a desire to stage it for the New York City Ballet. That’s fascinating, because I can’t think of a Bournonville ballet that feels farther from what I would imagine being staged for NYCB. But clearly, Balanchine saw something in it that intrigued or challenged him.

Amy Watson
It’s interesting. I mean, it’s always fascinating to read about Balanchine, especially when he did Don Quixote. To this day, I’d love to know more about why and how he approached that work. Seeing those clips of him and Suzanne has been incredible, but it still feels like there’s so much to understand.

Alexander Meinertz
Of course, one of the things often said about A Folk Tale is that there’s not a lot of dancing…

Amy Watson
Yes, but the dancing that is there is incredibly difficult—absolutely demanding. For example, Birthe’s solo in the bedroom is a masterpiece. It’s not just technically challenging; as an artist, it’s incredibly hard to strike that fine balance between humor, seriousness, refinement, and everything in between. Personally, I was never fully satisfied with my own performance of it because there are so many layers to navigate. That solo really is a masterpiece.

And then there’s the Pas de Sept—it’s brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.

Alexander Meinertz
I think it’s a misunderstanding when people say there’s no dancing. In fact, I’d say it’s nothing but dancing. The challenge is that there’s very little classical dancing in the traditional sense.

You have the peasants dancing, the nobles dancing, the dancers who characterize the trolls, Birthe’s solo, and then you have the divertissements—so many different kinds of dancing.

I think A Folk Tale is one of the most “dancey” ballets I can think of, but not in the conventional, classical style, like those dances you’d find in something by, say, Petipa.

Amy Watson
You have the nobles and the peasant and the characterisation is very clear. I have to say, staging the peasants in the first act was one of my first assignments as an instructor, and I found it incredibly hard. The patterns were challenging, but also, you know, running forward and then swishing your partner around because you’re scared of Birthe…

All of this has to be done so well. Because again, it’s all about the story. You can teach the steps, you can teach the patterns, but if it doesn’t relate to the story and to what your class is at that moment, then it just becomes like any other dance.

Alexander Meinertz
I think Bournonville knew exactly what he was doing in that regard—he knew how to characterize in steps and movement. It’s about being human, about what kind of human. And it’s also about class.

One of the fascinating things about A Folk Tale is his structure and how consistent he is.The only dancer on pointe is Hilda, except for, well, the Pas de Sept in the divertissement in the finale. And in fact, Hilda is only on pointe when she’s with the trolls, as long as she thinks she is part of their underground world. She represents the light, hope, another form of existence. When she becomes human or recognizes her human nature, she’s grounded—she’s on the ground, like the rest of us. This was something Bournonville was incredibly conscious of; it wasn’t coincidental.

When he allowed the dancers in the Pas de Sept to be en pointe, it was because he wanted to entertain with steps, as Balanchine said, but his excuse was that they were travelers—meaning gypsies—people of a different world. In Bournonville’s work, humans don’t really dance ballet in the traditional sense.

Amy Watson
Yeah, it says a lot.

Alexander Meinertz
In the Berlingske podcast, ”Pilestræde”, as well as in an article in Politiken, you were presented as the first woman as artistic director of the Royal Danish Ballet. But as we both know, that isn’t entirely accurate. Mania Gielgud led the Royal Danish Ballet from 1997 to 1999. Even before that, the position had been offered to Toni Lander in 1985. She accepted, but tragically passed away before she could assume the role.

In 1985, Toni Lander also collaborated with Flemming Ryberg to create what is likely the most successful of the Bournonville reconstructions, Abdallah, for Ballet West in Salt Lake City. It was last performed at the Royal Theatre in 2005, where you took the role of Irma.

I believe you’ve mentioned it’s one of the works you’re considering reviving, and I can’t help but think that bringing it back would carry a sense of poetic justice and serve as a lovely tribute to Toni Lander. Is that part of the plan?

Amy Watson
It would mean a great deal to me if I could bring Abdallah back into the repertoire. Not only did it have a huge impact on me as a dancer, but I also think Toni’s history, particularly her illness and her inability to take on the directorship, adds a profound layer to this project. It’s something that people often ask: what would she have done? I think that’s a really interesting question, and I’m very curious about that as well. Honoring her in some way would give me great pleasure.

The ballet itself offers so many opportunities for dancers to shine, and the costumes and sets from this version are truly stunning. We’re very lucky to still have them, or at least parts of them. I’ve asked if we can research the current condition of the costumes and sets, and how much we’d need to remake. I’m also looking into the budget for it, should we go in that direction.

But we must be mindful of cultural sensitivity—how are we going to approach it? I think it would be incredible if we could bring this ballet back, not only to celebrate Toni’s legacy but also perhaps to shine some light on the Middle East and its cultures, which are so different from our own. What are we showing on stage, and how does it relate to the world we live in today?

The dancing in Abdallah is truly remarkable, and the Pas de Cinq is stunning. I’d love to perhaps program that first before taking on the full ballet, so we can reintroduce it into the repertoire in a smaller form before taking on the bigger challenge. It’s definitely a big dream of mine.

Alexander Meinertz
It’s interesting that you want to potentially showcase it as a divertissement. Actually, I had another question for you, which I think it opens up a lot of exciting possibilities for reimagining Bournonville. Nikolaj Hübbe’s work with Dinna Bjørn and Thomas Lund in creating what I call “Neo-Bournonville” pieces was an interesting experiment. It showed how you can work with the vocabulary and principles of Bournonville, even when paired with new music.

Could you imagine doing something similar with The Lay of Thrym, which was reconstructed but not considered successful? The music is fantastic. Can you imagine taking parts of that score and giving it to a choreographer, asking them to interpret this music—not the whole ballet, but just a part of it?

Amy Watson
Yes, I think actually I have one thing that I’ve inherited—a little treasure box, shall I say—with quite a few young choreographers who have talent and want to go in this direction. As you know, Eliabe D’Abadia just did The Pearl for Koreorama.

I think there’s potential there. There’s also potential in a few others I’m in contact with, and now with Koreorama, I’ve kind of done a little reshaping with Bournonville lines as part of my Bournonville strategy, which I can go into detail on this spring.

But I definitely think that’s a possibility. I think that gives people more freedom, and for those who are perhaps on the fence about whether they want to take on the responsibility of passing on the Bournonville heritage, this may be an easier direction for them to go.

So yes, I’m definitely open to that as well. I think we can take a lot from his style and steps and create our own way with it. I think even someone like Sebastian Kloborg, who has his own universe, could do something very interesting and still have the Bournonville stamp on it, but with Bournonville through Sebastian’s eyes. So yeah, I’m open to this as well.

Alexander Meinertz
My last question—we’ve almost taken an hour: Over the years, there’s been talk of creating both a museum and a research center dedicated to Bournonville, but nothing has ever materialized.

I’d like to take this opportunity to reintroduce the idea of a museum or some form of showcase into the discussion of legacy. The late Ole Nørlyng, critic and writer, was a strong advocate for the idea of a research center. I also know that there was talk of establishing a house museum in Bournonville’s home in Fredensborg. Additionally, Kenneth Greve proposed the idea of creating a showcase for Bournonville in Kronloftet, the loft above Gamle Scene, a concept which I personally think is brilliant.

Are you thinking along those lines as well?

Amy Watson
Yes, I think we have to find out or be very strategic about which way we’re going—should it be a museum? Should it be a research center? Should it be a center where there’s actually teaching involved, with a studio so we can develop new teachers and new students?

I think all of the ideas are wonderful, but I think if we’re very clear on why we’re doing it and the direction we’re going in, that could be something for the future. I love the idea of a museum, but I don’t know how much traction we’d get if it wouldn’t be near the Royal Theatre.

Alexander Meinertz
There’s a geographical problem with Fredensborg, it’s beautiful but it’s far from Kongens Nytorv…

Amy Watson
Yeah, there’s something about that I’m concerned about. Kronloftet is interesting but because it’s actually a protected space – I think you call it? – we can’t do anything there right now. There have been lots of talk about how we can use it, but we simply can’t. You can’t touch it.

That’s what I’ve been told because I’ve proposed a couple of different ideas, and I’ve been told, “No, no, you can’t touch anything.”

But I do think with the school being in the building next to us, us having the Royal Theatre, and of course, we have Operaen and Skuespilhuset as well now too, I think it would make the most sense to be in proximity somehow. We just need to find a wonderful person to maybe help us find a space and the money.

Alexander Meinertz
Amy, thank you very much for your time, and thank you for sharing your thoughts about how to preserve and bring Bournonville back to the center of the Royal Danish Ballet.

I think that’s one of the most hopeful things I’ve heard in years. Balanchine has the Balanchine Foundation and the Balanchine Trust. There’s also the Ashton Foundation, which works to preserve Ashton’s works, but until now there’s been no clear purpose or commitment to Bournonville’s legacy, and to hear your commitment is very reassuring. I look forward to seeing it unfold.

Amy Watson
Thank you so much. I’m fully committed, and I think it will take time to roll everything out, but I have a clear plan and some very good people around me. I believe we all have the best of intentions, and the generational shift is what we have to focus on right now. You’ll be hearing from me soon about all the strategies, but thank you for having me in. Anytime, I’d love to talk about Bournonville.