My ballets: "The Adventures of Winnie The Pooh"
Piglet: “How do you spell love?”
Pooh: “You don’t spell it… You feel it.”
(This is a quote from a version of the story adapted in Russian.)
How can anyone not love Winnie-the-Pooh? So many adventures happen with him in the fantasies of Christopher Robin, captured by his father, A. A. Milne!
I’ve always been drawn to the idea of creating performances for children. There used to be many such productions in theater repertoires. Few were truly captivating, but all of them—whether brilliant or not—invited young audiences to discover the world of ballet. Creating a production for children, though, is no small task. I prefer to call them family productions because children don’t come to the theater alone. It’s a challenge to captivate not only the little ones but also their parents, keeping them engaged rather than watching the clock.
The idea of staging a ballet inspired by Milne’s stories about Christopher Robin and his bear, Pooh, had been with me for a long time. In my mind, I saw vivid images and entire dance scenes. But how do you bring a plush bear and his friends to life on stage? How do you shape it into a ballet where movements replace words, and young viewers understand the language of dance? How do you ensure that, after watching, they’ll want to come back and explore the theater again?
Time passed. Then, one day, the moment finally arrived, and we began. Together with composer Sergey Dyagilev, we developed the concept. Sergey was skeptical about the sheer number of events I wanted to include. By then, I had envisioned a multitude of scenes: an ensemble of Willis dance by piglets in piglets dream, ballet jump lessons with Kanga and Roo, playful rain dances, Eeyore’s lost tail, Owl’s dramatic performances, the bees’ mischief with honey, and so much more. Every character deserved their own story—told, of course, through choreography. The challenge was weaving all these episodes into one ballet.
“Sometimes all you need to do is next right thing” - As Winnie-the-Pooh himself says.
And we tried our best.
The first rehearsals were nothing short of unforgettable. I decided early on that the characters would perform in masks—animated plush toys brought to life through dance. But dancing in masks is incredibly difficult. Every movement had to be carefully chosen to work within those limitations.
The creative process was unique. The dancers threw themselves into the project with the enthusiasm of children starting a new game. That was my first success: I knew we were on the right track. Each character’s personality came to life, not just through facial expressions or gestures, but through their specific movements.
Initially, we rehearsed without masks. I grew accustomed to the performers’ facial expressions, but all the emotion had to eventually be transferred into the body. When the masks finally arrived, it was a defining moment. Costume designer Elena Netsevetaeva-Dolgaleva had studied videos, photographs, and sketches to design the perfect expressions for the masks—expressions that wouldn’t change for the duration of the performance, just like the faces of real plush toys.
When we first put the masks on during rehearsal, it was magical. Suddenly, I was surrounded by life-sized dolls—grown men and women transformed into characters. But I realized something unsettling: without seeing their faces, I couldn’t tell if the dancers understood my corrections.
“Please nod if you can hear me,” I said. In unison, the masked figures bobbed their heads. I laughed so hard I had to record the moment and share it with the team.
Rehearsals were full of such unforgettable moments. I love the process of discovery, of searching for movements that tell a story. In this case, we created a story for children, but we never forgot the parents, because Winnie-the-Pooh is a friend to all ages.
Finally the first stage rehearsals took place on a set designed by Nikita Tkachuk. Christopher Robin’s room transformed into a playful landscape, mirroring the way children imagine their own rooms as portals to another world. The question was: would the audience believe in our world?
The premiere day arrived. The audience was filled with children—and, surprisingly, many fathers. The curtain opened, and an unexpected thing happened: the children started talking to the stage.
“Hi, Bear!” they called out in different voices.
“Push him, Rabbit! Pull harder!” they shouted during the famous scene of Pooh getting stuck in Rabbit’s doorway. Soon, even the adults joined in with laughter and encouragement. It’s almost impossible to describe the joy we felt. The theater had come alive. The stage and the audience were one.
As families left the theater, children excitedly recounted what they had just seen. The magic lingered long after the performance.
One more moment stands out: during the bows, I asked the performers to remove their masks. A sigh of disappointment rippled through the audience. The children truly believed they had been watching their beloved storybook characters come to life.
It made me wonder—should we preserve that belief? But theater is about more than magic; it’s also about celebrating the performers.
“Daddy, this is where the Bear lives,” said the daughter of a friend every time they passed the theater.
And isn’t that why we do this? For moments like these. For theater.
Because love can’t be staged—it has o be felt.
Pooh: “If there ever comes a day when we can’t be together, keep me in your heart, and I’ll stay there forever.”
© Konstantin Uralsky Uralsky