Why do choreographers keep adapting films they can’t possibly improve upon?

Ballet has always suffered from a shortage of stories that can communicate without the medium of the spoken word or a lengthy synopsis in the programme. Recourse has often been made to familiar fairy tale and legend, but recently popular films and novels have also become a favoured source – Matthew Bourne, for instance, has fed off both The Red Shoes and Edward Scissorhands, while Christopher Wheeldon turned to Like Water for Chocolate and Cathy Marston to Lady Chatterley’s Lover. The question that seldom seems to be asked in such cases is a basic one: can dance bring anything to the table, and can its language enlarge the source or create a new dimension? If the answer is pretty much no, then why bother?

That, alas, is my gut response to Natalia Horecna’s raid on Fellini’s early masterpiece La Strada. What was the point? The sentimental tale of the blessedly simple-minded Gelsomina and her tragically abusive relationship with the fairground strong-man Zampano seems so much richer and deeper on the screen than it does in her cartoon version, which makes a number of cardinal errors.