When Dance Steps Cross the Line: The Overlooked Issue of Choreography Copyright

by Chris Peterson

In 2022, Baldwin Wallace University staged a production of The Wild Party. What should have been a typical college musical became the subject of a quiet but significant issue when choreographer Richard J. Hinds alleged that about thirty seconds of his original work, not from another Wild Party production but from an original piece he had created, had been used without his permission or credit.

The program listed Gregory Daniels and Laura Tidmore as choreographers, with Victoria Bussert directing. It is not clear from the school’s letter who was responsible, though Tidmore is no longer with the program and Bussert has since moved on to lead the new musical theatre program at Oberlin College.

What is clear is that Baldwin Wallace did something too many institutions avoid: they faced the issue directly. President Lee Fisher acknowledged “process gaps.” The university worked with Hinds, and an agreement was reached that he described as satisfactory. That deserves praise. Mistakes happen, but how you respond matters, and Baldwin Wallace chose honesty, accountability, and respect for the artist involved.

This moment offers an important reminder that choreography is intellectual property. Just like words on a page or notes in a score, movements belong to the people who created them.

Since 1976, United States copyright law has explicitly protected choreography, provided it is “fixed in a tangible medium of expression,” such as video or notation. Yet in theatre, especially at the educational and community level, there is still a blind spot.

People know(or should know) you cannot stage certain shows without licensing them or lift dialogue from others without permission, but choreography does not always get the same respect. Because dance feels so fleeting, living in bodies rather than on paper, it can be easy to think of it as fair game.

The reality is that choreographers are too often overlooked or erased. Directors sometimes borrow what they have seen on YouTube, BroadwayHD, or in another production, not realizing they are crossing a line. Sometimes they do know, and assume it will not matter. But choreography is often central to how a story is told.

To take it without credit is not just lazy, it is damaging. It erases the creative labor that gave shape to the work in the first place. Broadway understands this well. When a show like Hamilton or Hadestown is licensed for touring, there are strict requirements for protecting the staging and choreography. Even community theatres are warned not to replicate the original Broadway moves unless they are provided in the official materials. Those protections exist because the dance is not ornamental; it is storytelling. It is a vital piece of the show’s DNA.

What Baldwin Wallace showed is that when these issues come to light, they can be handled with dignity. Rather than stonewalling or dismissing Hinds’ concerns, they listened, responded, and made it right. That should be the model going forward. Schools, theatres, and producers alike need to educate themselves, put stronger processes in place, and create a culture where choreography is treated with the same care as scripts and scores. Just because it is easy to imitate does not mean it is free to use.

This case should become a valuable teaching tool. Faculty can use it as an example in classrooms to help young theatre-makers understand the boundaries of intellectual property. Administrators can point to it as proof that an honest acknowledgment of a problem is always better than silence. And students can take it as a reminder that the creative work they produce today is theirs, and that protecting it matters.

Theatre, at its best, is about collaboration, but collaboration should never come at the expense of attribution. Every artist in the room deserves to know their contributions will be respected. The fact that Baldwin Wallace recognized this, admitted fault, and worked toward a fair resolution sets an example for others to follow. We often say theatre is about community. Community means valuing not only the people who stand in the spotlight but also those who create the movement that brings the story to life.

Whether you are staging The Wild Party or a high school Grease, the lesson is the same. Every step, gesture, and flourish was created by someone. They deserve credit. They deserve protection. And when something goes wrong, they deserve to be treated with respect.

If this issue leaves any lasting impact, it should be that choreographers no longer sit at the edge of the copyright conversation. Their work is as vital and as vulnerable as any script or score. Protecting it is not optional, it is essential to the health and integrity of the art form.

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