Do you own your Choreography? The answer isn't that easy #DecodingIPR

An old friend from my LSR days recently reached out after years of no contact. She was a Dance Society star back then and is now a successful choreographer. I was the quintessential MUN enthusiast, now practicing as a full-time litigator. We reconnected over a trademark matter. Intellectual property law often becomes the bridge between creative professionals and lawyers, and this time was no different.

Somewhere in the middle of our classic “goss sesh,” she suddenly asked:

“Dude, why can’t I just trademark my dance?”

I said: “You can’t. But you might be able to copyright your choreography.”

Her face: 😐 “Bro, simply bata de — ho sakta hai ya nahi?”

I laughed, but it made me pause. Because here’s the thing — it’s not a silly question at all. In fact, it opens up a whole world of legal nuance that choreographers, creators, and performers in India need to know.

So here’s the breakdown:

Firstly, Trademark vs. Copyright

Trademark protects your brand identity — name, logo, tagline, etc.

Secondly, Dance vs. Choreography:

Dance, as a form of human expression, may be spontaneous, improvised, or traditional, and not every movement or performance qualifies for legal protection. Choreography, on the other hand, refers to the structured arrangement of dance steps, gestures, and movements organised into a coherent whole, often designed for performance before an audience. The Copyright Act protects only this latter category, recognising choreography as a “dramatic work” under Section 2(h).

Thus, while a single dance step or a viral trend like the Moonwalk or a TikTok routine may be culturally influential, it lacks the originality and structured fixation required for copyright. In contrast, a full routine, ballet, or classical dance composition that is notated or recorded for documentation may be protected as a choreographic work. In short, copyright does not protect the art of “dancing” itself, but the creative labour of designing and fixing a “choreographic work.”

Therefore, simply put, in India, you can’t trademark your dance/steps, but you can copyright your choreographic work if:

It’s original
It follows a structure or pattern
It’s fixed (written down, recorded — but not as part of a film or music video)

The Indian “Choreography” Law

Under the Indian Copyright Act, 1957, the term “choreographic work” appears within the definition of “dramatic work” in Section 2(h), but the Act itself does not provide a separate or detailed definition of choreography. On the face of it, this inclusion seems straightforward: choreographic works are copyrightable. However, the law insists on “fixation,” meaning that the work must be reduced to writing, notation, or some other tangible form. And crucially, it cannot be fixed as part of a cinematograph film.

That’s where it gets interesting (and legally murky) — because in India, the moment you fix your choreography into a cinematograph film, you may no longer own it. The producer might.

Explicitly speaking, if a choreographer records their routine in video form for documentation, they may be able to claim copyright. But if the same choreography is filmed as part of a music video or film, the law deems the producer of the film to be the copyright owner, not the choreographer. In practice, this often results in choreographers losing control over their most valuable creations once they are absorbed into commercial productions.

In 2013, choreographer Remo D’Souza made headlines when he attempted to copyright the dance routines in his film ABCD: Any Body Can Dance. His idea was groundbreaking—if composers and lyricists receive royalties, why not choreographers? The problem, however, was legal rather than creative. Because the routines were embedded in a cinematograph film, the law transferred ownership to the producer, leaving the choreographer without enforceable rights. This episode highlighted the tension in Indian copyright law between recognising choreography as an art form and limiting its protection through technicalities.

This definition clause in the Indian Copyright also raises another crucial question of whether choreography requires a narrative or storyline in order to qualify. Indian courts have not directly addressed this issue, though in Academy of General Education v. Malini Mallya (AIR 2009 SC 1982), the Supreme Court recognised a choreographed ballet as a dramatic work once it had been reduced into literary form, which indirectly suggests that structure and fixation matter more than story.

Internationally, the 1908 Berne Convention (including Berlin Revision) obliges member states, including India, to protect “literary and artistic works” broadly, which extends to choreography but does not defines it. However, jurisdictions like the United States explicitly define choreography as protectable without requiring a plot or storyline. The U.S. Copyright Act of 1976 treats choreography as an independent category, clarifying that originality and fixation are sufficient. Similarly, Canada protects choreography “with or without a storyline.” In contrast, the United Kingdom has traditionally required dramatic works to involve some element of performance or representation, and its case law has at times implied a need for narrative, though inconsistently. On balance, the global trend has moved towards recognising choreography as protectable in its own right, independent of whether it tells a story, and India’s statutory silence leaves space for judicial development in that direction.

However, choreographers should also be aware of related protections. Performers’ rights, recognised under Chapter VIII of the Copyright Act, allow dancers themselves to control recordings of their performances. Moral rights under Section 57 empower authors, including choreographers, to object to distortions or misrepresentations of their work. Studios and choreographers can also look to trademark law to protect their brand names, class formats, or logos, thereby building layered protection for their creative businesses. In Anupama Mohan v. State of Kerala (WP(C).No. 22790 of 2015), the Kerala High Court sided with a Kuchipudi dancer who challenged the unauthorised circulation of her recorded performance. The court held that such dissemination without consent amounted to infringement.

These cases demonstrate a willingness to extend protection, but also reveal the limitations of the fixation requirement and the lack of comprehensive jurisprudence.

There remain many under-navigated aspects of choreography and law in India. For instance, who owns collaborative choreography created by multiple artists? Can reality television producers reuse routines without credit or compensation? How should the law treat AI-generated dance sequences? What about the rights of communities over folk and cultural dances, which are often appropriated without acknowledgment? Can choreography be tokenised as NFTs and sold in digital marketplaces? These are questions India’s legal system has yet to address.

Practical Guidance for Creators

For now, choreographers and studios should take proactive steps to protect their For choreographers, dance studios, and creative entrepreneurs, the law may appear abstract, but its consequences are very real. The first and most important step is to fix choreography in a tangible form. In India, copyright only attaches when a work is reduced to writing, notation, or some form of recording. However, because the Copyright Act excludes “cinematograph films” from the definition of dramatic works, it is important that documentation is created specifically to preserve the choreography as an independent work. A simple rehearsal video, a choreographic notebook, or even diagrams can serve this purpose. Without such fixation, the law may not recognise the work as protectable, no matter how original it is.

Equally important is the consistent assertion of authorship and credit. In today’s digital ecosystem, choreography is often shared via Instagram reels, YouTube videos, or streaming platforms. Many creators fail to state authorship in captions or credits, leaving room for others to appropriate their work. While copyright arises automatically, clear acknowledgment of authorship strengthens both moral rights and practical claims of ownership. Adding disclaimers such as “Choreography by [Name]” or watermarks on videos may seem trivial, but they often serve as first lines of defence in infringement disputes.

Creators should also consider registration of their works with the Copyright Office. Although registration is not mandatory under Indian law, it provides prima facie evidence of authorship and originality in court proceedings. In infringement suits, where proof of ownership is often contested, registration can significantly strengthen a claimant’s case. It is an inexpensive step that can save significant time and cost in litigation later.

Another vital layer of protection lies in contracts and agreements, particularly when working with production houses, event organisers, or studios. By default, the Copyright Act vests ownership of works created for films and sound recordings in the producer. Unless choreographers negotiate clauses to retain rights, they risk losing control over their own creations. Clear contractual language—reserving authorship, securing royalties, or granting only limited licences—can ensure that creative labour is not inadvertently surrendered. For freelance choreographers, written contracts are not just advisable but indispensable.

Finally, choreographers and studios should look beyond copyright to trademark protection. While steps or routines themselves cannot be trademarked, brand identities can. A studio’s name, a signature event, or even a distinctive class format can be registered as a trademark, ensuring that the goodwill attached to the business is legally protected. This is particularly crucial in an industry where reputation and branding drive both clientele and collaborations.

Together, these strategies form a practical choreography for legal protection: fix your work, claim authorship, register where possible, negotiate contracts wisely, and build a brand identity that the law recognises. In a space where creative works are ephemeral and easily copied, these measures transform fleeting performances into protected intellectual property, allowing choreographers to truly own the value of what they create.

Conclusion

India is a country with one of the richest dance traditions in the world, from classical forms to contemporary fusions and viral reels. Yet the law has not kept pace with the creative and commercial realities of choreography. While copyright in choreographic works exists in theory, its scope is constrained by outdated definitions and limitations on fixation. The cases of Remo D’Souza and classical dancers like Anupama Mohan & Malini Mallya, show both the possibilities and the shortcomings of the current framework.

The good news is that with the right legal strategies, much can still be done. Even when the law appears limiting, lawyers can guide creators in structuring, documenting, and positioning their work so that it falls within copyrightable boundaries. The question “ho sakta hai ya nahi” does not always have a simple yes or no answer.

But here’s the good news:
Nahi bhi ho sakta… toh lawyers can guide you to make it copyrightable.

Sometimes, it’s about protecting your work. Sometimes, it’s about positioning it right from the start.