Bern:Ballett, Linbury Studio, Royal Opera House

Being a choreographer is harder than it looks. Steps, movement, are just the beginning. On top of that you need to have a sense of theatricality, and then, even more, you need to be able to convey your ideas, through movement alone, to the audience. On these counts, Bern:Ballett’s visit to the Linbury fails to make the grade.

Cathy Marston, Royal Ballet-trained, was the Opera House's first associate choreographer in residence a decade ago, and her works have had frequent showings over the years now. She is a serious and dedicated worker, she clearly has big ideas she wants to explore, but unfortunately her ability to communicate those ideas is not increasing.

Clara (main picture above, and below right) centres on the love life of Clara Schumann. A formidable pianist, trained by her overbearing father, she finally broke away to marry Schumann, whose mental instability meant that Clara had to continue touring to maintain their growing family; in turn, she was loved by Brahms, and the passions between the three, together with their own passion for the music world they are creating, are Marston’s themes.

The stage is attractively set with dropped rolls of photographer’s backing paper, which are gradually unfurled over the evening. The music, well played by Sonja Lohmiller, is a mix of Schumann and Brahms, and, most welcome, the splendid baritone Benoît Capt appears to sing lieder.

But what is going on in front is limited in vocabulary – all three leads, and the corps, have the same dense, clotted, turned-in steps, with arms held locked in at shoulder height, arms curved in like mittened piano players. And the piece is limited in emotional affect – we can tell they are all upset, but at 50 minutes, that’s a lot of upset for very little return.

At one moment the corps lies down, like piano keys, as Schumann gestures towards “playing” them, an embarrassingly reductive idea; at another, they roll and unroll across the floor behind the protagonists, like the ghost of their bad dreams continuing to haunt them during the day, a much better idea. But in this long piece, a few good ideas are spread far, far too thin.

Howl (pictured above), choreographed by American Andrea Miller, is more theatrically poised, better lit and with more of a sense of theatrical presentation. But what, apart from “the world is a nasty place”, the piece was supposed to represent, never becomes apparent. Miller produces some interesting moments: a man miming singing, as a girl’s childish voice is heard, using a fallen comrade’s foot as his mic, is disturbing rather than comic. Miller handles her group scenes well, too – but like Marston, she desperately wants to tell us something, it’s just not clear what.

• Bern:Ballett at the Linbury until tomorrow, 27 May
• Find Clara and Robert Schumann's recordings on Amazon