There is nothing mysterious or bizarre about the longevity of the ballet Giselle. Now, some 174 years after its first performance, it retains its appeal to audiences of all nationalities, of all ages, whether knowledgable balletomanes or not.
The characters depicted, and the story told, are relevant at any time to all human beings. Who has not loved but felt betrayed by the person they love at some stage of their lives?
Who has not, consciously or not, hurt someone and felt a guilt which has changed them and made them grow more sensitive?
And who has not hoped and perhaps prayed for forgiveness -- for a love that is so strong that it will accept them despite their faults and sins?
And many, on losing a loved one, wish and perhaps believe that the love and spirit of their beloved will be with them for ever, giving them strength for the rest of their lives…
Even so, believable characters and stories do not alone explain Giselle's appeal. They have to be presented in such a way that members of the audience identify, sympathise, empathise with them.
So how does Giselle manage this?
First of all, the ballet is perfectly constructed.
In the first act, the introduction of the characters and the order of the scenes leaves no doubt as to what is occurring. The choreography integrates pure classical ballet with mime and drama without interruption.
The music, mainly composed especially for Giselle by Adolphe Adam, is perfectly suited, and by its use of leitmotiv helps tug at our heart strings at all the right moments. The interpolations of Burgmuller's tunes for the Peasant Pas de deux and the Minkus solo for Giselle, do not bother us, since they are both integrated into the story: Giselle loves to dance, and dances this solo, depending on the version, either to thank Bathilde for the gift of the necklace, or to celebrate her crowning as Queen of the Village, and the Peasant Pas similarly.
Giselle’s love for dancing, despite her weak heart, gives the story even more logic. Since this is part of her nature, it is normal to be seeing her doing what she loves. In the 2nd act, the superstition that the wilis -- ghosts or the spirits of young girls who have died before they were married -- rise from their graves each night, and make any man who is foolhardy enough to enter the forest dance with them until he dies of exhaustion, again introduces the element of dancing as part of the story. So unlike in most ballets, we do not have to accept that the performers’ vocabulary is that of dancing -- they dance because their characters do.
Then there is the appeal of the choreography itself. Simple but perfectly suited in the first act to the story telling.
One of the major delights of watching and indeed dancing Giselle, is the way the dance, the mime and the acting are so seamlessly intertwined. This is so different from the conventions of the later Petipa/Ivanov classics, where almost total division occurs between dancing and mime sections, and it takes incredible artistic instincts and stagecraft to integrate the given “text” into cohesive characterisation and potent story telling.
Perhaps the timeless appeal of the second act, the “white act”, is due to the marvellous capacity of human beings, with only the aid of choreography, set, costumes and lighting to create illusion and atmosphere without the use of all the advances of technology to create special effects, which are now the norm in the theatre,
To achieve this magic optimally, there is a need for stylistic understanding, and not just token “romantic” ,poses or literal transpositions of the lithographs copied and scattered about randomly. These have to be shown consistently and with movement quality. Then they are beautiful and entirely necessary. The musical modulations should be explored, together with certain modifications of the classical technique. This entails the dancer knowing their centre of balance not for its own sake, but the better to move off balance at will – thus achieving the illusion of ghosts able to fly through the air. The the dancing of the Wilis becomes mesmerising, beautiful and eerie at the same time.
However, few dancers nowadays have a real understanding of the classical vocabulary, as opposed to the now fashionable emphasis on the highest possible extensions, the greatest possible virtuosity of a certain kind, mainly multiple turns, mixed with great attention to good photo opportunities! At best this approach leads to a series of beautiful poses, and at worst to distorted positions that have no place in any sort of classical or romantic repertoire. The great loss is quality of movement and the ability to play with time between the steps, such as is achieved by great dancers like Alina Cojocaru. Without some individual variety of joy of movement, the classics lose all reason for being and the classical vocabulary has no meaning -- it is indeed “dead”.
This applies also to the interpretations of Swan Lake and Sleeping Beauty and can be traced back to present training in the classroom and fashion.
Often, when coaching romantic ballets, since dancers are used to adapting their work to a variety of contemporary choreographers styles, I encourage them to approach Giselle as though it was just as different a kind of work. (Indeed I believe any ballet should be approached through looking at the differences in style, as this is what make dancers and repertoire interesting). I have discovered through the years that approaching the romantic through the dancers’ use of their own weight -- propelling the movement naturally -- is something they are instinctively loath to do. The illusion they are searching for is one of lightness, so such an approach appears a contradiction -- to dance “heavy”. Yet it is well known that Markova’s achieved her magical appearance of weightlessness by not assisting her partner by jumping to take off for the lifts ! Moving on and off balance through the transference of weight creates magical effects, as though the wind has moved Giselle without effort on her part, so that it is done to her, rather then her doing it - very Zen!
Hilarion and Albrecht, the only humans in this act, dance quite differently -- they are clearly human, and the choreography clearly shows they are desperate, enhanced of course by the artistry of the interpreters.
For the true balletomane, the news of another cast of Giselle is always of interest. Another reason for the ballet's longevity is the multitude of valid interpretations it can produce (invalid ones also, but we won’t go there!).
The title role of Giselle herself, Albrecht, Hilarion, Bathilde, Berthe, Myrtha the Queen of the WIlis, without forgetting Wilfed, Albrecht’s equerry or squire, can all be interpreted in such varied ways. As long as we spectators have our hearts broken, we are fascinated!
Quite recently, Natalia Osipova has given new life to the role: her interpretation has reminded us that a great ballerina is a creative artist, not just a recreator of what has been before. She gives us a lesson in the fact that there can be too much reverence for “the way it’s always been done”, and that the ballet does not gain its full potency just by copying the great Giselles of the past. The great challenge for dancers is to have respect for the tradition but the courage to bring their own view and individual interpretation.
Those who coach and stage Giselle, similarly, should educate regarding that tradition without stifling but, on the contrary, encouraging the creativity of the dancers.
It is wonderful to witness the excitement with which the dancers of the Australian Ballet have approached the restaging of the production. Clearly the appeal of Giselle is as potent to today's dancers as it was to me, from when I first saw it at the age of eight and started practising the mad scene that very evening in front of the mirror at home, immediately determined that I must dance it one day!