Adam : Giselle
The Royal Ballet
Orchestra of the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden
Barry Wordsworth
This third Giselle in six months was definitely the best of the three. More atmospheric than the Bolshoi, and a full-size version rather than the RNZB's scaled-down one, it benefitted, first and foremost, from the ROH orchestra on magnificent form, with Barry Wordsworth's seasoned hand at the helm. He's a wonderfully responsive conductor for the ballet, deftly tweaking tempi to suit the dancers at every step without ever letting it de-nature the music, engaging in a subtle push and pull to create a fluid soundscape that lives and breathes even as the dancers do, and when the orchestra plays like that, with that degree of sympathy and support, it lifts everything up to the next level.
This production was first staged in 1985, (although the producer, Peter Wright, originally staged Giselle for the Royal Ballet in 1971) and it has weathered the years with hardly a wrinkle, graced by John Macfarlane's characteristically eloquent designs, particularly for the second act. The contrast between the two acts, which is one of the great strengths of this ballet, was vivid without being jarring. The production is full of touches of character; Wilfred, the Count's squire, isn't just any old flunkey, he's clearly more of a friend, and a hair's-breadth from rolling his eyes at his young master's antics, while for once I felt a twinge of sympathy regarding Albrecht's urge to sow wild oats, because his official fiancée seemed decidedly prissy. Married life was clearly not going to be a walk in the park for that pair! Berthe, Giselle's mother, gets an extended mime scene to express her concerns about Giselle's future, masterfully handled by Elizabeth McGorian.
There's less room for that sort of thing in the second act, with the Wili needing to be spectrally chilly, and implacable in their refusal to negotiate, but the corps in both acts was very good, lively and neat-footed as villagers, and coolly ethereal as the vengeful spirits. My only regret was the indifferent Myrtha of Itziar Mendizabal, whose demeanour was suitably haughty and authoritative, but whose dancing lacked a little something in the way of effortlessness.
Albrecht, as a character, tends have two modes only; a thoughtless, pleasure-seeking young man in the first act, a more sober, regretful figure in the second, one who has grown up considerably in the interim. It's difficult to provide much more light and shade to him than that, and Vadim Muntagirov was not the dancer to achieve any greater subtleties, at least not on this occasion. However, he was a pleasure to watch, all long, flowing lines, excellent elevation and crisply articulated footwork, as well as providing beautiful, effortless lifts to his partner in Act 2.
As for that partner, Marianela Nuñez was as expressive a Giselle as could be wished for, with a particularly spectacular Mad Scene to conclude Act 1, and a deep sense of pathos infusing every movement throughout Act 2. In the first act, Giselle is invited to dance by Bathilde, and the almost cheeky grin that illuminated Nuñez's face as she spun dazzlingly around the stage was, I think, as much that of the dancer as it was of the character, a moment of sheer, untrammelled joy in movement. To go from that blithe exhilaration to the unhinged despair of the act's final scene was as masterly a piece of acting as I've ever seen in this role, while the loving regret that permeated every gesture of the spirit-Giselle was equally moving. Undoubtedly a performance to remember.
[Next : 7th April]
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