La Scala Ballet, New York State Theatre, Lincoln Center, New York
Giselle
July 20, 2001

La Scala Ballet's new production of Giselle, in which Sylvie Guillem is both star and choreographer and which opened at the Lincoln Center Festival on July 20, is an innovative and novel rendering of the 19th century classic, but not necessarily in the way that one might think. Much attention has been given to the alterations that Guillem has made to the Romantic ballet, which she originally set for the National Ballet of Finland in 1999, and for many who are used to a particular aesthetic, La ScalaÕs Giselle will indeed look vastly different. Nevertheless, in the end, it is not a deconstruction of the 19th century classic, but simply a new staging.

After reading the fervid commentaries of critics and audience members from Paris to Los Angeles, I was prepared for a complete inversion and reinterpretation of the ballet, perhaps with the intellectual layering of Angelin Preljocaj or the movement impulses of William Forsythe. I fretted over whether I would be smart enough to follow all the cultural references or appreciate any post-modern movement quotations. After about ten minutes of actually watching the work, however, it became clear that not only was it still the same Giselle I knew and loved, but all of the much-debated modifications amounted to essentially new costumes and sets and the attendant changes in the arrangements of the dancers.

This is perhaps an over-simplification. Guillem has certainly created some new choreography and altered some of the existing steps, but in most places, where I expected to see a ballotté, I got a ballotté, where I thought there would be a développé a la seconde, it was there. In fact, most everything was there, right down to the traditional dance of the peasants in "X" formation and the mime during the interchange between Bathilde (Emanuela Montanari) and Giselle: "What do you do?" "I sew dresses and I dance." Some of the grape dances may have been arranged in new formations with more "character" steps than are usually seen, Myrtha's solo became a pas de trois for the queen and her lieutenants, Moyna and Zulma. But these are not enormous changes. Every production ever created of Giselle alters steps and shifts around the configuration of the corps and they are not deconstructions. Matthew Bourne's Swan Lake was a re-envisioning of that classic. Seeing Guillem's version was more like seeing a new production of Carousel. The basics are the same: words, music, perhaps you have new costumes and sets, consequently new blocking (because you are now working with a thirty-foot revolving wall), but essentially the story that you tell is unchanged.

What then is so radical about Guillem's Giselle, for there is something that sets it apart from the garden-variety production. The answer is that she has chosen to direct her production, not just set it. Guillem has made it clear that in working with her dancers, she wanted to discuss more than mere steps, and she admirably devoted a great deal of time to developing character, motivation and details. Perhaps because we are so unused to dancers working in this manner, it seems like a completely new ballet has been developed, but this was, according to Guillem herself, not her intent. She tried and largely succeeded in banishing the old notion that being a dancer means executing steps cleanly and getting to your place on the beat. La ScalaÕs dancers already come to this work with beautiful technique, intelligently expressive style and several other productions of Giselle under their belts. What Guillem offers them is a chance to return to the principles of ballet which Michel Fokine first outlined in 1904, in which he might have been setting the plan for GuillemÕs production: " The dance pantomime and gestures should not be of a conventional styleÉ[but one] that best fits the style of the period. The costumes should not be of the conventional style (short tarlatan tutus) but be consistent with the plotÉ" Expressiveness in dance, and the emotional content of a work as a whole, from the sets to the steps to the music, were most important to Fokine and nearly one hundred years later, to Guillem.

The company is to be congratulated for even attempting to apply these ideas to such a large scale production. As with many experiments, some things certainly work better than others. The Act 1 set designed by Paul Brown, for example, was not the little thatched cottages of the past, but a revolving wall that spanned nearly the entire breadth of the stage. Unfortunately the crew seemed unable to rotate it at several points in the ballet, and just as often it obscured the view for half of the audience. The monolith, which later opened to form the three sides of a barn for the final scene of the act, was an interesting idea in a more operatic or theatrical style than most ballets dream of, but for this production was ultimately frustrating. It gave the dancers less room in which to move and was more of a distraction than a frame.

The story moved along quickly thanks to the many detailed performances; even the tempo of the music was often faster than it is customarily played. So many small stories played out on stage that I was afraid of missing something important, and here was a major problem for Guillem as a director. Despite admirable tightening of the action and incorporation of the dancing with the story, the first act lacked focus in many places. One's eye should have been led quietly and cleverly to look at the right place at the right time, but often one would find oneself distracted by a detail while an important scene was being played out on the other end of the stage.

The costumes were certainly more "naturalistic", although somewhat muddy in color (except for Guillem's blue dress, a holdover from the traditional blue dress for Giselle) and the women all wore pointe shoe boots to peculiar effect. It was unfortunate that their shoes and costumes were in shades of brown because the details of their footwork were often lost in front of the beige and brown of the sets.

Massimo Murru, has a solid technique and displayed positively sparkling batterie work, but it was his expressiveness and presence that made him such a pleasure to watch. I had no doubts that his Albrecht was of royalty. Murru is not well-known to audiences here, but can be seen partnering Alessandra Ferri in Giselle in the only video of La Scala available to American audiences. His technique and lines are impeccable, although this is easier to see when he is costumed in more traditional ballet tights and tunic. It is his sensitive and exquisite partnering, however, that ranks him as one of the finest of classical danseurs. As Hilarion, Andrea Volpintesta was handsomely dramatic and also displayed a fine technique, although this production, as with many others, did not give Hilarion much dancing. True to Guillem's dictum, he seemed more like an older brother to her and less of a love-interest, but this is perhaps a more believable line of attack into this character.

The Peasant pas de deux was danced with flair and charm on Friday night by Deborah Gismondi and Antonino Sutera. Here Guillem has altered much of the choreography, while keeping the essential structure of the pas de deux (entrada, adagio, solo for the man, solo for the woman) intact. Where she has incorporated new phrases, Guillem's choreography tends to cover more space than the traditional Romantic steps would. Gismondi for her part, was sweet and had a wonderful movement quality across the stage in her bourrées. I particularly liked that Sutera, who remained onstage to watch her, gave Gismondi encouraging smiles and seemed quite proud of her, as if he were happy to be showing her off to the crowd. Despite some beautiful dancing by the couple, the stage was made too small by the sets, forcing Sutera to curtail some of his diagonals and the end of his man�ge. Then too, Gismondi's realistic peasant dress had a very heavy skirt which wound itself unattractively between her legs just as she finished a series of chaines turns at the end of her variation. Nevertheless this was a fresh and very youthful performance. Here again, the crowd was well-directed to respond to the couple, and Giselle, after having been scolded by her mother for dancing, could barely contain her desire to join in with them, even marking a few of the steps on the side in her longing.

Indisputably, Guillem as a dancer is fascinating to watch. In this production, she has seemingly consciously hidden those oh-so-marketable hyperextended legs beneath a dress that does not reveal much of her line, but it is impossible to mask those high arabesques or impossible extensions to the side. Her ability to execute difficult steps has never been in question, but as to characterization, having given the La Scala dancers wonderfully detailed roles to play, Guillem seems to have forgotten to give herself a fully fleshed-out character. This is not to say that it is a one-dimensional creature that she shows us, but her portrayal does not seem as thorough as that of, say, the town drunk, who corners Albrecht and tells him about how he's watched him grow up from childhood(!). Guillem's Giselle is saucy, exuberant, occasionally petulant, certainly used to being the center of attention. It seems strange, then, that she falls apart at the discovery of Albrecht's perfidy. A hard right to the jaw and a kick to the shin seemed more apropos to this gamine. Her mad scene was not the most compelling part of the evening, nor was it the most believable acting that I've ever seen. And oddly enough, where the corps dancers had been specifically directed for the rest of Act 1, in this last scene, they appeared not to know what to do with themselves, and stood around in a rough frame about the stage, characterless, much like any other production of Giselle. Ultimately it made for an unconvincing ending to this act.

As with the first act, Act II has many interesting details and ideas to recommend it. Myrtha, Moyna and Zulma, ( Emanuela Montanari, Lara Montanaro, Deborah Gismondi) clear away an impressive group of rocks to create a magic circle, but here again, the small problems diminish the effectiveness of some of the set designs. The rocks, which levitate slowly up and out of the dancers' way, also block the overhead lights creating a massive shadow on the downstage section. I liked the effect of the glowing blue line cut into the floor for the magic circle, but midway through the second act's famous pas de deux, half of the circle blinked out and then came back on, prompting me to wonder if Albrecht should have made a break for it right then.

All in all, realism intruded a bit too much on the second act. There is no getting around the fact that this white act of the ballet is essentially about ethereal, supernatural things, and although the individualized wedding dresses were lovely, the rustling of the heavy taffeta, the somewhat harsh lighting and the erratic magic circle contrived to make things decidedly earthly. Instead of being hounded by spirits, poor Hilarion seemed more like Chris O'Donnell, chased by a thousand brides in The Bachelor.

In this act, particularly amidst the web of the gossiping wilis, that the strength, and dramatic qualities of Massimo Murru's Albrecht really emerged. Having established a grief-stricken character in the first entrance of Act 2, he was able to give us the sense that he no longer cared about his life, finally providing an understandable reason for stepping into the magic circle and into the power of the wilis. I had the impression that he would have done anything to dance with Giselle once more and it was this feeling that lent the final moments of the ballet enormous power. Instead of sinking into her grave, Giselle wafted longingly in front of Albrecht, herself loathe to leave him, and when she faded back into the darkness, there was at last the kind of simple poignancy I had been seeking.

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This review initially appeared on Voiceofdance.com, July 25, 2001.

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