|
By Patricia
Boccadoro
PARIS, 13 July
2004 - The Swedish
choreographer, Mats Ek, made dance history in 1982 with his highly successful,
essentially non-romantic re-interpretation of Giselle performed by the
Ballet Cullberg.
While many choreographers had revisited ballet
classics, no one had yet dared to stage such a radically different
interpretation, particularly of Giselle, the most famous of all Romantic
ballets, created in Paris one and a half century ago. The setting has been
up-dated to a claustrophobic rural community on some distant island, and his
Giselle is a solitary young girl who longs for true love and children of her
own. Extremely vulnerable, she breaks down when the man of her dreams betrays
her.
 Marie-Agnès Gillot in
Giselle Photo: Icare
In 1993 Ek gave the work to the Paris
Opéra Ballet, where it has become one of the most popular works in their
repertory. Always well danced, the ballet this time round was stupendous, with
not a weak link anywhere. The whole cast, sixteen dancers in all, surpassed
themselves, and there was not a free seat to be had at the Palais Garnier for
all nine performances.
I met Marie-Agnès Gillot, who
made her debut as Giselle, on her return from Sweden where she had been working
with the now legendary Ana Laguna, wife and muse of Mats Ek, who created the
role over twenty years ago. "It was a most amazing experience," she told me.
"Ana Laguna was so down-to-earth, and taught me how to express Giselle's
feelings with every gesture. Of course there are no pointe shoes, and I had to
almost forget about my classical training, going further forward with different
gestures and staccato, angular almost brutal movements. It was very exciting,
and she is so warm, honest and real." .
 José Martinez in Giselle Photo: Icare
Barefooted, and with a beret pulled down over her
forehead, Marie-Agnès
Gillot, recently nominated étoile, was a captivating and most moving
Giselle. The transformation of Gillot, superb classical and contemporary
ballerina, was total. More misfit than village idiot, she sees and hears things
the others don't and although her fiancé, Hilarion, the spectacular
José Martinez, loves her, he's unable to understand her, and keeps her
attached with a rope as he would an animal..
The villagers, portrayed as a group of
poverty-stricken workers on the verge of revolt, excelled. When they dance, it
is neither for their own pleasure, nor because they are pleased to meet the
aristocracy; these 'peasants' are out to earn money. .
 Marie-Agnès Gillot
and José Martinez in Giselle Photo: Icare
While Adam's score remains untouched, Ek has
invented new sequences of steps and totally original movements in this strictly
contemporary work, as modern today as when it was created. His free approach to
movement is ideally suited to Gillot whose large, ample gestures, rapid high
jumps and fast spins reflect her love of life. Bewildered by disaster, her arms
droop limply down, and her feet rub along the floor. She is pure, spontaneous
and natural, revealing inner worlds to Albrecht, superb Nicolas Le Riche, the
young man about town, who is fascinated by the richness of her imagination and
her sweetness. His white suit reflects his innocence and inability to assume
his love for her. When she is finally led to the lunatic asylum, he
follows.
Act two takes place in the surrealistic setting of a mental
hospital, where pieces of the human body decorate the walls. Myrtha, the Queen
of the Wilis, admirably interpreted by the authoritative Stéphanie
Romberg, has become the forbidding sister of the ward Giselle is led to after a
lobotomy. The nurse serves as a defence against sexual attraction in this
self-contained world where the inmates are condemned to frustration. The corps
de ballet, and in particular, Caroline Bance, Geraldine Wiart, Muriel
Zusperreguy and Laure Muret were outstanding throughout, especially in their
straightjackets as they sank into their own world of madness.
Hilarion
is one of José Martinez' favourite roles, and he revelled in the
powerful leaps and vigorous spins, making the rough country yokel into a figure
of compassion as he visits Giselle, hoping it is not too late to bring her to
see sense. But, as in the traditional version, she is already in another
world.
This is no mere fairy-tale; it's a story of real people. Love,
betrayal, madness are all there, softened at the end by a reconciliation
between Albrecht and Hilarion, who both love her, but both lose
her.
Patricia Boccadoro writes
on dance in Europe. She contributes to The Observer and Dancing Times and was
dance consultant to the BBC Omnibus documentary on Rudolf Nureyev. Ms.
Boccadoro is the dance editor for Culturekiosque.com. |
|