by Leigh Witchel
The arresting Operahuset in Oslo, designed by Snøhetta, feels like a series of ramps, as if a ship could be launched directly into the harbor from its roof. The ramps are echoed inside, but the main hall is a stripped-down but traditional house with good sight lines. The company’s production of “Giselle” was also a traditional version: straight up, no chaser, with a few interesting garnishes.
Staged by former American Ballet Theatre principal Cynthia Harvey in 2009, New Yorkers would feel at ease with this production. It’s largely the one we’d see ABT do at the Met, and what was different was more cosmetic than substantial.
The production designs were by an expert, the late British designer David Walker, and were tried-and-true: Giselle’s house on stage right, Albrecht’s shed opposite on stage left, and the castle looming in the distance on the backdrop. James F. Ingalls, who has lit Mark Morris’ work so deftly, achieved the transition to sunlight at the end of Act 2 beautifully.
Melissa Hough was an estimable Giselle from her first entrance: long-limbed and strong technique with beautiful aplomb. Taking a pose on pointe when Albrecht knocked, she just hovered there and listened.
Act 1 started out loud and fast. The orchestra, led by Nathan Brock, played the introduction with an energetic attack, but kept up the breakneck pace through the mime sections. It didn’t give Hough and her Albrecht, Gakuro Matsui, time to develop chemistry. Matsui did plenty of cape work on his first entrance, but the bench scene stayed flat. With the brisk tempos, the cast was too busy doing the mime on the music rather than feeling something. The conflict scenes with Hilarion, played by Martin Dauchez, were also full speed ahead.
When the dancers slowed, the acting registered. Hough built Giselle’s character with a light, daisy-like approach. Her kissing game looked as if she made the choice of which hand to offer Albrecht in the moment, rather than by rehearsal. There was a lovely detail in the harvester’s waltz when Giselle invited Albrecht to dance with her. He hesitated, explaining that he didn’t know the steps; she reassured and coached him through the first few. Again, the fast tempo made the moment when she almost fainted abrupt, but her determination to push through it felt real as she hesitated to compose herself and make sure she was okay before rejoining the others.
As at ABT, Giselle’s mother paused to give a mime speech about the dangers of the wilis, before a hunt scene with precious few nobles. The peasant pas de deux was cleanly danced. Shaakir Muhammad (a Brooklyn boy) had elegant lines and was scrupulous about his port de bras. Leyna Magbutay’s variation opened with a slightly different phrase than the most common one; but that was one of the cosmetic changes that didn’t change the meaning or impact of the ballet, rather it gave a local accent.
More local accents among the nobles, but these were mixed in effect: Wilfrid, Helge Freiberg, was older and more richly dressed than usual, and seemed like a functionary who was taken by his position and himself. At first he seemed to assent to Albrecht’s questions about his disguise like an aristocratic wingman, but as the music got more agitated, he flipped on cue from ignoring or abetting Albrecht to begging him to not continue. But there wasn’t a transition to explain why.
As the Duke, Helian Potié, went inside Giselle’s cottage with Bathilde, he looked at Giselle, touching her chin. It was an ambivalent moment; it read like possible sexual interest more than what was intended: a hint that he might have had an affair with Berthe a generation before and was searching for a familial resemblance. It would have taken more to make either read clearly.
Hough had no trouble with her Act 1 solo, though she started with hops, but then continued with relevés. One isn’t any easier than the other, so it also felt like a local accent. But Hilarion brought out the sword, and Albrecht’s ruse was discovered; at the answering call of the horn Matsui almost looked as if he were going to cry.
One of Hough’s best acting moments was the transition into the mad scene. That often feels ginned up; as if a ballerina feels like she has to go nuts by this point in the music, so she just does somehow and we accept it. Hough found a clear, logical route to a breakdown; you could see the “does not compute” moment when Bathilde insisted she was engaged to the same man. Hough followed her collapse with a strong soliloquy of crushing disappointment and sorrow.
In Act 2, Harvey included the gravediggers in the opening, but had individual veiled wilis attack Hilarion and all three gravediggers. A touch imported from “Robert le Diable,” a precursor to “Giselle,” the wilis massed at the back and came forward rather than in from the sides. The number of wilis was down to 16. Norwegian National Ballet has 34 female dancers but five are principals, including one on leave. Instead of being in front of the corps, the two demi-soloists were in the first row, making a corps of 18 in three lines. It felt as if the company needed that two-body leeway.
The roughest spot was unfortunately the most famous – the lines of traveling arabesques. Legs were at varying heights – some in the front too low. But then Myrtha came flying out to claim her domain. Sonia Vinograd was very sharp; from her opening pas de bourrées her feet looked like arrowheads pricking the floor in tiny, tight motions. She had the instincts of a killer; when the wilis’ dance ended, she heard a noise, and told them to hide in waiting. They caught and quickly dispatched Hilarion with barely a repeat in the music; he rolled offstage to die.
Hough knew what she was doing from her first entry, spinning wildly before sailing offstage. Matsui landed both clean air turns and a good finish in his variation. When Vinograd commanded him to dance until he died, the fatal steps were two diagonals of brisés.
By Hough’s second duet with Matsui, they had found their groove as a couple. He was partnering well; she was well-coached and moving, producing both the shapes and the story. She scattered lilies before Myrtha, a Russian touch, along with a closing moment when she swore fidelity to Albrecht, an addition that showed strength in her power to transform Albrecht’s lie into the truth. She kissed a flower for him before she vanished back into the earth.
Hough’s Giselle wasn’t trailblazing, rather she built a strong interpretation from good examples. In the same way, so did Harvey’s production. It didn’t break new ground, rather it wisely curated. That’s not a bad thing for a baseline production of a classic. If you see this “Giselle,” you can leave knowing you’ve seen “Giselle.”
copyright ©2022 by Leigh Witchel
“Giselle” – Norwegian National Ballet
Oslo Opera House, Oslo, Norway
September 7, 2022
Cover: Melissa Hough and Gakuro Matsui in “Giselle.” Photo credit © Erik Berg.
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