by Leigh Witchel
Catherine Hurlin’s New York debut as Giselle was auspicious. American Ballet Theatre played its hand wisely, letting her make her actual debut in Lincoln, Nebraska at the beginning of May – a smart throwback to an out-of-town tryout. What we saw in New York, with her partner Daniel Camargo, felt assured but still fresh.
Camargo made his New York debut as Albrecht, but he’s done the part before, including with Natalia Osipova, no less, at the Teatro Colon last year. Hurlin was in excellent hands. Both gave wonderful performances, but what makes Kevin McKenzie’s version perennially solid, and good for the dancers to grow in, is how much room for detail it inspires. They always find more in the part than choreography.
Daniel Camargo tends to choose very direct interpretations, but ones that are almost retro. His Albrecht and his Siegfried are cousins, if not brothers. They’re happy, handsome and spoiled roués, yet you still can’t help but like them. Camargo set up his character from the first entrance, showing off his outfit to Patrick Frenette as Wilfred. Full of confidence, and full of himself, he was energized by the thrill of the chase, loving all the little games and white lies. There were no hints of cruelty, but so many of entitlement.
Camargo’s Albrecht is spoiled, and he’s never been crossed. When he started to get piqued, it was because Wilfred was spoiling his fun. Like Cory Stearns, he got what he wanted with a silent look. But Camargo was trying less to actively intimidate, and more just waiting for Wilfred to cave. His attitude towards Giselle had the same gamesmanship. If the daisy doesn’t give the answer you want during “He loves me, he loves me not,” just remove a petal.
Ballerinas at ABT tend not to shoot up the ranks, and Hurlin is 27. In a convincing way, she seemed younger; her interpretation was fresh and unmannered. Tall and elongated, she was full of active energy. She didn’t do the first act with a downcast gaze, as if all her mime came from the back of her neck.
Her opening scene was danced accenting upwards with the speed and sharpness of a hummingbird, pushed by conductor David LaMarche’s brisk tempos. She greeted Jarod Curley as Hilarion happily as well. She had no clue of his feelings for her, and that had to hurt. But it was individual and convincing, as was the moment when Hilarion pulled a knife and Hurlin didn’t just recoil but still keep her face visible for the stage picture. She turned away and shielded her eyes.
A character was steadily being built, both in acting and dancing. When Giselle and Albrecht danced with her friends, Hurlin gently directed Camargo through the steps, telling him how and where to go. It was a lovely detail that feels as if it’s become popular recently, but it lets Giselle be active rather than reactive without completely rewriting her story.
Later in the dance, Camargo set her down after picking her straight up into the air and she was thrilled, and astounded this was happening to her. It’s hard to make a fainting spell onstage seem uncontrived, but Hurlin felt under herself for the bench without looking down, what someone actually does when they are dizzy.
You could also see what was going on in Camargo’s head. After his solo, the way he looked at Hurlin flickered in and out of The Game. He was starting to see Giselle as something more than quarry.
From Nancy Raffa’s first entry as Berthe you could see how much she adored her daughter. She appeared from her door, hugged Giselle tight and suddenly noticed, “Wait, why are you warm?” The extended mime McKenzie gave her to warn Giselle about the wilis was more than worth the extra minute.
Isadora Loyola has done Bathilde before and she’s got the character down pat. She was a prom queen Bathilde and as her father, Alexei Agoudine was a distant, disengaged Prince of Courland. It sounds unpleasant, but the clear details made them fascinating. The Prince couldn’t be bothered to explain to Berthe what he wanted when he appeared in her village. He just gave a bland wave. Confused, she had to ask Wilfred to explain.
It barely surprised Bathilde that Giselle was fascinated by her dress. Everyone is. In her immaculate red riding outfit that looked as if she had never actually ridden, she looked fabulous. When Berthe warned Giselle of the dangers of dancing, Bathilde checked in with Giselle, who said she was fine. So she’s fine, right?
When questioning Giselle if she had a fiancé, Bathilde glanced at her own ring, which made her notice her necklace, and it dawned on her that would be a spiffy engagement gift. Entitled, but also innately wanting to do some good, she looked at Giselle like a possible project. Besides Regina George, perhaps the pop culture character that is closest, filled with the happy confidence of privilege, is Glinda. You’ll be popular, Giselle, just not quite as popular as me . . .
Betsy McBride and Tyler Maloney hadn’t quite worked all the kinks out in the Peasant Pas de Deux. The entrée was a little off and Maloney wasn’t sticking the landings in his first variation. McBride fared better without him, jumping and turning cleanly in her variation. Agoudine kept his disengaged characterization throughout, thanking the couple for dancing by just touching Maloney on the shoulder and walking away.
Hurlin danced her solo like a precocious young girl, not a worldly ballerina: clean without being sterile. She made the final hops on pointe with no trouble, speeding them up as she went.
McKenzie has always sympathized with Hilarion, and Curley’s characterization hit a balance of making Hilarion a good man, but not the right man. When he came in with the sword to expose Albrecht, he barred Albrecht’s way as he tried to go to Giselle: “Stay away from her!” It’s of our times; his first concern was protecting Giselle from a predator.
The conflict and exposure scene was staged less as a battle of opposing forces, and more like a family drama. With each question Hilarion asked, “Do you love him? Will you marry him?” he grew more frustrated that Giselle couldn’t see that Albrecht was a fraud.
Depending on how you look at it, Camargo either ascended or descended to his most caddish. He tried to gaslight Giselle, miming that Hilarion was mad, and leading Giselle away, until Hilarion goaded him into taking the sword. His irritation with Wilfred seemed to be replayed: stop spoiling my fun.
Even after being exposed, it still wasn’t sinking in for Camargo that the house of cards had collapsed. Albrecht tried to apologize to Giselle half-heartedly: you know how these things go. It was sinking in for her; it quickly dawned on her that he was lying. Bathilde, a spectator to all of this, was livid, at first at Giselle, but we watched as she turned her head and the daggers she shot from her eyes changed their target to Albrecht.
Consistent with her entire reading, Hurlin’s mad scene was lighter in tone: less a milestone in her career, and more in the moment. She played it as if she were sucked into a happy memory that shattered and crumbled to dust. She didn’t do much in the way of crazy I-can’t-see-anyone; she actively wouldn’t look at Hilarion, so she could see him. As filled with artifice as Giselle’s death is, Hurlin made it seem more natural; jumping to collapse to gasping to furiously rubbing her hands, before running to Albrecht and expiring lifted above him.
Every Albrecht has a different way of learning the hard lesson of the wrongs he has done. Where Stearns added it up inside himself, Camargo saw it in other people’s faces as he made a circle, pleading with the crowd. They rejected him, and it finally sunk in. This was his doing. He fled the stage before Wilfred could catch him as the act closed.
A strong first act set up a strong second act. Fangqi Li made her debut as Myrta, opening with quick, silent foot work. She was less aerial than loose-jointed; the working leg flew up in cabrioles. Behind her Breanne Granlund did the first soloist variation with arcing lines and sustained jumps. Zimmi Coker had a mysterious legato quality in the second, lingering in every pose.
Even though Act 1 leads into Act 2, for Giselle, the role feels bifurcated. She’s no longer a woman, but a spirit, and her Act 2 entry feels like a new beginning. Hurlin sustained the excitement; her opening solo spun at top speed, then her jetés en tournant popped into a full split. The girl can jump.
If Camargo’s interpretations of the 19th century heroes don’t break new ground, they work. It’s almost a relief to not have to tease out a subtext from his characterization. For Act 2, his Albrecht entered in a mix of grief and fanservice. He lingered at the grave, but made sure he did all the cape business.
Sensing Giselle, Camargo asked the obvious question: are my eyes tricking me? But they weren’t. He and Hurlin moved into an adagio that was carefully coached without being heavy. Hurlin has a springy, allegro quality even when she’s moving slowly. Her weight was on the balls of her feet, her body was ready to move. She flew straight up in her soubresauts, showing off her elevation again.
Camargo complimented her line like a good partner, but where Hurlin isn’t a ham, he is. He fed the drama, flinging with his head back in each pose as if transported in awe. He’s not a classroom dancer, but an emotional, impetuous one. His lines got a little muddy in his solo as he tired, but that’s not unsuited to the role. This isn’t “Theme and Variations.” He’s being danced to death.
Everything went well in the adagio and the pas d’action. McKenzie leaves plenty of room for individual touches from his leads. Instead of laying lilies at Li’s feet, Hurlin spilled flowers in front of her; they fell through her hands like wasted lives. We’d see that motif return.
Camargo did tight entrechat sixes in his dance of death, pleading or putting his hand over his heart. But even though you knew the outcome, you held your breath as he made it to dawn. Hurlin’s feet fluttered like moth wings as she took her last farewell, offering Camargo a final flower and tipping her body back out of sight.
He gathered her lilies and hugged them to him as if hugging her. As he walked back on the diagonal they also scattered out of his grasp until he was left kneeling with a single flower as the curtain closed. Only at the bows was it clear that he had made a neat diagonal of lilies.
As the newest female principal, Hurlin is laying claim to her repertory this season, and like all the other ballerinas at ABT, most times she gets a single shot to hit her target. The pressure was on, but this was an excellent Met debut and she could not have had a better partner. McKenzie was there (two rows behind me) to see it. Giselle is a role that experienced ballerinas can get droopy or mannered in; by now, Osipova could almost bottle her effects. Hurlin’s freshness is part of her appeal, so enjoy the bloom.
copyright © 2023 by Leigh Witchel
“Giselle” – American Ballet Theatre
Metropolitan Opera House, New York, NY
July 5, 2023
Cover: Catherine Hurlin and Daniel Camargo in “Giselle.” Photo © Rosalie O’Connor.
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