The Royal Ballet’s long association with Sir Peter Wright has produced firmly-established classical productions in the repertoires of both companies. His focus on characterisations that make sense and are relatable makes every role a joy to dance for the cast and entirely engaging for the audience. His Covent Garden Giselle is to my mind as near perfection as it is possible to get.
John Macfarlane’s Act 1 designs, raw-hewn cottages and worn peasant dresses, cleverly highlight the divide between simple villagers and the aristocratic nobility that Albrecht is only partially successful in hiding – a difficult duplicity that is hard to pull off. In Act 2 Wright’s approach to the choreography, without changing a single step, gives the Wilis a sharper look, so we can see the evil behind their actions rather than simple sorrow at abandonment before marriage.
The Royal Ballet, packed to the gunwales as it is with supremely talented dancers, can hardly fail to produce a near-flawless account of this most romantic of ballets, and so it proved on opening night. Perhaps there were a few missed fifth positions in the pas de six in Act 1, a few blurred entrechat sixes, but these are entirely forgivable on a first night and will be addressed promptly by the top-notch rehearsal team, led by Senior Repetiteur Samira Saidi.
I liked the work of Sae Maeda and Joonhyuk Jun, leading the pas de six with neat brio, ably supported by Viola Pantuso, Francisco Serrano, Ella Newton Severgnini and Liam Boswell. The character roles were admirably filled, especially by Christina Arestis as a shallow, spoiled Bathilde, contributing to the backstory of Albrecht’s frustration with the expectations of inheritance and his need for real love. The luminous Elizabeth McGorian gave a crystal account of Berthe’s mime scene and showed a nuanced tenderness towards her daughter alongside wider care for the community.
In Act 2 the corps is really the star, and The Royal Ballet’s excellent roster of talent shone out among the immaculately-rehearsed cohort of Wilis. Led by an icily glamorous Claire Calvert as the cold-hearted Myrtha, she never missed an opportunity to flash a penetrating frozen stare at her potential male victims. Annette Buvoli and Hannah Grenell impressed as Moyna and Zulme.
Finally we come to the principal cast, and oh, my goodness, what a principal cast it was. Lukas B. Brændsrød’s Hilarion is a finely drawn hunky peasant who has assumed he is the natural choice to be Giselle’s husband and is deeply in love with her to boot. His distress at the intervention of the dashing Albrecht clearly shocks him to the core, so much so that he is blind to the possible fallout from his unmasking of his rival. His scene at the grave at the beginning of Act 2 was deeply moving, and later he showed some very fine technical work in his dances of death.
Marianela Núñez, globally beloved and deservedly so, invests her Giselle with immense gentle charm, glowing with sincerity in the purity of her love for Albrecht and devastating in her breakdown at the betrayal. Her dancing, so light, so carefree and innocent in Act 1, so weightless but heavy with emotion in Act 2, is, as always, a technical marvel. Every detail has been thoughtfully prepared, with never a hurried or meaningless moment.
I have been an ardent admirer of the work of William Bracewell since his earliest days with Birmingham Royal Ballet. I was delighted when he moved to Covent Garden and have watched his development from outstanding soloist to superb principal to his current status as a star in The Royal Ballet firmament. He is a versatile dancer who gives his all in every role without ever losing sight of the classical training at the base of it all. His understanding of technique and muscle control run deep, and artistry imbues his every movement. His Albrecht, as I expected, is among the most rewarding I have seen. From his first encounter with Giselle, he struggles to take his eyes from her face. The initial interaction with Hilarion is a mere irritation – he is repeatedly brushed aside like an annoying insect in Albrecht’s rush to return to Giselle’s side. The agony at her death is palpable. In Act 2 his sincere remorse is overlaid with wonder: wonder at her ghostly beauty; wonder at the undying love she bears for him; wonder, at the end, at the depth of her forgiveness. What a dancer, what an artist.
An occasion to remember too, as Sir Peter Wright, now in his 100th year, alongside designer John Macfarlane were brought on to the stage in the curtain calls to rapturous applause.
