Akram Khan’s Giselle, which he created for English National Ballet in 2016, caused a sensation for all sorts of reasons (and continues to do so). It is the culmination of collective artistry, imaginations, dancing and choreography of the highest calibre and what feels like a lived experience. It’s like falling down a rabbit hole and finding yourself in a dystopian world, one where you feel shocked to the core.
A measure of its success is that it doesn’t matter how many times one sees it, the impact is just as devastating; the performances are even more remarkable. There is also integrity in the way Khan and his dramaturg Ruth Little have drawn easily discernible parallels with the Giselle of the 19th century: the disparity of class, innocence, deception and ultimately love.
In this version, Act 1 is set in the here and now, in a community of migrants, former garment factory workers (Outcasts), and the Landlords, the lofty gentry, separated by a wall (Tim Yip’s monumental design) which serves the unfolding action superbly. As the curtain lifts and the ground rumbles beneath us, the senses are piqued and the audience is presented with an arresting row of Outcasts pushing the wall back from the front of the stage. As Vincenzo Lamagna’s score fills the auditorium we are literally transported into a different realm.
The story is outlined in much the same vein as the traditional Giselle, with Albrecht (James Streeter), in love with Giselle (Erina Takahashi), disguising his upper class background and his betrothal to Bathilde (an icy, aloof Angela Wood). Hilarion (Ken Saruhashi), also in love with Giselle, is described as a ‘fixer’, a rather disingenuous character who acts as he pleases as long as he benefits. However, he is not the Hilarion of yore. He is brutal, cruel and intimidating. At this performance, the most extraordinary feature of this act was the contrasting speeds of movement: the visual effects of stampeding Outlaws traversing the stage with feral instincts; the sudden stillness of the Landlord and Court Couples in their exaggerated haute couture (Yip’s designs again), moving with sedate arrogance. And the frequent crescendos alternating with poignant silences where exchanges allowed us to see each thought and emotion in real time.
At the close of Act 1 we accept the demise of Giselle, in Act 2, set in the empty shell of a disused factory, the strangling of Giselle at the hands of the abusive Hilarion (clearly not in love, but wanting control) is a gruelling depiction. He gets his just comeuppance as a corps of menacing Wilis, women who died in industrial accidents, weald their bamboo sticks and bludgeon him to death.
Giselle is dragged into her ghostly life by Myrtha, Queen of the Wilis (Emma Hawes), the transformation from human to Wili progressing in front of us. Throughout both acts there are very clever references both musically and choreographically to the traditional version (the Outlaws/Vine Gatherers in Act 1) and in Act 2, the arabesque shunts of the Wilis. It’s the duets however, between Albrecht and Giselle that provoked a visceral response and moved me to tears.
All the components of this giant masterpiece come together to help us reach a powerful conclusion. Lamagna’s score, orchestrated by Gavin Sutherland, is all about atmosphere and its shuddering volume is a tool that embellishes the action. Lighting by Mark Henderson is dim but highly effective. Khan’s choreography expresses every breath with extraordinary attention to detail, his Kathak roots in evidence, but with a classical sheen.
It’s English National Ballet though, who embrace this work with such commitment and undeniable brilliance that it’s worth seeing more than one performance. Saruhashi was outstanding as Hilarion. He has been so previously, but he’s become more confident and moved with a quicksilver, reptilian slinkiness, coming across as dangerous and malevolent.
Hawes was new to me as Myrtha – she has the look and the technique and I’m sure she is sweet natured off stage. In this she was hard as nails, terrifyingly dominant with an unwavering defiance and purpose to punish.
But the evening belonged to Takahashi and Streeter. It was a lesson in emotional vulnerability, in consummate acting and dancing, in making the unbelievable, believable. A look, a brush of the fingertips, an expression of remorse or of disbelief. Their performances will remain etched in my memory forever. They have never been better.
A word too for ENB’s newly appointed Music Director Maria Seletskaja, who conducted the English National Ballet Philharmonic with majesty. What a fantastic vehicle Khan has created for all concerned. Unmissable.
