PNB's troupe rises to the demands of its unique 'Giselle' production

The company's cast struggles with the story's acting requirements but masters its choreography, as PNB gains national attention for an original take on this seminal ballet.

PNB's troupe rises to the demands of its unique 'Giselle' production
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Ashli Blow

The company's cast struggles with the story's acting requirements but masters its choreography, as PNB gains national attention for an original take on this seminal ballet.

It’s easy to understand why PNB artistic director Peter Boal wanted to bring the ballet Giselle into the company’s repertoire. Along with La  Sylphide nine years earlier, Giselle moved ballet from the  world of aristocratic dance into the overtly sensual, feminine, and airborne  art form that we now define as classical ballet complete with shoes  that, although far softer than today’s toe shoes, allowed the ballerina  to rise up almost to full pointe.

Still performed by ballet companies  around the world 170 years after its creation, Giselle continues  to move audiences with its grace and lyricism. The role of Giselle,  arguably the most dramatic in the classical ballet canon, has been performed  by the greatest ballerinas of every generation since Carlotta Grisi  created it in Paris in 1841. Anna Pavlova, Alicia Markova, Galina Ulanova,  Gelsey Kirkland, Natalia Makarova, Alicia Alonso, Carla Fracci, and most  recently Diana Vishneva and Alina Cojocaru are just a few of the dancers  who have captivated audiences with their combination of exquisite technique  and dramatic power.

Despite the ubiquitous presence of  Giselle, it is not performed by the New York City Ballet, where  Boal made his career, and neither he nor most of the current PNB dancers  has ever appeared in it. What’s more, it requires a very different  technique than the rapid-fire Balanchine-based style that PNB dancers  know — and an acting range beyond what most of them have been taught.

Although everyone in Giselle must act and dance well for the ballet to succeed, the roles of Giselle  and her lover, the disguised duke Albrecht, are particularly challenging.  In the first act, Giselle must convey the innocence of a country girl  and then the heartbreak of betrayal that leads her to madness and death  when she discovers Albrecht is engaged to another. In the second act,  when she reappears as an otherworldly spirit known as a Wili, she must  be able to convincingly forgive the lover who betrayed her and send  him off to a happier life. For his part, Albrecht must evolve from a  seductive cad into a repentant lover seized by grief at Giselle’s  death, and together they must convince us of both the sexual energy  between them and the enduring love that will continue beyond the grave.

Once Boal made the decision to introduce  Giselle to PNB, he made another, even riskier choice. Rather than  import one of the versions currently being performed — all based more  or less on one of Marius Petipa’s stagings for the Imperial (now Mariinsky/Kirov)  Ballet from1884 or 1903 — Boal chose to recreate as much as possible  the 1841 original of Jean Coralli and Jules Perrot, with Petipa interpolations.  The result is a production that is probably as close to the original  as we will ever get.

Much has been written about the process  Boal and his collaborators, assistant Doug Fullington and Giselle scholar Marian Smith, used to create the PNB production. The end result  is a ballet that relies as much on acting and pantomime as on dancing,  adds several characters and scenes, and requires the dancers to step  precisely on the beat and execute the movements with such clarity that  even the smallest mistake becomes evident.

As compared to other versions, this  one enables us to see almost every bone in a ballerina’s foot as she  rises up on pointe or places a toe gently on the floor. In Giselle’s  gorgeous Act II arabesques, we can almost see individual muscles stretch  along her legs as she moves her body into full extension. When Albrecht  does his series of entrechats (scissor-like jumps), his landings must  be solid, without any allowance for a heel that doesn’t quite touch  the floor. With the slower tempi of Adolphe Adam’s original score,  the entire company must hold every movement a little longer whether  it’s a jump or leap, a balance on pointe or a billowing lift. And  with the body held in much more of a box frame than we see in today’s  modern ballets, the extreme physical discipline required to move in  one part of the body while maintaining relative stillness in another  is enormous.

With all this in mind, the fundamental  question about PNB’s Giselle is, Has Boal’s gamble paid off?  To my mind, the answer is yes, and no. Certainly Boal’s daring and  the willingness of his dancers to follow him so far outside their comfort  zone is admirable. And the year-long effort that went into creating this  production has significantly raised PNB’s profile nationally and internationally,  with critics coming from throughout the U.S. and Europe to see and review  it.

There’s also no question that the  PNB production provides the closest possible glimpse into a seminal moment in  the history of classical ballet. That was made possible with source materials  that are available today, including recently discovered detailed prose  and graphic descriptions of the dancing and mime scenes. With the added  mime scenes, the story of Albrecht’s betrayal becomes more clear,  his rivalry with Hilarion for Giselle’s affection more intense, and  the menacing nature of the Wilis more obvious. But though the added  pantomime clarifies certain narrative elements, in the first act particularly  it serves mostly to prolong what is an already overlong setup for the  exquisite second “white” act, whose elegant solo variations and ensemble  dances for Giselle, Albrecht, the Wili queen Myrtha and her Wili maidens  are stunningly beautiful.

A more serious problem in the first  act is the “mad scene” in which Giselle’s discovery of Albrecht’s  duplicity literally drives her to a fatal collapse. In other versions,  it takes her several minutes to fully comprehend the betrayal and then  descend into madness. But here Giselle goes mad almost the instant she  realizes Albrecht is engaged to Bathilde, which is neither believable  nor as dramatically powerful as it should be.

As for the dancing throughout the ballet, the entire PNB troupe, from principals to corps, should be commended for its ability to execute the deliberate style of the choreography. The  unison dancing of the men and women of the corps was impressive, especially  given the physical strength the steps require both in the fast-moving  first-act village scenes and the measured Wili dances. The principals  and soloists — Carla Körbes, Karel Cruz, Batkhural Bold, Carrie Imler,  Jonathan Poretta, Chalnessa Eames, and Sara Ricard Orza — took readily  to the exacting requirements of the physical style and the Romantic  feeling that permeates the movement.

The acting range of the principals  who danced on opening was another matter however. Carla Körbes has  stellar technique and an intense emotionality that infuses every role  she dances. In the second act especially, her elegant phrasing and innate  musicality made her ghost-Giselle a riveting image as she glided across  the stage or slowly turned her body in a circle, one leg outstretched.

But Körbes was less successful in  conveying the development of Giselle’s character. Despite her changing  circumstances and physical transformation from living human to ghost  spirit, Körbes’ Giselle remained the same fragile being throughout.  She executed her steps perfectly and with great feeling but the quality  of that feeling never changed, undermining the dramatic impact of her  tribulations.

Karel Cruz as Albrecht had another,  more serious problem, namely that he failed to emote at all. The movie-star  handsome Cruz makes an imposing figure onstage and dashed off his jumps  and leaps with precision and verve. But one never sensed a real person  behind his turns and leaps or any emotional connection to the woman  whom he seduces then mourns after he has driven her to death. When Cruz’s  Albrecht fell on Giselle’s dead body at the end of Act I it seemed  more an act to satisfy the stage direction than a heartfelt expression  of contrition and grief.

Even Carrie Imler as Myrtha seemed uncharacteristically  emotionally removed from the narrative. Among PNB’s principals, Imler  is one who can usually be counted on to throw herself full throttle  into the dramatic requirements of a role, so it’s hard to explain her  muted performance. Despite this deficiency, Imler brought her signature  technical proficiency and regal bearing to Myrtha’s elegant variations  and especially her bourées, the tiny, gliding steps on pointe that  embody Myrtha’s spirit-like state. With three other casts scheduled  to perform Giselle, and the growing confidence of the company  with this new production, it’s fair to assume that each performance  will be a little different.

Despite its deficiencies, the PNB  Giselle is a lovely production. Although in his program notes Boal apologizes for the sets and costumes from Houston Ballet, which  he says “have seen quite a few performances,” if there are any imperfections  they were not obvious, even from the sixth row. The earth-toned sets  and costumes of the Act I village scene glow with warmth, while the Wilis’  diaphanous white dresses of the second act provide a stark contrast  to the dark and scary forest they inhabit. Randall Chiarelli’s lighting  illuminates without calling attention to itself, and the effect he creates  when Giselle gradually disappears from sight behind her headstone is  one of his greatest technical and artistic achievements. The PNB orchestra  did a fine job with Adolphe Adam’s sweetly melodic score, which effectively  drives the action at every turn.

If you go: Giselle, through  June 12 at Marion McCaw Hall, Seattle Center, 321 Mercer St., Seattle.  Tickets start at $27 and are available at the box office, by phone (206-441-2424),  or online.

Ashli Blow

By Ashli Blow

Ashli Blow is a Seattle-based freelance writer who talks with people — in places from urban watersheds to remote wildernesses — about the environment around them. She’s been working in journal