Giselle is pretty much the oldest ballet in the repertoire. First seen in 1841, it set the template for the artform: a broken-hearted love story which dives into the supernatural. Sharp storytelling, dreamy dance. Ballet as we know it starts here.
The venerable classic visits London with a youngish company. The National Ballet of Japan, not yet 30 years old, takes the Royal Opera House summer slot formerly held by Russia’s great companies. NBJ may not have the heft of the Bolshoi – but, directed by Miyako Yoshida, formerly a beloved Royal Ballet star, their Giselle is beautifully danced and feelingly dramatic. And on opening night, the heroine was stunningly performed by Yui Yonezawa.
Giselle loves Albrecht (haughty Shun Izawa), who arrives with a swoosh of his claret-toned cloak – no wonder, because the man is one massive red flag. An aristocrat with a posh fiancée, he slums it with Giselle, claiming to be a humble villager. When the fibs fall apart, so does Giselle’s mind.
The title role tests a ballerina’s skills, from dramatic to purely dancey. Yonezawa triumphs. She dances as lightly as she breathes: time stops as she bounces on her toes, and speeds up as she spins. She’s all shy giggles and sudden moments of apprehension, but convinces herself that Albrecht is her happy ever after. The look of love she sends him across the stage – seconds before his deception emerges – catches your heart.
And Yonezawa is magnificent in Giselle’s mad scene. She starts slow, head in hands; it’s as if the orchestra is sounding the inside of her head, feeling with her, prompting her. Her heart racing, she whirls in agony – stretches out her hands to Albrecht then pulls them back as if she can’t bear to touch him.
Yoshida’s production, co-staged with Alastair Marriott, is made with love. Dick Bird’s neat, Breughelesque designs dress the villagers in harvest shades of butter, corn and pumpkin. The acting is unaffected, the dancing clean and committed, and Adolphe Adams’ score is tenderly conducted by Paul Murphy.
The show is stippled with human detail. Hilarion (wonderfully glowering Masahiro Nakaya), who also loves Giselle, holds secrets like a fistful of thunder ready to break. Yuna Seki, as Giselle’s protective mum, views Albrecht with scathing mistrust, and darkens the atmosphere with tales of vengeful ghosts.
In the second act, a remorseful Albrecht visits Giselle’s forest grave. She has joined the wilis: ghosts of jilted brides floating fatally in white like a legion of Miss Havishams. The dancers gather and turn, a phantom murmuration, as Albrecht dances for his life. Yonezawa and Izawa let the lovers enjoy the adagio devotion they never managed while Giselle was alive: a brief spectral connection before dawn breaks the spell.
National Ballet of Japan: Giselle, until July 27, tickets and information here.
