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The Essence of Romanticism München
Nationaltheater
07/15/2025 - & February 6, 9, 21, May 9, June 11, 6, 9 (Munich), October 21, 23, 24, 25, 26 (Barcelona) 2025
Giselle
Peter Wright after Jean Coralli, Jules Perrot & Marius Petipa (choreography), Adolphe Adam, Friedrich Burgmüller & Riccardo Drigo (music)
Ksenia Shevtsova (Giselle), Julian MacKay (Albrecht), Florian Ulrich Sollfrank (Hilarion), Elvina Ibraimova (Myrtha), Matteo Dilaghi (Wilfrid), Elisa Mestres (Bathilde), Norbert Graf (Duke of Courland), Soloists & Bayerisches Staatsballett
Bayerisches Staatsorchester, Andrea Quinn (conductor)
Peter Farmer (sets & costumes)
(© Katja Lotter)
Giselle, the quintessential romantic ballet, is the Mount Everest of roles for a ballerina. More than any other character in the repertoire, she must display two idealized facets of femininity: the innocence of the village girl (in Act I), and an ethereal quality, after Giselle transforms into a Wili, a vengeful spirit of a girl forsaken by her lover, who then dies due to his perfidy (Act II).
The story of Giselle was inspired by a fairytale in De l’Allemagne (1822), an exposé of Germany’s customs and traditions, including some of its legends, written by the Romantic poet Heinrich Heine (1797‑1856). The tale was subsequently adapted, eventually becoming the story on which the ballet is based, by poet/dramatist Théophile Gautier (1811‑1872).
One of the pillars of Romanticism is “horror,” or the supernatural, as expressed in the writings of E.T.A. Hoffmann (1776‑1822), Adelbert von Chamisso (1781‑1838), Lord Byron (1788‑1824), Mary Shelley (1797‑1851), Edgar Allan Poe (1809‑1849) and others. Act II of Giselle is the supernatural act, in which the protagonist is transformed into a Wili, an undead nocturnal creature, as in German folklore, itself derived from Slavic sources.
Giselle, a naive village girl who loves to dance, despite her frailty, is seduced by the peasant Loys, who’s in fact the flirtatious Albrecht, Duke of Silesia in disguise, already engaged to a lady of his rank. Hilarion, gamekeeper and Giselle’s aspiring suitor, is suspicious of the stranger. When he discovers Albrecht’s fancy sword hidden in a neighbouring hut, he confronts the incredulous Giselle and the cowardly Albrecht. He then blows the hunting horn to summon the hunting party of nobles, including Albrecht’s betrothed. Upon realizing she’s been duped, Giselle is bewildered, and dances haggardly in what resembles a “mad scene,” typical of bel canto operas. Grief‑stricken and exhausted, she collapses, dead from a weak heart, made worse from excessive dancing and Albrecht’s cruel duplicity.
Giselle is a companion of sorts to Amina, from Bellini’s La sonnambula (1831). This may be confusing, as the former is a ballet and the latter an opera. While the ballet ends with the tragic death of Giselle from a broken heart, in the opera Amina survives the heart‑shattering scene “Ah non credea mirarti” and her perilous sleepwalking, only to be joyously awakened by a remorseful Elvino. Yet both heroines are wronged by their respective beloved. More importantly, both women are the epitome of fragility and innocence. Premiered ten years after Bellini’s first success, it’s likely that Giselle’s composer was influenced by the fragile operatic heroine. Early Romanticism was often centered around helpless, wronged heroines, and the redemption of men by women. More than any other ballet, Giselle mimics operatic bel canto.
The other progenitor of Giselle is La Sylphide (1832), a ballet that transformed the art form. Though the sylph, a fairy of the forest, was the seducer rather than the seduced, she nonetheless met a tragic fate. Both La Sylphide and Giselle introduced an innovation that marked and transformed ballet. Just as bel canto operas centered on vulnerable heroines, so too did these two early romantic ballets. In pre‑romantic ballet, male dancers were at least as prominent as female ones.
Incredibly, Marie Taglioni (1804‑1884), creator of La Sylphide, was the first ballerina to dance an entire ballet en pointe. Choreographed by her father, the dancer Philippe Taglioni, the moves were meant to favour his daughter’s particular physique: long arms and legs, short stature and unusual athletic capacity to jump with fluidity and elegance (élévation). This new style for a female dancer, giving a much‑admired ethereal quality, was adopted by Carlotta Grisi (1819‑1899), creator of Giselle. Astonishingly, Grisi was the cousin of none other than sisters mezzo Giuditta Grisi and soprano Giulia Grisi, creators of several bel canto roles by Bellini, Donizetti and Rossini.
Giselle was created in Paris but became internationally-renowned following its adoption in 1884 by French expatriate Marius Petipa, maître de ballet at the Imperial Russian Court for the Mariinsky Theatre. Since then, it’s remained among the most cherished ballets in the repertoire, and every ballerina’s dream role.
I saw Giselle once as a child in my native Cairo, and was immediately smitten. As a young man, I once again experienced it in 1986 in Munich, the same present production. To see it again four decades later is quite moving. While the sets show their age, Peter Wright’s choreography remains as lively as ever. It’s in the same classic vein as the original Paris production, preserved by l’Opéra de Paris, much as a church would preserve the relics of a saint. Indeed, it’s wonderful to conserve such continuity, tracing back to the ballet’s creation.
Despite the somewhat tired sets, this was a riveting performance, thanks to Russia’s Ksenia Shevtsova and America’s Julian MacKaythe, the leading soloists playing Giselle and Albrecht, together with a well‑rehearsed ensemble. The pair were technically flawless, naturally elegant, and enjoyed great chemistry, essential ingredients to a successful Giselle.
As mentioned, Giselle is the Everest for ballerinas, for its technical difficulty as well as its need for convincing expressivity. A technically exceptional dancer without charisma would not pass the test. Ksenia Shevtsova has been prima ballerina at Munich’s Bayerisches Staatsballett since 2018 and possesses the necessary technical proficiency and the expressivity for the role. In Act I, she convinced us she was a modest peasant girl. The way she lowered her head when she saw Bathilde, Albrecht’s fiancée (unbeknownst to her), and her royal entourage, conveyed Giselle’s natural humility. Fortunately, there was no attempt to make the sweet village girl into a simpleton, an unfortunate trend which may render the tragedy more intense, but prevents one from identifying with Giselle. Thankfully this wasn’t the case here.
In Act II, Giselle is transformed not only into a Wili but also into a stronger, more determined person. The way Shevtsova defends Albrecht, despite his perfidy, is shown in the different dancing style. Still ethereal when in the arms of Albrecht, she’s firm and near rigid when facing Myrtha, queen of the Wilis. The genius of Adam’s music and Wright’s choreography was in repeating the music and steps of the Act I Variations into those of Act II. Shevtsova repeats the steps, but as the music becomes somewhat dissonant, there’s a vast difference in the speed and mood. The success of these subtle variations, and those for Albrecht, is only possible under the baton of an expert conductor, precisely familiar with ballet and each dancer’s needs. Britain’s Andrea Quinn, a veteran conductor specialised in ballet, provided just the support that was needed.
Technically accomplished, young, handsome and expressive, MacKay had what was needed for a brilliant Albrecht. His gentle features made him more an accidental seducer, a foolishly flirtatious boy rather than an expert seducer. This made his grief and atonement in Act II seem natural. Although Giselle is the uncontested star of the show, Albrecht is one of the most demanding roles for a male dancer. This is especially the case in Act II, when he begs Myrtha, queen of the Wilis, for forgiveness. His facial expressions aptly conveyed his remorse. The jumps required in that scene are legendary. Even more so are his jumps as Myrtha tries to make him dance to his death. MacKay pulled off the awe‑inspiring entrechat six with brio, landing 36 times with poise, making the endeavour seem physically effortless.
The other two important roles are Myrtha, queen of the Wilis and Hilarion. Florian Ulrich Sollfrank was a virile Hilarion. His deportment and dancing style were, as required, distinct from Albrecht’s. He too conveyed remorse in Act II. Elvina Ibraimova was an appropriately ruthless Myrtha. Her almost rigid moves and hard facial expressions conveyed her otherworldly vengeful nature.
The card-playing scene that opens Act II was omitted. Though it’s of no technical appeal, it sets the mood to the second act, known as “the white act”, due to Myrtha, the Wilis and Giselle’s spirits being dressed in white tutus against the dark background of the nocturnal forest. This omission was easily compensated for by the excellent lighting, which in turn imbued the sets with unsettling mystery.
The kind spirit of Giselle manages to slow down the manoeuvres until dawn arrives, and Albrecht is saved from death. In her forgiveness, Giselle proves her love is true and everlasting. More importantly, by saving Albrecht, she’s saved from becoming a Wili. Giselle is indeed the pinnacle of Romantic ballet, and the enthusiastic public, effusive in their applause, heartily agreed.
Ossama el Naggar
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