One of the most breathtaking ballets blancs in the classical canon rose like a phoenix Thursday night, as the Royal Winnipeg Ballet opened its 85th season with the perennially popular Giselle after a nine-year absence.
Last staged here in October 2015 — a subsequent production was hijacked by the global pandemic — the 115-minute ballet features choreography by Peter Wright after Jules Perrot, Jean Coralli and Marius Petipa.
Guest conductor Geneviève Leclair, marking an auspicious debut with the RWB, leads the Winnipeg Symphony Orchestra through Adolphe Adam’s lushly textured score, bringing out new colours and timbres from the players. Evocative sets and costumes created by Peter Farmer conjure a rustic woodland setting, crisply lit by Nicholas Cernovitch.
Michelle Blais photo
Jaimi Deleau (with the RWB Company, above) is the regal fiancée of Loys..
Young Giselle falls head over heels for Loys, a simple villager whose true identity of Count Albrecht is revealed by his hotheaded rival, forester Hilarion. Wracked by grief after learning of Albrecht’s secret betrothal to the Duke’s daughter, Bathilde, Giselle kills herself before joining the ghostly Wilis, supernatural spirits of jilted young women who avenge themselves by forcing any man who stumbles into their midst to dance to death.
Alanna McAdie, portraying the doomed heroine, shows us exactly why she’s a principal dancer, her seemingly effortless technique matched by her chameleonic acting skills.
She morphs between gleeful girl, plucking daisy petals to foretell love, to a stone-faced spirit who slips across the stage en pointe, channelling strength to save her lover’s life from beyond the grave.
McAdie’s bone-chilling rendering of Act I’s famous “mad scene” particularly sends shivers down the spine as an emotional tour de force. The way she throws herself into her mother’s arms before ultimately collapsing onstage after clinging to Loys is truly harrowing.
Soloist Peter Lancksweerdt skilfully fleshes out his doppelganger roles of Loys/Count Albrecht, with a knack for making Act I’s abundant mime gestures appear as natural as breathing — no small feat, there.
First he spars with Hilarion before later venturing into the forest in anguish as he mourns Giselle. His solid partnering of McAdie during their Act II Grand Pas de Deux is underscored by solo viola; the suspended, sky-high lifts before he bounds across the stage during his variation are enthralling.
Deliciously dramatic principal dancer Stephan Azulay creates a brooding, scheming Hilarion hell-bent on discovering the truth about Loys, finally driven to his own death by Myrtha, Queen of the Wilis. His increasingly wild leaps during his solo grow more desperate by the minute.
Soloist Jaimi Deleau displays her own versatility as she first appears as Loys’ regal fiancée in Act I. As she transforms into Queen Myrtha, who exudes authority over her Wilis with every steely-eyed stare and perfectly executed pirouette, one can scarcely believe this is the same dancer who brings to life the radiant Sugar Plum Fairy each holiday season in Nutcracker.
Her compelling Act II solo, performed on the mist-enveloped stage, allows audience members to glimpse the power behind her throne, grounded in a flawless musicality and technical precision.
Michelle Blais photo
Soloist Peter Lancksweerdt plays the dual role of Loys/Count Albrecht.
The RWB is known for weaving threads of generational continuity throughout its productions. What a joy to see retired principal dancer Vanessa Leonard (née Lawson) — a former Giselle, coached by prima ballerina assoluta Evelyn Hart, who debuted the role in the 1982 company première — performing the girl’s mother Berthe as if she’d never left the stage, while another beloved retired dancer, Jaime Vargas, portrays the Duke.
Groups of peasants and hunters infuse the stage with their youthful, folkloric energy, with Act I’s Peasant Pas de Six, celebrating the end of the grape harvest, performed by Katie Saito, Liam Saito, Amanda Solheim, Marco Lo Presti, Julianna Generoux and Joshua Hidson.
It’s an overall highlight despite a few ragged edges here and there.
Ballet doesn’t get any better than the first sighting of the otherworldly Wilis, which always stirs the senses and brings a lump to the throat. The 16-member ensemble executes the ethereal, intricate choreography shrouded in white veils, their lines and formations as crisp as new-fallen snow in this immortal tale of love conquering all.
holly.harris@shaw.ca
