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Out of nine Giselle performances this season, the Tan-Vilanoba cast danced three; the other three casts twice. I saw the second performance of the Long-Nedviguine cast at a Saturday matinee. It conveyed the virtues possible in a second viewing plus increased coherence from the ensemble performing the romantic tale for the seventh consecutive time in a season. Sitting in the last row shared by slots for the go carts of the disabled, I abandoned binoculars for the overall picture. Waiting in line to purchase a ticket, three women in front chatted in high spirits; the mother, grandmother and friend of Elana Altman, the corps member, dancing her second Myrthe. Altman, after apprenticing in 2000, joined the company as a full-fledged member in 2001 as did Clara Blanco and Hansuke Yamamoto who danced in the pas de cinq in Act I. Nicole Grand, another in the pas de cinq in Act I, joined in 2004 with Joseph Phillips, graduated from apprentice to full-fledged status in 2004.

Long’s Giselle, seen in the second season of this handsome Melbye production, was a sweet young thing, who just didn’t have a clue, much like Count Andre’s young wife in War and Peace. Desperation was substituted by a strong plunge towards self-destruction, a somewhat superficial heart warning, an eerie zest in remembrance, in swinging Andre’s sword. Saturday’s matinee reinforced this initial impression along with her prodigious, secure technique.

This portrait, however, enjoyed the blessing of the marvelous supporting cast and a thoroughly elegant Albrecht. Nedviguine left no doubt that his was a princely personality in disguise; the classical demeanor, gesture and line never once faltering, his ardency clear yet restrained. The portrayal proceeded before the eyes like aesthetic balm in Gillead. Someone once remarked to me of Cyril Atanasoff, ‘Il croire.’ Nedviguine, ditto, ditto, ditto. Yet more remarkable was an instinctive rapport between Albrecht and Hilarion at this matinee. The two men clearly knew their respective traditions well, bouncing individual exposure off each other.

Switching Waldo’s casting from Myrthe to Berthe provided not only contrast, but a wonderful underpinning for Berthe’s mimed warning to Giselle, an edgy authority with Berthe's needed managerial skills.

The pas de cinq I found particularly fetching, partly due to being mostly corps members, excepting Elizabeth Miner stepping into Vanessa Zahorian’s role. It made for a special coherence; there was particular clarity by Phillips and Yamamoto and the nosegay, romantic aura of Blanco whose port de bras is a particular delight.

Myrthe’s solo at the beginning of Act II reminded me that Berthe’s warning is not only echoed, but realized, in Myrthe’s summoning the Wilis from their graves, a mime equivalent of the a,b,a in sonata allegro form. Altman has length of line, an authoritative port de bras in arabesque, and every so often an arch in the neck proclaiming Myrthe’s ghostly authority. She is off to a distinctive start. Chung and Miner danced fleet little variations; for the life of me I don’t see where Feijoo gets cliff suicide and whirlpool engulfing from the two variations, as reported in the company’s program. That may be instilled in the Cuban National Ballet, but where are the national costumes once adorning the Wilis during the Romantic Era?

During intermission, a contingent of dancers from Contra Costa suddenly took orchestra seats, the Kolbaniev brothers and Tina Bohnsted. Male members of the company sat in back row seats, all Russian or Russian schooled. Seated next to two older Russian ushers, Act II suddenly assumed the aura of a rite, adding to the special ambiance of this memorable matinee.