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![]() August 2005 London, Sadler's Wells by Jane Simpson |
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For many years London has known the Ballet Nacional de Cuba only at second hand, through the dancers who were formed by the company and its school before leaving for international careers. Looking at stars like Lorena Feijoo and Carlos Acosta, we could be sure that whatever else the company might be, it wouldn't be ordinary: technique and character like theirs, so far beyond the run-of-the-mill, could only have been produced in some strikingly individual environment. And so it has proved: the Giselle which they showed at Sadler's Wells last week may have its flaws, but it's unlike any you're likely to see anywhere else today. It's the work, of course, of the company's creator, Alicia Alonso, herself one of the great Giselles of the twentieth century. I'd love to know how her production of the ballet has changed over the years: were its idiosyncrasies there from the start, or have changes crept in? Where did the folksy elements in the first act, like the overhead clapping, come from? Or the extraordinary gait of the Wilis, running in on half-pointe, leaning forward from the waist, chins up? Or some of the groupings of the corps de ballet in the second act, more Sylphides than Giselle to my eyes? Though it's built on a straightforward and satisfyingly convincing dramatic base, it flicks in and out of what in our terms is the 'traditional' choreography; the music, too, is differently paced - rather slow for most of the time, then suddenly accelerating at a point where we'd expect it to slow down. It certainly keeps you on your mental toes, and makes you look at it freshly. The most obvious difference in the first act is the replacement of the usual 'peasant' pas de deux (or pas de six or whatever) by a more general dance for ten of the villagers. Dramatically this is more sensible, keeping all the interest on Giselle and Albrecht, but it does mean there's a loss of contrast in the choreography. Hilarion is played as a totally sympathetic character, so unsure of himself at the start that he can't even decide where to leave the flowers he's brought for Giselle, but finding more resolve later on for his confrontation with Albrecht. I liked the low-key playing of Bertha by Ivette Gonzalez, and also the Bathilde of Sadaise Arencibia, hitting just the right note of detached condescension. We're used to seeing these roles much more strongly characterised these days, but I think it's perfectly valid to keep them lightly sketched in, again putting the focus on the two leading dancers.
Act 2 has a lovely set, with a grove of trees at the back giving a real sense of distance to the first ghostly glimpses of the Wilis. Myrtha was soloist Liuva Horta: she has a soft, pleasing style but I didn't get any sense of what was driving her characterisation - she seemed neither vengeful nor particularly malevolent. Her Wili hordes, on the other hand, were vindictiveness personified, most of the time anyway - but suddenly they'd seem to remember all those nineteenth century lithographs and would turn into demure young ladies posed in charming groups. In either mode they were fabulously precisely drilled - not a finger out of place.
![]() © John Ross
The company is said to be desperately hard up, and it showed particularly in the rather basic scenery of Act 1: but they have a wealth of fine dancers and a production that ultimately holds its own by its simplicity and dramatic cogency. Now it would be good to see a return visit with a different repertoire to show us how it fits into the world of the twenty-first century.
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