Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. If a scorned woman dies of heartbreak, you better hope you aren’t the one who broke it. Your ex might be teaming up with the malevolent spirits of other jilted women and, brother, hell WILL be raised.
That’s a very skeletal reading of Giselle, one of classical ballet’s most beloved works with a demanding and much coveted lead role in the tragic titular character. It will be performed this weekend in Ferguson Hall by our Next Generation Ballet® at 2 and 7 p.m. Saturday and at 2 p.m. Sunday.
Giselle is a beautiful peasant girl pursued by Albrecht, a nobleman engaged to be married, who disguises himself as a peasant in order to woo Giselle. A romantic rival exposes Albrecht to Giselle, who, driven to madness, dances herself to death.
Post-mortal coil, Giselle finds herself a member of the Wilis, vengeful spirits of women betrayed by men. They will dance any man they meet, cad or not, into exhaustion and death. When the Wilis turn their attention to Albrecht, Giselle saves him by staying by his side until the spirits disperse at dawn.
The role of the simple peasant girl is complex and demanding. In addition to the technical skills, which can be daunting on their own, the dancer must express a range of emotions – innocence, love, heartache, madness and finally peace.
Giselle premiered in 1841 with Italian ballerina Carlotta Grisi in the lead role. The role has since been taken by a who’s who of legendary dance talents including Tamara Karsavina, Alicia Alonso, Virgina Johnson, Alicia Markova, Yvette Chauviré, Carla Fracci, Natalia Makarova, Julie Kent and Karen Kain.
Giselle’s place in the classical ballet canon is undeniable. But it’s also a part of this strange subset of ballets such as The Rite of Spring and The Red Shoes, that feature characters who die from dancing.
Think about that. A dancer trains from childhood, honing her craft, and finally wins the role of her dreams: a dancer who dances herself to death.
Know of any plays in which the lead role is an actor acting themselves to death? How about a concerto with a violinist playing until they collapse? Opera may have a higher body count than ballet but at least no soprano has to portray a soprano who’s going to aria themselves to death.
Maybe the dancing to death plot line is a comment on, or at least an acknowledgement of, the tremendously demanding work of being a ballet dancer.
No other arts discipline requires the sheer physicality of ballet. Their strength is built through hours and hours of practice. That strength, ironically, is what’s required for dancers to look, as one online commentator put it, “like little stick figures blowing in the wind.”
Strength is only part of a dancer’s equation. Great dancers make what requires a tremendous amount of effort look effortless. When a dancer moves as if they’re lighter than air, rest assured that it came from hours of hard work and that the dancer is probably feeling gravity’s pull with every turn.
Plus, particularly in a role such as Giselle, dancers must silently express a range of emotions while executing a range of motions as demanding as that of any athlete.
Maybe the deaths of Giselle and other ballet roles are a way to let others know that dancers work themselves to the bone, if not to death, to master their art.
To which the choreographer replies, “Again! Five, six, seven eight … “