Marianela Nuñez’s Giselle debut at the Paris Opera Ballet: a postscript

Following Joy Wang’s review of Marianela Nuñez’ May 25th debut in the Paris Opera Ballet’s Giselle, she realised she had barely scratched the surface of what she had witnessed. Now, in conversation, Joy and Jenny Tang, who saw the same cast two evenings later, mull over some of the things that surprised them and continue, in a spirit of ghostly conviviality, to haunt them including the ‘thickness’ of the lead dancers’ characterisations and moments that gave them goosebumps. They also ‘geek out’ over how Nuñez’ unusual second act Wili reminded them of spirits more commonly found in anthropology than on the stage of the Garnier.

Act I

Joy: When Nuñez made her entrance on the 25th, people screamed. I have never heard that at the Garnier. I was also really struck that, unlike the last time I saw her in Giselle (on a 2016 Royal Ballet tour in Japan), she kept her ballon rather modest. And it made sense! Giselle was looking for Albrecht. She was not going to be leaping around. In that situation, you would probably scan your field of vision at eye level, somewhere between a hop and a run. I thought that was great. It set the tone. We were not operating at the level of metaphor, (jumping as a metaphor for Giselle’s happiness or largeness of life) but in the realm of drama, as if watching an unfolding play.

Jenny: I felt the same with Nuñez’ entrance on the 27th! Both Nuñez and Hugo Marchand (Albrecht) received an extremely warm round of applause for their entrances. The ovation immediately reminded me of how the audience greeted the flying entrance of Natalia Osipova’s Giselle in New York, when she was on tour with the Mikhailovsky Ballet back in 2014, except with the technical bravura de-emphasised to highlight the theatrical storytelling.

In Paris, I was thoroughly touched by the extraordinary freedom of movement, sincerity of expressions, and intense chemistry between the characters of both Nuñez and Marchand that night, all underpinned by unbelievable technical strength and consistency. The sheer joy I saw in the love danced between Giselle and Albrecht brought me to tears within minutes.

Joy: We have both seen some really amazing Giselles, and yet it felt totally fresh. The flirtation scene was not an older man trying to deceive a young, naive girl. It was two adults, both of whom had life experience. I remember a lot of shoulder contact, brushing, and a small, suggestive rolling of the shoulder. A few days before Nuñez’ performance, I saw Sae Eun Park and Germain Louvet in the same roles. Park was exquisite and delicate in the first act and very spectral, disembodied in the second. It worked brilliantly for her, but the narrative drive was different.

Jenny: There were a few moments early on in Act I, when they were walking downstage, where Marchand would position himself to the side and just slightly upstage of Nuñez, so that his shoulder was conveniently placed just behind hers. The company between the bodies felt so tender, as if he was saying to her: ‘I am here for you. Feel my body.’

Joy:  You know that moment when the peasant corps are arranged in a semi-circle, and Giselle starts dancing? After a bit, she gestures to Albrecht to come and join her. He sort of declines and turns away, but she insists by taking his hand. Many Giselles just take Albrecht’s hand gently. Nuñez, however, caught Marchand’s arm, and then she took her time to feel her way down to his hand. It was like she was caressing the arm and admiring it, and I could see her thinking, ‘What a beautiful arm.’ I loved that.

Joy: What about the ‘Does he love me, does he not’ daisy scene? People laughed. It was amazing. The way Nuñez acted I  thought Giselle was saying to Albrecht, ‘I know what you did, but it’s cute anyway, and I love you for it.’

Jenny: To me, it was beyond reasonable doubt that Giselle and Albrecht were already passionate in love by this point in the ballet. The way Nuñez and Marchand had been looking—and gazing—at each other could not have been mere lust! Yet, the counting of the flower petals inserted an element of fate into the story. In my mind, it was less about whether Albrecht really ‘loved’ Giselle than whether Giselle should choose to engage with Albrecht more seriously. How the lovebirds responded, then, seemed to be an early act of defiance against supposedly insurmountable fate, which I interpreted in the context of the ballet to also include elements of social class, prior matrimonial arrangements, Giselle’s pre-existing heart condition, and, perhaps, the spiritual forces of the Wilis.

Joy: And what about that variation? On my night, it seemed like she was still getting used to the [raked] stage.  She did not exaggerate the balances in the arabesques, preferring to emphasise the descent, that beautiful roll through the foot. Something might have gone awry with the necklace. It was bouncing up and down and seemed to have affected her a bit.

Jenny: On the 27th, I felt that the variation blended in with the rest of the Act in the best way possible. I think this is a testament to how great the entire Act was. She was acting until the millisecond before the variation started. I thought, ‘Is she going to make it in time?’ She was going to her mother, going to Albrecht… Maybe that was when she gave him the last cheeky wink or kiss, something flirtatious. Then she was in the corner, on the cue.

Nuñez demonstrated such control throughout the variation, just playing with the music and thoroughly enjoying herself! Throughout the variation, it was as if there was this irresistible compulsion running through her body, urging her to reach for Albrecht, literally and metaphorically. For example, the piqué développé after the opening sequence of arabesques was so passionately pointed to Albrecht that it was clear that every cell in her body was reaching for him until she had to run towards him.

Joy: When she did the first set of attitude devant hops, she mostly looked at Albrecht. For the second set, when she brought her working leg to attitude devant, she turned her gaze to her mother before switching back to Albrecht at the very last second. And the way she came out of them. She just ran to Albrecht and did this huge port de bras towards him! It was full of life. Thus, of course, she had to explode into the circular manège of turns.

Jenny: On my night, Nuñez and Marchand even held hands and exchanged gazes for an endearing moment before she ran off to start the hops en pointe from the corner! One felt the touch they shared had so invigorated her that she needed to skip away to the corner and express her delight through the hops. That level of storytelling was precious. I loved how Ninon Raux (Berthe, Giselle’s mother) was constantly looking at Giselle with a complicated mix of concern, care, and pride throughout Giselle’s variation too. And the way Marchand looked at Giselle, even when it was just her back which he could see, was so intent that it gave me goosebumps!

Joy: The mad scene was Nuñez in full actress mode. I swear, twenty different types of emotions were flitting past her face every two seconds. It makes sense that, when you love so fully, betrayal must be especially overwhelming. Given the love Giselle and Albrecht had for each other, I could believe that his betrayal was enough to drive her mad. The heart condition was just a trigger.

Jenny: Marchand’s portrayal of Albrecht showed such believable emotions of shock and confusion. Dumbfounded since confronted by Bathilde, who he was meant to marry, Albrecht never quite reckoned with the rapid turn of events. Finally, Giselle, gone mad, dashed towards him and dropped to death through his arms, before he even had a chance to embrace her.

I was thoroughly impressed by the portrayal of other characters too, especially Jérémy-Loup Quer’s Hilarion. Just before the end of Act I, after wrestling with Albrecht, Hilarion stood en face facing the audience. It looked like he was in shock, suddenly wondering, ‘What have I done?’ It was not anger but rather a sense of, ‘Did I kill Giselle? All happened because of me!’

Joy: Marchand and Quer indeed looked like two leading men. Quer’s Hilarion was not cruel; he was just stubborn. He was in love but suffered from bad timing and didn’t make the best choices.

Jenny: Somehow, I had not realised that such ‘thickness,’ to borrow anthropologist Clifford Geertz’s term, of characterisation was possible in Giselle. Each character in this performance was complex and multi-dimensionally human. Some dance scholars had criticised the gendered nature and phallic symbolisms in classical ballet, discussing how female figures would tend to remain subordinate to their male counterparts even when they showed strength. Nuñez and Marchand proved an otherwise possible. Their Giselle and Albrecht were the auteurs of their own lives. Giselle was joyous and confident, perhaps constrained by her modest upbringing but determined to take charge of her own life. Albrecht, on the other hand, was privileged yet vulnerable, helplessly passionate about Giselle.

Act II

Joy: Albrecht came on stage with lilies…

Jenny: That was a beautiful yet heart-wrenching entrance! Marchand looked remorsefully sad. Later on, Giselle, in the form of a spirit, emerged from her grave and sprinkled flowers on Albrecht. Marchand picked up a flower and looked intently at it… He kept it and walked with it for a bit. I think we all have things and objects that remind us of bygone lovers. There was depth to those simple movements. The flower reminded him of Giselle and the love they had. I could not know exactly what he was thinking or feeling, but I felt for him.  

Joy: While I usually really like Valentine Colasante (Myrtha on both 25th and 27th), I must say that I didn’t get a sense of her as an otherworldly power.

Jenny: I found her regal and powerful. Her character was convincing.

Joy: She complemented Nuñez very well. Nuñez didn’t propose a very spectral vision, so Valentine worked well with her and Marchand. It made them all the more human.

Jenny: Nuñez’ adagio was seamlessly smooth, yet viscous and succulent, grounded with the weight of death and loss. From a tendu derrière, she slowly raised her back leg through a relevé lent, as if through thick air, into, eventually, the most breathtaking arabesque penché, phrased perfectly to stretch through the very last moment of the musical phrase.

Joy: I thought that was how she established the spiritual dimension of Giselle. There was a devotion to and care about every single step that felt religious.

Jenny: I’m curious about what you thought of the corps de ballet.

Joy: I think the Paris Opera corps usually does a very beautiful Act II, but, for some reason, the arabesque crossing this time didn’t leave the greatest impression on me. It might have lacked majesty somewhat, some sense of awe-inspiring collective power. In Act I, I loved the ensemble’s dynamism and vibrancy and the fact that they were very responsive to Nuñez’ attempts to involve them. It takes two to tango, and they did their bit.

Jenny: I agree. Everyone was beautiful, but the power of the Wilis was not comparable to what I saw at the Mariinsky in 2019 when the audience could not resist applauding the corps de ballet for their astonishingly synchronised and ethereal arabesque crossing. It was immense: majestic, united, and powerful. That, I thought, was a manifestation of what Émile Durkheim would call ‘collective effervescence.’ I didn’t feel that this time.

Joy: I loved your description on Instagram of Nuñez’ dancing in the pas de deux as a ‘liquid gasp.’ She had this velocity, but at the same time, there was this slipperiness. It was like water and air at the same moment, every movement.

Jenny: There were moments in the second act where the ports de bras were very relaxed. Nuñez’ movement felt so free that it reminded me of contemporary dance at times. Because her technique was so secure, she was free to play with things. I said ‘contemporary,’ but I should add that such generous use of the arms and upper body in a non-dogmatic way is not necessarily new. Think of Plisetskaya or Maximova, for example. Their freedom of movement and expressive outpouring of emotions made them legendary ballerinas.

Joy: On the 25th, in Giselle’s solo sequence of arabesques, there was a moment where she did a plié into an arabesque, held it, and then did the quietest and most exquisite thing. She just dipped her head as if in prayer. After that, in the next sequence to the other side, she almost threw, or rather flung, the final arabesque, with her arms screaming upwards to the heavens. The contrast between control and abandon was incredible.

Jenny: I was reminded of old footage of Nureyev and Fonteyn. The partnering looked unbelievably effortless. Marchand was just there for her when she needed him. He never grabbed her, but he did everything to support her. The way she responded reminded me of how, when people are in love, they can’t help but want to get close to each other. It was desire stemming from love. Even though Giselle was dead, her spirit still wanted to go back to him and carry on their unfinished love affair. Nuñez and Marchand convincingly showed an intense spiritual affection between the characters.

Joy: I found Act II almost sensual. I wrote about this in my review, but when she did the supported arabesques she reached out and out, and her leg drifted behind her. He was behind her but oppositional to her. When she coiled backwards and leant into his arms, I felt she was instinctively following the contours of his embrace. She was unseeing but nevertheless sensing him. And then she came up to a standing position, and they looked at each other, and he pulled her so devoutly towards him. That touch struck me as the impetus for the bourrées that led into the final hanging arabesque where Giselle leant against Albrecht’s kneeling frame. And ghosts can be sensual. There are so many South Asian myths where ghosts are seductive and sensual.

Jenny: I guess Giselle was a product of romanticism, which brought complex subjectivity and the reverence for beyond-the-human beings to the foreground of the choreographic narrative. There was a fleeting moment when I pondered whether Giselle and Albrecht were almost freer in Act II than in Act I, as all other characters who earlier symbolised the social and political constraints that forbade their love had disappeared.

Joy: I used to think that the best Act IIs of Giselle are ghostly, both in the sense that they are otherworldly and because they make you feel as if every new image is overlaid on top of an imprint of the old one. In printing, ‘secondary ghosts’ remain from the first print, creating a series of imprints that become lighter and lighter, almost like a series of trailing afterimages.

For me, the dance equivalent of secondary ghosts is when I feel the spectre of every preceding moment remain in each fresh step, as if the very air Giselle moves through is changed in their wake. In some ways, a ghost should not be seen viscerally but only felt or elusively glimpsed through their trailing, spectral imprint.

That element of ghostliness was present in Nuñez’ 2016 interpretation of Giselle. This time, she was very much a Giselle existing in narrative time, and therefore perhaps within and not outside human time. I didn’t expect to love it, but now I feel like I can’t go back!

Jenny: Then there were Marchand’s entrechat-sixes! They were so clean, with such beautifully stretched and turned-out feet; comparable to the impression Leonid Sarafanov left on me in 2014 (with Osipova on the Mikhailovsky’s tour to New York). Dismal and existentially broken, he started the entrechats with arms and head all drooping. His face was down to the floor. He started bringing his arms up towards the end until it became almost erratic; almost like another mad scene. He was exasperated, utterly inconsolable. It was physical exhaustion, but it was also this total shattering of the heart thanks to a fanatic love that could not be realised. I loved that he was completely letting it go during the fouetté jumps in the finale.

Joy: And Nuñez was doing those with him while also looking at him and pleading with Myrtha! She seemed to say, ‘Can’t you see he is dying? Save him, please!’ Then she would reposition her gaze and torso to him in the next fouetté as if begging him to live, checking that he was holding on. I remember Alina Cojocaru (with Hamburg Ballet in 2016) doing something similar with the fouetté jumps. Many Giselles do the fouetté jumps next to Albrecht but more front on to the audience.

Jenny: Nuñez’ spirit had a life. Her spirit was saving Albrecht’s life. She was giving life. This was compelling. As anthropology would tell you, that is what spirits do.

Joy: Yes, I love this idea of spirits as emotional beings, which is often found in anthropological literature but less so on stage. Ghosts can be deeply emotional and even metamorphose into human form, in particular. I was recently at an academic workshop in Stockholm where a professor presented a paper on ghosts in Thailand. One of the ghosts he writes about of a woman whose husband doesn’t know she is dead. She assumes human form to live with him, and to keep him and their love alive. She kills anyone who discovers the truth.

Jenny: At the end, when Albrecht collapsed onto the floor and Giselle tried to hold him up, it looked like a role reversal from Act I when Giselle had died. The imagery was powerful. She died for him, and now he would give his life for her.

Joy: At the end, did you get a sense of release?

Jenny: I was utterly heartbroken. Giselle and Albrecht held hands as Giselle descended back into her grave. They were fully holding onto each other until the last moment when Nuñez’ hands slipped from Marchand’s. Neither wanted to let go. Some read the ending of Giselle as a battle for salvation and forgiveness. What I saw was most vividly shattered souls. Albrecht collapsed by Giselle’s tombstone at the end and never recovered from his loss. I was almost convinced that he would go and join her somewhere, elsewhere.

Joy: Granted, I haven’t watched many Paris Opera Giselles, but in all the four casts I have seen, I never got the sense that Act II was a freer and wilder space. It was this particular pairing that provoked these questions. Perhaps English-trained ballerinas are more willing to transgress the boundaries between the human and spiritual realms, in the sense of being a warm body or a warm spirit, as Nuñez performed?

This isn’t to say that one interpretation is superior to the other. I have great affection for more ‘conventional’ interpretations of Giselle. Among French ballerinas, I have fond memories of Clairemarie Osta on the Paris Opera Ballet’s Singapore visit in 2012. However, it sure is thrilling to see an interpretation that feels so richly personal and imaginative.

Jenny: Speaking of letting go, the audience certainly did not want to let Nuñez and Marchand go! On the 27th, the entire theatre was on its feet. The spectators clapped rhythmically in concert for almost twenty minutes, begging the crew to show the brilliant performers for just one more time. The curtain went up and down for seven or eight times in total. Finally, the audience acquiesced to let them go, and, then, one could hear the artists and crew screaming and clapping on the other side of the curtain!