Giselle

Celebrating ten years of a modern classic that continues to resonate.

English National Ballet – London Coliseum

Akram Khan’s Giselle, performed by the English National Ballet, returns to the London Coliseum to mark its tenth anniversary. This striking reinterpretation of the classical ballet has already secured its place in the contemporary canon, and its revival offers an opportunity to reflect on why it continues to resonate.

For those unfamiliar with the narrative, Albrecht (James Streeter), an engaged nobleman, disguises himself as a commoner and enters the workhouse, where he falls in love with Giselle (Emily Suzuki). Hilarion (Ken Saruhashi), also a commoner, loves her too, though Giselle’s affections lie firmly with Albrecht. When Hilarion exposes Albrecht’s true identity and betrayal, Giselle descends into madness and dies.

While the programme notes suggest this production is influenced by the experiences of migrant workers, in performance it felt more broadly concerned with the poverty gap and systems of exploitation. Rather than traditional village folk, we see a company of over twenty dancers moving with relentless, rhythmic precision. Their large, forceful movements evoke the grind of the workhouse, sweatshops and physical labour. This is intensified by Vincenzo Lamagna’s industrial score, punctuated by metallic clinks that suggest metal striking rock. At times, the diegetic sound of the dancers themselves, feet landing in perfect unison, cuts through the music. The movement language is angular, mechanical and unyielding.

The stage space is stark, dominated by a single upstage wall designed by Tim Yip. Its cement-like panels, when lit from above by Mark Henderson, take on an almost mountainous texture. Henderson’s lighting makes particularly striking use of the back wall, at times throwing the dancers into silhouette and allowing their bodies to read as shapes and symbols rather than individuals. Handprints are visible across its surface, and the production opens with the cast banded together, physically pushing the wall into place. It is a potent image of collective labour and shared burden.

There are some compelling moments between the male leads, though these could have been developed further. Saruhashi’s Hilarion reads as more jealous and possessive than genuinely in love, his desire for status underscored by the visible pleasure he takes when rewarded with a bowler hat. Streeter’s Albrecht, by contrast, moves with a lightness that hints at both charm and entitlement.

The disparity of wealth is vividly realised through costume. The wealthy arrive in flamboyant silhouettes: one character wearing a dress that fans out almost a metre on either side, others adorned in glittering fabrics and velvet. This excess sharply contrasts with the greys and off-whites worn by the workers, whose costumes feel practical and worn.

After the interval, Act Two introduces fragments of Adolphe Adam’s original score, though only as an undertone. Musically, we remain firmly within the world Khan has established. Initially, this act felt disorientating, requiring some post-show research. Giselle has died and joined the Wilis: the spirits of betrayed women who died before their wedding day. Traditionally inhabitants of the forest, here descended from the wall amid the sound of waves. The bass in this section is phenomenal, physically reverberating through the Coliseum.

Myrtha, Queen of the Wilis, is danced with steely authority by Emma Hawes. The Wilis themselves are striking, dancing almost entirely en pointe. Particularly arresting is the moment when Hawes drags Giselle’s lifeless body across the stage while remaining en pointe. Unlike traditional versions, their hair is worn loose and flowing, with choreography that emphasises this through synchronised head movements.

Suzuki’s Giselle is at her most affecting in her final encounters with Streeter’s Albrecht. Their balances and lifts feel playful in conception but devastating in delivery, creating moments of genuine intimacy and loss. One of the most powerful images comes when they walk towards one another only to pass straight through each other. Simple yet haunting.

Photo Credit: Amber Hunt