Summer Fireworks

To celebrate its 85^th anniversary, the American Ballet Theatre filled its summer season with exciting debuts (Chloe Misseldine in “Giselle,” Catherine Hurlin and Misseldine in “Sylvia”), farewells both grand and subtle (Gillian Murphy’s final “Swan Lake” after an impressive 29 years with the company, Cassandra Trenary in whatever one is fortunate enough to catch her in before she slips out to the Vienna State Opera Ballet), guest appearances (Reece Clarke in “Sylvia”), and in-house anniversaries (Hee Seo and Cory Stearns marking 20 years with ABT in “Giselle”). But by far the hottest ticket was guest star Olga Smirnova’s one-night-only performance of “Giselle” on June 21^st.

Performance

American Ballet Theatre: “Giselle” with guest ballerina Olga Smirnova

Place

Metropolitan Opera House, New York, NY, June 21, 2025

Words

Faye Arthurs

Daniel Camargo and Olga Smirnova in “Giselle.” Photograph by Heli

Smirnova was the Bolshoi’s reigning prima ballerina until Russia invaded Ukraine in 2022, when she defected to the Dutch National Ballet in protest. She had not guested with ABT since 2014. This sold-out “Giselle” was more thrilling than any of the company’s galas, and the lobby of the Metropolitan Opera House was packed with luminaries from all corners of the dance world. Since Smirnova now represents brave political resistance, here was a rare opportunity for Western balletomanes to appreciate exquisite Russian training guilt-free.

ABT put its best foot forward, casting All-Stars down the line. Ascendant soloists Léa Fleytoux and Jake Roxander made Act I’s treacherous Peasant Pas de Deux look like child’s play. Parternered triple pirouettes from the knee looked easy peasy, likewise the difficult doubles caught by linked wrists. Fleytoux sissoned boldly to full penchés on pointe, and she held one attitude balance so long that the crowd oohed in delight. Roxander coasted around in quintuple pirouettes before his double tour finishes, and he cabrioled with such incisiveness he may as well have been a movie set clapper board.

Young principal phenom Chloe Misseldine was a gorgeous, commanding Myrta in Act II. She assertively scanned the woods as she hopped in beautiful arabesques and she devoured space in her saut de basque manège. Another standout was corps member Sierra Armstrong as the wili demi Zulma. She announced herself with an endless balance when Myrta summoned her, then demonstrated attack as well as sensitive musicality in her solo passages. The corps of wilis had a superb showing, earning applause for their synchronized staccato hop crossings. And Joseph Markey made the very best of Hilarion’s cartoonish horn blowing and caveman pantomime: “sword goes with castle” and “me love her more.” He managed to humanize his fuddy duddy role.

Léa Fleytoux and Jake Roxander in “Giselle.” Photograph by Wang Ning/NCPA

On the other hand, human is not a word I’d use to describe the otherworldly Smirnova, whose exceptional instrument seems bred specifically for ballet—as if a swan queen had been crossed with a sylph in a lab. Her long thin legs tapered into extremely arched and winged feet. In the series of fast entrechat-quatres in Act II, she had just enough height to accommodate the intense torque required every time her feet left the floor, as her over-turnout and beveled ankles made for such a tremendous difference in angle between fifth position on the floor and fifth in the air.

Her arms, conversely, had no curves whatsoever. Her thin elbow and wrist joints stuck out like thorns on rose stems, and she turned in or broke the line of one joint or the other often for dramatic effect. She often splayed her twiglike fingers, even while her hands were pressed together in begging or prayer. Very often she flipped her hands to expose her palms and inner wrists, like broken bird wings—her way of broadcasting openness and vulnerability.

Smirnova’s elongated, swanny neck curved almost as pronouncedly as her feet, and she peered down at the ground through much of the ballet, from her opening ballottés to her second act adagio. She did not lift her head or glance up to the balconies even when she was hoisted on the shoulders of the villagers to be crowned harvest queen. This was a surprising display of interiority and humility, especially for a Bolshoi diva. I’ve seen many turn cool, abstract Balanchine poses into smiley picture calls. Smirnova’s inclined head did not appear to be a lordotic counterbalancing of spine and pelvis, either. It seemed to be an artistic choice. (Although it could also be partially an adjustment tactic from years of dancing on raked stages.)

Whatever the reasons for her Mannerist lines, nothing about Smirnova broadcast “country lass.” She looked like an alien species next to everyone else on the stage in Act I, save for the pedigreed pair of pale, slope-necked Borzois who accompanied the nobles’ hunting party. Instead of looking like a villager, Smirnova’s physique screamed Odette/Odile, and until Giselle’s mad scene I rather wished she was dancing “Swan Lake.” But at the end of Act I, when it was time for her heart to break and expire, the role of Giselle started to suit her.

Chloe Misseldine and dancers of the American Ballet Theatre in “Giselle.” Photograph by Ben McKeown

There are many ways to play this scene, and, given Smirnova’s uncanny attributes, she smartly and effectively chose the deranged zombie path. When Loys/Albrecht’s betrayal was exposed, she cocked her head to the side, momentarily lifted her gaze and looked back over her shoulder at the audience, widening her eyes into a vacant stare as if possessed. Smirnova’s unearthly traits worked perfectly in the ghostly wili realm in Act II. She was luminous as she demonstrated her generous, smooth extensions with downcast, haunted eyes. She passionately fought for her lover’s life even as she arranged her hands with exquisite delicacy.

“Giselle” is one of the best full-length ballets, in my opinion, even though it is often at odds with itself. For starters: why set a dance around a girl whose weak heart doesn’t allow her to dance? All Giselles must reconcile the character’s narrative frailty with the technical strength required for the role—which is tricky. I also find that Adolphe Adam’s score doesn’t quite match the intensity of the libretto in key moments, particularly in Act II. The wilis, predatory man-slayers all, waft around to a puzzling amount of reedy jingles and easy-listening clarinet. And when Myrta raises Giselle from her grave to join their ranks in eternal vengeance, Adam curiously employed bright, canary flute trills. I often wish that Tchaikovsky had had a go at scoring this tale.

The co-lead, Albrecht, also faces a dramatic challenge: he must find a way to make his character’s life seem worth saving despite his duplicity. Daniel Camargo was convincingly noble in form and line opposite Smirnova, taking a middle-of-the-road interpretation of the role—neither too ardent nor too arrogant. But it was Smirnova’s night. She was too creaturely to be an ideal Giselle, and this was not a perfect performance (she fought her hair to come down for the mad scene, there were some clunky roll-downs from arabesque in Act I, and I clocked that late piqué arabesque exit in Act II). But her extraordinary physique was compelling in every scene. I was mesmerized by the way she played her strong, curvilinear bottom half against her jaggedly expressive top half. And I loved that I could read her authorship in every single gesture, step, and look. She used her imagination and rigorous craftmanship to create a Giselle that was completely her own. This was a ballerina.

Faye Arthurs

Faye Arthurs is a former ballet dancer with New York City Ballet. She chronicled her time as a professional dancer in her blog Thoughts from the Paint. She graduated summa cum laude with a B.A. in English from Fordham University. She lives in Brooklyn with her partner and their sons.

comments

Karen Hildebrand 26 juin 2025

What a fantastic description and compelling writing. Thank you!

Featured

REVIEWS | Karen Greenspan

Mishima’s Muse

Japan Society’s Yukio Mishima centennial series culminated with “Mishima’s Muse – Noh Theater,” which was actually three programs of traditional noh works that Japanese author Yukio Mishima adapted into modern plays.

Plus