Youthful Ideals

Artistic Director Miyako Yoshida’s “Giselle” for the National Ballet of Japan excavates emotional freshness within the familiar landscape of the 1841 Romantic classic. Created by Yoshida in 2022 for the company’s 25th anniversary, NBJ reprised the production at the New National Theatre, Tokyo last week in the lead-up to their debut at the Royal Opera House, London come July.

Performance

The National Ballet of Japan: “Giselle”

Place

New National Theatre, Tokyo, Japan, April 12, 2025

Words

Kris Kosaka

Yui Yonezawa and Shun Izawa in “Giselle.” Photograph by Kiyonori Hasegawa, courtesy of the National Ballet of Japan

Central to Yoshida’s vision is an empathetic, realistic approach to characterization. There’s a decided focus on the raw authenticity of youthful emotion in this “Giselle.” Instead of one idealistic innocent, there are three. The first is Hilarion, perfectly embodied by Masahiro Nakaya. At the start of Act 1, he carries fragile white flowers to Giselle’s door, his subdued woodsman’s garb and respectful hesitance mirroring his humble soul. Hilarion shyness freezes his hand before knocking, and he instead leaves the flowers anonymously.

Enter Shun Izawa as Albrecht, a perfect foil to Hilarion, proud and confident, rich and privileged in his crimson cape and bejeweled sword, which he passes off to his confidante and friend, Wilfred (Mizuki Nakajima), to hide.

If Hilarion is youthful insecurity, Izawa as Albrecht represents its bold fearlessness. Albrecht is not afraid to knock—or to love. Izawa’s Albrecht is not a cruel rake, toying with a powerless underling. From Giselle’s first moment on stage, (danced with joyful purity and technical excellence by Yui Yonezawa) the young lovers seem equally besotted with each other.

Yui Yonezawa in “Giselle.” Photograph by Kiyonori Hasegawa, courtesy of the National Ballet of Japan

And Yonezawa is indeed a vision. The lightness of her flurried footwork, the exuberance in her turns: their pas de deux is both light and heady with a mutual lover’s delirium that’s captivatingly real, Giselle’s Variation a delicate marvel, celebrating young love.

This deep emotional realism is perfectly complemented by the set and costume design by Dick Bird. The reds and golds of the autumn trees, the painstaking details of the thatched roofs and white-washed cottages adds to the authenticity on display. Alastair Marriott’s reworked staging and original choreography (from Marius Petipa after Jean Coralli and Jules Perrot) adds another layer of realism in its attention to detail and emotional nuance.

Other dance highlights of Act 1 are the peasants’ pas de deux (Moeko Iino and Yuki Yamada), and of course, Giselle’s later descent into madness after Hilarion indignantly exposes Albrecht’s subterfuge. Giselle’s break with reality manifests in a surreal, disjointed repetition of her earlier steps, a dark reversal of the flirtatious joy she shared earlier with Albrecht. It is devastating to watch.

The National Ballet of Japan in “Giselle.” Photograph by Kiyonori Hasegawa, courtesy of the National Ballet of Japan

Act 2 jars as we enter the coldly detached, fantastical world of the Wilis. Again, Bird’s sets and lighting by Rick Fisher immediately establish a realistic vision, leaving the warm tones of a Rhineland village for the blues and grays of its hillside cemetery—and the realm of death.

The superb technical and dramatic performance of Yui Negishi as Myrtha and the ensemble majesty of the Wilis transform Act 1’s personal tale of one doomed romance to the relentless pain shared by a mass of humanity. Countless betrayals and cruelty, oppression and disparity are represented by the gathered Wilis and the multitude of crosses, framing half of the stage.

In Yoshida’s “Giselle,” we’re left mourning the impartial cruelty of nature—of death—more than the selfishness of one man’s behavior or the harsh divide between classes. It’s a nuanced vision to the loss of innocence that inevitably comes to us all.

Yonezawa/Giselle’s quiet determination resonates deeply, more for me than other versions, where Albrecht is a contrite seducer or Hilarion simply a belligerent rival. They are all our youthful ideals. What else can we do except love and forgive—and hope for endurance to withstand the long nights of torment?

Kris Kosaka

Kris Kosaka is a writer and educator based in Kamakura, Japan. A lifelong ballet fan and studio rat in her youth, she's been contributing to the Japan Times since 2009. She writes across culture, but especially in dance, opera and literature.

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