I rarely share my personal stories on this blog but I think this one is worth posting. My entire life was changed when I was eighteen by a video recording of the early nineteenth-century ballet, Giselle. I had no real direction in my life and had no idea what to major in (at UCI) and was just kind of floating through my days like most teenagers in 1978. (You know, no cell phones or internet to fill the time.) The break between two of my classes was just long enough to be annoying but short enough where I couldn’t really go home. In an effort to find something to do, I wandered into the university’s audio-visual center inside the library and looked through a binder of their video offerings. When I saw a listing for some ballet called Giselle, I was curious to see it and told the girl at the counter to play it for me. She had me take a seat in cubicle number 3 where a small television and lone bean bag chair was waiting. All of the low cubicles had televisions and bean bag chairs. As the girl pulled a large reel-to-reel tape (yes, I know, old-fashioned) from the hundreds on the wall behind her, I headed for the cubicle. Before I could even attempt to get comfortable my video started playing. It was a recording of a “Live From Lincoln Center” taped at the Metropolitan Opera House in New York City and touted John Lanchbury as the conductor. I sat back and listened to Adam’s gorgeous overture, more than a little intrigued to see my first full-length, “story” ballet.

Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw.  The great ballerina Natalia Makarova was Giselle, Mikhail Baryshnikov was Albrecht, and Marianna Tcherkassky danced the Peasant Pas de Deux. Until that moment I had no idea that ballet (or dance of any kind) could be so expressive or tell a story so clearly and sensitively without words. The way Makarova held her arms or titled her head, the way her expressive feet seemed so much a part of the whole of her characterization. And then Baryshnikov’s powerful dancing, the way he took the stage and the manner he interacted with the delicate Giselle was nothing short of amazing. The music too, so perfectly narrative to the events of the story being danced.  It was almost too much for me to take in but I was hooked. I knew I was seeing greatness and needed no one to tell me.  I did not understand all of the details of the story but watched in awe through the mad scene where Giselle finally dies of a broken heart. Tears ran down my face. And when Albrecht reacted to her death so violently, I wept uncontrollably. What had I just seen? Were there more “story” ballets like this? I had to know! I wiped my face and embarrassingly exited the audio-visual center.

For the three months that followed, I spent every one of the breaks between my classes on those bean-bag chairs watching Giselle over and over, always weeping at the end where she dies after the mad scene. I was almost an expert regarding the story but there were details that I desperately needed to understand. I inquired at the library for books on ballet and the librarian wrote the name of a book she thought I should look for at a bookstore. I had watched the Giselle video more than twenty times and was obsessed with it.

At one of the larger bookstores in my neighborhood I found the librarian’s suggestion: Stories of the Great Ballets, by George Balanchine (whoever he was.) It was paperback but seemed chock full of more ballet stories than I ever knew existed.  When I saw Giselle listed in the table of contents I happily paid for it and ran out of the store. There, in my parked Toyota Corolla, I wasted no time in reading the chapter that was going to explain everything I needed to know about Giselle and her world. How amazing it was to read Balanchine’s descriptions…I could visualize the video in my mind as he recounted the details and characters in each scene.  As I read to the end of the paragraph describing the mad scene, I saw that the next page heading was labeled Act II.

Act II?  I said to myself. What Act II?   How could there be another act?  She dies.

I read on breathlessly, in disbelief that I was in love with half a video. Balanchine’s words leapt off the page as I read about Hilarion the hunter in the forest at Giselle’s graveside, and Myrta Queen of the Wilis?  Wili?  What is a wili? I wondered.  I was filled with frustration and could barely wait to get back to the audio-visual center to see the second act . Why had the girl there not told me there was an Act II?

The following day, I confidently stepped up to the the audio-visual counter and asked to view Giselle Act II. (My heart was beating so fast, I can remember the anticipation to this day.)  I was finally going to see all of this masterpiece and I could barely contain myself.  All of life’s mysteries were about to be solved!

“We don’t have it,” the girl said flatly. “Somebody stole it.”  My mind was racing. I had to see it!  How could someone steal a large reel-to-reel tape? What was I to do now?  I felt completely lost. (Let me add at this point how lucky we all are for the invention of the internet where one can buy videos, view You Tube, and easily research synopses and how many acts different ballets have.)

My boyfriend at the time knew all of these particulars and was fully aware of what I was going through. Since we worked at the same place I thought nothing of it when he came walking towards me one day about six months after the events I have described.  He had the Sunday Arts section of the LA Times in his hand and a big grin on his face. He handed it to me and said simply, “Now you can see it.”  I looked down at it and saw a full page advertisement for American Ballet Theatre at the Shrine Auditorium.  There in the ad were the words Giselle.  It was coming to Los Angeles!

We bought tickets in the orchestra and went to see this incredible ballet live.  The performance we chose was danced by Marianna Tcherkassky (now as Giselle) and the great Fernando Bujones as Albrecht.  After the intermission, I quietly prepared myself for the act I had never seen.  I remember being mesmerized by its delicate music, sounding otherworldly at times, and often invoking the love theme used in the first act.  It was so white compared to the first act, a colorless and eerie scene.  I also remember thinking how poetic it was…dance as poetry.  I still think that to this day.  This masterpiece of music, choreography,  and emotion changed me forever and set the path towards my degree in Ballet History.  Giselle remains my favorite ballet and when danced/acted well, still makes me cry.

Today I live on the Upper West Side of New York City, just minutes from Lincoln Center.  I drag anyone I can find to performances of Giselle.  I now own the VHS tape of that fateful “Live From Lincoln Center” performance, and that old paperback of Balanchine’s Stories of the Great Ballets is on a shelf in my library.  I hope that during this Christmas season you will take a loved one to the ballet.  The New York City Ballet is currently presenting its delightful production of The Nutcracker. Yes, everything comes back to Tchaikovsky.

~Adin Dalton

Makarova and Baryshnikov in Act II of Giselle, 1975