REVIEW: Giselle - Brisbane Ballet

Giselle – Brisbane Ballet

Conservatorium Theatre, Brisbane

Choreography: Emrys Goldsworthy (original by Jean Coralli, Jules Perrot, Marius Petipa)

Dramaturgy: Tahlia Goldsworthy

Music: Adolphe Adam, Friedrich Burgmüller

Set Design: Paul Jones

Costume Design: Emrys Goldsworthy & Nethini Gomes

Photography: Alisa Poturaeva

I love getting to experience a ballet I have never seen before. Thanks to my incredible seat (shoutout to Emrys!), I got an amazing view of everything in Brisbane Ballet's Giselle. Every reaction, every flicker of emotion, every slightly panicked moment in Act 2 stamina… all of it right there. And in a story built on love, lies, and a full emotional breakdown, that kind of proximity makes a huge difference.

Picture this: a sunny village where Giselle, our delightful peasant girl with a love for dance, falls head over heels for Loys. He’s got the charm, the romance... basically the whole boyfriend starter pack. Unfortunately, he is also lying. Loys is actually Albrecht, a nobleman in disguise, and already involved with another woman. When the truth comes out, Giselle’s heartbreak sends her into madness and ultimately, death. In Act 2, she returns as a Wili, one of the ghostly spirits of jilted brides who died before their wedding day. These spirits haunt the forest, condemning men to dance until they drop. So when Albrecht finds Giselle’s grave… he becomes their next target.

Act 1 opens in a soft wash of cream, peach, and baby pink dresses, with fluttering skirts and a gentle, springtime feel. The set is minimal, just a simple house structure grounding the upstage and letting the dancers do the storytelling. There’s a lightness to everything here. Playful, airy, deceptively simple. The featured dancers in the cream-coloured dresses bring moments of real beauty, grace, and athleticism, and the corps move cleanly and uniformly throughout. I especially loved how often the solos, duos, and trios are performed directly to us. It creates a real sense of inclusion. We’re not just watching the village, we’re part of it.

Rafaela Morel is exactly what you want Giselle to be. A perfect demure smile, a long swan neck, effortless grace. Dressed in sky blue, she stands out immediately, not just visually, but in presence. There’s an innocence to her that feels completely genuine.

As the narrative shifts, so too does her performance. Her spiral into madness is genuinely mesmerising. Up close, the detail in Rafaela's anguish captures Giselle’s psychological disintegration. She pulls at her hair, disassociating as drifts in and out of reality, dancing as if someone is still there. Reaching, turning, responding to nothing. And the most striking part is her deliberate loss of refinement in her movement that disrupts the classical aesthetic. Her technique is still there, but the control slips enough to become dangerous. The moment that stayed with me is that unpredictability, the audience (and even the dancers holding their breath), unsure what she’ll do next.

Then there are the men, and the messes they create. Ivan Tarakanov as Albrecht really leans into the charm, which makes the deception all the more frustrating to watch unfold. The early pas de deux has that unmistakable sense of seduction, and you can already tell this is not going to end well. Ivan’s face is almost as entertaining as his dancing, his reactions are constantly alive, giving you little moments to watch even when he’s not the focus.

Peter Harris as Hilarion goes all in emotionally, fully committing to that “I pine, I perish” energy of his unrequited love. By Act 2, he is absolutely not holding back, dancing himself into complete exhaustion. It’s relentless, physical, and just a bit brutal to watch. Matthew Maxwell is one to keep an eye on. Leading man energy, clean execution, and beautifully controlled stillness.

Act 2 is a complete tonal shift. The backdrop drops into black, and a grave marked by a glowing neon cross cuts through the fog. The palette cools instantly into blues and shadow, with golden lighting from the wings adding depth. The costumes shift to white bridal silhouettes, and the world becomes something else entirely. The Wilis are ethereal, and they no longer perform to us. We don’t exist to them. The audience disappears, and we become observers rather than participants.

Imogen Walters performs as Myrtha, taking clear command of Act 2. She leads the Wilis with authority, guiding Giselle into their world while maintaining an undercurrent of menace when confronting the men who cross their path. Her presence is poised and controlled, creating a compelling balance between beauty and threat. She did seem a little fatigued on this particular performance (I hope she’s okay), but the strength of her portrayal still came shining through.

The choreography (Emrys Goldsworthy) sits firmly in classical language, but with a strong sensitivity to musicality. It feels like it’s actually listening to the score rather than just sitting on top of it. You can see the attention to shifts in tempo and tone, and the phrasing has a natural breath to it. The choreography is demanding and unrelenting. Continuous jumps, constant traveling. Ivan’s entrechats just keep going, one after the other, like he was bouncing on a trampoline. I could only imagine how much his legs were burning!

Rafaela’s ghost Giselle is beautifully restrained. She circles Albrecht, dances toward him, but rarely looks directly at him, creating an intentional and quietly devastating emotional distance. Peter and Ivan fully commit to the “dance until death” fate, and it’s clear this production takes that concept seriously across the board.

Lighting is beautiful, shifting from warm daylight tones in Act 1 to deep blues, gold, and fog in Act 2. Costumes support the storytelling well overall, though Bathilde’s red dress could benefit from a quick steam. If possible, real flowers would make a difference in those quieter moments where the plastic sound is noticeable. And if the grave structure is hollo, it would be lovely to see Giselle disappear through it on her exit, creating a more ethereal transition than the current bourrée into the wings.

By the end, it’s not the spectacle you remember. It’s the details. The breath between movements, the way Giselle holds or avoids one's gaze, and the sheer stamina of it all. It’s romantic. It’s tragic. And suddenly you’re emotionally invested in whether this man deserves forgiveness. For the record, I’m not convinced.