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The Ballet Called Giselle
Book by Cyril W. Beaumont
188 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1944
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May 22, 2025
Mr. Beaumont is just like me for real. This book is like my great long Giselle post, just written by an equally partial and opinionated 1940s English balletomane.
In some ways it is an exceptional reference text for its full English translation of the original French libretto and for the abbreviated Cecchetti choreographic script; in some ways it is quite as unreliable as one would expect from the period and taste of the critic, most notably in the varying amounts of time and credit given to the “creative team” which wrote and choreographed the original production.
Beaumont does provide for comparison Gautier’s prose synopsis, that translation of the libretto, and his own summary of the ballet as he regularly saw it performed in the midcentury, allowing one to register the changes (surprisingly few, but important) since the premiere.
It is at times quite funny, both intentionally (everyone has always laughed at Hilarion’s Hilarious Death) and unintentionally (no, Cyril, we don’t need your costuming advice!). Some of the most interesting personal insertions come from his memories of particular interpreters of the roles, in particular his passion for Olga Spessivtzeva, whose reputation has unfortunately not come down to the modern reader in the same way Alicia Markova’s has. Certain omissions (most notably I think Alicia Alonso’s and Carla Fracci’s) are amusingly telling— or perhaps just a symptom of location.
There are black-and-white plates as illustration, though none, in this age of the Internet, especially notable or rare.
Beaumont clearly loves the ballet, just like me, which makes it a rewarding and engaging read for a fellow fan. It’s a bit magical and nostalgic as an object: imagine a time and place where a devoted amateur could write a “viewer’s guide” for an equally passionate and knowledgeable audience and publish it to the triumphant tune of two editions!
In short, remarkably informative in the choreographic nuts and bolts, treacherously interesting in the historical background, and a good time as a pleasure read. I do intend to hunt down a secondhand copy, because the choreographic score is invaluable.
In some ways it is an exceptional reference text for its full English translation of the original French libretto and for the abbreviated Cecchetti choreographic script; in some ways it is quite as unreliable as one would expect from the period and taste of the critic, most notably in the varying amounts of time and credit given to the “creative team” which wrote and choreographed the original production.
Beaumont does provide for comparison Gautier’s prose synopsis, that translation of the libretto, and his own summary of the ballet as he regularly saw it performed in the midcentury, allowing one to register the changes (surprisingly few, but important) since the premiere.
It is at times quite funny, both intentionally (everyone has always laughed at Hilarion’s Hilarious Death) and unintentionally (no, Cyril, we don’t need your costuming advice!). Some of the most interesting personal insertions come from his memories of particular interpreters of the roles, in particular his passion for Olga Spessivtzeva, whose reputation has unfortunately not come down to the modern reader in the same way Alicia Markova’s has. Certain omissions (most notably I think Alicia Alonso’s and Carla Fracci’s) are amusingly telling— or perhaps just a symptom of location.
There are black-and-white plates as illustration, though none, in this age of the Internet, especially notable or rare.
Beaumont clearly loves the ballet, just like me, which makes it a rewarding and engaging read for a fellow fan. It’s a bit magical and nostalgic as an object: imagine a time and place where a devoted amateur could write a “viewer’s guide” for an equally passionate and knowledgeable audience and publish it to the triumphant tune of two editions!
In short, remarkably informative in the choreographic nuts and bolts, treacherously interesting in the historical background, and a good time as a pleasure read. I do intend to hunt down a secondhand copy, because the choreographic score is invaluable.
Displaying 1 of 1 review