“My beautiful ideal is freedom, the right to express oneself for everyone, and for everyone the right to enjoy beautiful things.”

These words of Emma Goldman (1869-1940), anarchist, intellectual and feminist, could be the leitmotif of all feminist struggles; both the question of the body and the need to regain control of it, to (re)find its freedom, is at the heart of any claim of these movements. It was pointed out to her that “it does not suit an agitator to dance (…) with such irresponsible abandon” when her only wish was simply to dance. Her ideal was also awkwardly paraphrased “If I can’t dance, it’s not my revolution.”

This body is the essence of dance, and it is never staged casually, consciously or subconsciously. Its symbolic significance always goes beyond the aesthetics and the subject presented.

Giselle is the perfect example of a ballet from the romantic era, which, beyond its ethereal and magical dimension of the second act, speaks to us in the foreground of the romantic and social-cultural relationships of the time in which it was created.

If we look concretely at the plot that is played out in front of us through the raw analysis of the main characters, we have Giselle, a naive girl - some would say innocent - who falls into hysteria - some would say madness - in the first act and (very quickly) becomes magnanimous towards Albrecht in the second.

We have Bathilde, silent in the throes of her future husband, and a Myrtha cursed because she died before the wedding night, which at that time meant ' before she was able to have a sexual relationship and de facto become a woman ', bitter and vengeful, like her sisters the Wilis.

Next comes Hilarion, a friend of Giselle and secretly in love with her, an expendable body treated without pathos around her execution, no doubt because of her status as a peasant, and finally, Albrecht, for whom his acts of deceit and betrayal towards Giselle and Bathilde have only too few consequences on her fate.

So many elements have always seemed disturbing, even frightening, to me.

It was Marian Smith in her book Ballet and Opera in the Age of Giselle that made me put my finger on my discomfort and my doubts about this story, especially this part that shocked me and gave me birth to this desire to give Giselle an alternative to her destiny.

“ Véron (former director of the Paris Opera) and his successors granted certain happy male patrons even greater proximity to the ballerinas by admitting them to the foyer of the dance, ( … )

In addition, flirtations in this context sometimes took place in more private places in a system of "light prostitution " that the dancers found tempting because, without external income, many of them were too poor to pay for food, fuel and accommodation. ( … )

Dance historians have noted that the opera's ballet-pantomime storylines tended to reflect this behind-the-scenes relationship by unequivocally promoting a particular set of values that upheld notions of male power and female submission.

( … ) the culpable dissonance between the seductions offered to the Opera's male patrons in the dance foyer and the lawful (if unglamorous) affection of their wives is mirrored - and beautifully resolved - in the plot of Giselle where Albrecht is forgiven by his noble betrothed for his banter with the pretty, dance-loving peasant girl Giselle. ( … )

Thus, one might say, the Opera, under one roof, offered men both a temptation and a kind of ballet plot that offered absolution for giving in to it. ”

Feminist movements, particularly those of the last decade, have formidably placed the body as a weapon of struggle at the centre of the debate. Whether with the Femen, the recent women 's revolts in Iran, or the infamous MeToo, the power of these movements has reshuffled the cards of everything that we took for granted and normal. , and to make us do this introspective work on many constituent aspects of our society and our relationships with women as individuals and collectives.

The ballet is no exception,d and the idea of taking part in this conversation has become obvious and a necessity.

Being a choreographer is remarkable in that it allows me, through movement, to give substance to a story, an image, and a concept around a language and an aesthetic. To give body is to give a voice, and it is the voice (voice) of these female protagonists that I wanted to amplify, to give them a new space and freedom.

The decision we made with my playwright, Ulrike Wörner von Fassman, was to imagine how the different protagonists while keeping the same premises as the original story, would act and react today.

Would Giselle forgive Albrecht for hiding the truth about Bathilde from her?

Would she find the strength to overcome her grief?

Would Albrecht, a narcissistic pervert playing and using women for his own pleasure, find forgiveness and clemency from Giselle and Bathilde?

Would Bathilde be as conciliatory about her fiancé's romantic escapades?

Will Hilarion be able to confess his love to Giselle?

How has Myrtha’s experience of her love wound, a trait specific to all Wilis, transformed her?

So many questions have guided the development of the story and its protagonists throughout this creative process.

The question of femininity also raises that of masculinity. As a male choreographer but also a heterosexual, married, and father of two little boys, the process of thinking about this creation upset a lot of things in me.

From a professional point of view, whether in the representation of genres on stage, technique or work in the studio, my conception of everything that is directly or indirectly related to choreography has changed drastically and continues to evolve.

a private point of view, it considerably transformed my certainties and put into perspective things that I considered normal and acquired.

This Giselle, while embodying the freedom of the female protagonists, nevertheless goes beyond all these problems to rediscover the foundation of romanticism, namely the expression of love.

This is where perhaps everyone’s common and universal denominator resides. The search for happiness and personal fulfilment in love. Love of the other, whatever their gender and orientation. Self-love and respect for others.

This “ freedom ”, dear to Emma Goldmann and so many others, is the freedom to love, to be able to enjoy one's body, to dance as we see fit, without authority, be it patriarchal, institutional, political, or religious, which most often dictates to the place of the person (women, LGBTQ+, … ) to whom she wants to submit her will, what she must do and how she must do it.

To be free to love. To be free to be loved. And love to be free.

This is the message I want to convey with this Giselle.