Long Live the Wilis: Dada Masilo's South African Fearless Giselle

Teatro Storchi, photo Rosella Simonari.

The Storchi Theatre in Modena is a late nineteenth century theatre with a nice simmetrical façade. It is a beautiful evening and people are gathering together to see Dada Masilo’s adaptation of Giselle (2017), a work on changing the symmetries of gender relations. The poster of the performance shows Masilo as Giselle in a high kick with her flex foot in front of a red dressed dancer with a whisk in one of her hands. Masilo’s kick is emblematic of her version as it exemplifies her intention to focus on the wilis’ viciousness, their strength and deadly power.

The story of the ballet Giselle (1841) is the quintessential Romantic story of love and loss. The countrygirl Giselle falls in love with Albrecht who hides his noble origin and his noble fiancée. When Giselle discovers the truth thanks to Hilarion, her would-be lover, she goes mad in an epic dramatic scene and dies only to be born again as a wili, a nightly spirit destined to kill those who enter her realm in the forest. However, Giselle loves Albrecht after all, and decides to save him from death when he ventures into the forest to pray at her tomb.

Poster Giselle, photo Rosella Simonari.

Masilo’s Giselle is the fruit of numerous changes. Firstly, her Giselle is not as fragile and shy as the classic one. One example is when she rejects Hilarion (Tshepo Zasekhaya)’s flowers. Secondly, there is the style through which the choreography is organised: contemporary, mingled with classical and African. It is an explosive mix of energy that give shape to vibrant ensemble phrases, Masilo’s best achievements, lyrical duets, especially between Giselle and Albrecht (a stunning Lwando Dutyulwa), and piercing solos. Third, there is the fundamental story twist in the second part of the work: Giselle’s revenge against Albrecht.

Masilo works on characters and narrative in response to today’s society, its injustice, violence and discrimination. She has decided to set her work in rural South Africa and has drawn elements from its culture and tradition. The revised role of Myrtha, the queen of the wilis, is compelling and revealing, in this sense. Powerfully danced by a male dancer, Llewellyn Mnguni, dressed as the other wilis, Myrtha is a Sangoma, a South African healer, who confers a sacred tinge to the role. Mnguni has long light-coloured braided hair, and holds a hairy stick, a sort of whisk, which is traditionally used in ceremonies and which enters into a visual dynamics with his often whisked hair. His movements are curved and dense with his rear end off-axis. Other South African elements include the funeral hymn chanted after Giselle’s death at the end of act I, “go to heaven my heart, for there is no peace on this earth”, highlighted by a slow paced procession of the members of her community.

Dada Masilo and the other wilis in Giselle, photo Stella Olivier.

The queer element is also implemented by the presence of male wilis among the female group. Masilo has already dealt with homosexuality in her Swan Lake (2010), but here it is as if the theme is inserted underground in a kind of implicit statement whch make it discerete and consistent at the same time. Male, female, neither, both, whatever...gender fluidity seems to be one possible answer.

For the revenge theme, Masilo has pushed the “original narrative”, highlighting the wilis’ “vicious, dangerous” character. A chromatic anticipation can be discerned in the choice of deep red instead of ghostly white for the wilis and Myrtha’ costumes, “I wanted the Wilis to look like they had been drenched in blood”, affirms Masilo, recalling in this the connection that sometimes is made between wilis and vampires. Designed by Songezo Mcilizeli and Nonofo Olekeng, the costumes consist of a patterned sleevles top, a below the knee wide skirt and short layers of tulle sewed at the back. This contrasts with the vitreous green lights by Suzette le Sueur that appear with the wilis’ arrival.

When Albrecht arrives in this uncanny place, he briefly dances with red-dressed Giselle, but the tone is rather different from the pas de deux they interepreted before. In this case, Giselle is angry and pushes him away. It is the beginning of the end, Albrecht dances with three wilis a beautiful pas de quatre where they remain grouped together and he stands apart either to the front or the back. Soon he suffers from acute fits, and is then surrounded by the wilis, until Giselle kills him with a long whip. His body lies down lifeless, while the wilis move from right to left (he is on the left) throwing white dust in the air. Giselle is the last, lights go down and she leaves him there, alone. Revenge has been accomplished and a perverse justice given to all those women who have been wronged by men. The often percussive music by Philip Miller and William Kentridge’s rural-inspired drawings which at times is projected at the back, complete this choreography, profoundly thought-provoking in style, interpreters and narrative.