sylvie guillem

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In 1988, the Royal Opera House celebrated Rudolf Nureyev's 50th birthday by inviting him to dance in a Gala performance of Giselle at his old 'home' with the Royal Ballet. Nureyev accepted and took his new young protegée as his partner to introduce her to London audiences. On January 6th Sylvie made her London debut in the role of Giselle with Nureyev as her Albrecht. She had no trouble in winning over the audience for they quickly saw her pure, lucid virtuosity. In Act 1 she conveyed an innocent sweetness in her character, shy at first but radiantly blossoming as the action progressed. From the conservative British public who normally reserve judgement until the final curtain, her solos received cheers and applause.

But there were also those who were uncomfortable at the soaring leg, feeling that it was more like a 'good trick' and should be reserved for showy numbers and not be seen in Romantic ballet. (Guillem was to respond to criticism of her extensions much later by stating that just because in Britain audiences were not used to seeing such height and in France they were and had no problems in considering it aesthetic, it did not necessarily mean that it was not good.)

Early in Act 2, much to the consternation of the audience, she fell heavily, but she continued to dance full out demonstrating great control and balance in the slow adagio movements. For her, the gala was a huge success, with much admiration for her virtuosity. For Nureyev, however, it was not such a happy occasion. Sylvie's outstanding technique only emphasised his diminishing abilities and declining health. They repeated their success the next night and then returned to Paris. No one at those two performances could have foreseen the future and guessed that a year later Sylvie Guillem would return to become principal guest artist with the Royal Ballet and make London her home base.

By 1989, still dancing in Paris, she was determined to forge out her own career - one that would give her the right to perform with other companies. But Nureyev would not agree. He had been her mentor, coached her in the subtleties of his Russian schooling and had propelled her into stardom. In return, he expected her to follow his commands. She, instead, walked out. She has since admitted to being impulsive and like Nureyev, not a patient person, and with both being volatile characters, Sylvie took this opportunity to move on. She knocked on the door of the Royal Ballet, ironically the company that Nureyev so loved and had spoken so highly to her about and was instantly admitted. Her departure caused an outcry in France and the topic was even brought up at the National Assembly where cultural minister Jacques Lang had to answer questions.

April 15th marked Sylvie's debut at the Royal Ballet as a principal guest artist. She danced Anthony Dowell's production of Swan Lake with her new partner Jonathan Cope whom she has said that she greatly admires. Her performance brought excitement but again, she was criticised by the purists for allowing her physical feats of virtuosity to take precedence over expression and sensitivity. Others wrote of the finesse and understanding she brought to the White Swan and the daring and drama of her Black Swan. Whatever, her very presence sent a buzz of excitement throughout the whole auditorium and for most of her audience, the performance was brilliantly executed.

Life at the Royal was very different and difficult for her. Stardom backstage at the Opera House meant sharing a smallish dressing room with up to six other principals (she had had her own at the Paris Opéra) and she got the reputation of being stand-offish because she did not want to eat in the company canteen. She was nicknamed 'Mademoiselle Non' because she was unwilling to give interviews, allowed only certain photographers to take her picture, caused some mini-scandals by adapting her costumes or wearing only her own, altered steps to suit herself and made it clear as to what she would and would not dance. She kept very much to herself both at the theatre and in her private life. But she makes it no secret that when she comes to the theatre and to class, it is to work and not to talk about the weather.

During her time with the Royal - and in 1995 she signed her third consecutive contract - she has learned and mastered more balletic styles. After successfully dancing both the Gamzatti and Nikia roles in La Bayadere and Aurora in The Sleeping Beauty, she scored a huge success as Juliet in Kenneth Macmillan's Romeo and Juliet where she delighted all with her interpretation both dramatically and aesthetically. She accepted the challenges of Ashton's filigree technique with varying success and her Cinderella was sprite and confident, but some thought her miscast as Natalia Petrovna in A Month in the Country, for not being able to convey the nuances of the character nor the melting smoothness of the choreography.

In November 1990, Sylvie returned to the Paris Opéra to give three performances in MacMillan's Manon (above). The event sparked off great excitement and the atmosphere was worthy of a pop concert. Her performance showed only too well what the French had lost to the British.

Along with the classics and coping with British choreography, she has been able to show the British her Forsythe style in the Royal's production of In the Middle, Somewhat Elevated, and Herman Schmerman in which her tongue-in-cheek provocative competitive dancing with partner Adam Cooper gave her ample opportunity to lift those legs and flaunt her supple body - the upper half of which was encased in a sexy see-through bodice.

But perhaps it is her relationship with Maurice Bejart which has brought out the most interesting aspects of her contemporary side. She performed her first Bejart dance without his permission at the Vama competitions and later worked with him at the Paris Opéra, but it is her recent performance as Sissi (right), in which she explores the mind and character of the Empress Elizabeth of Austria (or perhaps just a mad woman deluding herself that she is the Empress), that shows the chemistry between choreographer and muse. With the character's rapid descent into madness, Bejart has challenged Sylvie to look deep into her inner self and use her body as the instrument for expressing her turmoil.