English has all sorts of emotive metaphors for how we feel about the ground. We’re floored. Or well grounded. Or earthbound. Life’s a minefield, so watch where you step. Stay on your toes. One moment we’re walking on air, next brought down to earth. Which is not at all the same as being down-to-earth.
We have a fractious, if necessary, relationship, then, with the floor. Dancers even more so. If you were watching the Bolshoi’s live cinema relay of Giselle on Sunday, you will have seen its hyper-exquisite prima ballerina Svetlana Zakharova come clattering down in a most unghostly fashion in Act 2. Giselle has floored many a ballerina — Sylvie Guillem also fell over in her London debut, while an effusiveness of dry ice unforgettably brought the Royal Ballet’s Nicola Tranah down three times in a single scene.
In Giselle, the floor is a resonant representation of peasant earth in Act 1, but has to vanish magically from our perception in the haunted wood of Act 2.
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