Macaulay points out that, of all the great 19th century classics, only Giselle and La Sylphide have significant dancing by both the male and female leads.
For Sylphide, he refers only to the Bournonville. (Apparently the 1832 Paris version gave relatively little dancing to James.) "In both [versions], the hero's efforts to join and hold the unaobtainable sylph are what drive the plot; but in Bournonville's, his efforts to join her in dance are what drive the choreography."
Macaulay then compares Sylphide and Giselle. More important, he compares the extent to which plot/action drive the ballet, and the extent to which it is driven by the compulsion to dance:
Both these couples -- the Sylph and James, Giselle and Albrecht -- are impelled to dance. In La Sylphide, this instinct sublimates itself in the cause of the plot. In Giselle, it becomes the plot -- it doesn't need to be sublimated -- and leads the protagonists into areas taht touch on the sublime. The dancing in Giselle has nothing to do with Christianity -- if Albrecht had respeced his faith, he would have stood motionless by the cross until dawn arrived to send the wilis back to their graves -- but it is certainly a matter of life and death: Tamara Karsavina referred to it as a 'holy ballet.'
In Act One, as Giselle discoveres Albrecht's perfidy, the complexities are all dramatic -- she goes mad and dies. Her madness is a mime scene in whicih she remembers the bliss of a few steps -- those glissades -- she first performed with Albrecht. But in Act Two, the dance and drama interact more powerfully than [Peter] Wright [whose version of the ballet is done at the Royal] or any other Western produceer of Giselle, seems to understand.
Why does Albrecht leave the sanctuary of the cross? To the makers of the ballet in 1841, the answer was clear: because he would rather dance himself to death with his beloved Giselle than stand safely by. It is Giselle who defies her own siren nature: she dances with him too spare his energies, in the self-ssacrificing hope that he will be allowed to return -- not to her, but to Bathilde.
One more point:
Macaulay was unable to catch Cojocaru in the part, but he comments on a few other great Giselles:
"For [Giselle and Albrecht] this is a ballet about another nineteenth century theme: la dansomanie, or the drive to dance; which, in some ballets, was food for comedy, but which in Giselle becomes ever more poetically morbid. You don't need to change the steps to reveal these aspects of the ballet; you just need to give the choreography full value. Every pas counts ...
Fascinating stuff. It made me think: this is one reason Giselle is so powerful, as compared with many other 19th-century story ballets. The dancing is not just a way to move the story (and to prove that it's a ballet). In some fundamental way both Giselle and Albrecht, and their story, ARE their dances. The package can't be split. Which, when you think of it, is something Giselle has in common with a great deal of contemporary ballet-making.
In my experience, only a few supreme Russian performances in the 1980s -- Irina Kolpakova and Altynai Assylmuratova with the Kirov, Nadezhda Pavlova and Vyacheslav Gordeyev with the Bolshoi -- have proved how far this is a drama about dance itself, in which motivation and suspence keep changing, darkening.