Manon (English National Ballet)

The English National Ballet's acquisition of Manon was heralded as a worthy act, bringing this wonderful ballet to the regions. Nobody seems to have told the regions. The performance at the New Theatre in Oxford was miserably empty. It was a real pity too as this was comfortably the strongest performance I've seen from the ENB in a good while. I wasn't truly sure they had the dancers to pull off the central roles but in Fernanda Oliviera they have a Manon of some brilliance.

When I caught this production for the first time in London, I had my reservations about the designs. Now the ENB have a more solid grip on the ballet I'm even less keen. Not only are the harlots of Act II walking confectionery, but the Beggars of Act I are rather more Disney than is ideal. These silly costumes don't help the conflict between Money and Love. The poverty seems so pleasant that Manon's decision to leave Des Grieux fails to make sense. The sets are almost non-existent which whilst not the end of the world is a detriment to the atmosphere. Only the lighting evoked any drama and even that was weaker than it was when the show was staged in London.

Initially I was fairly disappointed by the standard of dancing. The corps were efficient enough but there was that unpleasant feeling of everyone just going through the motions. Yat-Sen chang made for a sprightly Beggar Chief but it was otherwise accurate but uninteresting. Dmitri Gruzdyev didn't start overly strongly, his first solo passable but little more. The whole evening turned with the first steps of Oliviera. Seldom can I recall a show so lifted by a single performance. All of a sudden Gruzdyev too was delivering an impeccable and heartfelt display of skill and emotion. The central romance was so believable I couldn't help but think the pair must be off-stage partners as well. Oliviera captured the youthful joy of love but also the desperate need to survive. The glint in her eye as jewels were lavished upon her was almost as palpable as the longing she gave to Gruzdyev. By the final duet I was well and truly moved. Things were only enhanced by the dramatic improvement in the character acting. Michael Coleman's pervy Old Man was a treat and the Monsieur GM of James Streeter had a suitably nasty streak. Fabian Reimair failed to grab me in quite the same manner as the lead pair, he had a nice hawkish manner but missed some of the comedy of the drunken dance and never really convinced me of why he was first selling his sister but then trying to recover her. Daniel Jones didn't get much beyond looking mean as the Gaoler but then few ever do.

This wasn't the finest performance from the company but the two central roles could scarcely have been danced better. Oliviera gave certainly one of the best Manons I've ever come across and Gruzdyev wasn't far behind. Pity it had to be in this production which is a disappointingly budget affair. Sad too that so few people were in the theatre to witness it all.

Rookery Nook

I do love a good farce and the new production of Ben Travers' "Rookery Nook" at the Menier Chocolate Factory is terrific farce. I've actually never ventured to the Chocolate Factory before, although I've seen several pieces transferred to the West End, both "A Little Night Music" and "Le Cage aux Folles" originate here. The Menier has a ludicrously impressive track record for a venue that seats only a couple of hundred and that level of quality continues with "Nook". The show is still in previews but it's already a seriously slick production with carefully choreographed slap-stick raising some solid laughs.

The set and period music that greets the audience as they enter immediately suggest there'll be nothing revolutionary about this production. The attractive cottage interior, with a great many doors, has British farce written all over it. The characters are all stock types, nothing too imaginative or original: a strict German, a blustery Admiral and a battleaxe of a cleaning lady all make appearances, but it's the skill with which Travers gets them in and out of trouble that is so unbelievably clever. The action whilst entirely improbable has the ring of truth about it that makes the endless contrived situations all the funnier. The English really will go to mindlessly excessive extents to protect their honour. Where many farces have relatively slow first acts, simply setting up problems for the later acts, "Nook" has serious laughs from the get go. The middle act has some minor longueurs but I suspect even these will largely vanish by the time the show officially opens.

The casting is top notch. Edward Baker-Duly might be South African, but he's the most convincing twenties Englishman I've come across in awhile. Paired with his fantastically inept friend, played by Neil Stuke, the banter flows so naturally you almost forget you're watching a play. Mark Hadfield does a remarkable line in confused facial expressions, the posh totty of Kellie Shirley makes all the right naive but sexy noises. The senior actors have just as much fun. Sarah Woodward's piercing stare could stop a rhino in its tracks, her husband, Hadfield, hysterically under her thumb. Nick Brimble's strict Bavarian was a marvellous bit of comedy acting, almost a stereotype but with surprising moments. Ruling the roost is the permanently miffed Lynda Baron, the entry of the local totty Clare Wilkie provides some hilarious culture clashes. Only Alan Thompson's slightly pointless Admiral fails to raise significant laughs.

British Farce is perennially unfashionable but not for any reason I can fathom. So what if it doesn't say much about the world we live in, it's harmless escapism and on some level it lets us laugh at ourselves. The Menier Chocolate Factory have put together a crack team of creatives and collectively they've conjured a show that's hard to beat for pure laughter. Not for everyone I'm sure and plenty will no doubt turn up their noses further than Gertrude Twine but I'm going to cry piffle to that and recommend this to everyone I come across. A total blast.

Sylvia (Birmingham Royal Ballet)

Sylvia has possibly the loveliest of all ballet scores, yet such a problematic storyline that it's very hard to know quite how seriously to take it. The Royal Ballet production by Ashton is enchanting on many levels but takes itself far too seriously. David Bintley's newly revised production goes quite the other way, producing a similarly delightful but altogether wittier, tongue firmly in cheek creation.

The new framing devise doesn't really solve any of the narrative problems and is in many ways an entirely pointless addition. Firstly it's almost impossible to follow, with or without the synopsis. The audience winking Eros/Gardener is cleverly done but all the claptrap about the Count's infidelities endangering the romance between his two servants never really materialises. No explanation is ever really given for why Amynta is the only one who never changes costume wandering around the fantasy land in the remnants of his Black Tie. Quite who is receiving the "lesson" from Eros wasn't obvious. Luckily whilst it remains a narrative mess, it's an awful lot of fun. The choreography is constantly engaging, moves quickly and generally hits all the right notes. The peg-leg pirate is an absolute hoot. The weakest element is the traditional pas de deux in the third act which whilst efficient enough misses both the humour of the rest of the work and the emotion that it strives for. Whilst never less than attractive it wasn't terribly interesting, the pizzicato solo in particular a bit of a damp squib.

The dancing was of the Birmingham Royal Ballet's usual high calibre. The corps were as tight as you could expect of any company, it's clear that all involved enjoy dancing this work. Matthew Lawrence rules Act II like a slightly unhinged Tarzan, his impeccable comic timing paired with some strong turns made this an accomplished performance. Cesar Morales might not be the most convincing blind man but he lends the rather wet Amynta at least an air of masculinity. Natasha Oughtred was terrific as Sylvia, the role didn't have many starry moments but she was consistently charming and paired nicely with Morales. The smaller roles were all well filled, Carol-Anne Millar and Momoke Hirata, the pick of the Nymphs and Christopher Larsen seemed to be having a jolly old time as Eros and the peg-leg pirate.

This isn't a show that amounts to very much but it's effortlessly good fun. The kind of production that could raise any melancholy just with its sheer joie de vie. I couldn't help but smile. The Royal Ballet Sinfonia under Paul Murphy gave a terrific account of the gorgeous music. Bintley's framing device adds as much confusion as clarity but in the end it hardly matters. It's a pity the Birmingham Royal Ballet's stay hasn't been longer. A marvellous triple bill followed by a delightful "Sylvia".

After Dido (English National Opera / Young Vic)

"After Dido" is the English National Opera's latest venture into the "trendy" territory so beloved of our national opera companies. Last year's brought a "Punch and Judy" that will never be bettered but also a "Lost Highway" that will never see the light of day again (thankfully). "After Dido" is the brainchild of Katie Mitchell, a director who's produced a very mixed bag over the last few years; Her "Jenufa" is superb, almost everything bankrolled by the National Theatre has been absolute tosh. Disappointingly this is effectively a redux of her "Waves" production, one of the very few shows I've ever failed to stay for the second half of. To compound this, where "Waves" attempted to use flashy technology to enhance Virginia Woolf's novel, not entirely successfully, here Mitchell simply throws some images on the screen with little concern for conveying the opera. I know the work quite well, if only because I've seen it at the Royal Opera twice in the last week; had I not, I'd be none the wiser about even the basic themes after this mess of a show.

In fact, visually this is even less interesting than "Waves" was. The central gimmick is the use of live video, the action being played out on film sets below whilst the film is projected above. They do this with startling skill, technically it's amazingly well done with some gorgeous cinematography and clever Foley artists, but it remains a gimmick and it gets old fast. The crux of the problem is that for all the prettiness of the framing, the picture inside is a vacuous one. Each with their own little set, three people look miserable on camera for the duration of the opera (which is playing on their radios). It would seem they are all miserable because they have lost a loved one, although everything is left elliptical for the sake of pretension (and possibly to cover the lack of real ideas). This is more or less the extent of the connection to "Dido". The use of naturalistic sets has eliminated some of the wit that held some of the interest in the more economical "Waves", this all looked po-faced and leaden.

The performance of the opera itself, whilst not on a par with the Royal Opera production currently running, is fairly strong (albeit totally sidelined). The orchestra is paired right back to seven players but they make a very lovely noise and little is lost in the simplification. Less wholly satisfactory is the doubling of the central parts. Susan Bickley made for a solid if uninspiring Dido but didn't have all the low notes of the Sorceress. It was a pity as I suspect her Dido would have been stronger without the distraction of this second part but I can't imagine Mitchell much cared as nothing about the evening was designed to create a substantial performance of the operatic work. Adam Green makes for a fine Aeneas, it's a difficult role to make seem substantial but under the circumstances he did very well. Katherine Manley produced some pearly notes as Belinda, an accomplished performance and she almost conveyed character as well which was downright amazing in this production.

Since the opera is short, the whole evening is mercifully brief and even then sustained only by the beauty of the music. Mitchell has tacked on her trademark visuals but brought very little vision with them. The musical side is not badly served although not to the extent this show is worth attending just for the aural experience. Not offensively bad, but tedious and ultimately amounting to absolutely nothing.

Pomp and Circumstances (Birmingham Royal Ballet)

I love it when the Birmingham Royal Ballet turn up in London. Whilst they don't have the technical firepower of the Royal Ballet they make up for it by bringing such fantastic repertory. Their latest triple bill, whilst oddly mistitled (nothing even approaches "Pomp"), is a night I won't soon forget.

They opened with "Serenade" which whilst far from a novelty is always pleasant. It's one of the cornerstones of many a company's repertory and with very good reason. Intangibly brilliant, from the calm opening to the triumphal, yet melancholy, finale there's barely a dull moment. This wasn't the finest performance and it was comfortably the weakest part of the evening (mostly because the other two ballets were so fantastic). Some strong clean lines from the corps and decent performances from the soloists failed to capture the magic that can make this ballet something truly special. Special mention must go to the terrific dancing of Momoko Hirata, she simply oozed star quality, and the ever charming Elisha Willis. The company weren't helped by the overly bright lighting throughout that then gave way to sudden darkness which rather ruined the stunning conclusion.

"Enigma Variations" followed and this really gave a huge number of soloists the chance to shine. This is Ashton at his best, a clever string of divertissements that miraculously string together as a cohesive whole and all draped in the ever impressive Trevelyan Oman designs. Jonathan Payn's Edward Elgar had a nice line in inward sadness but his partnering of his Lady, Victoria Marr, was a little clumsy. Marr was wonderfully comforting; she let off the emotional charge from the very start. The piece meanders through a range of amusing characters, all of whom were very impressively danced. Matthew Lawrence and Natasha Oughtred shared a sweet duet and Carol-Anne Millar had a joyous spring in her step. Ultimately the dancing was strong but it's Ashton's choreography that really shines, his Nimrod has almost no dancing yet evokes an incredible amount of emotion.

The third piece really took the roof off the building. "'Still Life' at the Penguin Cafe" must be one of Bintley's finest works standing toe to toe with the two masterpieces that preceded it in this bill. Created more than twenty years ago its environmental theme is almost unbelievably topical. Despite the potentially preachy subject matter, it's also delightfully easygoing. A heady blend of humour with a touch of pathos, topped up by a minor dose of animal fun. The Hollywood starlet of a Ram, danced by Angela Paul, is a wonderful homage to a lost age of Ballroom. The terrifically funny Flea, danced by Millar, is paired with a team of prancing Morris Men. Things turn a little bleaker with the shooting of the Zebra, a very dignified bit of dancing from Chi Cao in a particularly stunning costume, as a group of fur wearing socialites sashay around the stage. After an epic, disco dancing show stopping number led by the excellent Alexander Campbell as a Monkey ringleader, the whole piece winds down with an effortless Noah's Ark image, the humans finally escaping two by two. Bintley's wonderful choreography paired with the electrifying Simon Jeffes' Penguin Cafe Orchestra music makes this a ballet I won't soon forget.

All in all an absolutely smashing triple bill. Serenade didn't quite soar but it's a true masterwork and what followed in the enchanting "Enigma Variations" and startling "Still Life" was simply majestic. To add to the magic, it was a nearly capacity crowd, which after the tragic Maliphant and American Ballet Theatre audiences was a pleasant surprise (especially considering triple bills are usually a tough sell). I'll be catching Sylvia at the weekend but on the back of this bill I'm already looking forward to the Birmingham Royal Ballet's next trip to London.

Il Trovatore (Royal Opera)

"Il Trovatore" has much going for it musically, but it takes a damn fine cast to pull it off, and the bunch employed for the latest revival of Elijah Moshinsky's stodgy production are of decidedly mixed quality.

Dmitri Hvorostovsky could make anything sound good and he made his Count nothing short of stunning. His acting offered the usual shallow emotive gestures that are his staple (although in this cast he was far from the worst actor) and as impressive as his breath control is (he breathed about three times during "Il balen del suo sorriso"), it was showing off to the detriment of his character. Roberto Alagna started weakly with some pretty desperate sounding top notes but he warmed up as the evening went on and whilst no tour de force, his "Di quella pira" was no disaster either. Pity about his acting which is even more one note than Hvorostovsky. At least Hvorostovsky tries gestures; Alagna offered more of a stoic, wooden board performance. I think it was me warming to Sondra Radvanovsky rather than her voice warming up (so to speak) with the first few scenes prone to flighty jumps I didn't much like but by Act IV this was a thrilling performance, her potent voice showing remarkable delicacy, plus she even managed a modicum of emotion. She still sounds about ten years older than she is but that's more a stylistic oddity than a real problem. The final major role was sung by the pretty dismal Malgorzata Walewska. She had a reasonable grasp of the lower notes but the second she pushed to anything high she just ended up sounding squally. Her performance in Act II was almost farcically bad, she virtually gave up at one point, but to her credit she picked up a little in the latter stages. Mock Gypsy gestures were the extent of her dramatic involvement.

It's not a production I particularly like. The various massive sets are attractive enough but don't actually provide much narrative clarity, a variety of settings rather unclear despite their scale. Why on earth does the convent look a bit like St Pancras station? It looked marvellous but failed to push the story along. The size of the sets also creates massive pauses between every scene, which was sort of fine if the production premiered in the seventies (for example "Lucia" or "Capuletti"), but for a twenty first century production is just poor. How can you expect any narrative tension when the whole show comes lumbering to a halt every twenty minutes. The darkish lighting and grim designs are broadly appropriate but it doesn't all gel.

There were some alarming early problems with the chorus worryingly out of time with the band under Carlo Rizzi during the "anvil chorus" (if there's anything they shouldn't screw up it's the damn anvil chorus) but these cleared up and the orchestra produced some sumptuous playing. It isn't the finest production and thanks to the slow scene changes the whole evening clocks in at more than three hours, but at least some of the singing was simply terrific. I could wax lyrical about Hvorostovsky all day, there are few who can match him, and Radvanovsky made some thrilling noises. Alagna didn't set the world alight but he completed a toughy of a role, only Walewska failing to make the grade. Pity about the acting, but we can't have everything I suppose.

Two:Four:Ten (Russell Maliphant)

Before I get to reviewing the dance, which was pretty decent, I'm going to have a quick rant about why this entire endeavour strikes me as both bizarre and not a little foolish. Russell Maliphant is a great choreographer but his works were not designed for anything like the Coliseum stage (or the auditorium which was worryingly empty and I got my ticket on the cheap). Nor does such a small scale evening justify such high prices. This is a pretty standard Sadlers Wells bill, although even there it would be on the paltry side (seventy minutes of dance does not a particularly full evening make), and they'd never dare charge fifty-five pounds there (let alone a bottom full view price of twenty five). The recent "Eonnagata", which must have cost a fortune to put together and had Maliphant plus Sylvie Guillem and Robert Lepage, returns later this year costing between forty and ten. If they were expecting to sell out at these prices I don't know what they were smoking.

The evening itself was made up of four short works from the last ten years of Russell Maliphant's oeuvre. None are for more than two dancers (I kid you not). Was it a surprise to anyone that none really filled the stage? All were set to lighting by Michael Hulls, who is an absolute wizard, but no one seemed to have pointed out that what works on a smaller stage like Sadler's Wells looks pretty dark viewed in a massive auditorium. It's a common problem that contemporary dance is lit so dimly you can't really see what's happening but viewed from a distance (and I had a very nice seat thanks to the desperate last minute sell off that has happened at every single show of this Coliseum dance season) some of the dance might well have not happened at all.

"Knot" which opened the bill is evocatively lit but at the expense of the dance. It's also the least substantial piece in the evening. Lots of standard Maliphant grappling but without the relationships that make his work fly. Ivan Putrov and Daniel Proietto did fine work (and this is well outside Putrov's usual repertoire) but to very little end. The second piece has much more focus but sadly even less lighting and was oddly placed almost entirely on one side of the stage. Agnes Oaks and Thomas Edur are quite a partnership, sadly soon be departing the stage altogether, and "Sheer" suited them brilliantly. A twisting duet for a loving couple this worked despite the production failings. "Two X Two" is a crowd pleaser if ever I've seen one. A slow start builds to absolute whirl of energy with Dana Fouras and Proietto slipping in and out of sync in a heartbeat. I've no idea what it was about, but nor do I care, this just looked fantastic. Hulls' lighting is an absolute tour de force, the scale of the theatre no impediment to what is a thrilling piece.

The second half (an interval was hardly justified, presumably more money from the bar) consisted of "Critical Mass" a longer piece that despite some strong moments struggled to justify its length. Danced by Adam Cooper and Maliphant himself, it showed Maliphant as a remarkably strong dancer, lithe and masculine, but Cooper despite starting strongly struggled to make much impact in the central Tango section. This was the one piece that attempted to use the full reaches of the stage but ended up looking stretched for it.

Maliphant is a great choreographer but this was a small stage bill stretched to the limit. I enjoyed what I saw, which was less than I'd hoped thanks to the muddy lighting, but seventy minutes isn't enough content and especially not at the high prices. Artistically sound but commercially shocking.

A Little Night Music

After the pain of the remainder of the Castullucci trilogy yesterday, I was feeling desperately in need of some uplift and the utterly enchanting "A Little Night Music" was exactly what the doctor ordered. Trevor Nunn's elegant production is a beautiful creation and the cast a fine bunch. That's before we reach Stephen Sondheim's terrific score.

Apart from "Send in the Clowns" I didn't recognise a single song, yet this is a show packed with hummable tunes. The lyrics are delightfully witty, the patter type songs in particular are indebted to the words as much as the music (all provided my Sondheim). The opening passage is a stunning bit of staging to a magical bit of music. The various characters emerge from the misty lighting, dancing the waltzes that dominate the score, it all seems so perfect yet as the piece progresses the fractured relationships slowly unravel. If the production has a flaw it's that the comedy is often overplayed to the expense of the double-edged humour. We can laugh at Maureen Lipman's hysterical Madame Armfeldt but the sense of loss that she spent her youth sleeping around for material wealth rather than finding love is lost.

Hannah Waddingham might be a decade too young, her looks don't exactly fit with the aging beauty, but she's a lovely singer, her rendition of "Send in the Clowns" was hugely effecting. Quietly reserved and not a little mournful yet ultimately rather sexy. Alexander Hanson isn't helped by a less than ravishing beard and the top of his range was less robust than I've heard from him before (an off night perhaps) but he remains a clever actor and is ideally suited to the piece. Pity Jessie Buckley (one of the TV Nancys for anyone keeping score) who was brilliantly naive but made to sing with an accent that rendered her voice pinched and shrill. Kelly Price is a marvellous performer, her "Every Day a Little Death" was desperately moving despite the excessive comedy of the scene that led up to it.

This is a lovely, clean production of a gorgeous musical. This production plays to humour at the expense of pathos but it still (just about) finds a winning balance by the conclusion. It's a warm, sentimental but sophisticated work that begs to be seen. Slickly designed and superbly performed this makes for a very pleasant evening at the theatre.

Paradiso

I refuse to spend more time writing this review than I spent in the actual "intimate walk-up installation experience" that is "Paradiso". That strikes me as difficult considering the five minutes (tops) I spent in the darkness of this "experience". To be brutally honest, the only thing I gained from standing in this darkened space looking at a man half buried in a wall whilst water cascaded down from the same wall was wet shoes.

The picture at the top is pretty much everything in this installation (you enter through a really bright room in order that you are initially blind in the darkened one) and by looking at it you can save yourself a fiver. Yes, you heard right, five whole British pounds, this was the most expensive waste of five minutes I've had in awhile. Just think of the coffees I could have drunk to keep me awake in "Purgatorio", or the ear plugs I could have bought to save me grief in "Inferno".

One element I did enjoy was the essay I was given on the way out. To give an example of the hysterically funny but terrible pretence included, here's a quote. "The anxiety produced during the spectator's passage between the two rooms is not created by limited vision but rather by a growing sense of solitude". Balls it was. Firstly, the "anxiety" was pretty limited; secondly, what anxiety I did feel was purely caused by my bending over to fit through the small hole and walking into a pitch black room. Where the hell did "solitude" come into it? Apparently I should have felt "Eschatological anxiety" as well, but I didn't think a self-important art installation had much to do with the end of the world, let alone some sort of tribulation. I could rip to shreds this entire pointless essay, riddled with comments that cause me more "timeless agony" than the installation itself, but I've got better things to do and you have better things to read.

Like the rest of this trilogy, this is an exercise in mind-numbing theatrical self-indulgence. Save your cash and your soul. Avoid at all costs.

Purgatorio

What to say about "Purgatorio" that I didn't say about "Inferno" last week? These are two pieces cut very much from the same cloth. More self-indulgent, avant-garde silliness with an added dose of sheer boredom. I suppose at least this wasn't quite so unpleasantly loud as "Inferno", my ears were fine here, only my wallet feels offended.

The opening few scenes, this one actually has scenes (of a sort), move at a snail's pace but at least produce a modicum of tension, something entirely missing from the bang, crash wallop of "Inferno". The excruciatingly slow pace (The Kabuki of last week was a fast paced thriller by comparison) paid some dividends, the boy's repeated enquiry "Is he coming back tonight" was a little chilling, but by the time he entered my patience was near its end. I must confess to having a brief snooze at one point, not something I can remember doing at anything, and I wasn't even particularly tired. Some sort of escape mechanism I guess. Various bits of text were projected across the stage, quite cleverly initially, but it was a one note idea and the terrible English grammar didn't help. After some pretty horrific but oddly unaffecting domestic abuse (it takes effort to make domestic abuse, especially on a child, unaffecting) the piece then went completely off its rocker with more weird, obtuse and occasionally downright stupid imagery of no particular merit.

We got a visually impressive seascape episode culminating in a bizarre jungle from which the abusive father emerged. Why did this happen? Answers on a postcard please. The curtain rose again with an even bizarrer sequence (if that's possible) involving the father, now played by a disabled actor, and the abused son, now a tall gangly man. The two had a little floor interaction involving a weird smothering crucifixion pose. The evening then ended.

A step up from "Inferno" if only because I didn't come out with a ringing pain in my ears. Still an absolute waste of time and money. I'm about to write my "Paradiso" review. It won't be pretty.

Giselle (Royal Ballet)

The Swan Lake's are now over (at least for now) which brings the return of Giselle. A gorgeous ballet that's also attractively short. Opening night brought the partnership of Carlos Acosta and Marianela Nuñez and boy was it a strong evening.

Nuñez just seems to get better and better. She recently put together an absolutely terrific Swan Lake, but the sombre tone of Odette rather missed her. Here, on debut in the role, she looked absolutely stunning as the happy go lucky Giselle of Act I but then transformed herself to produce a heart rendingly mournful Giselle in Act II. Her incredibly sure footed but light and breezy dancing was simply enchanting. Acosta has never been a great actor and here was no different. Does this Albrecht love Giselle or is he just a mean hearted bastard who toys with her and then feels guilty later? It wasn't really clear here as it was pretty much just Acosta walking through the mime. His pure dancing was as strong as ever, although this isn't much of a showcase for him with relatively little choreography on offer. Gary Avis is an absolute treasure for the company, listed as a character artist yet more capable than many younger members of the company, and Hilarion was perfectly suited to him. His Act I mime was easily followed and as he danced to death he carefully trod the line between dancing brilliantly and showing the near dead tiredness of the character. High marks to Genesia Rosato for ably handling the difficult mime of Giselle's mother.

The smaller roles all brought some very fine dancing to the party. Helen Crawford made an extremely cold-hearted, almost vicious Myrtha. Her hard edged dancing perfectly suits the role. Samantha Raine and Hikaru Kobayashi both danced impeccably and the support from the corps was just terrific, I don't think I've ever seen such precision from the Royal Ballet corps. Laura Morera and Ricardo Cervera impress (yet again, why are they always given these small parts?) as the lead couple in the pas de six, Cervera in particular looking frankly incredible in the air.

Giselle is a marvellous ballet, an epic showcase for a top dancer and in Nuñez the Royal Ballet have that ballerina. From divinely lovely peasant girl to protective, mournful wili; I couldn't fault her even if I tried. Acosta did what was required with customary flair but not a lot more. The corps was in blazing form as were all the supporting cast. Absolute magic.

Tutto Dante

My word this was something special. Dante's Divine Comedy seems all the rage right now but Roberto Benigni's "Tutto Dante" is about as far from Romeo Castellucci's abysmal "Inferno" as it's possible to conceive. From the off it was clear that the sheer energy and bravado of Benigni was going to be hard to resist. Seldom have I heard a man enthuse more about art and life than Benigni. Most in Britain would be embarrassed to express such love for the arts but he does it with such wild abandon that I couldn't help but feel the same.

The opening half hour or so amounts to the most high-brow stand-up you're ever going to come across. His English isn't quite perfect (although it's very impressive and he did the entire show effectively without notes) but his Tigger like energy and endless passion for everything he talked about made the slightest joke hysterical. He merely had to mention Silvio Berlusconi to have the entire audience crying with laughter. The tone shifts slowly into the more serious Dante content but the tone was never heavy with a constant stream of stories that never got dull.

He was most exposed when he got to the nitty gritty of the text and often shifted into Italian, although he tried hard not too and considering the huge proportion of the audience who spoke the language it didn't much matter either way, but from a non-speaker it became a little confusing. His real love for the subject was entirely evident however no matter what he was saying or in what language. When he finally read the passage (Canto V of Inferno) it was like hearing a great Shakespearean actor declaiming for all his worth. I could only cursorily understand, although single words were enough to jog my memory of the hour long lesson that had preceeded. Lesson is really the wrong word; if all my lessons had been this compelling I'd be a much smarter guy than I am.

Benigni is a great entertainer but he's also a fabulous educator, producing pearl after pearl of fascinating insight whether directly linked to Dante or not. The remarkably easy mix of comedy with textual analysis is shockingly impressive; I don't think I've ever come across anything quite like this before. I left the theatre feeling that not only had I enjoyed myself thoroughly but that I'd learnt something worthwhile and even more curiously felt better about the world we live in. "TuttoDante" is a majestic, life affirming evening, a journey I'd take over and over again if I had the chance. I couldn't have higher praise for Roberto Benigni, a true genius.

Le Corsaire (American Ballet Theatre)

After their theatrical but unemotional "Swan Lake" the American Ballet Theatre have chosen to follow it with a show of pretty much the same quality. "Le Corsaire" is one of the supreme fluff ballets but the ABT don't give it even a modicum of respect preferring instead to see it as a vehicle for balletic fireworks. This approach is not without merit but it relies upon a group of dancers who truly have the abilities and not everyone at this performance did.

The production itself is disappointingly cheap looking. The last Corsaire to visit London was the absurdly grand Bolshoi production and visually this staging has nothing like the scale. The boat just looks cheap and the sets, especially in Act I, look like they've been ripped off from a bad Aladdin pantomime. The costumes are a definite step up, they've still a pantomime air to them (there's a strong pantomime feel throughout) but looked less tacky than the sets. The choreography is pretty straight of the line classical but the narrative sections are stripped down to bare necessities. It works in a very basic way but forget emotion. The pasha gets a few laughs, it's a witty caricature, but his assistant is just weird, I've no idea what his tomfoolery was supposed to be about.

Thankfully the dancing was a big step up from what I saw in Swan Lake. Herman Cornejo is an absolutely electric dancer. The big pas de deux was a succession of incredible leaps and turns. He managed a set of turns of near uncountable length and all delivered without wavering from the point he started at. Xiomara Reyes is a similarly exciting dancer although not quite as explosive. Jared Matthews was a pretty limp villain (despite being a terrifically nasty Rothbart last week) but has a way of attracting attention to his every step. Act I, which was generally the weakest, was given a real lift by his precise, emphatic dancing. Misty Copeland didn't particularly grip me; she got through the steps but without any finesse. The same could be said of Gennadi Saveliev who was completely danced off the stage by Cornejo. Mikhail Ilyin looked a little scrawny, especially next to the impossibly well built Cornejo, but he proved himself an explosively compact dancer, and produced a little drama as well. The female corps still failed to impress, more coherent here than in "Swan Lake" but with uneven leg lines and a general air of imprecision.

The American Ballet Theatre tour has been something of a damp squib. They have some amazing dancers, Cornejo is truly world class (and he's far from the only top grade dancer in the company), but the two productions have been disappointing and the corps nothing to shout home about. "Swan Lake" was a mess and this epic pantomime failed to fly because it had neither the emotional nor the theatrical elements to make a show interesting. It's not bad show, if you like mammoth leaps and endless turns then it's really quite a good show, but shallow would be an understatement. Hopefully we might see the return of the company with some more significant repertory (some Tudor ballets would be well appreciated) sometime in the future but considering how much money this tour must have lost, I'm not hopeful.

Dido and Aeneas/Acis and Galatea (Royal Opera)

The Royal Opera present precious little Baroque opera so this generous double bill is a breath of fresh air. To add to this generosity, the Royal Ballet have joined them and most significantly Wayne McGregor, the resident choreographer, has directed the whole thing. Sadly the end product is very much a McGregor show, endlessly attractive but fairly hollow. Style triumphing (especially in Galatea) over substance.

"Dido and Aeneas" is comfortably the stronger part of the evening. First and foremost the core opera is dramatically stronger and McGregor attaches to this some effective stage images that enhance without distracting. The dance is very much second fiddle here, in fact the Royal Ballet hardly get a look in providing filler between the scenes but little more. It's typical McGregor choreography, danced efficiently but unspectacularly. The architectural sets are nicely evocative and McGregor uses the chorus in a very intelligent fashion. Often on the move, the chorus is more interesting than the pure dancers around.

Whilst the production looks good it doesn't overly impose itself, which is no bad thing when you've got a cast like this. Sarah Connolly (remarkably only now debuting at Covent Garden) is an absolute powerhouse of a singer yet she projects her magnificent voice with an air of vulnerability, a combination that on paper sounds like an oxymoron but somehow on stage isn't. This is a truly a performance to savour, her Lament was heartrending. She receives able support from Lucy Crowe (also on debut), a radiant soprano who produced a similarly tender performance. Iestyn Davies, yet another debut (long overdue), takes the tiny role of the Spirit, but his luscious vocals come across even in such a small role. His is a pure counter-tenor of serious beauty and hopefully the Royal Opera will have him back many times in the future. The appearance of the Spirit was the only occasion when the dance really came into its own, a truly mercurial solo danced by Steven McRae. None of the remaining singers came quite up to the plate although Eri Nakamura (one of the Jette Young Artists) continues to impress the small roles she's given. Lucas Meachem was a fairly dull unimposing Aeneas and Sara Fulgoni whilst nasty enough vocally lacked some heft.

"Acis and Galatea" isn't quite so riveting. The thin story is padded to almost ninety minutes leaving some massive longeurs and whilst the music is never less than brilliant, theatrically it never is. McGregor effectively doubles all the roles, a dancer and a singer, to variable effect. It gives rise to a clever dualism, the earthy singers paired with the more magical, godly dancers, but it distracted and as usual his choreography is more flash than content. This marks a step in the right direction for him narratively with some more lyrical steps and a couple of duets that almost suggest emotion but it's still too harsh and clinical to my mind. The designs here are a bizarre mishmash. The bucolic idyll that is initially conjured gives way to a series of disorientating backdrops and incoherent props, the rotating building looking tacky especially when compared with the clean designs of "Dido". Only in the final moments when the dancer Acis, Edward Watson, and the singer Galatea, Danielle de Niese, come together in a gorgeous bit of dance does the dual casting truly soar and the confusing production finally justify itself.

The singing is strong without the brilliance of the "Dido" cast. De Niese is a polished performer but her voice is not world class. She projects quite well, albeit with some weak diction, but her soprano is small and the huge auditorium rather dwarfs it. Charles Workman has marvellously potent lungs and navigated the essentially chamber music with real flair and a lot of gusto. Matthew Rose has the vocal prowess, I don't think I've ever been unimpressed by his rock-solid bass, but he's lumbered with some cumbersome movement. Paul Agnew gave a confident performance but his rather muddy voice wasn't completely to my taste. Ji-Min Park, a Jette Young Artist who will go far, needs to work on his diction (a mess of peculiar vowel sounds) but is otherwise a remarkable singer. Of the dancers it's Lauren Cuthbertson and Watson who get the best of the choreography. I haven't seen Cuthbertson take on quite so sexy a role before but she oozes sex appeal and makes for a very fine double to De Niese. Eric Underwood shows the softer side of Polyphemus, his rippling muscles a clever counterpoint to the exposed Rose.

"Dido" comes up trumps mostly because the production provides an efficient background to a truly superb opera sung by a tremendous cast headed by Connolly. "Acis" struggles because it needs a strong directorial hand to bring out the drama and McGregor, despite some interesting ideas, doesn't quite have this. I'd love to see more opera direction from him, preferably without the pure dance. He steers the chorus in a fascinating manner and he commits to the text rather than imposing his own ideas which I really like. Whatever its failings this is a near unmissable evening. The gorgeous music is played with such aplomb under Christopher Hogwood, who never once let the pace flag, by the Orchestra of the Age of the Enlightenment that it's almost worth the price of entry alone. A flawed evening, but a welcome one.

Inferno

I was really psyched for this production. What I'd read sounded awesome. Little prepared me for an evening that is really clocking high on my worst shows of the year list. I'd take the seven circles of hell over watching this again. If you're not a pretentious masochist stay well away. I'll attempt to describe some of this "show" but I fear that in doing so I might use the odd metaphor and lend this epic pile of theatrical bollocks a value it doesn't have.

Whilst waiting for the show to start, the audience were left watching some glowing letters spelling out inferno (backwards as it happens) whilst the most excruciating, unpleasantly loud, sound effects played in the background (on a side note, I've really got to question the health and safety people allowing the sound volume throughout the show, the clubs I'm regularly dragged to by my dreadful friends abuse my ears to a lesser extent). The letters were then removed and Romeo Castellucci, the primary inflictor of this turd, announced his name before putting on some thick padding and getting attacked by dogs. "Getting attacked by dogs" sounds really cool on paper but so planned and artificial was this attack that even the visceral thrill of seeing a man attacked by dogs was lost (dogs aren't really lions or leopards either). We later gained a pretty white horse which had red paint thrown over it. Whilst PETA might have a problem with this I'm not overly fussed, the horse didn't seem to much mind, but it didn't seem terribly kind. Nor did it seem to have any bearing on anything else that happened in the show. Plus to add to the animals, Castellucci throws a few adorable children into the mix. I'm amazed we didn't have monkeys in bowler hats as well. (Oh, and he sets fire to a piano, whatever suits him I guess).

The show meanders through a series of images none of which amount to anything substantial and all of which are accompanied by offensively loud "music" by Scott Gibbons (who we're told in the programme is "cited by many as a seminal composer of micromusic and ambient 'isolationist' music" both of which sound like "genres" dreamt up to allow a few more people to be "seminal"). The crowd (made up largely of amateurs I think) all killed each other at one point which was mildly interesting (I think that's what they were doing, it could well have been an avant-garde game of scrabble for all I know) but it raised more guffaws than shocks. The piece eventually ended (I almost wept with joy I was so bored) with no one quite sure of what they'd seen but not really caring either.

I'm sure there are some who will think this was a work of genius, which is all well and good, (I can feel the abusive comments already) but at this point my ears are the only things feeling mildly abused and my wallet robbed. Obtuse for the sake of being obtuse, this never amounts to anything. I've got tickets to the other two parts and I'll probably turn up just in case something wonderful happens but I'm not hopeful. Pointless, loud, pretentious and to make matters worse really dull. A true stinker.

Jet Set Go!

I truly thought "Xanadu" would be the campest show I'd ever see. "Jet Set Go!" seems to think otherwise. High art this ain't, in fact it's ninety minutes of pure tosh, but who cares when you're having such a great time.

Buried in the tiny Jermyn Street Theatre, you'd never expect to find such an energetic show just waiting to take off. The microscopic stage should look cramped with the eight performers dashing about like, incredibly camp, chickens but it's a testament to the choreography that somehow it never does. The songs by Pippa Cleary aren't exactly revolutionary but they're light and breezy in a derivative sort of way and the main theme is a catchy ditty that I was still humming as I left the theatre. It's the text that really drives the show, a continuous stream of witty, bitchy jokes that almost invariably hit their targets. The characters themselves are hardly well rounded but they're a likeable bunch of stereotypes, with all the predictable flaws creating entirely predictable, but amusing drama.

The cast look like they're having a great time and it rubs off. John McManus is simply hysterical as the almost too gay, Ryan. Despite being a dreadful stereotype he still manages almost the only note of pathos in the evening with a quietly poignant moment just before the piece's conclusion. Mark Evans has a lovely singing voice although his character was the dullest of the lot. Amy Coombes's heavy welsh accent gets her a half dozen laughs before she even starts singing and she's gifted the funniest song of the night, one that almost brought down the house. The two pilots made for a great double act; the sarcastic Philip Riley and naive Tim Driesden milking the setting for all its worth. Danielle Corlass had a couple of dodgy vocal moments but mostly has a rather fine voice and her gormless behaviour never failed to make me laugh.

This will never change the world, although with a title like "Jet Set Go!" what was I really expecting? The lack of substance does cause the show to drag a little in its latter stages but there's enough here to just about sustain the ninety minute running time. Slickly staged, well performed and always entertaining but just lacking in a little heart. An airline musical probably isn't a very hard sell (who wouldn't want to see such a thing?) but if you've got a free evening this is worth checking out. Maybe grab a pint beforehand though.