Review: Dream of Red Chamber at Aotea Centre

One of China's four most famous literary novels provides the inspiration.

A tragic Romeo and Juliet-ish love story unfolds against the backdrop of a prosperous feudal family. The favourite son (Baoyu) is tricked into marrying the wrong girl (Baochai) while his true love (Daiyu) dies of a broken heart.

The eclectic score is by Su Cong, an expert in film and media music, whose compositions have been used in many movies, including Bernardo Bertolucci's The Last Emperor. The dance is an amalgam of Chinese classical, ballet and contemporary dance with an acrobatic zest, choreographed by much feted artistic director Zhao Ming.

The prelude is impressive. As the music begins the figures of Baoyu and Daiyu perform a sweet, soft focus duet.

Then the curtain goes up - and the extravaganza begins!

There could not be a greater contrast than that between the real time experience and the beautifully produced souvenir programme.

The latter features a red cover and wonderful, softly lit photographs in which the exquisite costumes shine.

In real time the stage is a common carnival of clashing colours and overwhelming set detail, against which a cast of some 70 dancers twirl and glide like butterflies in endless patterns and hues and young men leap and strut in equal, confusing embellishments.

The music is far too loud.

The dancers are obviously skilled but in a narrative work only the two grandmothers, one gracious and very much the mistress of all she surveys, and the other, in obvious peasant style (and played panto-style by a man) provide lucid characterisations.

The storyline is easy to follow, with a spoken commentary preceding each of the four acts but the production flatlines on an emotional level.

Baoyu remains perky to the end with just a little mechanical distress as he lifts the red veil to find he has married the wrong bride.

Whoops! And who knows what she thought the outcome of that moment would be?

Poor Daiyu is so tragic from Act I that her overwrought dying moments remain in the realms of melodrama.

So the most piercingly felt moment of true tragedy comes with the dreadful, beige and badly fitting bodysuits, in the final scene, transforming all those gorgeous butterflies and blokes into weevils.

What, exactly, was that?