Saltarello at the Aotea Centre

By BERNADETTE RAE

I remember Christopher Hampson's Saltarello from its premiere season in 2001 as the most sexy, sassy and sumptuous display of pure classical dance in contemporary mode, and performed by the Royal New Zealand Ballet on that occasion, with spirit and speed, elegance and elan.

What has happened? The costumes in this new outing are the same slinky black and silver creations.

The music is, obviously, the same. Hampson has reworked some of the choreography, primarily to suit it to a larger stage.

But could that account for the feeling that Wednesday night's performance, at least, was a washed-out version of a previous winner?

The steps were there, they were fast and sharply performed, but the vital spark between dancers - and this work is about the energy of young people playing together - was not there.

Then came Abhisheka, choreographed by Adrian Burnett, and inspired by the rather difficult music of John Psathas.

The title, which is the Sanskrit word for initiation, as in Hindu ritual and ceremony, comes from Psathas. Burnett has used it as a starting point only.

The opening movement, with Pieter Symonds standing in a vertical stream of a dry, but waterlike, substance, is a play on the concept of anointment or pouring.

But the work then becomes totally abstract, with layers of intricate movement that eventually settle into a sweeping harmony, except there is an unintentional disharmony.

While the "girls" - even the youngest members of the company - look and dance like women, there is a distinct boyishness about the "boys", and not in a playful sense.

There have been many recent changes in the company and the mature masculinity of dancers such as Graham Fletcher and Stephen Wellington are sorely missed.

The company's strengths are quite out of balance, a great pity for Saltarello and for the looming British tour. Those new boys have only a couple of months to step up to the line.

Or they could perform Javier De Frutos' The Celebrated Soubrette instead. In that, the men are chorus boys, while female energy rules.

This was by far the most successful work on the bill, with Nadine Tyson strutting her stuff in the title role of glamorous dancing queen, fighting off the catty overtures of rising stars.

Michael Daugherty's music shrieks of Liberace, and choreography and design work perfectly together to provide a sharp, almost cartoon-like visual low-down of Las Vegas. And all without losing a smidgen of the pathos that would do Tennessee Williams proud.