ABT, DON QUIXOTE, MET OPERA HOUSE, NEW YORK CITY, JUNE 7, 2004

DANCE REVIEW BY PIA CATTON

A Perfect Night at the Ballet

If only every night were as much fun as Monday was at American Ballet Theatre. The evening's performance of ~ 'Don Quixote" brimmed with confidlent, glorious dancing. Rarely is an entire cast so "on."  The leads, Nina Ananiashvili and Jose Manuel Carreno as the lovers Kitri and Basil, were utter nagic. Veronika Part made a trio debut as the Queen of the Dryads, and Marcelo Gomes laid it on thick as the extra.lusty matador. Even the Don Q dummy was swept away by the windmill correctly. It was, simply, a special night at the ballet.

Seeing as Mr. Gomes nearly stole the show, he's the obvious one to begin with. Dancing as Espada, a famous matador, Mr. Gomes swept onto the stage with passionate machismo. His initial dance was bold and saucy, but he outdid this in Act II, flirting outrageously with Ms. Ananiashvili and bullying Mr. Carreno, who suddenly seemed boyishly naive. At one point, after completing a pass that finished in front of the seated Ms. Ananiashvili, he threw her a leering, come. hither air kiss that seemed especially Latin. It was such a wonderful over the top gesture. He took his bow with the swagger of a soccer star, greasing back his hair.

His vibrant partner for the evening was Carmen Corella, dancing the role of Mercedes, the street dancer. Ms. Corella handled this role with the powerful projection of a happy diva. Her dancing was full and bright, and her character appropriately sexy and taunting. When Kitri's father asked her, in mime, "Have you seen a beautiful girl around here?" Ms. Corella shoved herself up to him, with a shoulder jutted at a sharp angle, and gave a chin thrust as if to say, "Yeah, right here, Mister."

Within the main plot, Don Quixote - a doddering oldman chasing after a vision - has a dream in which Kitri stands in as his imaginary love. The dream allows for a segment of tutus and classicism, all of it ruled over by the supremely royal Ms. Part. So lush in her arms, yet so strong and purposeful in her back and lower body, she has a unique style. Her Italian fouettes were stretched and swept beautifully - and she held it all at the end for just a precious extra second or two. Her reward was a cheering, manic crowd.

The evening's flower girls were Maria Riccetto and Erica Cornejo, dancing like best friends who have essentially opposite personalities: introverted and extroverted. Ms. Riccetto is a precise, lovely dancer who delivered technique with simplicity and grace. Ms. Cornejo, on the other hand, is a giver. With something as little as an arm passed over her head and a look up to the third tier, she dazzled.

The leads? Ms. Ananiashvili was very much the star. In her first scene, she was energetic in her leaps and acted smoothly as she looked for her boyfriend. When Mr. Carreno arrived, the energy between them heightened everything; all of the flirting with others and pouting is part of the choreography, but these two have such a rapport that it was executed with ease. They draw energy from each other and their palpable joy spread to everyone in the house, on stage and off.

Ms. Ananiashvili is famed for her turning and long-held balances - and delivered as usual. In Act III, she performed a series of fouettes with hands on her hips, then one arm out and the other holding her skirt, then both arms working. The music increased in tempo and seemed to be egging her on.

While hers was a performance full of vivacious character and brilliant technique, there were moments at which Ms. Ananiashvili seemed to be pushing a little too hard. In the partnering, too, there were also a few loose moments that could have gone either way. Mr. Carreno has had nights on which he stuck landings more consistently and modulated the speed on his buttery pirouettes with a little more control; but with a dancer so pure, noble and very much the essence of a partner, there's plenty of room in the margins.

Credit is also due to Victor Barbee who did a fine job as Don Quixote. Flavio Salazar gave a cute and cuddly version of the sidekick Sancho Panza. But Guillaume Graffin as the local rich nobleman Gamache, was priceless for his excellent timing. And this was the first time I've seen the dummy get swung up on the windmill, then released without getting flopped or bounced around and appearing suicidal.

That this performance was witnessed by a vocal, energetic audience made everything all the more thrilling. There were so many positive sounds - as opposed to the usual wheezing, coughing, and hacking - emitted. A child in the balcony somewhere laughed uncontrollably when Mr. Salazar sounded the rusty old horn. There were men behind me hooting at Mr. Carreno's greatness. Other folks were giggling at some of the slapstick and mime. There was strong applause on entrances, and explosions at the end of the performance. Nights like this are why we watch.