ABT, LA BAYADERE, MET OPERA HOUSE, NEW YORK CITY, MAY 13, 2004

DANCE REVIEW BY PIA CATTON

Ananiashvili's Riveting 'Bayadere'  

Sweeping vistas, grand temples, and a supernatural disaster are all part and parcel of American Ballet Theatre's La Bayadere, which opened Thursday evening at the Metropolitan Opera House. La Bayadere is set in royal India -- or at least the 19th-century Russian take on it. Some versions of this romantic ballet go on forever, but this production, by Natalia Makarova, keeps the action clipping along at a quick pace.

At the heart of the plot is Nikiya, the temple dancer or "la bayadere" (her part was danced on Friday by Nina Ananiashvili). She and the warrior Solor (Julio Bocca) are in love, but Solor arrives at his palace one day to discover that he is required to marry an eligible princess, Gamzatti (Gillian Murphy). When Gamzatti discovers that Solor has pledged his love to Nikiya, she hides a poisonous snake in a basket of flowers, and gives it to Nikiya when she dances at the couple's engagement party.

Nikiya dies. But just as Solor is about to marry Gamzatti, Nikiya reappears to him as a shade and Solor begs for her forgiveness. The angry gods destroy the temple, killing all inside, and the lovers reunite, both as shades this time.

Ms. Ananiashvili dances this role with just the right dramatic presence. For Nikiya's opening dance, Ms. Ananiashvili gives the simple steps a bit of sorrow -- her temple dancer is a caged bird, dancing not for joy, but for others. Later in Act I, after Solor has betrayed her, Ms. Ananiashvili is heartbreaking -- but still riveting -- in her listless attempt to entertain the guests. Unlike some in this role, she handles the snake-bite scene so well that the audience can understand clearly one of the basic facts of the story, that she has been bitten by the concealed reptile.

In her acting and her dancing, Ms. Ananiashvili is so secure that you can relax into warm and cozy suspension of disbelief. Her dark hair and furrowed brow make her look at times like a black-and-white film star, wilting over her partner's arm as if he were a chaise lounge. Though she adds flourishes at the wrist or an overextended neck, Ms. Ananiashvili does not make the dancing overly ornate; her style is straight and long, with little touches here and there. To watch her turn is the true thrill: In Act II, she executed a run of pique turns at a pace that is definitely above the speed limit in most small towns.

Ms. Murphy was a solid Gamzatti, though she is not the most glamorous or haughty ballerina that ABT has on its bench. Her work at the engagement party was clean – as with Ms. Ananiashvili, Ms. Murphy simply does not wobble or quiver. (Except, that is, when she lowers her fist to indicate that Nikiya must die, and with that gesture she trembles with resolve.)

Mr. Bocca is a dashing dancer and a concerned partner. He ended a series of impressive turns with a one-knee pose and his back fully extended so that his hands were on the floor.

He danced attentively with Ms. Murphy, but when he really needed to act, he seemed to be moving his lips instead of miming. In the final scene, he expressed a captivating sense of bewilderment when partnering his betrothed and the vision of Nikiya.

That confusion is one of the elements that made Act III excellent. With this combination of talent, there was not an emotion out of step or a moment wasted -- making the dramatic scene flow as if it were film, not theater.

Act II featured soloists in the Kingdom of the Shades who were of inconsistent ability. Michele Wiles is so musical, tall, and stunning that she dances as if she were a principal. She had some trouble in the slow, controlled solo, but danced with leagues more presence than Renata Pavam, who seems like a young colt thrown onto a race track too early. Erica Cornejo is bigger than Ms. Pavam, but smaller than Ms. Wiles. She has a well-proportioned, quick body and hits everything she needs to easily.

Gennadi Saveliev played the Head Fakir, who aids the plot. The costume calls for lots of dreadlocked hair and a loincloth (more or less), and he takes the gloss off his over-the-leg jumps and leaps. But you can still see this polish under the patina of grime. And though he is present for only about five minutes, Herman Cornejo tears up the stage in his solo as the Bronze Idol. This man's dancing just seems to get stronger, higher, smoother, every time he's on stage. As for the High Bramin, Victor Barbee delivered a performance touched by anger and torment. He seem a little more fierce than he did last year -- and that's all to the good.