Dance Review by Molly Glentzer

On rare occasions, a dance performance can so elevate the spirit that it’s hard not to cry for joy. When this happens, you understand ballet as more than a pleasant diversion; you’ve experienced the truly transcendent power of art...

Only a few performances have ever made me feel this way. The premiere of Christopher Bruce’s "Cruel Garden" in 1993 was one; Janie Parker’s final performance of Ben Stevenson’s "Image", in 1996, was another.

I did not expect it Thursday night when Houston Ballet trotted out Ronald Hynd’s The Merry Widow, a lavish but cartoonish confection based on the 1905 operetta by Franz Lehar. Desmond Heeley’s exquisite decor and costumes seemed like the stars of the evening.

This $1.2 million production, leased from the National Ballet of Canada, was one of the costliest in the history of ballet when it premiered in 1986. Indeed, oohs and ahhs and applause flitted through the audience when the elaborate ballroom was revealed in Act 1, and again in the magical evening setting of Act 2, with its Chinese lanterns. This was followed by the outrageously red Chez Maxim of Act 3, which combined glitzy chandeliers, mirrors and garish yellow cancan costumes.

The opening scenes brought over-the-top comedic antics, also as expected, to set up the story. At an embassy in Paris, a trio of undersecretaries finishes paperwork prior to an evening ball. Their Balkan country, Pontevedra, is nearly bankrupt. Hope arrives in a telegram announcing that a rich Parisian widow, originally from Pontevedra, is coming to the ball, looking for a husband. They plot to match her with the drunken but highly eligible Count Danilo - unaware that the pair had been in love as teens...

Thankfully, The Merry Widow wasn’t mired in mime; the good-natured dancing began almost immediately. By the time Bolshoi Ballet prima ballerina Nina Ananiashvili took center stage, The Merry Widow was set to swirl along happily, combining pseudo-folk dancing, classical ballet and waltzes.

But, surprise: She extended a lean leg, presented a regally arched foot and proceeded to melt hearts for the next two hours. Ananiashvili is not considered a superstar for nothing.

In the mixed-repertory program of the previous week, she blazed through the bravura steps of the Le Corsaire pas de deux and showed an equal affinity for lyricism in Ben Stevenson’s Three Preludes. But those were quick hits and one-dimensional characters.

The role of the rich, charming and slightly devious widow, Hanna Glawari, allowed her to delve into her psyche, and she shared the experience generously. It didn’t matter that the steps weren’t particularly challenging.

Ananiashvili has the fingers of a delicate porcelain doll, beautifully fluid lines and a face that radiates expression. She used every ounce of her charisma on Thursday, by turns passionate, comic, mysterious, vulnerable and controlling.

Ananiashvili's musicality was beguiling through the broad sweeps of Lehar’s Merry Widow Waltz, which was played by the Houston Ballet Orchestra with increasing intensity as the night progressed.

This Hanna, to put it in terms more appropriate to the current turn of the century, rocked. We saw the startling sting of past rejection when she was first reunited with Danilo, the slow wash of ecstasy as she acquiesced to love, the sweep of delight before she glided into a waltz, her cunning calculation in a sexy dance with the scarf she had given Danilo as a young girl.