Dance Review by Clement Crisp

Seek not for any dramatic sense in Raymonda. It was a nonsense 100 years ago when Petipa made it, and it remains so today. But look for dancing, and more dancing, and classical dancing at that, and the Bolshoi staging by Yury Grigorovich, is a feast for the eyes.

The Bolshoi began the week at the Coliseum with this sprightly old warhorse. It is Grigorovich's finest classical recension, with clever reworking of some of the traditional text, brilliant homage to the Petipa original, (the nocturnal vision in Act 1 contains a waltz that is a model of classic invention), and a tremendous ballerina role, tremendously taken on Monday night by Nina Ananiashvili.

And, of course, there is the wonderful Glazunov score, rich beyond any balletomane's dreams in melodic charm, brazen sonorities, Tchaikovskian variations, and all the sweet-toothed delights of the old ballets which still hold us in thrall. I love every least step of it, every mindless trick of the plot, every last evolution of medieval courtiers, Saracens, Crusaders, classic soloists, and the ambulant statue of the White Lady.

For the Bolshoi, in this happy season, it is an opportunity to show us just what is meant by a classical ensemble. The accent is on youth in the case of many soloists: Raymonda's statutory "friends" include the charming, light-footed Anna Antonicheva, who is paired with the lovely Nina Speranskaya. In the nocturnal vision, Mariya Alexandrova and Natalya Malandina were enchanting in their pretty variations - the steps shown with a kind of loving grace, a delight in their challenges. As the two troubadours, Bernard and Beranger, Ruslan Skvortsov and Konstantin Ivanov were notably stylish classicists, with the young Skvortsov a talent to nurture. A company performance, indeed, in which we can see that schooling, academic assurance, and that passion for dance itself which is a hallmark of Russian style, still sustain and inspire the work of this newest generation of Moscow dancers.

At the heart of the piece, and its justification, the ballerina as Raymonda. In an age when the word, let alone the idea of a ballerina, is so debased, Nina Ananiashvili reasserts its meaning. Here is a dancer in the high summer of her art, superbly schooled, endowed with those rare gifts of lovely physique and commanding temperament that a true ballerina must have, mature in understanding, knowing exactly how choreography must be displayed rather than simply danced.

So Ananiashvili takes Raymonda's treasury of solos and duets, and wears them like the Faberge jewels that they are. Ravishing arms; a torso that knows exactly how the sweetest curves will enhance a pose; an arabesque that is worth your ticket - price; dark, lustrous Georgian eyes and a freedom with effects - a dizzying circuit of the stage, the dance opening out and flowering - that make each moment seem precious. It is a superb role for a ballerina because it is totally exposed - there are no hiding places; no dramatic tricks to blind the viewer - and to be made sense of only by an artist of the greatest distinction. (A decade ago Ludmila Semenyaka was a radiant Raymonda with the Bolshoi.) Ananiashvili shows the dance to us in all its glory, and in all her glory, too. Stunningly good.

Her partner was Sergei Filin, attentive, an excellent foil, able to carry off a white cloak and a dashing variation with ease. I also liked Mark Peretokin as Abderakhman, the Saracen villain, master of the burning glance and the danced equivalent of heavy breathing. The role is alive, and - almost - credible.

There was wholly admirable playing from the Bolshoi orchestra under Alexander Sotkikov: Glazunov's golden score was honoured in every bar. A grand evening.