American Ballet Theatre, Metropolitan Opera House, May 12-July 5, 1997.

Swans, scullery maids, mechanical dolls, tragic lovers, and oh-so-merry widows overflowed the Metropolitan Opera House this spring. Seeking financial stability, American Ballet Theatre played it safe by programming seven evening-length story ballets and only three mixed bills for its annual season. But is that enough to keep this Beauty of a company awake?

Once upon a time, blockbuster was a term more appropriate to a discussion of movies than ballet companies. But the word springs to mind when thinking about American Ballet Theatre's season at the Metropolitan Opera House, May 12-July 5. Expanding on recent programming strategy, artistic director Kevin McKenzie devoted the bulk of this engagement to lavishly produced evening-length story ballets, assuming that these draw larger audiences and revenues. Only nine performances in eight weeks were mixed bills, but houses appeared as full for these as for the evening-lengths. Is blockbuster really better?

ABT will perform a more varied repertory for two weeks at City Center next month, November 4-16. Still, I felt for the dancers this spring: principals danced once or twice a week, while corps members spent a great deal of time decorating the perimeters of the stage. And the quality of the dancing was not always up to par, particularly at the soloist level. Some of the standards looked weary, particularly Marius Petipa's Swan Lake and The Sleeping Beauty, while the company seemed energized for the mixed-bill programs.

The lighter tone of Ronald Hynd's The Merry Widow, a company premiere, and Frederic Franklin's cozy restaging of Coppelia balanced the tragic story ballets. The Merry Widow afforded ABT's dancers an opportunity for outrageous cutting up, while the most memorable dancing arose from an Ashton-influenced pas de deux for the characters Valencienne and Camille, most tenderly performed by Irina Dvorovenko and John Gardner. Franklin's Coppelia, with wonderful scenery by Tony Straiges, evoked memories of Franklin's tenure with the Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo. The company performed Coppelia with obvious affection and understanding.

By far the most-hyped premiere this season was Lar Lubovitch's Othello, ABT's "first fully commissioned, evening-length ballet," coproduced with San Francisco Ballet.

If a movie blockbuster has come to be defined by cinematic effects that frighten, astound, or awe the audience, more than by any aspect of screenwriting or acting, then Othello--the Ballet has "blockbuster" written all over it. From the moment the Met's great gold curtain opened, it was the dramatic set by George Tsypin that seduced the audience and dominated the production. Huge movable slabs of translucent cracked glass were juxtaposed with Wendall K. Harrington's projections of lush Venetian scenes; raw edges of power collided with artistry in this privileged milieu. The destructive nature of this society's politics, whether between men or between men and women, was implied in the opening sequence, where courtiers' exaggerated gestures fragmented into artificial poses. Entering this arena, Desdemona embodied the society's fragility, as well as the place of women in it. She bourreed downstage to greet the Moor accompanied by a tinkling motif that sounded like glass bells--a rare moment when Elliot B. Goldenthal's music actually supported the physicality of the dancing.

In the second act Harrington's projections of a moonlit sea and the vessel carrying Othello and Iago home were magnificent, dwarfing an insipid pas de trots for Desdemona, Cassio, and Emilia and a "water study" of rushing wave-like motion for the corps of women.

Lubovitch's choreography for Desdemona and Othello in their various pas de deux failed to develop themes of love or attraction with much distinctiveness. There was a motif in which the lover's arms formed a protective circle around the beloved's body--a promise that was ultimately broken. Otherwise, these duets abounded with the familiar swooping and lifts that are modern ballet's romantic cliches. Iago's brutality toward Emilia set the tone for male partnering in the mass dances: women were manipulated by their heads, supported awkwardly beneath their armpits, and flung like rag dolls. In the finale, Othello succumbed to this societal norm. Won over by Iago psychologically as well as physically, he swung Desdemona by her neck, appearing to strangle rather than smother her, which is how Shakespeare did the deed.

Any aspects of Othello's tragedy that failed to touch the audience seemed less the fault of the dancers than of the choreography, for both Desmond Richardson (in the first cast) and Keith Roberts (in the second) did their best with a character who seemed catatonic from the start. Roberts's supporting cast had more dimension, with Kent, as Desdemona, a truly sympathetic figure. Robert Hill's Iago was brittle with malevolence, while Susan Jaffe made Emilia a nuanced woman.

Lacking either rhythmic or melodic support from the score, Lubovitch's choreographic vision failed to impassion Shakespeare's drama or sustain it for three acts. In the end, it was the set and Ann Hould-Ward's costumes that made the greatest impact. It is of major significance, however, that Othello, particularly when Richardson danced, attracted the largest African American audience ever seen at an ABT performance.

The mixed bills included some livelier fare. Led by Vladimir Malakhov and Ethan Stiefel in different performances, George Balanchine's complete Apollo was scrupulously danced. While the company always performs Balanchine's Theme and Variations with great vitality, the second act of Petipa's La Bayadere appears to have lost some of the enchantment that distinguished previous performances of it. James Kudelka's Cruel World has not improved with age and seemed painfully underrehearsed. Jaffe and Julio Bocca were well matched in the playful lyricism of Jerome Robbins's Other Dances. In addition, the mixed bills were fleshed out with a number of standard pas de deux performed with panache that delighted audiences.

With the repetition of ballets night after night, my attention turned to the progress of individual dancers. Both Malakhov and Stiefel made airborne travel seem truly effortless, and neither ever lost his sense of line or sense of timing in the air. Their landings were silent. Malakhov was the better actor (although he treads a fine line, veering toward melodrama) and was by far the superior partner. Stiefel was charming as Franz in Coppelia; as Siegfried in Swan Lake, he did not have a clue. Dancers like Stiefel and Paloma Herrera, with whom he danced his first Swan Lake, need serious coaching if they are to fathom the depths of these ballets. As technical whiz kids, they have received enthusiastic and well-deserved praise. But these ballets need more than technical bravura. From the waist down, Herrera is an extraordinary dancer, with stunning legs and feet, lovely ballon, and magical turns. But this season her improvised port de bras, with flattened fingers, flexed wrists, and crooked elbows, marred what should be the crowning glory of her dancing.

Julie Kent continues to bloom more radiantly with each new season. She enlivened the dreary proceedings of Ben Stevenson's Cinderella with her exquisitely delicate dancing and glowing expression. Just a few years ago, her face often reflected a thought process as she danced. That has given way to a spontaneity that can be deliciously tragic, romantic, or playful, depending on the role.

Martha Butler brought a particular freshness to Swanilda in Coppelia, while Gil Boggs played Dr. Coppelius as a wonderfully dotty old man rather than a cantankerous one. In that ballet both Ashley Tuttle and Oksana Konobeyeva danced Prayer as one delicate legato phrase. Yan Chen darted splendidly as both the Fairy of Happiness and Silver in The Sleeping Beauty, her energy matched by the ever-exuberant Angel Corella as Gold. Maxim Belotserkovsky's Bluebird was impressive.

Considering the amazing depth and breadth of American Ballet Theatre's repertory, this blockbuster season lacked imagination. ABT's dancers are capable of great dancing, but they need a season of repertory that challenges their many talents, one that fires their imaginations and their abilities as dancers.

Rose Anne Thom is a New York City critic for Dance Magazine and a member of the faculty of Sarah Lawrence College.