American Ballet Theatre.

American Ballet Theatre Metropolitan Opera House, Lincoln Center, NYC Mar 22-JULY 15, 2006

The night that Julio Bocca gave his farewell performance, the Metropolitan Opera House became a stadium of yelling, cheering people who threw things at the stage--oranges and flags--even from the highest side balconies. Every principal dancer who had danced with him, from Cynthia Gregory to Julie Kent, showered him with kisses and flowers. Confetti glittered, and Bocca guzzled a bottle of beer-in profile. The unruly audience (which included clusters of Argentineans) held onto each opportunity to say good-bye. Alessandra Ferri, who had just given a gloriously reckless performance of MacMillan's Manon with him, joined him on a few of file curtain calls. Each time he reappeared the crowd roared vet again.

Another big moment in the spring season was the company premiere of James Kudelka's Cinderella, a strange and satisfying ballet. It's not easy to find a new full-length that can hold its own amidst the beloved chestnuts of Swan Lake, Giselle, and Romeo and Juliet. ABT has been trying out a new full-length every spring, often with lackluster results. This time it finally hit the mark, and in doing so, brought the spring season into the current century. Kudelka's Cinderella, which premiered for National Ballet of Canada two years ago and was later taken by Boston Ballet, is not shy about being either funny or romantic, and the choreography holds the attention throughout.

Visually, it's very contemporary, with a ballroom that looks like it's made of origami paper (design by David Boechler). The duet between Cinderella and Her Prince Channing at the ball is delicate, wistful, complex, and totally convincing. Before they actually get together, they dance in parallel worlds across the front of the stage, building up suspense. He reaches for her hand and then pulls back. They invite each other to dance with a little swaying balance. Kudelka knows the value of simple moves. Once they decide to dance together, Prince Charming lifts Cinderella and moves her three inches to the side. It's just a little lift, but it shifts everything. She has surrendered without surrendering. When they finally kiss, you really feel it. Julie Kent was luminous as Cinderella and Marcelo Comes was gallant as the prince who travels the world to find her.

During two of Prokofiev's turbulent passages of deep, thundering tympani and French horn, 12 men, all wearing pumpkin heads, jump up one at a time in a circle. It is strangely stirring, perhaps because it reminds Cinderella of the danger of turning into a pumpkin, or missing life's moment of opportunity.

There were other treats too: Erica Cornejo as a myopic stepsister recklessly threw herself into ridiculous lifts and straddles, eliciting belly laughs. And Martine van Hamel as a drunken stepmother, tottering over to the cabinet for the bottle, even climbing on drawers to reach for the high shelf, was priceless.

The other company premiere, Cranko's Jeu de Cartes (A Poker Game in Three Deals), is a silly ballet. It's mildly amusing to see dancers emerge from behind giant cards. It's hard to follow the lead role of the Joker--is he a tyrant, a wild card, or a scapegoat?--but Carlos Lopez fulfilled the many moods with aplomb. Irina Dvorovenko as the Queen of Hearts went at it like a vaudeville entertainer. Sarah Lane (a dancer I'd love to see more of) was charming and impetuous as the Two of Diamonds.

Ashton's Sylvia, a lavish ballet with choreography stretched thin over a long plot, opened its run with Gillian Murphy as Sylvia and Maxim Beloserkovsky as Aminta. Murphy radiated strength as the huntress but was not particularly expressive in the head and upper chest. Beloserkovsky made a princely shepherd, with bursts of energy that showed his ardor. Carmen Corella, onstage only a few minutes near the end, made a powerful Diana, trying to break up the lovers. The lifts in the final pas de deux are remarkable: Aminta looks like he's taking hold of a statue--Sylvia's all in one piece--rather than a dancer.

As for ABT's chestnuts, the performances I saw were top-notch. Diana Vishneva's Giselle was divine. In the first act, she dipped her head in a way that showed her shyness and vulnerability. Vladimir Malakhov was magnificent in line and leaps but didn't look at his sweet peasant girl much, even when she melted into his body. Her entire mad scene, though less aggressive than some, was quietly affecting. She seemed already to have a ghostlike cast, as though she were becoming a Wili before our eyes--not waiting for intermission. Malakhov was more convincing when he got to be tragic in the second act. His brises sped toward Myrta as though pushed by fate. Stella Abrera shone in the peasant pas de deux. (Oh, how much longer do we have to wait to see her do Giselle?)

Dvorovenko and Beloserkovsky delivered a superb Swan Lake. His aristocratic bearing and caring gestures helped you believe in the story. Her Odette was a real creature, head pressing forward in anguish, arms reaching back like wounded wings. His Siegfried was a seeker even before he met Odette, looking for something loftier than the material wealth he was to inherit. The pas de deux was exquisite.

As Odile, Dvorovenko was as sure as a venom-dipped arrow that knows its path, as glittering as a knife blade. With determined glances at us, she colluded with the audience in duping him. When she lured him and suddenly turned away, you couldn't help but feel sorry for him. Marcelo Gomes, meanwhile, relished his allure and evil as von Rothbart, almost outrageously so. Back at the lakeside, Dvorovenko's Odette was even more limpid than before. Her very slowness signaled her forgiveness; a sadness hung in the air.

Le Corsaire, with its explosions of spectacular jumps and turns, is always a crowd pleaser. Dvorovenko as Medora commanded the stage with her silken yet crisp dancing. But Angel Corella as the Slave stole the show. His bounding power startled and his pirouettes seemed endless. As Gulnare, Abrera gave an extra breath to her port de bras; she was a pleasure to behold. Roman Zhurbin wiggled like Jell-o as the clueless pasha.

The most powerful performance came from Vishneva in MacMillan's Romeo and Juliet. Although she did not make the transformation from young girl to woman--she seemed already too grown up to be playing hide-and-seek with her nurse--she later brought an emotional despair that was deeply affecting. In the balcony scene, her body opened up to Romeo in beautiful ways. Corella was a fine Romeo, but his greatest scene was the swordfight with Tybalt. He tore into the duel, and you knew he wouldn't let up until he had destroyed Tybalt. Veronika Part as Lady Capulet and Susan Jones as the Nurse had their moments of high grief. David Hallberg, the newest principal, made an interesting debut as Paris: He was clearly drawn to Juliet, but ultimately slightly sinister.

Let me say that I think Herman Cornejo is one of the great dancers of our time. He infuses classical roles with a lightness and joy that is natural, subtle, and immediate. His jumps spring into the air with no preparation and his landings are soft and quiet. His double cabrioles open and close languorously as if he's floating in the air. His dancing is never forced, but flows from the core of his being. In the pas de trois of Swan Lake, his soaring leaps showed his open-heartedness. As Lescaut in Manon, he was hilarious in the drunk scene where he staggers around while managing to partner his Mistress. As Mercutio he was so full of life that his death heightened the story's overall sense of tragedy. His presence is a major artistic asset to any production. See www.abt.org.

Wendy Peron