Ballet Victor Ullate.

Perhaps the state of contemporary ballet is the same the world over: great dancers, not-so-great choreographers. That's certainly been the truth recently about classical dance in America, where some of the most compelling new works for ballet companies have been created by modern dance choreographers. Traveling to New York city for the first time in its eight-year existence, Madrid's Ballet Victor Ullate holds out no better hope for classical dance abroad. But don't forget the positive side of the equation: This company harbors divine performers-dancers powerful in technique and personality who, plunging through space, express the joy of being alive.

Even if Victor Ullate, the company's director, can't claim choreographic prowess, he's on the right track when it comes to training and coaching his troupe. From those selected for leading roles right down through those in the corps, the dancers possess a cracker-jack command of ballet,s demanding language. And it's not just that they whip off multiple turns and soaring leaps, or that they can thrust their legs high into the air. What's truly astounding are the aspects of their physicality that temper their virtuosity, making it rich, rather than showy, and refined, rather than crass.

Here are a few examples. Clarity: The dancers can move fluidly, yet with precision, so that each fully extended shape registers as a pure, fleeting picture, part of a nuanced phrase. Control: Taunting the laws of physics, the dancers can manipulate their sure-footed speed, their compact with gravity, the length of a balance, and the arc of a luxurious line unfolding like velvet. Generosity: Not one movement is stingy, ever, and this, combined with a lovely, relaxed composure, reveals the dancers as unaffected and full of an old-fashioned virtue, grace. Passion: The dancers revel in movement, displaying an utterly winsome eagerness and convincing viewers of their belief in what they are doing. Finally, the dancers are not only stunning singly, but in concert. They are wonderfully sympathetic partners, in sync physically, musically, and temperamentally.

As fabulous as the dancers are, they can't make their mediocre material much more than mediocre. Most of the fare is supplied by Ullate himself. Two ballets, Arrayan Daraxa and Jaleos, a premiere, struck me as related. Both use choreography as a sort of advertising tool, glossy packaging that shows off the salable attributes of the product in question, in this case, the company. The dances cry out, Watch these gorgeous performers! See all the exciting things they can do! Aren't they accomplished! Aren't they magnificent! But when this is all a dance is about, when a work substitutes surface for substance, even its most thrilling effects wear thin. Stultified, I yearned for the infomercial to end.

I was also hoping for a story ballet, believing that these complexly talented dancers might also be capable of emotional artistry. I should have watched what I wished for; Ullate gave us a story ballet with a vengeance. Entitled El Amor Brujo ("Love, the Magician"), the ninety-minute opus, performed without an intermission, definitely had something to do with love and death and pain and sorrow, and maybe redemption, and falseness, I think . . . and then there's that sorcerer and those bats and. . . . Oh, well, I give up. I truly would love to see the company make a return visit to New York. But maybe next time they'll bring their Giselle.