Coppelia.

New Zealand and Scandinavia may be near opposite poles of the planet but their ballet traditions are linked despite geography. Poul Gnatt, brother of Kirsten Ralov, was a principal with the Royal Danish Ballet. He came to New Zealand and formed the country's first ballet company in 1953. Coppelia has been in its repertoire almost continually since that time.

The company today has a particular reputation for strong characterization in the staging of evening-length dramatic works. Gnatt and his successors as artistic director--Russell Kerr, Harry Haythorne, and Ashley Killar--have each put a distinctive stamp on the repertoire. Swedish-born and -trained Matz Skoog has been director only since January, and this production was the first opportunity to see his mark on the company's style.

Dancing Swanilda for the last time, Anne Anderson (who is retiring after fifteen years with the company) played a most convincing combination of cheeky girl, worried lover, and exquisite doll. Xavier Ferla, an ex-Bejart dancer who has recently joined the troupe, was Franz. Although capable of considerable virtuosity, he missed the balance of "boy" with "ballet dancer" that the role, and the production, required.

Dr. Coppelius was played by Jon Trimmer, whose legendary career of nearly forty years with the Royal New Zealand Ballet is cause for celebration. Trimmer first played this role in 1964, alternating as Franz. He doesn't do Franz anymore, but there's nothing tired or cliched about his Coppelius. The sinister aspect of the youths' attack on the old doctor is minimized in Skoog's production, but Trimmer still catches a real poignancy in Coppelius's confusion and dismay. And the pride in his dolls is as nothing compared to his mesmerized astonishment as Coppelia thaws into life. Trimmer has all the dramatic conviction of an actor, the grace and supreme coordination of a dancer the special clarity of movement of a mime, and the intuitive sense of timing of a great comedian.

Designer Raymond Boyce researched nineteenth-century French automata for the workshop scene. His flying horse, flapping owl, apple-juggling clown, jack-in-the-box puppeteer, and scimitarwielding Sinbad (not to mention curtseying sunflowers and blossoming poppies) were all quite magical. The Wellington Sinfonia, conducted by David Taylor, promised much in a sparkling overture; it seemed as though Gnatt were present for the first act's spirited dancing and realistic miming, which echoed the great vitality for which the Royal Danish Ballet is renowned.