It's refreshing to come home from a City Ballet performance and realize I have absolutely nothing to complain about. So, snark will be at a minimum today. Sorry about that. I can't even think of anything particularly clever to say about the title. Four ballets, four choreographers. Yes indeed. Can't argue there. There's not much of anything thematically tying the ballets together, but so what? They're all interesting, and were all performed with gusto.

After ABT's somewhat constrained Ballo della Regina on City Center's too-small stage last fall, it was a happy change to see Ballo on a properly large stage, where the dancers could really fly. At every level, this was a thrillingly high-energy rendition of Balanchine's exploration of the ultima thule of women's allegro technique. And, yes, this will be yet another pean to Ashley Bouder's power, confidence and canny way with music. By now, Bouder's gotten so comfortable with Ballo's formidable technical demands she sails through them with a triumphant air, and if Verdi's ballet music weren't so happily infectious, I might be hearing "I Can Do That" from A Chorus Line. In her first solo, she timed the big Kitri-Plisetskaya leap perfectly, accelerating across the stage with ever-longer strides to Verdi's slightly drawn-out upbeat, then jumping on the downbeat introducing the solo's theme, as if Verdi's notes were sending her soaring. (I remember every lead in ABT's production approached this leap with uncertainty -- visibly adjusting the approaching steps and glissades to ensure that the head-kicking leap happened at just the right instant, but robbing it of much of its impact.)

Bouder was particularly emphatic in the lightning-fast repeated pirouette-to-arabesque combinations, with each arabesque like the stab of a lance. If Bouder occasionally looks pleased with herself, well, why shouldn't she? Like the great baseball pitcher Dizzy Dean once said, "it's not bragging if you can do it." Perhaps one day Bouder might decide to emulate Damian Woetzel, who would affect to look bored out of his mind while embellishing Theme and Variations to make it increasingly difficult. Perhaps, but I hope not. Bouder's perfectly capable of combining virtuosity with self effacement, as anyone who's seen her Vision Scene can attest. But in Ballo, I want bravura.

In one of the finest roles in his repertory, Benjamin Millepied also thrilled. He's got what I can only call a sculptural jump, big and massive in a way which might seem ponderous in a dancer with less alacrity. If you ever saw the wonderful Dane, Neils Kehlet, you'll know what I mean. In their short but tricky adagio, Bouder and Millepied made the convoluted promenades seem the most natural thing in the world. (Could any choreographer come close to Balanchine for devising an infinity of beautiful variations on a simple supported promenade?) After the stylistic and technical hesitancies of ABT's pairs, watching Bouder and Millepeid was like hearing a remastered 78 with all the clicks and hisses magically removed.

This Ballo wasn't entirely Bouder's show, as three of the four demisoloists were making debuts, and attesting to City Ballet's seemingly limitless pool of young female talent: Ashley Laracey, Erica Pereira and Kathryn Morgan, along with Ana Sofia Scheller. Pereira was enchanting -- small and with a slight physique that makes her look almost pre-adolescent, she handled the second solo with verve and delicacy. The fourth demi, Morgan, danced with the fullness and clarity I've come to expect from her. Scheller, normally possessed of a big, booming jeté, was subdued where she usually shines. As for the corps girls, they danced with brio, leaping over and devouring the stage with no less energy than the demis and leads. A friend of mine who was in the cheap seats upstairs (thanks to a donation, City Ballet's able to offer most Fourth Ring seat for $20 this season) reported that a sizeable number of Bouder fans departed immediately after Ballo. While I can understand the sentiment, they did miss some fine dancing for the rest of the evening.

Christopher Wheeldon's Liturgy is as mysterious and obtuse as ever. But it hardly matters when it gives Wendy Whelan an opportunity to stretch out from, around and over Albert Evans, with her usual fascinating dichotomy between her severe physique and rich, lush phrasing. Give Whelan an adagio, and she can move the world. Arvo Part's score helped set the mysterious mood. As the lights dim on Whelan and Evans echoing a formal and cryptic gesture of their arms, it felt that somewhere in the dark they're still performing this odd ritual.

Next was a revival of Peter Martins' 1987 Les Gentilhommes. Set to two of Handel's lovely Concerti Grossi, nine men, in white tights and loose-sleeved shirts, comport themselves with formal dignity suggesting Baroque dancing or fencing academies, as they power their way, as an ensemble, or divided into groups of three, through some of Martins' most challenging choreography. The ballet's original cast were gifted youngsters who went on to greater things. Among them were Gen Horiuchi, Peter Boal, Damian Woetzel and Jeffrey Edwards (a great dancer who never quite worked out at City Ballet). Martins' current cast is a talented one: Sean Suozzi, Robert Fairchild, Tyler Angle, Daniel Ulbricht, Adam Hendrickson, Antonio Carmena, Amar Ramasar, Austin Laurent and Allen Pfeiffer. Would that a new Woetzel or Boal would emerge from this group. Although Les Gentilhommes is ultimately bit shallow, and somewhat derivative of Jerome Robbins' never-finished "Arts of the Gentleman," it does give a good look at the strengths of these men, particularly Angle's grace, Suozzi's intensity, and Carmena and Hendrikson's bounding virtuosity. Speaking of virtuosity, Daniel Ulbricht took on the role of the diminutive "teacher" created by the brilliant Gen Horiuchi. (I remember a few years ago Horiuchi, now well into his forties, showed up for a class I was taking, and watching in amazement as he he tossed off eight and ten pirouettes at a time.) Ulbricht performed some amazing technical feats -- I remember an entrechat six with all the beats performed on the way up, while twisting through a half turn. Unfortunately, Ulbricht's got legs like tree trunks. The white tights aren't particularly kind to him, and it's unfortunate that here he's surrounded by men with some of the best lines in the company. In the right roles, Ulbricht's a delight, but try as he might, Les Gentilhommes isn't one of them.

The last of the four was Jerome Robbins' first ballet, the ever-popular Fancy Free, with its story of three sailors looking for excitement, and dames, while on shore leave in WW II New York. All three men here were excellent: the hard-working Ulbricht as the acrobatic first sailor, Tyler Angle as dreamy second, and Damian Woetzel as the suave third. After having been greatly impressed by Tiler Peck's recent debut in Carousel, I was looking forward to her debut as the girl in the purple dress -- the one who appears after two of the sailors have stomped off in pursuit of the red-handbag girl. For a first ballet, Fancy Free has a lot of depth, and it's even amenable to some different interpretations (although Robbins probably would've only been interested in one: his). Sometimes the sailor's taunting of the red-handbag girl seems playful and more-or-less harmless. That's actually a challenge, because to our 21st-century eyes, the encounter is redolent of sexual harassment. Other times it seems like the sailors are on the verge of raping the poor girl. Amanda Hankes never seemed in any danger; she clearly enjoyed the sailors' attentions, and was more than capable of putting them in their places when their behavior started crossing the line. I sometimes wonder if City Ballet's women enjoy putting their hair in Forties stylings; Hankes had fashioned her hair into an impressive sculpture, with a pair of whirlpool-like curls over her forehead.

Although the second girl, in the purple dress, is often played as somewhat innocent type, she can't be all that naive. After all, she's reading a newspaper beneath a lamppost, alone, at night, in a part of town that's clearly popular with swabbies out for a good time. Why? Peck, loaded up with sky-blue mascara, seems to have given the matter some thought. She's out looking to find herself some male company. In keeping with her makeup, Peck has a much more worldly and knowing air than many others who've played this role, but here it works perfectly. It's a good thing, too, as Woetzel followed in Robbins' footsteps and danced the pas de deux with Peck (these days it's more often the second sailor who does the honors). Woetzel's charming as ever, but he's far too mature to get away with playing the inexperienced naif. Instead, Woetzel's charm with Peck is so polished you know he's spent years perfecting his moves in ports around the world. So, when he grabs Peck's breast from behind, there's nothing "accidental" about it. Peck's clearly on to him, yet she's nonetheless intrigued. It's not hard to imagine that this girl isn't quite the tough cookie she's trying to appear. So their adagio was an extended bout of knowing flirtation, as each sized the other up, Woetzel testing just how much Peck would let him get away with. As they loosen each other up, the two become positively euphoric together, and Peck's headlong rush and summersault into Woetzel's arms was a proper climax to their games. When the music's over, and the couple walk back to their barstools, the sailor reaches out with a hand behind the girl, intending to grab her ass. Usually, the girl's oblivious, and the sailor aborts his mission. He's either too shy, or realizes he doesn't want to treat a "nice" girl that way. When Woetzel makes his move, Peck catches him out of the corner of her eye, and shoots him a quick, "don't-you-dare" glance. I was happy and a little surprise to see such a detailed and intelligent portrayal from such a young dancer.

In the solos where the sailors compete for the girls' attention, Ulbricht was was all brash, happy bravura. He even made a little joke out of not quite nailing his solo's final, one-legged balance, slowly slipping out of it towards the watching girls with a "I-meant-to-do-that" grin. Tyler Angle was fluid and dreamy in his, and Woetzel turned his rhumba into a bit of a travelogue, showing steps and gestures from his ports-of-call, with a commentary of a wry smile in the corner of his eye.

Even if there wasn't much to link these four ballets thematically, the were all extremely well danced. Between the anticipated pleasures -- Bouder and Whelan, say -- and those unexpected -- Peck -- it was a solid night at the theater, and I walked home happy and even enthused about what I'd seen.

Angle, Bouder, Carmena, Evans, Fairchild, Hankes, Hendrickson, Laracey, Laurent, Millepied, Morgan, Peck, Periera, Pfeiffer, Ramasar, Scheller, Suozzi, Ulbricht, Whelan, Woetzel

Edit: Changed 11 off Woetzal to Woetzel. Eric apologises and lies prostrate before readers! BM

I keep on firing my proofreader, but like a bad penny he keeps returning.