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I remember years ago seeing Fan Fare. Perhaps it was when New York City Ballet made one of two early, economically disastrous forays to our Van Ness Avenue Valhalla, I think before they moved to the New York State Theater.

From what I gathered in the press room Jerome Robbins was quite explicit about staging FanFare with the original costumes. The women wear coronets or crowns which look straight out of a Forties Vogue advertisement for Stradivarious perfume, minus the impulsive long-haired musician grasping the women off her seat at the piano forte. Robbins choreographed this in a range of humor which stretches from a smile to a smirk, onwards to giggled, and yes, there was a wiggle somewhere, and then one to guffaw and some straight hambone. It's one of those good natured essays Robbins pulled off which sets a writer scurrying to match words to the wit of his movement selection. He knew how to be silly supremely well, and for all the stories regarding what a stickler he was, choreography remains emblematic of an affectionate loving soul who wasn't about to allow anyone puncture his carefully constructed armor..

The men carried the humor, principally in the brass .. and the percussion, although the girls simpered sufficiently in their exaggerated classical tutus to evoke the knowing nod of "oh, come on, must you?" As the Tuba, Chidosie Nzerem donned a moustache and pointed an emphatic finger with enormous gusto and elegant timing. The percussion rated an utterly deadpan Tweedle Dum, Tweedle Dee, not duo, but trio with Peter Brandenhoff, Christopher Stowell and Stephan Legate in an expression which rivaled anything Lewis Carroll ever created for Alice. Had it been vaudeville such deadpan would have rated star billing at The Palace.

Suite of Dances
Composer: Johann Sebastian Bach
Choreographer: Jerome Robbins
Costumes: Santo Loquasto
Cellist: Cummins

This deceptive exercise in running, turning, pausing was created by Robbins for Mikhail Baryshnikov in 1994. It was mounted for Yuri Possokhov and Vadim Solomakha in the San Francisco company. Perhaps Helgi wanted to see how the work might translate to other Russian dancers.

A beautiful, evocative piece, it must have sparkled with the Misha B personality, who may not have danced it so well as Possokhov, but who also may have delivered with a greater casual quality. Possokhov can be goofy and silly, but he has the depth and ruminative qualities of the choreographer and he played less with the surface of the steps than trying to search for a meaning and depth which simply may never have intended to be there. Suite of Dances is one of those works which should remain in the repertoire to test the skill of fine dancers in their capacity to engage the audience, without virtuosity, by sheer mood and personality.

The Vertiginous Thrill of Exactitude
Composer: Franz Schubert
Choreographer: William Forsythe
Costumes: Stephen Galloway
Dancers: Tina LeBlanc; Kristin Long; Katita Waldo; Gonzalo Garcia; Parrish Maynard; (second viewing) Guennadi Nedviguine; Roman Rykine

Forsythe's breakaway speedy pas de cinq should have a sub-heading, "I'm dancing as fast as I can."

Are the San Francisco dancers ever up to it though. Garcia uses an infinitesimal retard to make his execution look still more daring while Maynard attacks his role with the sang-froid aplomb of one of the Blue Angels whose jet formations zoom through the sky during Navy Day in October. Nedviguine and Rykine demonstrate the beauty of classical Russian training, their exposition a gracious acknowledgment of the legacy which shaped their stage presence.

The three women testify to what the exhilaration of motherhood can do to dancing; rock-like steadiness, speed and assurance, like they could do on forever. Particularly fascinating was Katita Waldo who seems to possess a kalideoscopic capacity for movement inflection, an emotional rubato which effervesced over the technical demands.

When these three danced with Nedviguine and Rykine, it was perhaps one of the most technically accomplished, unified displays of bravura I ever enjoyed witnessing, a demonstration of the ephemeral glory of classical ballet if ever I saw it.

Death of a Moth
Composer: Carlos Surinach
Choreographer: Val Caniparoli
Costumes and Set: Sandra Woodall
Lighting Design: Nicholas Fischtel

Nicole Starbuck, Damian Smith;Muriel Maffre, Chidozie Nzerem; Lorena Feijoo, Pierre-Francois Vilanoa; Julie Diana; Peter Brandenhoff; Julia Adam, Stephen Legate; Michael Eaton, Ikolo Griffin, Kester Cotton, Pablo Piantino, Erik Wagner.

Carlos Surinach's Concerto for String Orchestra intrigued Caniparoli enough to resurrect a theme he explored early on in his choreographic record with San Francisco Ballet: the febrile life of the life of insects confronting plants like Venus Fly Trip. This time around it was the flickering final moments of moths. Any relation it bore to Loie Fuller was confined to lights and the idea of the fatal flight of a moth.

Woodall elected to rework the effectiveness of the long gowns of Lambarena this time with darker colors of the spectrum and dark shirts exposing the bicep moulding of the men, the black trousers providing a sense of nameless multitudes. With the murky lighting an occasional strobe flashes, Surinach's intensity found an excellent echo.

The male pas de six executed inumerable grand jetes like the leaps Martha Graham assigned her Furies which were combined with telling slaps to the thighs in a raw evocation of the Spanish genesis of the music. It was clearly swift-paced angst, and the men rose to the assignment handsomely.

The five pas de deux varied in length and interest, emerging and disappearing through curtains. I have not seen women execute so many supported cartwheels or akimpo supported turns or attitudes. At times Caniparoli conveyed the women with their flowing skirts like wings with their supporting partners like the body of the moth in very effective manner. But the imagery fluctuated understandably as the women moved from the men and rejoined them.

Julie Diana and Peter Brandenhoff were particularly affecting as they danced the final pas de deux, an on-stage death throes for both, he supporting the frenetic flailing struggle for breath and lost mobility. It was particularly touching that during the curtain call, Diana spontaneously kissed Brandenhoff's hand, a rarity among feminine principal dancers.