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This has to be one of the more spectacular contemporary productions of the Petipa classic. Its visual charm is attributable to Jens-Jacob Worsaae. Tomasson mounted the same production on The Royal Danish, so if you have seen Aurora’s fate in Copenhagen you know the glory of the Russian Court garbed in garnet in Peter the Great’s era with the transformation of the Kingdom into Bourbon Baroque. Yes, the expense of each costume is also intoxicating. The entire production is framed by a sumptuous blue curtain laden with gold accents, tassels and gilded columns. Suddenly one remembers accounts of the Maryinsky curtain as being blue and gold, a marvelous touch. There also seems to be a nod to the 1921 Diaghilev production in Worsaae’s design for the Tsarina’s gown in the Wedding Scene.

This time Tomasson has added Orthodox bishops and pages to the scene and Aurora’s couch with its enamel-like cupola glides forward so Prince Desire can conveniently bestow his kiss upon his 116-year old bride. The production provides a brief solo for Prince Desiree for the hunting party and a longer, more melancholy one after he has bid them off to the hunt.

The Spell enjoyed six young students interweaving in the Garland Dance with the dozen corps members bearing the garlands.

The Wedding Scene now displays Beauty and the Beast, Columbine and Harlequin and The White Cat and Puss in Boots, but not Red Riding Hood. The Jewel pas de trois has become a Pas de Cinq, providing exposure to two additional dancers.

I was away for the first of ten performances, but managed to see three Auroras. Tomasson cast Lucia La Carra, Tina LeBlanc, Lorena Feijoo and Vanessa Zahorian in the role, wanting six principals to have a chance at the role before the production is retired. When I saw Margot Fonteyn’s Aurora the fall of 1950 at Los Angeles’ Shrine Auditorium, she had been dancing it since her mid-teens. Most San Francisco Auroras appeared for the first and only time, unable to develop familiarity with the complexities.

The revelation of the season for my money was Muriel Maffre as The Fairy of Darkness, usually called Carabosse. I missed her Lilac Fairy. Her miffed witch in black was a cross between Anna Magnani and Maria Callas, a study in elemental rejection and revenge. There was fullness and shading to her mime, enhanced by her majestic height. The fingers moved, the eyes glittered, roving savagely as she plotted her double-edged bestowal on the regal infant.

Julie Diana seemed a trifle subdued but definitely aware of her social position as she accepted the homage of the four princes. Someone closer up said her brow wrinkled, but to be informed her task at 16 was to select the spouse to grow old with, and probably share power of her father’s kingdom, is quite enough to wonder at. She is musical, gaining sureness as the story wended its way. In the regal wedding pas de deux Diana was appropriately delicate, a joyous, contained radiance.

Joanna Berman was equally radiant but more a veteran in the role. As a princess schooled to be polite and charming to her potential suitors, she exhibited the protocol appropriate in accepting favors and recognized the import of her father’s indication that it was her choice before she ventured into the Rose Adagio.

I saw Yuan Yuan Tan dance her second Aurora. There is no doubt she is a fast, an elegant learner. Make no mistake, Tan is the perfect imperial Chinese daughter for a Confucian father, trained from infancy to know what to expect . Her Rose Adagio was quite steady, promising to be rock solid when she enjoys a second season in the role.

Berman shared Pierre-Francois Vilanoba with Diana. He wears a wig well, possesses a line which nicelycomplements the demands of prince hood, displayed a delicate melancholy and a genuine romantic urgency to be led to the reality of his vision. He exhibits an appealing diffidence and understated manner, sensitive to both environment and partner.

Vadim Solomakha knows how to be a prince with the slight Russian excess with a touch of the imperious. No one would dream of contradicting him, makings yearning the more interesting. His is emotion bubbling and yearning to be extravagant.

I saw Nedviguine twice as the Blue Bird and Gonzalo Garcia once, plus Tina LeBlanc, Kristin Long, and if I remember correctly, Vanessa Zahorian. The women are collectively very good turners, full of sparkling echappes, attitudes and the requisite aerial capacities. Garcia makes use of a spectacular capacity to retard a movement; Nedviguine invariably seems placed somewhere in the dead center of the universe. Watching them all is akin to ultimate chocolate with mocca confection, breathtaking every time.

Katita Waldo as The Fairy of Generosity exhibited her special inflected port de bras, a warm and gracious presence and Lorena Feijoo as The Fairy of Courage made me believe her gift was one with her own graceful, earthy brilliance.

Julia Adam led off the Fairies with Tenderness, called inhe Royal the Fairy of the Crystal Fountain. Violetta Elvin danced it, makng the most of unusualy fluid port de bras, a distinction partially shared by Katita Waldo. Adams’ interpretation seems based on her choreographic awareness of role and space. A Fairy of Playfulness is not quite the same as Fairy of the Song Birds, where the fluttering hands make more sense. Zahorian’s interpretation is pert; she turns and cavorts like a perpetual top.

I never tire of Peter Brandenhoff’s capacity to dramatize his roles. His Puss in Boots or his appraisal of Aurora as the Siberian Prince demonstrates just how much he is a consummate acting dancer. Acutely aware of contributing to the whole while exuding a distinctive personal intelligence, he never gives a perfunctory performance. I think Massine would have loved him.

Some of my colleagues saw the six Auroras. I hope the next revival is not far away. I’d like to catch up with them.