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The new-old, i.e. reconstructed Bayadère in four Acts, though over-long, mainly for the dancers, who were distinctly grey in the face by Act IV, is quite a pretty thing. In fact, I have to say that I prefer it to the POB's.

First, the decors and costumes are simpler. The POB Bayadère was Nureyev's final production before his death. His budget, if not unlimited, was a whopper nonetheless, the costumes, the animals, the scenery - all amazing, all in pure silk, gold and silver beading, all too too much.

This production, which, though new, looks ever-so-slightly faded and thread-bare, allows more space for one's imagination. The logistical, material side of things, lies more in the background. The costumes are on the whole, flattering, and certainly less obtrusive. Better for the dancers ! And, frankly, though sight-lines for we who stood in the five-Euro area were, well, whatever, I like the Châtelet better than the Bastille, because it's small, and one is more in touch with events on stage. One can see people's EYES, which to me, is key.

The reconstructed Act IV is but a dullish reminiscence of the wedding scene in the "Sylphide", Nikiya weaving invisibly between the married pair. Nothing in the libretto makes sense to me. Imperial fluff and nonsense is it not ? But if the dancing is good, one can still look at it.

Little can be said of the gentlemen in the Maryinskii, because apart from Solor, they have little to do.

The best people seem to be in the corps de ballet. I wonder about the present arrangement, whereby those who are tall and extremely good-looking are groomed from age 13 or so to become principals, and those who are smallish but can dance, remain stuck in the corps de ballet for the rest of their lives. Give us the short, the fat and the ugly, if only they can dance !

Anyway, the Maryinskii lot are lucky to travel with the theatre's own orchestra. There were some interesting tempi from Boris Gruzin, leading. Notably the fact that the entrance of the Bayadères in Act I Scene 3, the Djampo dance and the Infernal Dance were taken, if my memory serves me right, a shade slower than here at Paris.

The entrance of the Bayadères was thus a cool and delightful interlude.

In the Djampo, Gruzin's slower tempo places the emphasis on the full phrase, ending with a neat little port de bras, rather than leaving an image of girls bouncing up and down on the beat.

In the Infernal Dance, the POB's tempi are, IMO, Rave-Party fast, frenetic bezerkers twitching in every corner. Last year, at one point, I almost thought Yann Saiz was going to lose it. The Maryinskii's, on the other hand, still looks like a character dance, which is what I thought it was supposed to be.

Again, I have to say I prefer the Maryinskii's Descent of the Shades. First, the ladies, less brittle than the home team, also have a better ear for music. That helps ! Second, perhaps it is the Châtelet's small stage, but the tighter grouping of the descent, is more exciting. Third, the descent's trajectory is an unfolding spiral, rather than sloping diagonals. Fourth, the use of the upper body is quite different, so one gets a play of light and shade, and depth that is lacking in our version.

Live and learn.

On to the principals.

Better not go into detail on the performance by Sofya Gumerova as Nikiya. The particular branch of the system that produced this sort of dancer has only succeded in proving - were further proof needed - that it is bankrupt.

Moreover, the moment Miss Gumerova stops dancing, she falls out of character, and gives way to awkward, even clumsy gestures. Unprofessional.

As for Gamzatti, I must confess to a prejudice: Elisabeth Maurin was, and is, the definitive Gamzatti. French audiences are not the most involved on the planet, but I have seen them wipe away the tears during her mime scene with Nikiya. A thousand megawatts of acting energy in that tiny, adorable form. Not to speak of her dancing in Act II, fireworks !

Ekaterina Osmolkina does not pack the Maurin punch - the scene with Nikiya was just two idiotic girls in a catfight - but one cannot fault her dancing. It's clean, it's dynamic, and, in fact, she seemed to be the only person on stage who was not over-tired.

Igor Kolb, standing in for Leonid Sarafanov apparently at the last moment, is a very good dancer. As Solor, he has a reserved, but commanding presence that reminds one of Manuel Legris. His proportions are ideal, he has elevation, and he is remarkably graceful. There ARE ungraceful dancers, you know ! As for Mr. Kolb's acting, it is committed, and quite intense.

There are however two flaws, one minor, and easily corrected: he tends to use his mouth as though he wished to speak. Silence, in this particular field of endeavour, is golden.

The second, is not minor.

When Mr. Kolb was a boy, Faruk Ruzimatov was Writhing his Way to Fame. People were accordingly taught to do what Faruk Ruzimatov does. The excessive cambré - your batterie goes to hell if you are that far back - the raised rib-cage, the ridiculously high attitude, the split jeté. YUK ! So here we have Kolb, a person of taste and elegance, dancing on a technique which screams the opposite. Incoherent, no ?

In the recently-released film on Erik Bruhn, there is a jaw-dropping clip of Bruhn and Nureyev practising the same steps, together, in the same studio. Bruhn, composed, elegant, effortless. Nureyev, too far back, excessively cambré, forced turnout, straining. (No judgment intended on either as interpreters here, but rather technique only). Nureyev was very much aware of those flaws, and attempted to correct them, to the degree that he could.

Why then, gang, forty years later, are we still teaching the same silly things ?

Anyway, let us take off our hat to the Maryinskii. God willing, the end of Shock Therapy will soon spell the end to insane touring schedules and overwork.