Harlem 'Apollo' reviews Harlem 'Prodigal Son' reviews Harlem 'Agon' reviews Manzano in reviews Thomas in reviews recent Dance Theatre of Harlem reviews more Charlotte Kasner reviews

Balanchine is as thoroughly embodied in DTH as it is in NYCB and their musicality throughout was only marred by the necessity of dancing to tape that robbed them of the opportunity for rubato and made sections of Apollo and much of Prodigal Son appear rushed.

The first delight in Apollo was the restoration of the prologue and birth scene which makes good dramatic sense but which apparently the Balanchine Trust will not allow to be performed in the USA. It seems foolish to stick to the letter of an apparent decree of Balanchineís that it did not work, especially when he was very free with adjustments to his works. Let us hope that the Trust bow to demand and common sense in realising that it can only enhance a much loved work. The company also attempted to counter another criticism of the ascent to Olympus being performed on the flat once that the set had been cut by erecting a rather basic scaffold upstage centre, however it was only visible from the front of the first circle and stalls at the Wells, rather marring the effect.

The dancing was competent rather than exciting but Addul Manzano made a strong Apollo and his muses demonstrated a pleasing light and shade and even a little humour in places. It is a pity that Arthur Mitchell never danced Apollo but it is the next best thing to see it mounted on his company and obviously enjoyed.

Rasta Thomas was patchy in Prodigal Son, finding it difficult to sustain his acting throughout; he tended to fall into nineteenth century conventions of ìrhubarbingî when not centre stage but there were moments of strong characterisation that shone through and now need good direction and consistency. His final crawl owed more to the need to find his place at the correct moment in the tape that perhaps might be improved with a live orchestra. Alicia Grafís Siren also seemed rushed and she slapped her cloak around like a wet towel in a locker room horseplay rather than using it to extend her undoubted sensual moments. She too would have benefitted from musical flexibility that could have allowed her to slow down her extensions and enjoy the seduction a little more. The drinking companions managed the brutality but lacked the creepiness of the Royal Ballet corps. A synthesis of the two approaches with the green costumes of Covent Garden would have been perfect. Keith Saunders decided to play the father as a doddery old man which undercut the power of the final reconciliation although Thomas added a nice touch of remorse, cowering in shame at the sight of his father before his final crawl to forgiveness.

The lighting was also poor, spoiling the effect of the marvellous backcloth which for some reason looked as if it was on Mars, bathed in a light that threw out uniform reddish tones.

Agon proved to be the highlight of the afternoon and the most impermeable to taped music. It was danced with a precision and attack that one longs for at Covent Garden. Tai Jiminez and Kip Sturm provided an enjoyable and technically sound pas de deux. Akua Parkerís bransle gay was fluid and at times piquant; generally speaking, the women were more watchable overall. A little more punch throughout would not go amiss and perhaps some erring on the side of abandon rather than correctness that may come in time.

But alas poor Serenade. Whilst Harlem manage brio, the adage was sorely lacking. Monday night's performance wobbled all through and the partnering bordered on the amateurish. Again there are problems with short men being paired with tall women. Kip Storm and Sonny Robinson looked insecure and left the audience with the unedifying spectacle of their groping, outstretched hands while they hoped that their partners would arrive in the expected space. At one point, the groping reached feverish proportions as the men struggled to find ankles for a high lift through yards of tulle. Indeed the women at times looked hampered by the length of their skirts which could have done with losing a couple of inches. Lines were ragged, several dancers shuffled into place and many seemed unsure of cues. It is astonishing to realise that Harlem have only danced this seminal work since 1979 but, if this performance were anything to go by, it needs much more careful rehearsal and running in before they can claim it as their own.

Overall it is clear that the Balanchine repertoire at Harlem is safe in these hands (and feet) and of course we have new role models and teachers for a future generation. The company have a good balance of new works and classics, including a fresh approach to at least Giselle and Firebird. Lets us hope that they continue to secure funding and support that will enable them to be seen more often at home and abroad.