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'Fille' is perhaps not the most obvious choice of Ashton's major works for the Paris Opera Ballet to mount, given that it is his most quintessentially English work; 'Symphonic Variations' or 'Scenes de Ballet' would have seemed more in keeping with their repertory ethos. On the other hand, 'Fille' has real significance for the French. The original version by Dauberval, in July 1789, was the first major ballet that focused on ordinary people rather than princes or Greek gods. This was revolutionary and it is interesting that it was premiered in Bordeaux, a politically tubulent area, just a fortnight before the storming of the Bastille that triggered the French Revolution, although Dauberval himself was far from being a political radical. A further revolutionary feature is that it is regarded as the first 'ballet d'action', where the dances are driven by the plot, preceding the Romantic dramatic ballets by several decades. Its touching story made it a huge popular success from the start and it was presented in many cities across the world, including London, in 1791 (where it was first named 'Fille Mal Gardee'), and different versions, over two centuries, including Saint Petersburg, where Tamara Karsavina later danced the role, and taught Ashton some of it, including the famous Fanny Elssler mime scene, for his 1960 ballet.

The ballet was staged by Christopher Carr and Grant Coyle of the Royal Ballet and supervised by Alexander Grant, the original Alain. Since the Paris dancers have had little exposure to the very particular demands of Ashton's style, a style which has frequently eluded even British dancers in recent years, it was impressive that the corps had assimilated some of the characteristics; the darting speed, the twisting flexibility, the precise footwork, the epaulement use of backs and shoulders. The choreography for the corps makes unusual demands and they seized the opportunities, while acting with zest.

I saw four casts, at the opening two performances and the final two. Each cast coped well, overall, given the difference in style and approach from what they are used to in their rep. But interestingly, this ballet about youthful love stimulated the best performances from the youngest and least experienced dancers.
 

The first cast Colas was Nicolas Le Riche, who of course has danced Ashton's 'Margeurite and Armand' many times at Covent Garden and elsewhere, and so is the dancer most familiar with Ashton. At the first performance he fluffed some steps and, like other Colases, didn't attempt the famous one-handed lift. But his jumps were powerful and most of his dancing and partnering in both pas de deux were impressive, not least when he threw Lise into the air at the end. He had problems with some of the ribbon moves but acted the part convincingly, an engaging character, already passionately involved with Lise (perhaps unduly so in the first scene since their sexual ease there undermined the impact of Lise's embarrassment later when she discovers that Colas has eavesdropped on her daydreaming, a crucial scene which had too little impact at that performance). His Lise, the hugely talented premiere danseuse Dorothee Gilbert (none of the Lises was an etoile) was ,in this instance, not well cast. Although an impressive dancer in other ballets, she didn't fully adapt to Ashton's style or musicality and some of her phrasing was poor. Nor did she inhabit Lise's persona - she was too feisty throughout, never displaying any anxiety or uncertainty about her future with Colas, despite having an unsuitable fiance foisted upon her. This reduced the poignancy that is key to the ballet.

But the most critical factor in undermining the humanity so fundamental to Ashton's version, was the playing of the first cast Widow Simone, Stephane Phavorin. One of his most notable parts in the Paris rep is the Stepmother in 'Cinderella and he seems to have imposed that comic caricature on the Widow, minus the cruelty. He played up the knockabout comedy in a travesti role to such an extent that his antics were at times crude and vulgar. Such a one-dimensional characterisation prevented the portrayal of the close emotional bond between Lise and the Widow that underlies their friction.
 

In that first performance Alain, danced by Simon Valastro, also played rather too much for laughs. Alain's vulnerability is an essential component in the humanity pervading the ballet; Alain is not a minor comic character. It is significant that the ballet actually ends with Alain alone on stage, poignantly seeking, then finding, his umbrella; the audience needs to feel sympathy in the final scene for his sense of loss, as well as laugh earlier at his absurdity. However, Valastro performed, unannounced, at the next performance and his interpretation was toned down. By the penultimate performance of the run, his was a truly impressive Alain, with emotional depth, a powerful stage presence, using his eyes to great effect, and technically very strong dancing, a better Alain than many seen in the British companies in recent years.

The alternate Alain, Adrien Couvez, has a less dominating stage presence than Valastro but gave a sensitive portrayal, playing more on the role's vulnerability and coped well with the technical challenges. The second Widow, Laurent Novis, showed a greater understanding of Ashton's conception than Phavorin, not playing her as a pantomime dame, demonstrating warmth as well as strictness. He revealed the close bonds between two generations of women who have close similarities; they share a lively intelligence and are selfwilled, so to some extent Lise is a younger version of Simone.

The young etoile, Mathieu Ganio partnered two Lises, Mathilde Froustey and Svetlana Lunkina. Although widely praised in the role, at his first performance his stamina was visibly tested by Ashton's deceptively strenuous choreography; by the penultimate performance he was dancing more confidently. He has a pleasant , if bland, personality but has not yet developed the acting ability or stage presence of either of his famous dancer parents. Arguably the most successful Colas was a young ''sujet' aged only 19, Mathias Heymann. He was substituting for the injured Alessio Carbone, having earlier in the run made a very strong impression as the Flute player (a role which is given enhanced prominence in the Paris production). Considering his relative lack of experience, and presumably of preparation, his performance was a revelation. His interpretation of Colas was thoroughly convincing throughout as he was always in role, paid careful attention to detail whilst always appearing spontaneous. His dancing was bouyant and confident and he was even the closest to achieving the one handed lift. He achieved a warm and tender rapport with his Lise, Myriam Ould Braham, who was lively and charming, dancing radiantly and demonstrating her star quality.
 

Even so, the dancer who best captured Lise's qualities was Froustey, like Heymann currently just a sujet. She was mischievous and teasing, single minded and scheming, tender and loving. Her dancing was musical and joyous, with a lovely jump and the ability to hold the balances that punctuate the big pas de deux. She was even better than Lunkina, who has danced the role for her home company, the Bolshoi. It's perhaps curious that a Russian, rather than British dancer was invited as a guest artist, but she has links with the Paris company and recently shared the Benois prize for top woman dancer with the Paris etoile, Agnes Letestu. Lunkina danced with her usual lyrical bravura, and her final solo was beautifully delicate, but there was not the special emotional rapport between her and Ganio as Colas that makes the ballet come fully to life.

It was fascinating to contemplate the similarities and differences between the Paris production and those of the two Royal companies. A major contributor to the Paris success was Barry Wordsworth's conducting. He understands the score so well, and has played for so many casts in the two Royal companies that he knows how to guage the tempo for the dancers (at times somewhat slower than we are used to). The orchestra brought out the full colour and melody in Herold/Lanchbery's score. The company had rented the decors from the Vienna State Opera. Osbert Lancaster's designs for the frontispieces(based on French prints- appropriately as Dauberval's inspiration for the plot was inspired by a print he hazarded upon) were accurate, but the scenery was poor (the buildings looked flimsy and shook when dancers moved on them, and Lise's feet sounded very noisy when descending the steps). The costumes' colours were in many cases not accurate, making some of Lise's dresses looking drab.

The Paris version runs in two acts, like the Royal's but unlike BRB's three acts. While most ballet goers prefer that, it makes the first act rather long for the many children who attend. In some points of detail, the version is closer to BRB's, for example, in the harvest scene, Alain shakes his head in the opposite direction to all the corps unlike the Royal. A tiny detail yet it indicates how he differs from all the other people on stage, as well as being amusing. Another difference is the portrayal of Thomas (played throughout by Richard Wilk), a much more dour character than we usually see, although in recent years it has sometimes been vulgarised, in both companies. In other respects most casts gave more emphasis to comedy than emotional integrity, particularly with the Widow (I didn't catch Michael Denard but reports suggest that his was a comic approach). A small factor may be that Phavorin and Novis are both tall dancers, which emphasises the travesti element; in the early days, the Widows at the Royal were small, like the creator, Stanley Holden, and like some of the best BRB Widows, such as Bintley and Michael O'Hare. The crucial mime scene was less touching than usual , and no Lise mimed horror at having indicated preganancy, which is usual nowadays, although often exaggerated.
 

The use of props caused some problems. The ribbons must be a perrenial problem for all casts everywhere. At the first performance, the bales got knocked over in the final scene, slightly exposing Colas to view. Even the curtain was lowered a little prematurely at each performance, meaning that the audience didn't get quite long enough a sight of Alain flying with his umbrella, at the end of Act 1, or dancing with delight having rescued his umbrella, at the end. However, the flying went without a hitch at the performances I attended, and the pony behaved. The pony came as a surprise to British members of the audience as it was taller and more elegant than the squat little ponies to which we are accustomed.

The audience reaction was interesting. At the start they seemed unsure how to react to the hens (danced by members of the Paris Opera Ballet School) or cockerel, but at some performances they applauded as Lise skimmed the stage in the prances on point, at the last performance they applauded the cat's cradle, and at several they started clapping in time to the music at the very end. Applause was warm and the audience clapped loudly in unison at the last performance, which recieved many curtain calls.