© Agathe Poupeney Paris Opera 'Jewels' reviews 'Jewels' reviews Paris Opera 'Rubies' reviews 'Rubies' reviews Osta in reviews Dupont in reviews Bouder in reviews Garcia in reviews recent Paris Opera reviews more Azulynn reviews Discuss this review (Open for at least 6 months)

As it is, Emeralds may be quintessentially French, but it is not sophisticated Lacroix French, despite the rather fitting creations of the designer. A good many dancers seem confused about the atmosphere they're supposed to impersonate – some go for the big smile, some for expressionless, but an uneasiness persists over the potential lyricism of this intimate jewel. Strangely, those mixed feelings still work well in the Molto Adagio that closes the ballet. At this point, the seven soloists seemed to me a new image of a decadent nobility hanging on to its delicacy of manners, the men absent princes, the women already in another world – as if the chain they form and re-form was already dead, buried by too many changes. (Whether that bodes well for the company is another matter.)

Clairemarie Osta was head and shoulders above everyone else in this fleeting ballet, which fits her like a glove. In the Sicilienne solo, she is entirely lost in her world – an underwater kingdom where playing and mourning are two sides of the same thing. Her curtseys are little surprises, invitations to the invisible, but the Ondine she impersonates so well has clearly discovered the weight of the years gone by. Later on, in the pas de deux, nostalgia wins – a nostalgia triggered by the absent presence of her partner (Benjamin Pech, at his most pallid). Her expressiveness and longing find no echo in him, and she seems again to be waiting for something that no longer exists – gazing into an empty path while walking delicately on pointe, her solitude magnificent.

The Fileuse part is another matter, and neither Isabelle Ciaravola nor Mélanie Hurel looked fully at ease in it. Ciaravola relied on her stunning long lines and remained slightly uninvolved - not surprising since she had to juggle Emeralds with Wayne McGregor's Genus and a creation in another program. Mélanie Hurel, on the other hand, is the epitome of an old French style that fits perfectly into this ballet, and she has her moments of greatness, with sweeping backbends and an uncommon freedom in the arms. When dancing with Matthieu Ganio, though, tenseness took over, and the pas de deux lacked fluidity. The pas de trois was dominated by Sara Kora Dayanova, sharp and musical, currently one of the best exponents of the French school.

Strangely enough, Rubies was the obvious highlight of the two performances I attended. It is usually a careful affair in Paris, at best a sophisticated one, but Aurélie Dupont certainly brought sophistication to a whole new level during this run. She was already technically faultless when the Opus Arte DVD was filmed, a few years ago, but now she is actually having fun, no, the time of her life with the choreography. This most cerebral of dancers was literally throwing herself into Balanchine, finally hitting accents, and the ironic, knowing, daring woman that resulted would have eaten Matthias Heymann for breakfast. (I had certainly never seen her hips so animated.) He, on the other hand, is pushing a little too hard in Rubies. Technically, and although his pointed chin has become very obvious, he can do everything, but there is hardly an ounce of nonchalance in his performance. Overall he was selling it like a happy puppy in a china shop, missing the laid-back jazziness entirely.

A word about our two Tall Girls – contemporary technique is really taking its toll on Marie-Agnès Gillot's body, and on 5 November she had trouble with the demands of the role she premiered back in 2000. The arabesques penchées wobbled and wobbled – and despite her height, lines and experience, she is still neither sensual nor decisive in her phrasing. Stéphanie Romberg has always been strong in this part, and she still is, though she also tends to go blank on stage - the presence of Ashley Bouder and Gonzalo Garcia nonetheless spurred her to some excellent moments.

Because by the way, our two Americans in Paris rocked the Palais Garnier in Rubies. We should be thankful for their visit, as they brought with them unaffected Balanchine, relying entirely on the music and their own instincts. Ashley Bouder, in particular, embodies the possibility of an American style (has she been made a national treasure yet?) that is certainly not vulgar. Her power, her explosive jumps, everything about her draws the eye – but her musicality is truly out of this world, in some private realm where she's having her dialogue with Stravinsky, stressing moments that you had ever noticed before and which she doesn't just show with her legs – her shoulders, her eyes have their own mischievous lines, too, and they hit the notes with lightning wit. The end of the pas de deux, right before she points her finger over his palm, was a surprisingly slow, sensual reach for each other's arm, wonderfully phrased – after which they exited laughing at their joke. Both are amazingly natural in their mixing of playful and sexy, and even though Garcia doesn't exactly possess her aura, his energy made up for it. "La Bouder", on the other hand, is a rare species. Her flirty twists on pointe and turned-in moments were so delightful at the end that I was about ready to sign up for this club of Amazons – their leader was just too much fun.

Diamonds brought no pleasant surprises after the heights of Rubies, and I long for the day a ballerina will restore it to its glory in Paris (Aurélie Dupont, anyone?). At the first performance I saw the main role had become, if I understood correctly, that of a sportswoman struggling and putting a lot of effort into a big competition (pas de deux) before overcoming the obstacles and celebrating her victory with joyous manèges aroung the stage (scherzo). A modern tale, no doubt, a strong and forceful one, but not one involving any kind of poetry or lyricism. Emilie Cozette is a reliable technician and a fine soloist, but you can't force someone to be an Etoile by bestowing the title upon them – it just doesn't work this way.

Marie-Agnès Gillot had the difficult task to follow the Bouder/Garcia act. She is an Etoile in her own right, and quite a presence on stage – tall, strong, with impossibly long arms and legs, in other words all the traditional features of a Diamonds ballerina. She certainly appeared much stronger than in Rubies the week before; the balances were more secure, and the gallant help of her Cavalier, Karl Paquette, wad hardly needed. Actually, she barely interacted with him, and another rather dry performance unfolded. There is more to Diamonds than academic dancing, and I longed for expression in what is otherwise just a sparkling parade. Both Christophe Duquenne (with Emilie Cozette) and Karl Paquette gave fine performances though, especially Duquenne, a prince in his own right, commanding his own quatuor of men. Sara Kora Dayanova, as faultless and generous as ever, was literally glowing among the demi-soloists, and the corps de ballet, honed by a month of touring before the Paris run, also brought luster to Balanchine's choreography. But a dose of soul is still missing at the heart of the stunning jewellery store.