MOZART TO GERSHWIN : EVENING OF OLDIES BY CITY BALLET

For the second night of its engagement at the Orange County Performing Arts Center, the marvelous New York City Ballet turned on Thursday to three golden oldies.

The program, politely but tepidly applauded by a full house, began with the neo-classical gospel of Saint Mozart according to Saint Balanchine: the “Divertimento No. 15” of 1956.

Then came a little Chopin Nachtmusik as translated, post “Gathering,” by Jerome Robbins: the suave yet ardent neo-romantic love duets of “In the Night” (1970).

In a way, however, the company was just biding its time until it could get legitimately sweet and low down. Obviously eager to strike up the band for George Gershwin, with a little help from Hugo Fiorito in the pit, the dancers did, did, did want to remind us that they got rhythm--fascinating rhythm, at that.

Who cares? Some iconoclasts may actually prefer ballet in its more pristine, more distant state, unsullied by popular impulses. But the one and only Balanchine, the man every New York-oriented balletomane has to love, had a certain feeling about the distinction between high and low art.

There was, he insisted, no distinction. Mr. Petipa, meet Mr. Gershwin. Art is art and dance is dance. ‘S wonderful.

“Who Cares?” was pretty wonderful Thursday night for anyone who finds the concept of dressed-up funk embraceable. Even the minority that may not regard this 16-year-old ballet as a stairway to paradise had to be heartened. The performance was exceptionally slick, elegant, gutsy, nostalgic. . . .

Jo Mielziner’s stylized Fun City skyscape on the curtain still looks charmingly brassy, though the new (1983) costumes of Ben Benson seem a bit too glitzy for optimal comfort.

Hershy Kay’s orchestrations sound as classy as ever. Total delight is compromised a bit, however, by the omission of “Clap Yo’ Hands.” In the good old days, it was the penultimate number in the suite, an Apollonian ritual performed by the debonair Jacques d’Amboise with his three dissimilar ballerinas and played, via recording, by Gershwin himself.

Sean Lavery, who now does the d’Amboise duties, looks like a tall and tacky dude in his shiny-black duds yet dances with aristocratic clarity and restraint. It is an interesting, compelling paradox.

Patricia McBride, a holdover from the original cast, now exudes glamour, hard-edged sophistication and a nice trace of Manhattan ennui in her star turn (and turns).

She is aptly complemented by her younger sister-muses. Lourdes Lopez reveals, and revels in, a sexy warmth beneath a tough exterior. Heather Watts is all sweetness, light and subtle innuendo.

The corps warms up the festivities with deft imitations of Fred ‘n’ Ginger clones puttin’ on the Ritz--and, in the case of the ladies, puttin’ on the toe shoes.

Jerry Zimmermann, who provided the incidental piano tinkling for Gershwin, was the entire orchestra, and a sensitive one, for the quiet Chopin nocturnes that propel the not-so-quiet dancing in “In the Night.”

Robbins’ amorous duets, variations on the theme of lyrical athleticism, provide heroic accents sometimes unsupported by the music.

Nevertheless, one could savor the essential expressive distinctions: the youthful innocence of the encounter between Maria Calegari and Alexandre Proia, the knowing formality of the grandiose duet entrusted to Merrill Ashley and Adam Lueders, the agony and ecstasy of the melodrama involving Stephanie Saland and Otto Neubert.

All danced as if lives were at stake, yet there were no losses in refinement or discipline.

In “Divertimento No. 15,” Balanchine offered a deep and affectionate bow to all that is graceful, ethereal and affecting in the most uncomplicated Mozart. This is basically an ensemble piece, an intimate yet courtly abstraction. The bravura variations are merely fleeting strands in an integrated florid tapestry.

Everyone in the large cast danced with the proper combination of brilliance and restraint. Darci Kistler attracted special attention, however, with her febrile charm in the fourth variation, as did Kyra Nichols with her muted strength in the sixth.

Karinska’s Baroque-flavored costumes, or reasonable facsimiles thereof, have withstood the passage of time. David Hays’ scenery has not.