DANCE REVIEW : New Ballet by Agnes de Mille

Agnes de Mille’s “The Informer,” which was given its world premiere by American Ballet Theatre Tuesday night, is bleak yet pretty, pervasively high-minded and very well-crafted.

Though somewhat dated and superficial in tone, it is undeniably effective. The non-capacity audience in the all-too-cavernous spaces of Shrine Auditorium certainly loved it.

This is De Mille’s first ballet for the company in 13 years. As such it has to represent more than mere repertory enrichment. It documents a triumph of mind over matter for the pioneering American choreographer. At 82, she may be infirm, but she remains a feisty spirit and an undoubted mistress of her art.

Her lofty subject in this case involves love, deceit, death and idealism during the “time of the troubles,” that is, the Irish civil war around 1920. There are echoes here of John Ford’s film classic of 1935. The allusions to contemporary sociopolitical upheavals are obvious, too. De Mille cites her own work on a musical version of “Juno and the Paycock” in 1959, however, as the point of stylistic departure.

Ultimately, the physical style creates something of a problem--or at least an expressive limitation--for the ballet. The choreographer makes enlightened use of the Irish step-dance for her basic vocabulary of movement. The folk idiom implies rigid torsos, inactive arms, very busy legs and feet. The impetus of the maneuvers, fast and often intricate, is invariably dictated by formula and tradition.

For purposes of balletic stress and theatrical accent, De Mille incorporates some wild leaps for one character, some swift heroic lifts for the others. She creates neat, fluid, usually symmetrical patterns for the corps that surrounds and supports the three principals.

She also makes generous--probably too generous--use of that much abused facial device, the silent scream.

De Mille obviously knows what she is doing. She understands the easy appeal of stylization, savors the impact of the climactic set piece. Given the semi-abstract designs of Santo Loquasto and the shadowy lighting scheme of Jennifer Tipton, she creates properly oppressive stage pictures.

It is all very evocative, and perhaps a bit too easy. The horrible conflicts of “The Informer” suggest profound tragedy. The inherent drama isn’t always reinforced, however, by the choreography. Tending toward the clever and the ornamental, it gives us repetition just when we most want expansion and development. The frustration is aggravated, moreover, by the second-hand illustrations of the patently nervous score: a pastiche of Celtic song arrangements punctuated with sound effects and dynamic cliches.

The performance, rehearsed in De Mille’s absence by Terrence Orr, was splendid. Victor Barbee exuded agonized sympathy and coiled energy as the veteran who betrays his rival. Johan Renvall revealed the dapper charm, and the elevation, of the young fighter with deft bravura strokes. Kathleen Moore exulted in the willowy appeal and muted strength of the woman loved by both.

The mixed bill had opened with yet another dutiful and fuzzy performance of Balanchine’s “Symphonie Concertante.” Its chief distinction this time lay in Susan Jaffe’s luxuriant phrasing of the “violin” solos.

The evening drew to a rather tedious and strenuous close with Harald Lander’s “E tudes.” This historic exercise surveys the evolution of virtuosity as practiced by everyone from babies at the barre to ballerinas in would-be excelsis . The principals on this occasion were a very grand Martine van Hamel, a rather tentative Ross Stretton and an amazingly fleet Wes Chapman (who brought down the house with some 32 nonchalant fouettes en attitude ).

The conducting duties for the program were shared by Emil de Cou (who presided over laissez-faire Mozart in the Balanchine), Jack Everly (who did what could be done with the assorted Dublin jigs and jags) and Charles Barker (who faithfully cranked out the endless, eventually unnerving Riisager-Czerny etude-ditties).