BALLET REVIEW : Tomasson’s Baroque ‘Swan Lake’ in S. F.

Preening swans--black and white, bewitching and bewitched--have been arabesquing by the Bay for a long time.

San Francisco actually was the first American company to venture the complete “Swan Lake,” and that was back in 1940. The brooding classicism of everybody’s favorite ballet has been championed in this city, in one guise or another, during 24 of the last 48 seasons.

But no version at the War Memorial Opera House--or at any other domestic opera house, for that matter--can compare with the lavish, exhaustive and inventive new production staged by Helgi Tomasson and designed by Jens-Jacob Worsaae.

Remember the forbidding splendor of the traditional “Swan Lake,” the one that takes place in some quaint gothic-medieval never-never land? Forget it.

Remember all those “Swan Lakes” that lumber from famous passage to famous passage with a lot of dutiful padding separating the instant hits? Forget them.

Without destroying the essential impetus or discarding the hallmarks of the Petipa-Ivanov heritage, Tomasson has streamlined the proceedings. He has stripped away much of the mime (the crucial fanfares, for instance, are reduced to musical abstractions). He has made a few judicious cuts and, where possible, heightened dramatic contrasts.

His choreographic scheme stresses classical endeavor where others prefer character diversion. The innocent pas de trois is turned into a dazzling--possibly too dazzling--showpiece. A melancholy duet for the principals is interpolated, most effectively, in the last act, and, thank goodness, the nasty intermission that used to halt the action between the ball and the tragic finale has been abolished.

All of this is interesting. Much of it is valid. Little is really controversial. Tomasson rides the old war horse with constant flair and finesse.

The scenic milieu, however, is startling. The mythic fairy tale has been set in civilized pastel hazes inspired by Fragonard, Watteau and--when it comes to the airy picture gallery that serves as the ballroom--Francois Boucher. The apotheosis reveals Odette and Siegfried united in the naive painterly shimmer of a watery grave.

Worsaae’s world, replete with gentle bucolic charms and polite Baroque embellishments, is undeniably pretty. It does tend, however, to contradict the unabashed romantic ardor of the score, not to mention the timeless primitivism of the drama.

The style looks stubbornly strange. The tone seems fussy. Nevertheless, the concept is fascinating, and the execution is brilliant. One wonders how this “Swan Lake” will wear with time. Perhaps familiarity can breed affection.

The performance Wednesday night proved more notable for ensemble values than for star power.

The 24 white swans were coached by Irina Jakobson, a distinguished Kirov alumna, and her positive influence was obvious. The San Francisco corps de ballet now can have few American peers in matters of purity and precision.

The secondary roles were beautifully performed, thoughtfully integrated. Jim Sohm introduced a mannerly and forbidding Rothbart worthy of E.T.A. Hoffmann. Anita Paciotti oozed authority as the Queen Mother. Val Caniparoli, the crusty Wolfgang, interacted sweetly with a gaggle of chronically but not terminally cute kids from the ballet school.

Wendy Van Dyck, Joanna Berman and a young firebrand named Mikko Nissinen exulted in the new-found sophistication of the pas de trois. Elizabeth Loscavio and Christopher Stowell tripped feverishly through the Neapolitan Dance.

The principals, unfortunately, turned out to be somewhat problematic. Tomasson has paired three different company heroes with three heroines, and, we are told, the accents shift accordingly.

On this occasion, he gave us the French connection. Karin Averty, the Odette-Odile, comes to the San Francisco Ballet from the Paris Opera, and Jean Charles Gil, her Siegfried, hails from Marseilles.

They are well-matched in manner, if not in stature. They both show unusual concern for expressive detail, though neither is a technical paragon.

Averty makes a rather florid bird of the swan queen, and, although she can muster a spiffy fouette marathon, her performance remains erratic in focus and modest in scale. Gil exudes noble passion and is a sensitive partner but tends to lose control in moments of bravura indulgence.

Beginnings are never easy.