BALLET AND DANCE REVIEWS : ‘Sleeping Beauty’ Conjures Up New Cast, Old Woes

Another night, another “Beauty.”

Familiarity may not breed contempt when it comes to Peter Martins’ hectic production of Petipa’s fairy-tale classic, but it doesn’t enhance enchantment either.

As staged two years ago by the New York City Ballet, this “Sleeping Beauty” moves brightly and briskly over the stage of the Orange County Performing Arts Center. Yet no matter who plays what, it doesn’t seem to move very poignantly.

For the second local performance, on Friday, Kyra Nichols took over the title role. She is an extraordinarily generous, thoughtful dancer. She didn’t seem ideally cast, however, as the dainty teen-age princess. Winsome frailty is not her forte.

Nichols’ Aurora seemed warm and wise from the start. The perky innocence of the Rose Adagio eluded her, as did perfect security in those dreaded balances. Then, with the big test behind here, she exuded heroic pathos in the muted lyricism of the Vision Scene, and capped the evening with a dash of festive fervor in the nuptial pas de deux.

One had to admire her at all times. One also had to suspect that her innate grandeur might have been focused to better advantage as the formidably benevolent Lilac Fairy--a role danced on this occasion with a strange air of brittle petulance by Maria Calegari.

Lindsay Fischer, the new Desire, partnered his princess with proper aristocratic refinement. And, despite the disadvantage of an odious comparison, he looked properly dashing in his limited opportunities for bravura flight.

The odious comparison was provided by Nikolaj Hubbe, erstwhile firebrand-poet of the Royal Danish Ballet. Entrusted with the incidental “Gold” variation devised by Martins as an ode to Balanchine at the beginning of the wedding scene, Hubbe literally transformed the cameo into a star turn. The guest stole the groom’s lightning.

Teresa Reyes, spiffy in black spike heels, was the sly, relatively unthreatening Carabosse--certainly more femme than fatale. Alexandre Proia accented Florestan’s regal posturings with a noble sneer. Gen Horiuchi’s weightless little Bluebird and Katrina Killian’s deft, less-little Florine turned out to be an odd couple.

In the well-staffed pit, Hugo Fiorato conducted with cool, speedy, metronomic efficiency. It seemed just right for Martins’ streamlined conception. It seemed all wrong for Tchaikovsky’s romantic score.