DANCE REVIEW : The Poetic Restraint of ‘Romeo’

Helgi Tomasson’s lavish yet tasteful production of “Romeo and Juliet,” which the San Francisco Ballet introduced at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion on Wednesday, isn’t like any other version of the Shakespearean tragedy.

It lacks the operatic extroversion of Lavrovsky’s ultra-Soviet staging. It can claim neither the picturesque theatricality established by Cranko in Stuttgart nor the verismo swagger that MacMillan enforced in London. It hardly tries to achieve the symmetrical abstraction of Ashton’s Royal Danish incarnation.

Tomasson does indeed pay passing homage to each of his most illustrious predecessors. He does so with telling allusions, however, not with quotations.

His “Romeo and Juliet” is subtle and lyrical, taut and trim, intimate and logical. There is nothing revolutionary here, and, thank goodness, nothing grating.

Tomasson respects the poetry he must set in motion. In doing so, he demonstrates an exceptionally keen ear for the dynamic nuance as well as the romantic splendor of Prokofiev’s score.

His choreographic vocabulary may be a bit limited for a challenge as broad as this one. There isn’t a great deal of difference here between narrative dance, character dance and formal dance. Class distinctions are blurred. Traditional mime is virtually eliminated, and the protagonists are permitted on occasion to mouth silent words--a stylistic anachronism that suggests nothing so much as agitated gum-chewing.

Those who want to be overwhelmed by the passions of the warring houses and star-cross’d lovers may find the proceedings on the stage a little too neat and a lot too reticent. Most faces in ballet tend to be pale these days, and Tomasson doesn’t do a lot to intensify either focus or color.

In context, however, such reservations become almost inconsequential. The action in Tomasson’s “Romeo” is meticulously motivated, aptly focused and carefully detailed. Vulgarity is steadfastly avoided, even when Prokofiev points the way to exaggeration. Comic cliche is not allowed. The fine line between pathos and bathos is respected. Ultimately, finesse becomes its own reward, in depth.

*

The choreography is elegantly framed, perfectly complemented and perhaps even enhanced by the decors of the late Jens-Jacob Worsaae, who created muted images of Renaissance Verona that vacillate nicely between literalism and stylization. The scenes flow from locale to locale with graceful propulsion, and the exquisite color-coded costumes reinforce dramatic definitions.

This, essentially, is a very young and rather prim “Romeo and Juliet.” The parental Capulets and Montagues must have gotten married as teen-agers. Friar Laurence is just a kid. The courtly lords and ladies look as if they were fresh out of school. The harlots are more polite than lusty, and the acrobatic trio that has inherited most of the divertissement duty doesn’t even pretend to be part of the crowd. Luckily, everyone performs with enough dedication and exuberance to make surface contradictions seem less important than consistency of tone.

Anthony Randazzo and Elizabeth Loscavio danced the title roles beautifully on Wednesday. He may have projected generic ardor, but he leaped and grieved with splendidly controlled impetuosity. She may have resorted to stock-ingenue sweetness at the outset, but she certainly knew how to gauge the poignant course to heroic grandeur. The love duets, progressively contorted variations on the fine art of the lift, were dispatched with rare bravura--the sort that refuses to call attention to itself.

*

The strong supporting cast was sensitively integrated, with Christopher Stowell as an exceptionally impish Mercutio, Jais Zinoun as a marvelously cynical Tybalt and Mikko Nissinen as a commandingly fleet Benvolio. Anita Paciotti enacted the Nurse with honesty unencumbered by mannerism, and Ashley Wheater actually managed to make Paris an imposing, noble competitor for Juliet’s affection.

The hard-working, well-trained corps generated constant admiration, whether executing aristocratic rituals, decorating the stage as live scenery or clanging with swords and daggers in Marty Pistone’s intricate duels. This is an ensemble company, in the best sense of the adjective.

Prokofiev was appreciatively served in the pit, where Denis de Coteau demonstrated equal respect for the expressive line of the music and the physical needs of the dancers. The responsive 68-piece orchestra, locally recruited, enlisted Sidney Weiss as stellar concertmaster.

Grandiose ballet, the real irrational thing, was back at the Music Center. At last.

* “Romeo and Juliet,” presented by the San Francisco Ballet at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, 135 North Grand Ave. Remaining performances (with differing casts) tonight at 8, Saturday at 2 p.m. and 8 p.m., Sunday at 2 p.m. Tickets $15-$50 at box office. (213) 972-7211.