Danes Bring Damaged Goods : Ballet Review: The Royal Danish company returns with a revised ‘La Sylphide’ in Costa Mesa.

Where is the “Sylphide” of yesterseason?

Three short years ago, the Royal Danish Ballet came, saw and conquered Orange County with its classic production of Bournonville’s fragile opus about the handsome Scot who falls in love with a mischievous sprite but finds ecstasy thwarted by a spiteful witch.

The irresistible ballet, which returned to the Performing Arts Center on Tuesday, dates to 1836. When last admired, it was staged after the beloved Hans Brenaa-model by Henning Konstram with help from Anne Marie Vessel. The sets were old, and the choreography was--had to be--a compromise between enlightened tradition and cautious invention. But this was a “Sylphide” that could fulfill most balletomanes’ dreams.

It represented a subtle yet vital demonstration of the airy, fragile, introspective Bournonville style--a style that tends to lose quite a lot in transplantation. This “La Sylphide,” a.k.a. “Sylfiden,” made its points with precision that never precluded pathos. And it enlisted such paragons as Heidi Ryom as a sweetly melancholic heroine with winglets, Nikolaj Hubbe as a macho-sensitive James and, most memorable, Sorella Englund as a lovelorn witch who steadfastly dealt in tragedy rather than caricature.

The response from this critical corner gushed in unblushing superlatives. The words have come back to haunt and taunt us in recent ads. Unfortunately, they don’t apply to the latest Royal Danish “Sylphide.”

That was then and this is now. Although the Danish “Sylphide” was anything but broken, it has been fixed.

The fixer in this case is Peter Schaufuss, who succeeded Frank Andersen as artistic director of the Royal Danish Ballet last year. He has discarded the delicate old production--lock, stock and kilts--and replaced it with a rather coarse new one of his own.

Actually, his “Sylphide” isn’t literally new. It was created for the Festival Ballet (now the English National) in London as long ago as 1979, and has been subsequently re-set on a number of European ensembles. It may look appealing in a foreign environment. Bournonville’s delicacy of expression has never traveled well, and allowances must be made. But Schaufuss’ “Sylphide” looks decidedly odd--call it foreign--as performed by a company steeped in the authentic tradition.

His version, replete with passages of dubious origin restored in questionable places, is longer than most. Running two hours, it fills the evening. The characters are fleshed out. The hero is now more heroic. The phony folk rituals are more obtrusive. Terpsichorean filigree has been added, it would seem, in the quest for decorative padding.

There is one illuminating invention. James now dances a courtly little pas de trois that finds him torn between a woman of poetic illusion and a woman of prosaic reality. Most of the other improvements, however, aren’t.

The problem of focus is compounded by problems of style. Schaufuss seems to be striving for a degree of muscular showmanship that contradicts the innate subtlety of the Bournonville tradition. Muted bravura doesn’t seem to be his forte. Or his piano. And in basic matters of narrative exposition, the choreographer fluctuates oddly between formal mime and let’s-just-dance abstraction.

The British decors, designed 16 years ago by David Walker, carry coals from Newcastle to Copenhagen. The sets are conventional, as are the costumes (apart from the pea-soup tutus afflicted on the supporting sylphs). Walker adds nothing of distinction to a visual scheme that had been more evocatively designed for the Danes in 1967 by Soeren Frandsen.

And the dancing? It was fine. The Danes still dance like Danes. Some things, thank goodness, change slower than others.

The corps performed with extraordinary degrees of lightness and precision, and even managed to appear nonchalant in the process. The principals performed with obvious dedication and commanding zeal, amid remnants of the endangered Bournonville manner.

The steps were executed with clarity and finesse, whether echt- Bournonville or ersatz -Bournonville. The central focus was slighted in the process, however, along with the projection of dramatic urgency. The bland yet ragged reading of Lovenskjoeld’s score by the Pacific Symphony under Graham Bond didn’t help matters.

Rose Gad, who has risen to premiere-Sylphide status since the last Danish visit, is a lovely, tiny, dainty, mercurial waif en pointe. She floats through the role with canny cheer. She flashes a radiant smile and exudes a hint of dangerous innocence. What she doesn’t do--or, at least, didn’t on this occasion--is break any hearts. As set up by Schaufuss, her demise becomes just another pretty death. It isn’t enough.

Johan Kobborg introduces a dashing, boyish James, precise in leg-beats and supple in challenges of flight. He doesn’t magnetize attention as hoped, however, in a production that accentuates the danseur. And his sense of drama seems only pose deep.

Alexander Koelpin, a celebrated James in Copenhagen, is demoted to Gurn in Costa Mesa. Suave and assertive, he makes the most of his expanded duties. He resists any temptation to overstress either villainy or wit, which, we suppose, is nice. In the process, however, he makes the hero’s interesting antagonist just another nice dull guy. Two nice dull guys are at least one too many for any ballet.

Kirsten Simone, who plays Madge the semi-wicked witch, is an intelligent, sensitive artist who, in her prime, was a much-loved Sylphide. She deserves credit for avoiding the usual nasty-old-crone cliches, and her concept of the role--something akin to a misunderstood diva in decline--exerts a certain fascination. She certainly is good, in her understated way, but she cannot make us forget the cunning ferocity and aching sadness that Sorella Englund brought to the part.

Petrusjka Broholm is pert yet sympathetic as the jilted Effy who, in this case, may not be settling for second-best when she chooses Gurn. The others, including several stellar artists not too proud to assume dance-on roles, are strong. If only one could say the same for their reconstituted vehicle.

Something’s rotting, we fear, in the state of Denmark.

* The Royal Danish Ballet repeats “La Sylphide” at the Orange County Performing Arts Center, 600 Town Center Drive, Costa Mesa, tonight at 8. “A Folk Tale” follows Friday through Sunday . Tickets $20 to $70. (714) 556-2121.