The quest to deal with a sore foot

Cervantes’ “Don Quixote” is about the quest for an ideal and, especially, the pitfalls of such a notion. Through one of those unplanned mishaps that plague the ballet world, American Ballet Theatre offered no less than three versions of the ideal couple Saturday afternoon in its production of “Don Quixote” at the Orange County Performing Arts Center.

Because Jose Manuel Carreno’s foot was bothering him, the company cast him as the hero Basilio only in the first act instead of the whole afternoon, as was originally planned. Maxim Belotserkovsky, who was scheduled for the evening performance, also danced the second act. Marcelo Gomes, who was on the bill for Sunday afternoon, took over in the third.

They all appeared with their originally announced partners: Carreno with Paloma Herrera; Belotserkovsky with his wife, Irina Dvorovenko; and Gomes with Gillian Murphy.

It was -- even in the unpredictable dance world -- unusual, to say the least.

The audience saw Carreno and Herrera run offstage at the end of the first act and Belotserkovsky and Dvorovenko run onstage in the second, and only experienced balletomanes realized they were supposed to be looking at the same characters. Ditto Act 3.

Still, matinee ticket-holders got to experience almost the whole weekend in miniature in the familiar, overly busy staging by Kevin McKenzie and Susan Jones. But the ideal remained elusive.

Carreno was the most fully human, warm and impetuous Basilio of the three. For all his detailed acting, his dancing was even better, with such speedy, steady and plumb-line straight corkscrew turns that he could have drilled for oil beneath the Segerstrom Hall stage, had he chosen to.

As Kitri, the heroine, Herrera had glints of peppy, saucy character, but her strengths remained almost exclusively technical, with a rock steady set of downstage traveling turns or almost lethal Spanish-style flung-back arms and kicks to the back of the head.

Belotserkovsky and Dvorovenko, who share the same Kirov Ballet School training, were the most perfectly matched couple, inhabiting an elegant, seemingly timeless and unperturbed world that virtually none of the other dancers shared.

When Dvorovenko appeared as the Ideal in the Vision Scene or as Kitri reached out to Don Quixote (Brian Reeder), the poor, mad man of La Mancha could hardly be faulted for his deluded aspirations. But as village characters, they lacked the common touch.

Murphy had some trouble in her supported balances in the third act pas de deux, but she more than compensated with a dazzling series of fouettes and multiple turns in the coda.

Gomes tended to be blurry and even sloppy in the air, but strong on the ground, although he telegraphed his finishes overly much. Neither of the two was required to do much dramatically in this act.

Monique Meunier and Gennadi Saveliev made a competent, if unexciting, couple as Mercedes and Espada.

Anne Milewski was a nimble, speedy Amour; Carmen Corella was a generous Queen of the Dryads.

Essaying the role for the first time, Sarawanee Tenatanit danced the Gypsy lead strongly. Carlos Lopez was her exuberant partner.

As Gamache, the unsuccessful, rich suitor of Kitri, Carlos Molina thankfully avoided most of the foppish cliches. As the Don, Reeder was more avuncular friend than visionary madman. Julio Bragado-Young was an engaging Sancho Panza.

The company danced with energy, but very few people actually appeared to inhabit their roles. All too often, business at the side of the stage took the focus away from the corps.

The keep-the-target moving pacing of the action was underscored by David LaMarche’s vivid conducting of members of the Pacific Symphony, which, apart from some initial problems, responded with verve.