The ballet Don Quixote is less a story and more an excuse for a knees-up. Beautiful Kitri has two suitors; one poor but boyishly handsome, the other rich, prissy and dressed in unflattering yellow tights. It's no surprise who ends up putting the ring on her finger. But with Kitri's money- grabbing father standing in the way of the happy union, and Don Quixote and Sancho Panza meandering through the picture (riding a real horse and pony), it takes a good three hours, four acts and numerous breaks for applause to reach the inevitable conclusion.
It's a riotous journey. The Kirov's production, based on Alexander Gorsky's 1902 version, is a bold, bustling and colourful affair, and the mock-Spanish setting is alive with skirt-swooshing, fan-waving and shimmering tambourines. So brisk and breathless is the dancing that it has you wondering if conductor Mikhail Sinkevich has upped the tempo on Minkus's score since last night.
The Kirov is so confident in their ensemble that the only principal dancer on stage is Irma Nioradze as Kitri, who throws herself into the opening act with gusto. Her expansive dancing fills the vast stage of the Millennium Centre so enthusiastically that lover Basil (Anton Korsakov) can barely reach her as she leaps almost out of his grasp. Her limbs are joyously flung to the farthest reaches, although this often comes at the expense of detail. Korsakov proves himself very able, excelling in his solos.
Spirited Gypsy dancers and showy toreadors provide the spectacle, while farcical comedy comes courtesy of Anton Lukovkin as a rotund Sancho Panza. Evgenya Obraztsova dances a delightfully impish Cupid in the vision scene, but when Nioradze takes on the role of a woodland nymph, her hard-edged appearance somewhat breaks the spell. In fact, as time goes on her beaming smile begins to look more and more like gritted teeth. She needn't worry, though: Don Q may be a rambling tale but there's enough bravura here to keep everyone entertained.
· In rep until April 30. Box office: 0870 040 2000.
