Scottish Ballet's new version of Robert North's The Snowman is a Christmas treat for dark days. It must be a welcome respite for a company under fire; North's imminent, acrimonious departure as artistic director seems forgotten. With colour and costumes for the kids, and a bit of glamour and sentimentality for those accompanying them, this show is a delight.
First performed in Gothenburg in 1992 as a one-act ballet, the production now includes new characters - a cat and Jack Frost - and a choreographed encore that lengthens it to two acts. It opens as snow falls against what looks like an oversized red doll's house; we are in Raymond Briggs country from the start. To muck around with his world - created as a storybook in 1978 and subsequently brought to life by the Channel 4 film with Howard Blake's score - would cut no ice with the kids. Scottish Ballet keeps the Snowman round and smooth and silent, just as Briggs draws him. A pity, then, that James, the boy, is a grown man in a jaunty red wig in this version - the dancing looks as if it might adapt well to 12-year-old feet.
Luckily, this oddity hardly detracts from the fun. The story adapts well to dance. After a gentle introduction, the audience are soon rollicking to the sight of a pineapple, coconut and banana doing the limbo in James's kitchen. Then the girly pink princess in a tutu twirls off her music box to dance with the heroes; Linda Packer is tiny, and perfect for the part.
Then comes the bit that everyone is waiting for. James and the Snowman fly. Walking in the Air is one of those melodies everyone can hum. When the two travellers scud past the moon and over the sea, the music completes the magic (even when the small person next to you whispers, "Mum, I can see the wires.")
Act two follows the shape of a traditional ballet crowd scene - snowmen and women are joined by lovely high-stepping reindeer and toys from Santa's sack. Father Christmas himself takes charge of the proceedings, which are disrupted by tango and a spiky Jack Frost. But all ends well and the gang wave goodbye in harmony, only to regroup after a quick melting of the Snowman for a jolly, hand-clapping curtain call.
The choreography is simple (costumes demand it), but this show is sugar and spice and all things nice. Cynics are recommended to hand in their cold shoulders at the cloakroom.
· At Edinburgh Festival Theatre (0131-529 6000) until December 29, then tours Scotland.
