By BERNADETTE RAE
There is more - a lot more - to tickle your fancy in this stunning dance company than just the spectacle of men in tutus taking a non-too-subtle poke at the curious but traditional manners, methods and moues of classical ballet.
Comic is what they are and comic
is what they do, but under the garish froth of tulle and sequins, rouge and huge false eyelashes is a company of proper dancers, well-trained and talented, that levitates this line-up head and shoulders above the usual cross-dressed spectacle.
The Trocks are certainly not beyond hamming it up, but what is truly funny is the sight of so many pairs of taut and grisly legs up en pointe, jette-ing and pas de chat-ing with the best of them, doing it perfectly but being somehow not quite right.
The better they perform the steps, the more they immerse themselves into the soul of the ballerina, the funnier it becomes.
So, while the fourth cygnet in Swan Lake, with the iridescent blue eyelids and the siren red, slightly smeared lipstick, is a clown, the other three do a pretty good job. Ditto "Sveltlana Lofatkina's" Odette.
"Lariska Dumbchenko's" Dying Swan is stunning, not just because of the perfect feathers that fly from her person at every twitch and the hairy chest above the white satin decollete, but because she has the most expressive and fluid arms and hands, albeit a bit on the large side.
And little "Sylphia Belchick's" Variation 5 in Paquita is extraordinary for speed and virtuosity as well as side-splitting effect.
There is not the slightest tinge of the deep or meaningful in the performance, but the parody is perfect, the talent is there and everyone has a good time.
NB: The biographies are a hoot, but the dim lights during the intervals meant reading them was out of the question.
