Shaky Harlem nights

Dance Theatre of Harlem began a three-programme, two-week stint at the Wells last night, and the first thing they danced was Serenade.

This is significant, because Serenade was America's first ballet, made by Russian émigré George Balanchine for his first students in 1934. It begins with the dancers in first position, ballet's starting point and hugely symbolic for the young choreographer.

Dance Theatre of Harlem founder Arthur Mitchell, and one-time Balnchine favourite knows all this, and his choice of Serenade is more than a homage to the man who remade classical ballet for the New World. Serenade also symbolises Mitchell's remaking of ballet for African-Americans who have flocked to DTH since its formation in the late 1960s.

How, then, did the company fare? It's hard to imagine DTH suffering from nerves, but their Serenade looked a little shaky on opening night. Some of the lines were uneven, and groupings and placement weren't always neat.

Also, not all the footwork had the definition you'd expect.

A serenade is, of course, a serene, coaxing, wooing song, played at night at a lover's balcony. However, not every DTH dancer conveyed what is inherent in Tchaikovsky's music (taped, sadly), with some looking a little rushed and with a confident rather than yielding manner.

Tis may sound like one qualification too many, but many sequences of the ballet felt right and true. The opening and closing scenes were especially good, as was the dancing of principal Tai Jimenez.

After a pause, which involved much to-ing and fro-ing among the audience, came Frederick Ashton's Thais, a short duet originally made for Anthony Dowell and Antoinette Sibley. Melissa Morrissey danced prettily, a veiled Asian maiden, although Kip Sturm was a little too hulking for her tiny frame.

Closing the evening was Michael Smuin's A Song For Dead Warriors, a narrative ballet that describes the lot of America's native Indians.

This is not a happy one, with rape, murder and theft of their land seemingly daily events. Duncan Cooper was convincing as the young brave, as was Kellye Saunders as his modern-day squaw, the pair violently destroyed by white police.

Choreography for the Ancestral Chiefs was strong, with high leaps and then sentinel stillness evoking their power and dignity. Lighting and design were also good, especially the projections, although some scenes felt overly theatrical. Smuin's Broadway background may explain this.