DANCE / Mukhamedov without tears

WHY ON earth is the Royal Ballet's superstar, Irek Mukhamedov, performing with Arc, a contemporary dance compa ny? The reason is Othello, a role made in heaven, and perfect for Mukhamedov's virtuosity. Few others have the dramatic versatility to plot the distressing emotional graph from greatness to humiliation. It's a role he had wanted to dance. So he asked the choreographer Kim Brandstrup, Arc's director, to create it specially for him.

At Sadler's Wells, Brandstrup extracts the essential scenes and invents a few of his own to build an intelligent and rhythmic piece laced with allusive devices. With his hands Othello spins the tales of adventure that win over Desdemona (Leesa Phillips). Later his own head will spin as Iago encircles it with his poisonous hands. Later still, he sits, shoulders slumped, on a wall, watching Iago fluttering on the ground - a deliberate butterfly flapping its wings and causing chaos. Othello is defeated - a baffled child who has been outwitted. In that moment, he becomes lesser, Iago (Daniel Belton) greater. Iago holds a mirror to a reluctant Othello, but this puzzling interplay does not slam home the power shift that has just taken place.

Choreographic devices are used to denote Othello's outsider status. His steps are majestic and noble; but his very polish sets him apart. In contrast is the puckish Iago, a rolling, leathery little devil with shifty eyes. Ian Dearden's pulsating electronic score underlines the dramatic tensions: pounding drums heat Craig Givens' clean and classic set; violins cool it again. But these elements, no matter how lush, are no substitute for choreographic variety. Odd as it seems, Othello's profane denunciation of Desdemona is similar to his profoundly loving duet with her at the start. In these, she is borne across his back like a white satin flag. And his swirling turns when humiliated are the same as his dance when equanimous. Iago rolls head over heels, even after his power to hurt Othello is affirmed.

So we are admiring observers of precise and eloquent performances, but never feel close to the characters. Mukhamedov is a consummate artist, who can make you weep. Here he moves mountains, but is frustrated in his efforts to make rivers of tears flow. Nevertheless, Othello is a thoughtful and smart work of integrity.

The 50-minute piece forms the first half of the programme. The second part, a divertissement, is performed by Mukhamedov's own company. This assortment of goodies is patchy - and it inadvertently becomes a vehicle for Mukhamedov's talents. He is clownish in Balanchine's charming Tarantulla with Miyako Yoshida, and a slick tango dancer with his wife, Maria Mukhamedova. And he's lost none of his Bolshoi heroism as he roars through the air in Diana and Actaeon. As a crossover between ballet and contemporary dance, the event offers something for everyone, but Othello is the best part.

While Mukhamedov is performing Othello, 27 of his Royal Ballet colleagues are touring Leicester, Cambridge and Blackpool with Dance Bites. The venture is billed as a new way of touring. What this really means is that a small company of dancers is testing new works in the regions. The pieces that pass will presumably come to the Royal Opera House. Dance Bites arises out of a crisis: the Royal Ballet has suddenly realised that the future is here - and it has done nothing to prepare for it. Since Kenneth MacMillan's death in 1992, the company has had no choreographers to renew its repertory. So 'mini-tours' are its belated attempt to establish structures for nurturing new choreographers.

The intention is more virtuous than the execution. Pity the audience, which sees a company depleted of resources. My sympathies lie also with the dancers, whose dignity takes a thorough lashing. William Tuckett's choreographically empty Desirable Hostilities is a passionless string of cliches. Matthew Hart's Caught Dance has more ideas, but they come and go. I kept imagining how Tetsuya Kumakawa - for whom the piece was created - would dance it, because Manuel Carreno kept pretending he was somewhere else. Carreno continued this game in Herman Schmerman, which was unfair to his partner Deborah Bull, who was left to fly the flag heroically alone. Peter Abegglen's sweet character-dance and a heart-throb cast of fine male dancers - Jonathan Cope, Adam Cooper and Stuart Cassidy - saved the dreary life of Ashley Page's narrative Renard. Dance Bites is a desperate exercise done on the cheap.

Dance Bites, Grand, Blackpool, 0253 28372, Mon & Tues.

(Photograph omitted)