La Bayadere Royal Opera House, London

Most men who leave their fiancees for richer women with better social connections can expect little more than an attack on their wardrobes with the dressmaking scissors. Solor, the hero of Petipa's 1877 melodrama La Bayadere, gets harsher treatment. The gods, outraged at his treatment of the lovely temple dancer, Nikiya, stage the collapse of the temple during his wedding to her rival, the scheming Rajah's daughter Gamzatti. It's rubbish, but it's imperial rubbish and Natalia Makarova's 1989 production for the Royal Ballet manages to salvage a little of the magic.

Push Comes to Shove Royal Ballet, Covent Garden

DANCE

A nasty dose of flu and a broken foot prevented Darcey Bussell and Adam Cooper from dancing Swan Lake on Saturday afternoon. Their places were taken by Deborah Bull and Inaki Urlezaga. Urlezaga, a 21-year-old Argentinian, was a surprise choice for Siegfried. Tall, handsome and elegant, he had previously danced Siegfried with the Teatro Colon in Buenos Aires but he is still only a lowly first artist with the Royal Ballet. However, with Stuart Cassidy off sick and Jonathan Cope busy partnering Sylvie Guillem in the evening performance, Urlezaga was the only suitable partner for Bussell. The plot thickened when Bussell herself got flu. Urlezaga, having been promised the role, got to partner Deborah Bull instead.

The Royal Ballet's 'Sleeping Beauty' rattles along despite the best efforts of the designer.

FESTIVALS

As the Royal Ballet's `Cinderella' and the Kirov's `Nutcracker' bow out today, Louise Levene reflects on two productions that, despite their star turns, never quite believe in their own magic

Moments That Made The Year: Veterans such as Mikhail Baryshnikov (right) and revived classics were the class of '96. By Louise Levene

The highlight of the usual Christmas television dance bonanza this year must surely be Adventures in Motion Pictures' widely acclaimed production of Swan Lake (Boxing Day 8.30pm-10.30pm BBC2). Commonly dubbed an all-male ballet it is, in fact nothing of the kind. What is male about it is Matthew Bourne's corps of big, half-naked male swans (left). Bourne, having spotted that the swan is not a skinny, fluffy little thing but a large aggressive bird with a nasty streak, decided that the swans should be danced by men. His prince is an unhappy man in the long shadow of his mother, a career queen with no time for emotional relationships. She makes time for sexual ones, and swans around her court talent-spotting among the palace guard. Emotionally crippled by this less-than-ideal domestic set-up, the unhappy prince goes off into the night in search of human contact. What he finds is a large male swan (danced by the incredible Adam Cooper) who provides him with a glimpse of wider horizons. In the second half of the work, Bourne subverts the familiar scenario of the Petipa/Ivanov Act III by having the Black Swan arrive in the ballroom in black leather and proceed to flirt aggressively with every woman in the room. The performances are exceptional, Brotherson's designs are witty and sharp, and the choreography for the swans is inspired. Be prepared to laugh moderately throughout, and weep at the end.

The ballet pound in Londoners' pockets is under siege this Christmas by companies offering Christmas treats. Although not as bad as some years, when as many as three Nutcrackers have been on offer, we still have a situation in which four companies have only two stories between them: The Nutcracker and Cinderella. We all know that productions differ hugely, and that it's fascinating to compare and contrast, yet nobody but a critic is likely to fancy Cinderella twice in a season - let alone twice in a day.

Arts in arms: Darcey Bussell and Placido Domingo at the Royal Opera House, in advance of its first fundraising Gala. The ballerina announced yesterday that she is to marry her fiance, Angus Forbes, early next year

In the shadows prowls a man in a dark suit. He circles his prey and moves in on her with evil intent. But the girl's no victim. She goes nuclear. Fists fly, limbs flail, heads shake with such force as to empty the skull of teeth. What begins as an assault becomes a macabre jitterbug in which neither party will let the other go. He flings her to the floor and she's up and at him: now a homunculus clinging furiously to his chest; now a lethal blade, her Magimix legs threatening to slice him like a puree. If there is a message, it must be this: muggers beware. Hell hath no fury like a Montreal body-hurtler.

Next time Sylvie Guillem asks 'Romeo, Romeo? wherefore art thou, Romeo?' Adam Cooper just might be the answer. By Louise Levene