Matthew Bourne's SWAN LAKE

This contemporay production of Tchaikovsky's classic ballet, Swan Lake, choreographed and directed by England's Matthew Bourne, is accessible, delightful, moving, transgressive, transporting, erotic and very queer. As you can probably guess from that opening sentence, I liked the show - which had its Melbourne premiere on Wednesday night at the opulent Regent Theatre - a hell of a lot.

Bourne's decision to replace the traditional, tutu-clad ballerinas who usually play the swans in Swan Lake with muscular, half naked men has garnered considerable attention for the production in the decade since it debuted in the UK in 1995, but rest assured it is much more than a simple publicity stunt. While just as graceful as women, Bourne's dancers visibly embody the strength of the swan - a bird which can, reputedly, break a man's arm with a blow of its wing. They highlight the beauty of masculinity, although conversely, in certain scenes late in the production, they also present the ugly side of being a man.

In Act II, where the character of The Prince (played last night by Simon Williams, alternating the role with Christopher Marney) dances with The Swan (the beefy, hairy Alan Vincent, alternating with Thomas Whitehead), Bourne's decision to re-gender his swans effortlessly evokes the transforming power of love - in this instance, a romantic love between men. While some might quibble at this interpretation, I can see no other way to read the scene where the Swan comes to the Prince's aid physically and emotionally after he has been betrayed by the machinations of his mother's Private Secretary. The dance between Prince and Swan is nothing short of magnificent, and left me with my heart in my mouth and tears in my eyes. Highlighting Bourne's virtuosity, the same act transforms a traditional dance by four cygnets into a cocky, cheeky dance of boyish bravado.

Elsewhere Bourne has added elements to his Swan Lake which satirise our expectations of traditional ballet; and in other scenes, melded political satire and broad humour to the play's story. The sumptuous set design, lighting and costuming (especially in the ball scene in Act III, which was truly spectacular) added to the overall impact of the production, but as befits a narrative told through dance, the physicality of the performers was always at the forefront.

Gimmicks such as a mechanical corgi, and the creative freedom of a massive budget, assist in ensuring that this Swan Lake is delightfully entertaining , but coupled with the stirring original score by Tchaikovsky, Bourne's fluid, threatening, startling and addictive choreograhy are what give this production its heart and soul.

I could quibble and say that one or two scenes could have been trunctuated or entirely abandoned, but the production's reliance on Tchaikovsky's complete original score negates this possibility. Importantly, given that ballet bores me - or at least has until now - I was never restless or looking at the time.

I commend Matthew Bourne's Swan Lake, and recommend this production to you wholeheartedly. After all, how often do you have the opportunity to see centuries of tradition remade before your eyes?