A tryst with no twists

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In Tryst, the curtain rises on a row of neo-Balanchinean Amazon women. But the excitement of that starkly-lit opening is not sustained, and Wheeldon's return seems like a retrograde step. Instead of echoing the sub-Stravinsky pulse of James MacMillan's 1989 music, the dancers are left to doodle around on stage, in groupings that are at both confused and purposeless.

Darcey Bussell and Jonathan Cope perform the central pas de deux, but with no energy or focus, they are left adrift. The steps are extremely complex, wildly difficult, and hopelessly dull.

The one saving grace is the set. Created by Jean-Marc Puissant, it begins in darkness and lightens and brightens, changing from a stark black box with silver accents, through a Rothko-esque grey square that morphs into an Ellsworth Kelly. It sounds complicated, but is a model of elegant simplicity. It is everything that Wheeldon's ballet is not.

The evening is rescued by two great ballets: Anthony Tudor's The Leaves are Fading and Ashton's A Month in the Country. It is a little odd seeing them together, as both are about the sorrows - and pleasures - of youthful love from the vantage point of age, created by two master choreographers as their swansongs. Alina Cojocaru in Leaves, and Sylvie Guillem in Month, beautifully partnered by, respectively, Johan Kobborg and Jonathan Cope, are restrained and overwhelmingly poignant: neither could be better.

Royal Ballet Triple Bill