'dance executed by the human soul' - those Russians (Pushkin, in this case) really understand ballet

Little girls in leotards, hair pulled back in ballet buns; a drafty school hall strewn with bags and tutus and character shoes. The grumpy dance mistress shouting at the big girls while the wee grade one girls play cards or read books, awaiting their turn. Mothers at sewing machines, turning cheap satin into flower petals, netting into Sugar Plum Fairy-ness. Other mothers chatting; fathers looking lost. Older girls, insanely graceful, unselfconsciously practice their steps, pointe shoes clunking when they put a foot wrong.

The grand sweep of Aotea Square, crossing Queen St towards the theatre; people in suits and dresses crossing paths with wandering backpackers and homeward-bound students. It's opening night: I like to frock up in honour of the occasion - those dancers and musicians are going to be performing for two hours straight, so it's the least I can do to put on a dress and high heels.

The sacred and the mundane of dance have existed side by side for me this week, anticipating last night's Auckland opening of the Royal New Zealand Ballet's Cinderella, while also spending hours in cold church and school halls with Zoe as she prepares for her dance schoool's production of The Nutcracker in a week's time.

So I've had Prokofiev's score running through my head, intermingled with Tchaikovsky's, overlaid with Duke Ellington's 1960 version of The Waltz of the Flowers - The Dance of the Floreadores - which is what Zoe, who does Jazz Ballet, is dancing to, in a blue and red and white ragdoll costume.

But nothing could prepare me for the sumptuous gloriousness of the Royal New Zealand Ballet's Cinderella. Lucy Green's sweet expressive face and outstanding movements conveyed the respressed pain of the ignored, rejected daughter, while Adriana Harper's comedic talent shone as the pushed-around shorter step-sister. Combined with breath-taking costumes and an exquisite, Art Nouveau set, Bella and I were utterly blown away by a world-class production.

                                                          Photo credit: Ross Brown

Perhaps my favourite scenes were those dominated by Abigail Boyle's fairy godmother, an Edwardian delight in soft peach and grey tulle, her maternal care for the motherless girl converyed through tender dance. She was accompanied by the corps de ballet dancers in the rose arbour, with each dancer in glittering green and peach, a flawless bed of roses moving as one.

                                                          Photo credit: Evan Li

Last night, at the Auckland City premiere, the dancers had the pleasure of a live orchestra, as the Auckland Philharmonic provided Prokofiev's music, threading the story together through sound. With the full cast on stage and a full orchestra in the pit, Aucklanders are privileged to be getting access to two talented groups of artists whose performances last night were transformative - dance and music that delighted the senses and compelled the heart. As the last scene ended, an audible sigh emmanated from the audience at its beauty. It's that good.