Opening night of The Australian Ballet’s Concord was of course a glamorous champagne-fluted affair. By first interval I already had the urge to take off my Louboutin heels and slide around the plush red carpet of the Arts Centre to make room for the excitement pulsing through my veins.

First up were the mysterious velvet tones of Spanish choreographer Nacho Duato’s Por vos muero (For thee I die). This Spanish Renaissance-inspired work uses light and shade, tragic poetry, and Spanish and Catalonian music from the 15th and 16th centuries to unveil the conflict of love and emotions trapped in a renaissance world. Duato’s sensuous choreography conveyed the timeless gestures of ancient masks in a darkened amphitheatre, while the cast delighted the audience with intricate modern ballet routines influenced by courtly traditions. Rich glossy silk dresses caught the moody lighting in shades of silver, midnight green and ultraviolet, adding brightness to the ballerinas’ tranquil yet troubled personas.

Scuola di ballo had exploded since I saw it in dress rehearsal just a few nights earlier. The ballet school comedy has become kaleidoscopic in nature – swirling, beautiful and sharply observed. The archetypal characters were played with a satirical, mischievous edge that was largely reminiscent of the tomfoolery of a French Parade. The cast’s mercurial performances and fast, sharp footwork blended populist comedy with the weightless effect of classical ballet. Jane Casson was wonderful as the clumsy and bow-legged Felicita who danced like she was stuck in mud. Ben Davis (ballet professor Rigadon) and Damien Welch (impresario Fabrizio) were hilarious with their exaggerated air kisses and egotistical altercations – a furious blur of gold brocade and peacock-coloured waist coasts. Phillipe Starck’s Louis chairs were used to great physical effect amidst all the tantrum throwing. The final tableaux had the whole cast flung together in preposterous positions that summed up the ultimate frivolity of Alexei Ratmansky’s fresh interpretation.

Wayne McGregor’s Dyad 1929 completed the trilogy with a physical tour de force of human virtuosity. Steve Reich’s Double Sextet dictates the elaborate and insistent rhythm of the piece, which is like a ballet equivalent of Woody Allen’s Manhattan of the late 1970s and 1980s. The choreography is jolty, frantic, neurotic and minimalist all at once. In my mind the ballerinas were dodging big yellow taxis in peak-hour traffic while contemplating the nature of existence. They had a strong sense of ownership of the stage, commanding McGregor’s challenging choreography with confidence. Bodies twisted, contorted asymmetrically and realigned into classical poses with staggering dexterity. Lucy Carter’s lighting and set design shone down like a beacon in a blizzard, and the costumes were navigational tools in a surrealist fantasy of tightly sheathed flesh.

Concord’s opening night performance revealed the dedication and remarkable display of talent I have been witness to behind the scenes. The three works use homage to honour ballet history while modernising the form. The result is a testament to ballet’s creative scope and its relevance to both established and new generations of ballet lovers.

There will be much to be celebrated when the gold curtains of the State Theatre close for the last time next Tuesday night.

Image: Andrew Killian, Lana Jones and Daniel Gaudiello in Wayne McGregor’s Dyad 1929. Photography Jim McFarlane