Cinderella, Sadler's Wells, London

Cinderella's ill-fitting dance shoes

Maguy Marin's Cinderella for the Lyon Opera Ballet starts as if it is actually going to be what the programme announces, namely a full production of Prokofiev's much-admired score, by far the best of his three long ballets. Sadly, that isn't the case. Marin apparently wants to show us how clever she is, and presenting all the characters as dolls, hidden under ingenious masks, is the first of her innovations, albeit the most grave in effect since it stultifies personality and dance style.

Soon we find that the familiar music (by the Lyon Opera orchestra) has been substantially chopped, and that great dollops of unattributed extraneous sound are added in the gaps, principally the noise of babies babbling – this racket is even superimposed on poor Prokofiev in the finale. Well, that's one way of insulting the composer; another is to ignore how he shaped his score to bring out the varied emotions of the plot based on Perrault's fairy story.

Plot is not a strong feature with Marin, even though she finds one or two neat touches, most notably making Cinderella lose her temper with the wooden unresponsiveness of the broomstick she has been imagining as her lover. But little affection is revealed between her and the Prince (their duets are stylised and formal), and the Ugly Sisters are minimally characterised, like their whole family, except when Stepmother sits on Cinders to hide her from the Prince seeking whomever the shoe will fit.

The show isn't bad theatrically, but the best I can say for the choreography is it is ingenious, largely arm gestures and little jigging steps. As for fitting the music, forget it; in fact, an occasional amusing contrast to what one might expect is the chief virtue, usually with smaller, quicker phrases than seem likely. When the Prince's servants throw in an occasional double air turn during his travels, you might wonder why Marin has suddenly reverted to standard ballet technique.

Montserrat Casanova's three-level box setting, full of detail, demands admiration, likewise the cutely moving animal toys she has devised; her costumes are less helpful. With the dancers all hidden under Monique Luyton's realistic but encumbering masks, it isn't easy to comment on the cast, except to admire their courage and even a degree of liveliness in such circumstances.

The production has lasted 15 years and been widely applauded, but I didn't feel the London audience was overwhelmed. Even so, I am still grateful that in Sadler's Wells we have a theatre that lets spectators here see for themselves the wide diversity of ballet available internationally today.