Secret Codes Beneath the Nutcracker's Cover

Nutcrackers are Christmas ballet fare, and Scottish Ballet has had one in its repertoire for decades. Ashley Page's version, which replaced an earlier, more sentimental version, has become one of the triumphs from his time as artistic director: as in his Sleeping Beauty, the contemporary ballet skills of the company are used without losing touch with the original ballet's classicism.

This year's revival comes on the back of Page's replacement as artistic director by Christopher Hampson, and the lively energy of the corps de ballet is, delightfully complemented by a more precise geometry. Although many of the previous Christmas shows have been undermined by some ragged group work, there is a new sense of line and order in the corps.

Lev Ivanov's original choreography to Tchaikovsky's magical score ensured, however, that the centre-piece of the performance will always be the grand pas de deux. If Page allows the narrative to slide into an almost Freudian journey through the heroine's subconscious - and there is a sense that this Nutcracker teeters on the edge of adolescent maturity - the final dance between the Prince and Marie blends the sensual and spectacular. Even the nervous, excited energy of Marie's earlier dances with Drosselmyer - mad professor and designer of the titular toy - gives way to a passionate bonding with her Prince.

Much of the power of Page's choreography comes from his willingness to both refer to earlier, classical versions and integrate a wry, post-modern wit. Yet his Nutcracker plays less with the possible meanings of the story than follows the lead of Tchaikovsky's score. Shifting the scene from the family Christmas party into the fantastic world of the Nutcracker Prince and his mortal enemies, the movement captures the sudden new depth of the orchestration. Leaving behind the chaotic world of her parents - the party has undertows of infidelity and drunken misadventures - Maria is cast into the vigorous war between the Prince's hussars and the Mice. Using Tchaikovsky's darker passages to colour the conflict, Page makes this brief battle brutal enough to off-set the potential sentimentality of the subsequent Snowflakes scene. This balance makes the second act, which emphasises the charming over the dramatic, a welcome relief.

If Page's Sleeping Beauty and Cinderella are Christmas shows with more bite - in the latter, the Ugly Sisters end up properly punished - The Nutcracker is the one where Page manages most effectively the expectations of a Christmas audience. Lightly alluding to Marie's burgeoning maturity, Page avoids being too obvious. Only the appearance of Tchaikovsky's face at the window, and the surreal appearance of Drosselmeyer in a watch, are blunt suggestions of a subtext. Very subtly, Marie is transformed from awkward, lonely child to elegant young woman. Even the Prince's journey, from wooden mannequin to romantic lead, is nuanced.

Yet The Nutcracker is, above all, a celebration of pure dance. Only through the renewed precision of the corps de ballet and the strength of the leads - Sophie Martin embodies Marie's journey, and Adam Blythe is a solid partner as her Prince - can the lightweight variations of the second act be successful. Unless the company radically changes in the next years, this Nutcracker is a strong showcase for their talents, a fine mesh of ability and choreographic intention, and will hopefully remain in the repetoire.