Class warfare in Verona? Montagues and Capulets arrayed not against each other but against the poor? Armies of street urchins begging for a handout as the filthy-rich guests of Lord Capulet enter his prison-compound palazzo? That�s the sobering ethos of Rudi van Dantzig�s Romeo and Juliet, which Boston Ballet is giving its American premiere. When after the street brawl in the marketplace the townspeople kneel to beseech the protection of the Duke of Verona, you half expect them to rise, step forward as one, and burst into "We want our revolution now."

Most ballet realizations of Prokofiev�s 1935 score take their comforting cue from Juliet�s "Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow/That I shall say good night till it be morrow," the lovers in death stars that will light the face of Heaven. Those include the well-known versions by Leonid Lavrovsky and Kenneth MacMillan as well as the two that Boston Ballet has commissioned, by Choo San Goh in 1984 and Daniel Pelzig in 1997. Van Dantzig�s 1967 Dutch National Ballet production draws instead on Juliet�s "O now be gone! More light and light it grows." and Romeo�s answering "More light and light: more dark and dark our woes." Nothing could be darker than Toer van Schayk�s set: huge and smoky-black, the fa�ade of the Capulet palazzo dominates the piazza like Verona�s San Zeno in Hell � it�s as if the entire ballet were taking place in the Capulet tomb. Van Schayk�s structure is set well back, creating a cavernous performance space and implying that this dungeon is the world we live in. The black floor is criss-crossed by thin white stripes.

And when, after an opening tableau meant to actualize Shakespeare�s prologue sonnet, the piazza fills with the poor people of Verona, you might well wonder whether you haven�t wandered into Les Mis�rables or Marat/Sade. Men stagger under bundles of faggots; girls with water jugs make for the well, which along with an unhappy tree and a fruit-and-vegetable stand is all this marketplace has to offer. A cripple limps along; two harlots ply their trade; innumerable street children race about. A sedan chair bearing Juliet accompanied by her nurse (on foot) enters; when a street vendor steps up with a silk shawl, Juliet counts it as one of the perquisites of the rich and privileged, but the nurse rejects the (reasonable?) price as too high. Later, when Tybalt emerges from the Capulet compound, the same man offers him the shawl and gets kicked for his pains. And when the guests arrive (more sedan chairs) at the Capulet party, Verona�s have-nots flank the steps leading up to the massive double doors like autograph hounds at the Oscars, except that they�re clamoring for a few lire � and it�s not the Capulets but Mercutio who obliges.

The Capulets are the natural villains of any Romeo; here they sashay through the piazza with palpable disdain for anyone not wearing red and black, they toss the harlots about like rag dolls, and the most visible victim of the street brawl is the fruit-and-vegetable seller, who�s run through by a young Capulet lord. At the party, under hangings that depict a rapacious crow (Romeo calls Juliet "a snowy dove trooping with crows"), the bent-arm choreography of the Dance of the Knights seems poised to break into a Fascist salute at any moment, and Tybalt�s battements reek of goosestep.

It�s harder to say where the Montagues fit in. Romeo wears white and gold, Mercutio (listed as a Montague in this production, though in Shakespeare he�s kin to Prince Escalus and Paris and "neutral") and Benvolio earth tones, Romeo�s three companions the beige and white of the townspeople. Apart from the Duke and Friar Laurence (likewise made family members without the Bard�s imprimatur), these are the only Montagues in Van Dantzig�s ballet, and they�re as fun-loving as the Capulets are repressed, sporting with the harlots and dancing with the townspeople. In most versions, Romeo, Mercutio, and Benvolio simply mask and walk into Lord Capulet�s house; here they have to infiltrate a group of cloaked guests. Hastening to his wedding, Romeo is presented with a bridal bouquet by the street children � no question where their sympathies lie. When in the dying embers of the brawl a Capulet boy and some street children engage in a wooden-sword fight and one street child wins (at least on opening night), much to the disgust of the onlooking Tybalt, it�s an amusing jab at the rich and feckless; but when at the end, in the shadow of Lord Capulet and Lord Montague, prince and pauper embrace, it�s just plain confusing. The street child is dressed up like Gunga Din � has he been adopted by the Montagues?

Van Dantzig�s storytelling in general combines originality and obscurity. There�s no Rosaline, so when Romeo enters all starry-eyed, you don�t know whether he�s thinking of her or is just naturally lovesick. He�s there in the piazza when Juliet is brought in, and he�s smitten at once � but is it love or is it that sedan chair? The character identified in the cast list as "A Capulet Child" lives in Juliet�s house and appears to be her younger brother, so why not say so? Both Tybalt and Juliet are tender and teasing with him, a gratifying touch, but his presence as Capulet heir waters down the tragedy. Mercutio has a girlfriend, and they secure what looks like an engagement or quickie wedding (10 seconds tops) ceremony from Friar Laurence as he�s leading a procession through the piazza, so that when he�s killed, moments later, there�s one more mourner. Friar Laurence never explains to Juliet what the sleeping potion he�s giving her will do; there�s no letter to Mantua, no visit by Romeo to the apothecary, and no late visit by Friar Laurence to the tomb, or by Paris for that matter. Romeo kills himself with his dagger; there�s no poison, thus no parallel to Juliet�s drinking of the friar�s potion. And at the end both Montagues and Capulets arrive, from opposite sides of the stage, in a sterile procession rather than as concerned parents. Van Dantzig has added a "Giant Death Figure" who cavorts in the marketplace and foretells Mercutio�s death, a "White Monk" who startles the newly married Romeo and Juliet, and the ghosts of Mercutio and Tybalt, who confront Juliet on her way to the friar and at the end spread their crepuscular capes over the lovers� bodies. This last, like Choo San Goh�s cinder-clad Fate, seems redundant, if not irrelevant, but over five viewings last weekend the idea grew in stature.

Van Dantzig�s choreography, on the other hand, embodies a multitude of basic steps, tours and tours jet�s for the men, arabesques and jet�s for the ladies and a lot of pas de bourr�e for Juliet. The man�ge Romeo performs at the Capulet ball is so unvirtuosic, it�s no wonder Juliet never takes her eyes off Paris. And when the balcony-scene music ratchets up in intensity and you expect Romeo to produce the usual solo pyrotechnics, he instead tosses off a rudimentary tour jet� and rejoins Juliet. When this music reaches the next level and you expect spectacular lifts of passion, the nurse appears to coax Juliet inside (just as in the play). The set change that accompanies the roiling music for Juliet�s decision to seek help from Friar Laurence is similarly elusive in its logic. By Saturday, however, the company was learning how to stretch out and fill Van Dantzig�s seemingly nondescript phrases. The poses inspired by Lavrovsky�s pioneering 1940 version took pleasing shape; what had looked like Russian pair-skating moves became balletic.

The casting didn�t get quite the same chance to settle. Having just one dancer do 11 of the 13 Tybalts seemed to be tempting fate, and in the event Viktor Plotnikov jammed a foot on Thursday. Yury Yanowsky had to take over after intermission and for the next two performances, and Paul Thrussell and Adriana Su�rez, who hadn�t even practiced together, wound up doing Romeo and Juliet on Friday. Simon Ball and Pollyana Ribeiro danced on Thursday, and though they were perfectly suited in George Balanchine�s Ballo della Regina last month, they don�t quite match here, Ball a shade too static, Ribeiro a shade too quicksilver for the choreography, though she can be meltingly slow, too, and she�s a wellspring of impulsive and inimitable nuance. At the ball, she�s hypnotized by Ball�s Romeo, drawn toward him even as she�s dancing with Paris. Ball starts out with a big double tour pas de chat, but he looks a little vague at the beginning of the aubade pas de deux, as if he couldn�t remember whom he�d spent the night with, and he leaves her brusquely. Often he seems more comfortable with his bad-boy side; I�d like to have seen him as Tybalt and perhaps Paris.

Thrussell and Su�rez wound up together Friday when Yanowsky, who was scheduled to dance Romeo, had to step in for Plotnikov as Tybalt. Su�rez�s Juliet is less willful and rebellious than Ribeiro�s, more like Natalie Wood�s Maria in the film of West Side Story. She�s looking forward to taking her place as a married woman in Veronese society, and the handsome suitor her father�s brought home seems a catch. As soon as she sees Romeo, though, she�s overcome by curiosity: he�s a world she can spend a lifetime exploring, whereas Paris already looks ready for Madame Tussaud. Thrussell impresses less with his technique than with his body language: poetic at first, then yielding, accommodating to Su�rez. In the balcony pas de deux, they practically flow into each other, and they make Van Dantzig�s series of lifts look easy.

Saturday brought corps member Sabi Varga and soloist (she�ll be a principal next year) Sarah Lamb. From his opening entrance, Varga looked bigger, fuller, and more dangerous than Ball or Thrussell, and over the next two hours he fulfilled that promise, his technique sketchy at times but the sexuality of his presence never in doubt. Lamb, who�s taller than Ribeiro or Su�rez, looks like Carlo Crivelli�s Mary Magdalene and moves a little like Grace Kelly, elegant but inquisitive. Her Juliet is flattered by Paris�s attention, but she flies to Romeo like an arrow (Shakespeare�s "Love goes toward love"), all pulsing delight, and when she can�t induce Tybalt to accept him, she�s reduced to tears. And against some balcony pas de deux lifts that didn�t quite float, there was an exquisite wedding scene: Lamb bending back effortlessly as Varga touched her for the first time, Lamb surprised and ecstatic at getting a bridal bouquet, Varga dissolving in Friar Laurence�s arms the moment she leaves. In the aubade pas de deux, Lamb scrunches in Varga�s arms as if already she felt the chill of the tomb; and Varga kisses her wistfully before leaving. He races into the tomb and whips the sheet from her in one motion, then bounds onto the bier in another; when he�s dead and she�s dying, she rubs her cheek sensuously against his sleeve before pulling his arm around her.

Sunday, with Raul Salamanca prepped to step in as Tybalt, Yanowsky got his chance to dance Romeo opposite Su�rez. He�s more angular, more anguished, more dangerous than Thrussell, and she responds to him with greater caution. When he lifts her, there�s less flow, more passion, less poetry, though she seems able to swim through the air no matter who�s holding her up. On Sunday too I noticed how she ripples unwillingly, like a Slinky, when her mother pushes her toward Tybalt, and how in the tomb she�s ecstatic when she sees Romeo because she thinks he�s still alive.

The minor characters are less successful. Plotnikov�s Tybalt is (or was going to be) expansive where Yanowsky�s is explosive � just compare their tours jet�s. Raul Salamanca is a neat, self-righteous Tybalt who plays by the rules; pride rather than choler is his defining characteristic. Van Dantzig has Tybalt mime the tying of a babushka around his head (in mockery of Romeo) and lick the blood from the tip of his sword after dispatching Mercutio, but there�s only so much a dancer can do to rehabilitate a man who stabs his opponent in the back. Paul Thrussell�s opening-night Mercutio was uncharacteristically pallid; Jared Redick brings a cynical edge that�s not inappropriate, but his steps don�t all have the necessary bravura. By contrast, Christopher Budzynski is the James Bond of jesters, jumping and spinning with indolent ease and milking a slow full pli� for all its comic worth. Drawn against Tybalt, he might as well be Puck dueling a mortal. He also makes the most of the moment when the mortally wounded Mercutio points at his back and then gives Tybalt the slow handclap.

Paris (Michael Johnson and, a little less entitled, Sabi Varga) is the usual wax figure; the silk shawl he tries to present Juliet in her bedroom should have been the one the street vendor was offering. Lady Capulet (Karla Kovatch is the most enticing, with a roving eye) is the usual powerless wife and non-mother. Benvolio (Nicholas Mishoe and Miao Zong) gets to do little more than twirl in tandem with Mercutio. Arthur Leeth is a more assertive Duke and more forceful Lord Capulet than Raymond Lukens, but these remain stereotypes. The nurse (Brooke Kiser conjuring Sally Field and Janine Parker Judy Garland) is locked into the usual comic stereotype. As for Friar Laurence (Patrick Thornberry, Dean Vollick, and Alexander Ritter), he seems particularly (deliberately?) ineffective when he�s attempting to comfort the fruit-and-vegetable seller�s widow and child.

The townspeople, on the other hand, are full of life; boasting the simplicity of folk movement and the elegance of Balanchine, their choreography is more rewarding than MacMillan�s Broadway-musical glitz. The harlots � Erika Lambe, Shannon Parsley, Melanie Atkins, and Karla Kovatch � have hearts of gold and moves to match, and there are characterful turns by James Whiteside as an innkeeper, Joel Prouty as the cripple, and Andrea Schermoly as a street cleaner, among others. Atkins made the most of her role as Mercutio�s girlfriend; she and Thrussell engaged in a dance of teasing defiance with death. Despite a number of raw patches last weekend and some tempo surprises (a very fast "Masks" and "Gavotte," a daringly slow tempo for the balcony pas de deux), the orchestra under Jonathan McPhee played Prokofiev�s score with the weight, timbre (no shirking from the bassoons or the trombones), and freedom of phrasing that make this music dance. Sour notes and all, this is a better performance than anything that�s available on CD; perhaps someday the company will find the money to record it.

Is this the Romeo of Boston Ballet�s dreams? I miss the Alain Va�s set for the Goh and Pelzig�s productions; its essay on perspective (complete with an equestrian statue whose rider was obstructed by a column) presented new angles at every viewing, whereas Van Schayk�s flat fa�ade, like so many concepts, simply hits you over the head. The minor characters are a tangle of lost opportunities, the harbingers of death inorganic; and the tomb scene is too short, without the building sequence whereby Juliet discovers first Tybalt�s bier, then Paris�s body, and finally Romeo�s, and with no Friar Laurence to try to hustle her off to a nunnery, and no poison bottle (Dierdre Myles created an indelible moment in the 1993 Goh production when she spiked it off the crypt floor). Shakespeare lived in a time that was far darker than ours, yet he found more light in his story than Van Dantzig does. Yet this production has its own indelible moments, not least the backdrop for the trio by Romeo, Mercutio, and Benvolio where a man with pole full of fish sits disconsolately on the palazzo steps and then is joined by the widow and her child, their misery lost on our three cavaliers. Perhaps Van Dantzig�s Romeo could alternate in the Boston Ballet repertoire with the Goh and/or Pelzig versions. What company anywhere has three Romeos this good?