He's on the T. He's on the radio. He's on TV. (Well, maybe. If I had both a TV and the time, I'd know for sure. But for the purpose of a triumvirate, bear with me.) And he's certainly at the Wang.

Dracula has landed in Boston.

The Boston Ballet is hosting the New England premier of Dracula, a new full-length ballet by Houston Ballet Artistic Director Ben Stevenson and has launched one of the most aggressive ad campaigns the ballet has seen in recent memory. And the ads, buttons and posters live up to their promise--Dracula is one of the biggest spectacles to hit the Wang in years.

Dracula is indeed a spectacle in the glitzy, multi-media, '90s sense of the word. Multiple brides fly through the air at a rather astonishing pace, a full-sized carriage careens dangerously across the set, gallons of fog are blown onto the stage, and the audience is treated to a rare display of indoor pyrotechnics. So in short, Disney meets The Boston Ballet.

Although the ballet is rife with the elaborate costumes, sets and special effects we have come to expect with Disneyesque productions, the inherent integrity of the dancing, Liszt's music and the gothic tale itself do not let the ballet become a sticky-sweet morality tale in the style of Beauty and the Beast. It is an odd mixture, to be sure--appealing more to those accustomed to home-videos of rhythmically-inclined crustaceans than those with box seats already lined up for next year's Firebird. And while Dracula proves to be an exciting show, it is just that--a show, full of glitz, hype and glamor, but lacking in the passion we have come to expect from one of the truly sublime arts.

The ballet opens in Dracula's crypt, where no less than 18 brides begin a hypnotic dance with their arms outstretched in positions of lifeless submission. The brides are attired in gauzy white gowns with pale blond wigs, their bodies an unnatural shade of white. The highlight of the first act is when the brides fly across the stage apparently effortlessly, a stunt which garnered audible gasps from those sitting around me. But I found the cleverest moment of the ballet to be when the brides ran across the stage, holding the top layer of their gowns up like bat's wings in a subtle and hauntingly beautiful mimicry of Dracula himself.

Yuri Yanowsky's Dracula is terrifying by any measure. His streaked hair, deep-set eyes and imperious manner could cause any 12-old to have nightmares. And his wings constitute one of the most amazing costuming feats I've ever seen--24 of patterned velvet that swoop with the slightest flick of Yanowsky's wrist, revealing an interior lined with crimson brocade. Maybe itis because his wings are so majestic, but Yanowsky seems unable to move beyond manipulating his wings. His Dracula elicits terror and fear but ultimately fails to realize his narrative and lyrical potential.

The daylight looks convincingly real as it filters into the castle through the newly opened windows, and one of the most touching scenes occurs as Frederic walks Svetlana out into the overgrown garden after they have triumphed over Dracula. But this is merely the finale to one of the most impressive displays of lighting I've seen. A shadowy darkness continually permeates Dracula's castle yet somehow we are always able to see the dancers clearly. And during the village scene in the second act, a warm glow is cast over the entire scene to further enhance the dichotomy between the village and Dracula's castle.

The costumes and sets were magnificent as well--sumptuous materials were used, and the sets could not possibly have been more elaborate. (There was a new, full scale set for each act, and the costumes changed accordingly.) And Liszt's music is powerful, with some of its most haunting moments coming in its quiet, lulling interludes.

Dracula, despite its faults, is worth the trip to the Wang. Its a spectacle with more glitz than substance, but when it comes down to it, Dracula is an American ballet. And after all, Americans practically invented glitz.