Mixed programme, Royal Ballet, Covent Garden, review Anyone wanting to see the state of contemporary ballet could do worse than head quickly for the Royal Opera House - where works by two modern masters, and one dazzling apprentice are on display. All the choreographers have a base at the Royal Ballet, which says something for the current creative strength of the company. But it says something about the state of the current ballet-going audience that this thrilling programme has sold more slowly than endless performances of a dull production of Swan Lake. That's a depressing thought because this was a classy evening. It opened with Viscera, by 26-year-old Liam Scarlett, a home-grown talent newly appointed as the Royal's first artist in residence. This piece was created in January for Miami City Ballet and its bold shapes as well as its ruby red designs owe some debt to Balanchine. But what's impressive about Scarlett is how quickly he is developing his own style. He propels a large cast through Lowell Liebermann's explosive first piano concerto, keeping a firm hold on the big picture while never losing lovely details like flicked legs, slo-mo pirouettes or the recurring motif of arms falling softly, bent at wrist and elbow. Laura Morera leads the attack in the first and the third movements with fabulously dramatic dynamism. In the second, John Martin's lighting turns the stage from red to deepest turquoise, and Marianela Nuñez and Ryochi Hirano perform a compellingly beautiful pas de deux, full of tender touches. Christopher Wheeldon is now the Royal Ballet's artistic associate but he originally created Fool's Paradise for his own Morphoses company, using Joby Talbot's lush silent movie score. Petals fall as his nine-strong cast unfurl their bodies in sensuous duets and trios, sliding across the stage, curling into graceful attitudes and effortless lifts. The groupings are sculptural, the mood full of swooning glamour; the Royal's dancers are more lyrical and less spiky than the originators which makes the piece less tantalising but still lovely. In between these new imports comes a revival of resident choreographer Wayne McGregor's Infra, which gets richer on every viewing. The changes in instrumentation in Max Richter's score condition the character of the random encounters McGregor has created, as his eight dancers become a living frieze of love and loss ignored by Julian Opie's electronic passers-by. Though their movements seem abstract, they are powered by a poignant sense of alienation: the final duet between Edward Watson and Nuñez was danced with such astonishing emotion that it felt as though they were trying to grasp hope itself. This work should have started the bill, and Viscera ended it. As it was, the unleavened intensity of the shape of the programme was the only difficulty in an adventurous and exciting evening.