Matthew Bourne is a famous enough choreographer that I've actually heard of him, despite my less-than-miniscule knowledge of ballet in general and contemporary dance in particular. I know that lots of people regard him as a bit of genius – a cutting edge, risk-taking trend-setter. Whatever. In my humble opinion, this production was balls.
Maybe I'm just prudish and all (in which case I should apparently avoid Will Self's update of Wilde's novel, with added orgies), but if all a story has to offer is a character 'falling for' (ie. having sex with) person after person, I don't think that any intricacy of dance or ever-so-creative updates (the 'picture' is now an advertising board! Amazing!!) could drag this out of its dirginess. It's just boring! Maybe Bourne is a genius, but in that case I would suggest that his genius is being wasted orchestrating orgasms – he comes across as another soulless try-hard.
So, I didn't really like it. In fact, I walked out. Before the interval. It probably transformed itself into a highly thoughtful redemptive classic in the 2nd half, but I had gone looking for something fascinating and beautiful, and it was neither, alas.