The Soviet Union may have collapsed, and Russia may still be trying to figure out precisely what it wants to be in political terms. But one thing that remains constant amid all the monumental change -- at least from an audience perspective -- is the Bolshoi Ballet. It is big, it is bravura, it is bold and it is brassy.

Should you entertain any doubt that the state continues to subsidize this company in a manner that would make the czar and his family feel perfectly at home, a visit to the Auditorium Theatre, where the company opened Wednesday night in its full-length production of "Don Quixote," will quickly settle the matter. (The remaining performances, through Sunday, will be devoted to an equally lavish "Raymonda.")

The sheer massiveness of its touring operation suggests an artistic army on the move, with the support necessary for the creation of the sets and costumes alone -- not to mention the inclusion, new this time around, of 67 musicians of the blazing Bolshoi Orchestra -- probably approaching the gross national product of Belgium. The grandeur of it all, and the sheer quantity of ravishing eye candy, is no doubt one reason why the theater was packed to the rafters -- not to mention that in the field of product branding, the Bolshoi is unmatched in the dance world.

This system of state support also manifests itself in more subtle ways. Carefully selected when they are very young and trained in a uniform style at the Bolshoi school, the dancers of the company have the same overall proportions and long, exquisitely tapered legs (not an overdeveloped thigh muscle in the bunch). And when the corps stands in symmetrical formation or steps into an arabesque, the perfection of line is breathtakingly beautiful.

Yet there are less felicitous aspects of such grandeur as well, as this production of "Don Quixote" -- fabulously laced with flamenco and gypsy style and unquestionably a feast for the eyes -- suggests. Based on the choreography of the 19th century master Marius Petipa, with enhancements through the years by Alexander Gorsky, Alexei Fadeyachev and a trio of more recent hands -- the emphasis is unabashedly on technical wizardry, with the dancers whipping off dervishlike turns and leaps as if they were circus performers. Excess is the predominant form of expression here, and you either respond to that kind of thing or not.

All that said, there were ravishing stage pictures to be enjoyed and some explosive dancing to be relished as the sassy innkeeper's daughter Kitri (Maria Alexandrova, a dancer with a Sandra Bullock smile, pistonlike legs, extraordinary balances and a blazing aura of confidence) was pursued by the poor village barber Basil (Sergey Filin, a small, dazzlingly handsome dancer who can set sparks flying and spin like a gyroscope). And as their romance unspooled, the dreamy knight Don Quixote (the impossibly tall and wiry Alexey Loparevich) and his knockabout servant Sancho Panza (delightful work by Alexander Petukhov) wandered through it all in a state of cockeyed misunderstanding.

The storytelling, in three long acts, was punctuated by a slew of fabulous divertissements, with a flamboyant cadre of toreadors, a fabulously kitschy gypsy encampment scene (and a laughably marvelous gypsy solo by Yulianna Malkhasyants, a dancer fit for the silent screen) and a dreamy forest sequence in which Don Quixote was surrounded by the beautiful female corps de ballet in what might be any old man's fantasy.

There was outstanding dancing by Anna Rebetskaya and Olga Stebletsova -- the women in orange whose darting feet suggested those of raging bulls -- and by Irina Semirechenskaya (with her gorgeously arched back) and Maria Isplatovskaya (clicking her castanets). Viktor Alekhin turned in a winning comic turn as the swishy fop pursuing Kitri.

The ravishing costumes, based on those for the 1906 production by Vasily Dyachkov and revived by Tatiana Artamova and Elena Merkurova, were alone worth the price of admission, and there appeared to be literally thousands of them. The flamenco dresses enhanced the dancers' every step, and the tutus were so beautifully constructed that you might almost suspect their construction is a well-kept Kremlin secret. The black lace interlude curtain, the painted backdrops, the windmills on the arid Spanish plains, the gilded royal court: Everything necessary to induce spectacle fever was in place.

NOTE: Nothing is more off-putting and mood-crushing than a pre-performance speech that bathes sponsors in thanks and hawks future events -- the kind of speech presented at the Bolshoi's opening night by an Auditorium Theatre official. Audiences attend live theater to escape commercials. The lights should dim, the room should grow quiet and such speeches should be banned. If underwriters (as precious as they may be) crave more attention, a sign can be posted in the lobby.

LIVING LARGE: BALLET BY THE NUMBERS

The Bolshoi Ballet, continuing its Chicago engagement at the Auditorium Theatre through Sunday, is no ordinary road show. As befits its name (which means "big" in Russian), the Bolshoi ensemble lives very large. Just look at these numbers: