Although street gangs have grown larger and much deadlier over the last few decades, the underlying causes of urban violence - poverty and prejudice - haven't changed. Perhaps this helps explain why "West Side Story" still seems relevant today, 33 years after its Broadway debut, despite its dated references to rumbles, switchblades and zip guns.

Above all, though, what keeps "West Side Story" fresh is that it reflects the talents of four gifted collaborators: Arthur Laurents (book), Leonard Bernstein (score), Stephen Sondheim (lyrics) and Jerome Robbins, who not only conceived the notion of a contemporary "Romeo and Juliet" set in a Manhattan slum but also choreographed and directed the original production.

"West Side Story" has turned into a summer-stock and community theater staple, so there's no lack of opportunity to see it. But the touring production now at the Ordway Music Theatre offers something you won't find at the Straw Hat Playhouse: Robbins' choreography, as re-created by director Alan Johnson.

Robbins' accomplishment was twofold. He made dance an integral element of the action, something new to Broadway, and he combined the highly stylized technique of classical ballet with the everyday movements - walking, running, leaping, tumbling, falling - of the rival gangs, the Jets and Sharks. In so doing, he transformed their conflict from a mere turf war into a thing of beauty and power.

The main strength of the Ordway revival, which is otherwise largely a disappointment, is that the two gangs, led by Michael Gruber (Riff) and Robert Montano (Bernardo), dance up a storm. The prologue, which sets the scene for the violent conflict to follow; the dance at the gym, with its frenetic mambo; and most of all the rumble itself, a ballet of violence at once physically and emotionally persuasive: These are the production's high points.

They are not sufficiently high, however, to compensate for the fact that Peter Gantenbein is a bland Tony, whose voice, even amplified, doesn't fill the hall; that Betsy True, though an animated Maria, consistently sings flat; and that none of the adult characters makes a vivid impression.

There are other problems as well. The set is flimsy: In one scene, a "brick wall" wobbled ominously under the weight of the actor who was scaling it. The wagons that hold the drugstore, the bridal shop and Maria's bedroom are unaccountably noisy: When they're being moved behind a scrim, it sounds as though a freight train is rumbling past the theater.

The production also uses follow spots to excess. There are times when a spotlight can provide a useful accent, as in the moment during the dance at the gym when Tony and Maria, entering from opposite sides of the stage, notice and begin to move toward each other. But in this production, spots are used without discrimination right from the opening scene, in which they cling to Riff and Bernardo even when the choreographic focus is elsewhere. That's not simply counterproductive, it's stupid.

Whether the opportunity to see Robbins' choreography revivified is sufficient recompense for this production's many flaws is a close call. For me, the answer is a qualified yes, for even a mediocre staging cannot stop "West Side Story" from exerting its familiar appeal.