A year of tinkering has transformed "Le Reve" into a lighter, more even revue with the focus on human sensuality.

"I am very sorry if I disappointed you with 'Le Reve' at the premiere," Franco Dragone says after I have seen his water show again, nearly a year after it opened with Wynn Las Vegas.

The first reaction is that odd flush of accountability, when a reviewer is reminded that the people who invest a lot of time and money in a show actually read what he writes.

The second reaction is, "Hey, I liked it better than a lot of people seemed to."

The show's troubled history all bubbles back to the surface, with Dragone -- the Belgian director who changed Las Vegas entertainment with his contributions to Cirque du Soleil's "Mystere" and "O" -- filling in some of the blanks that left puzzled viewers in the dark when "Le Reve" debuted.

Originally, Dragone confirms, he and casino developer Steve Wynn were planning a short aquatic revue to be staged outdoors several times each day, and a more theatrical production with real storytelling inside.

But plans were consolidated and Dragone found himself in charge of another indoor water spectacular.

His relatively modest budget of $12 million escalated along with his plan for the in-the-round staging "to focus on the human body and not impress people with the technology," after it became evident his former Cirque collaborators were planning to launch "Ka" in the neighborhood of $200 million. By the time "Le Reve" opened, "We had to deliver a huge thing, we had to impress."

Everyone was led to the same trap: Dragone + water = a Cirque spectacle in everything but the name. And Dragone was being led away from his notion of exploring new directions without the expectations of the Cirque brand.

Seeing "The Dream" now is to see how these compromises are evident. On one hand, Dragone's near-constant tinkering has made the show swifter and brighter. Gone are the pregnant women and creepy statuary hauled up in fishing nets that horrified Wynn's influential friends in a pre-opening benefit.

The disturbing surrealism has largely been replaced by erotic longing. The "everyman" character once supplying narrative focus and redundant slapstick has become a far more compelling woman (Daniella Vairo) in a red dress. Or, as they might have said on "Wayne's World," an Aquababe.

As the male character once did, the female dreamer climbs in her bed to be whisked away to the world of Morpheus (Gonzalo Munoz) the Sandman. She still watches from the top of a gnarled tree as bald guys and women looking very 1930s Hollywood engulf her in a dream world.

But her character is more compelling. In at least one place she wants to linger and pursue a romantic encounter. But as happens in most dreams, she is whisked away and the audience can feel her disappointment.

"Le Reve" still middles out somewhere between the more intimate aquatic ballet Dragone envisioned and the eleventh-hour attempts to pump up the spectacle. The round staging with wet performers limits the acrobatics to variations of aerial gymnastics and diving.

Sometimes it works wonderfully. High-flying performers in flowing robes and dresses are drenched in a furious explosion of rain. A Marie Antoinette-era "tea party" has performers doing carnival-midway loop-de-loops while affixed to their tables and chairs. Couples engaged in aerial adagios are teasingly lowered to the swirling waters then pulled away.

But the ballet comparisons are double-edged. Sit too close to the stage at a ballet, and the gravity-free illusion is compromised by the sounds of exertion and feet pounding on the stage. Here, the boiling waters and surround-sound music disguise the physical labor, but the hypnotic beauty comes at the expense of the "wow" factor Cirque shows offer.

And despite Dragone's stated intention to veer away, too many roads lead back to Cirque. Much of the imagery is too reminiscent, from the whip-cracking woman in a waistcoat to the two bald men doing a hand balancing act a la "Mystere." The music by Benoit Jutras is the same movie soundtrack bombast, except when it strays into distracting English-language pop ballads.

Four comic "angels" have found better ways to entertain the crowd since the show opened, but their periodic appearances are disjointed from the ethereal tone of the rest. Because the show halts each time they come out, it becomes evident they are there to stall while things are being reset backstage.

Collectively though, these beautiful dreamers now argue a stronger case for their co-existence with Cirque. This time at least, I was sad to see the dreamer get back in her bed and float away to the world of the waking. (Last time it was like, "See ya!")

Dragone says the show's structure is finally set and the next step is "to make it grow from the inside." That would seem to be where its strengths lie.