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But for the most part the company (and in particular the corps) looked still in fine form. Putrov replaced the injured Samodurov as Siegfried, partnering Sarah Lamb as Odette / Odile. Both the lead performances individually had much to admire in them, and the only reservation I had about this performance was the lack of rapport between the two leads. It was as if they had both thought through their presentation of their characters, but not necessarily considered the impression made when they were juxtaposed.

Sarah Lamb has rather divided opinion so far, with the utterly besotted in one camp and those who found her as more cool, her effects too calculated to be entrancing. Her Odette is a very Russian style of Swan queen. She is less a woman than a sorrowing mystic presence (echoes of Lopatkina) whose long limbs seem to move and float with mysterious slowness, almost as if underwater.

Her ability to evaluate exactly what impression she is making serves her brilliantly as Odile – she is amused, clever, teasing, absolutely clear about what she wants. And this is served by stellar technique. But though her determination to die in the fourth act after Siegfried’s betrayal seemed sincere enough, the passion that should have underpinned this seemed absent.

Ivan Putrov was a coltish, boyish Siegfried. When told by his mother he must choose a bride from one of the six princesses he reacted just like a petulant teenager, and clearly upset the girls with his cursory dismissal of them. While the naivety of this Siegfried worked well against the urbane sophistication of Lamb’s Odile, it didn’t gel well against her otherworldly but magisterial Odette and very little chemistry was there. Despite careful partnering from Putrov, both dancers were more impressive individually than together. At the end of the ballet I was impressed but dry eyed.
 

There was plenty to enjoy among the other performances. Laura Morera, having a fine run of form at present, really shone in the pas de trois in the first act, not just dancing strongly but with real feeling for the music. It was good to see that Bethany Keating had returned to the stage in this, though she still looked very hesitant. Zachary Faruque completed the trio.

Steven McRae and Natasha Oughtred appeared in the Ashton’s Neapolitan dance. McRae’s feet are beautifully quick and neat in this dazzlingly fast piece. Everything is cleanly and clearly articulated, and he doesn’t miss a beat on the tambourine either. Something of the spirit of the piece – the ebullient glass of champagne quality – is still missing though. The kisses built into the text looked snatched and perfunctory; they just need to have a little more fun with this and it will get an even bigger reception than it did.

The last word ought to go to the corps, which remain the backbone of the production. They remain as cohesive and finely tuned as ever and their final swirling advance on the collapsing Rothbart is seems not just a triumph over evil but a statement of the power and eloquence of the massed ranks of the corps itself.