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We have seen so little of John Cranko's articulate, dramatic choreography in Paris that Onegin feels like a discovery. The ballet is very well balanced, each act divided into two parts – the first busy and public, the second showing passions that were previously half hidden. The end of the second act (Tatiana rising, putting Onegin to shame) is a turning point. In Act III, she is no longer restless, as if she had finally found her place and peace in the public world – a feat that is nowhere to be found in French literature. The three short acts often seem to carry more drama than many longer full-lengths; their density is compelling, although it leaves aside the secondary characters. The corps de ballet is arranged in inventive if harmless patterns, and the allusions to Hungarian dances give a feeling of the Russian background. The duel scene is striking in its expressionism, and while some of the lifts feel overly complicated, the pas de deux mostly achieved the dramatic heights they should. They are full with resonances – Tatiana drops at Onegin's feet in the letter scene, remaining empty when he leaves, whereas in Act III he is the one constantly encircling her with his arms, hanging on to his own dream.

Tatiana and Onegin were given different but almost equally masterful performances on April 22 and 24. The ballet is a blessing for the first cast, Isabelle Ciaravola, made an Etoile upon her debut, and Hervé Moreau; their second outing was certainly a whirlwind of emotions. Their growing partnership (a few weeks after Mahler's Third Symphony) is obviously one to cultivate. Both long and lean, with dark hair and romantic features, they danced better together that I have ever seen either do with anyone else. Act I was a true conversation, clear in intent, down to the slightest misunderstandings between the characters. Isabelle Ciaravola, in particular, is breathtaking as Tatiana – it has been said to be the role of her life, but without even going this far, she grasps every emotion with just the right nuances, far better than she did in her slightly over-the-top debut as Marguerite Gautier. Her characterisation is quiet and firm in the first scene, hinting at her chosen solitude. The first pas de deux was amazingly clear and ominous, with Tatiana both fascinated by Onegin and longing for his affection. Distracted, glancing at Onegin when dancing with Gremine for the first time, she then turns serene in Act III. Her face and lines are known to be gorgeous, but her dancing is so selfless that it goes far beyond the merely beautiful, all the way to an intense last pas de deux. Hervé Moreau, her cavalier, is Onegin to a point I would not have expected of this typically romantic prince. He relishes the darkness and cynicism of the title role; even in Tatiana's dream, he has tiny, revealing moments of self-absorption. His acting is often on the understated, defiant side, and it works, especially as his technique looked strong and polished – a reassuring note for a dramatic dancer who has so often been sidelined with injuries.

Clairemarie Osta and Manuel Legris are practically from a different generation, despite Isabelle Ciaravola being 37. Manuel Legris will have his official farewell in this ballet at the end of the run, and Clairemarie Osta often seems to me a quintessential old school dancer – petite, with short legs but elegant French-style ports de bras and demeanor. She stands out in the neo-classical repertoire, and Tatiana is a wonderful role for her. I wish she had been more involved in the first half of the ballet, as her reactions didn't register as strongly as Ciaravola's. She really came alive in Act III, first with a soft, touching scene with Gremine, and then with an overwhelming final pas de deux. The classical beauty of the steps was all there, and her face seemed to register a hundred emotions in a shock. Her sense of quiet resignation and struggle hinted wonderfully at the Russian Tatiana, and the poignant, haunting sorrow in her eyes at the very end is an image I cherish. It is hard to believe Manuel Legris will soon end his career when he still spends more time on stage than some of his younger, injury-prone counterparts. I was perhaps too far from the stage to see any strain, and the story unfolded without mishaps. His Onegin is less nuanced, more violent than Hervé Moreau's, and he didn't seem to find himself completely in the part during the first two acts. His make-up was clearly exaggerated after the second interval (has Onegin just turned 60 ?), but the end of the ballet seemed to fit the legendary dancer like a glove. During the party, the dancers fading in and out in a nostalgic dance could have been ballerinas of his past haunting him – his melancholy despair blended with Osta's Tatiana in heartbreaking ways.

Myriam Ould-Braham and Matthias Heymann gave very fine performances as Olga and Lenski, she bright and assured, he as stunning a technician as ever. He was made an Etoile upon the premiere and showed promises in terms of characterisation, but he is still young. Muriel Zusperreguy's intentions as Olga were very unclear – I am still wondering why she kept on dancing with Onegin in Act II – and Florian Magnenet, after a bland start in the same performance, brought much emotion to his long solo before the duel. The corps de ballet, led by experienced company members, was its fine self, despite some occasional imprecisions. A few dancers among them could easily be dancing one of the principal parts, and hopefully Onegin will stay in repertoire long enough to allow further interpretations.