Onegin, Royal Opera House, London

The dancers rightly received the cheers at the end of the Royal Ballet's new production, but the great thing about John Cranko's Onegin is the work itself, probably the best made of all three-act ballet dramas. The choreographer had great collaborators, although both were dead. Russia's finest poet, Pushkin, provided fascinating characters and a gripping story about the tragedy of unrequited love. Tchaikovsky not only suggested, through his opera on the same subject, a structure that works on stage, but wrote the music (not from the opera), which Kurt-Heinz Stolze adapted into a good ballet score.

From this material, Cranko made in 1965 a ballet that has since triumphed all over the world, and now belatedly arrives at the company for whom he originally intended it (one of the Covent Garden board's celebrated errors prevented this; happily, the ideal couple Cranko planned for the leads were able to watch this latest staging).

Each act is presented in two taut scenes, the first showing the situation, the second focusing on the main characters. This gives the ensemble plenty to do; their varied and inventive dances set a different social situation each time. The Royal Ballet's dancers rise to them admirably, even when portraying the comic bourgeoisie at Tatiana's birthday – a scene which has not worked well in some other productions.

But it's the four leads who matter most, and the company's two young ballerinas were both in the premiere cast. Alina Cojocaru sparkled ideally as the pretty, silly Olga, the younger sister. For the first two acts Tamara Rojo excelled as the more serious, bookish Tatiana, showing every nuance of her development, including the dream sequence that reveals Cranko's economical genius; providing all the information of the opera's famous "letter song", and simultaneously giving the leading couple the love duet that their mismatched natures would otherwise deny them. Rojo still needs to make Tatiana's dance with her husband less glittery, more dutiful, in its affection, but after that she is terrific in the ballet's tremendous last moments.

Both leading men were guest dancers. Adam Cooper made a fine start at getting to grips with Onegin's devious, self-centred nature, able to fascinate while horrifying. He does both charm and cruelty with delicious good manners, and gives force to the more tragic moments; I wonder whether longer hair would put him more into period. As Lensky (Onegin's friend, Olga's fiancé, whose eager naivety and pride precipitates death and destruction) Ethan Stiefel looks just right, and dances perfectly. With all that, and his own irresistible personality, it seems unfair that he proves not quite so moving as the finest of the earlier protagonists.

Ross Stretton, the new RB director, has given us the best work of Britain's best post-war choreographer. The audience buzz was palpable. Now perhaps he will get the recognition for imaginative programming that some churlish reviewers begrudged his opening choice of Nureyev's lively Don Quixote. But he must, please, spare us from Charles Barker's dreary, insipid conducting: the one real blot on the evening.

To 29 Jan (020-7304 4000)