Halfway through the opening number of the Bolshoi's second programme a disgruntled punter suddenly yelled from the stalls for the dancers "to put a bit more life into it". This was about as stupid as it was rude, given that the company were in the middle of performing Fokine's exquisite homage to Romanticism, Chopiniana (Les Sylphides). It was also blind to the fact that the dancers were looking twice as good as they had been in their dispiriting first programme. They were now a confident, vital company living up to their reputation.

It helped that the Bolshoi were performing their first complete ballet in a season otherwise composed of chunks and diverts. But the dancers also seemed to have settled past their first-night nerves. Andrei Uvarov, whose smile had looked pasted on with effort dancing the Don Q. fireworks a week ago, appeared physically and imaginatively liberated in the role of the dreaming Poet, his large, beautifully cushioned jump and elegant arms breasting the airy fantasies of Chopin's music. Svetlana Lunkina as his ballerina was even more profoundly in style, her features as delicately drawn as a Taglioni lithograph, the fine lines of her body creating an illusion of floating ease while alertly responsive to the faery charm of her character.

The Bolshoi dance Fokine's choreography on a larger scale than many companies - bolder and more athletic than the drifting modest lines of pure Romanticism. But the dancers' arms are infinitely softer and more musical than they were a decade ago, and their upper bodies subtler and more pliant. So well do they dance Fokine's choreography, it's hard to remember that this is a company whose signature ballet is the grandstanding Spartacus.

The second half of the programme returned to the irksome diverts format but despite Maria Alexandrova slamming out the Corsaire fouettes as if she were some kind of production line, the mix was better. Most fun was Gennady Yanin dancing Goleizovsky's solo Narcissus. This is nearly a classic instance of Soviet kitsch, with its combination of muscular heroics and arch dramatics, yet there are feral, archaic strains of real poetry in it and Yanin, with his wide-eyed flickering energy, vivid gesture and articulate dynamics makes the role seem alive rather than quaint history.

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