WHEN it comes to 19th-century Russian classics, no one can beat the Kirov Ballet. Their repertoire is so richly endowed with their own heritage that they even have multiple versions of the same ballet. Take La Bayadère, for example.

For the Kirov’s visit to the Lowry last week they brought their Soviet staging of La Bayadère, produced in 1941 by Vladimir Ponomarev and based on Petipa’s 1877 original. For their visit to the Royal Opera House in July the Russians will bring a re-creation of the 1900 Maryinsky production, much longer and slower paced, and probably as close to Petipa as it’s possible to get.But Manchester audiences shouldn’t feel shortchanged. Their Bayadère, a grand ballet in three acts, is a sumptuous spectacle, a succulent melodrama of love, jealousy, betrayal and murder in exotic India.

Sets and costumes are lavish. Giant ferns and robust palm trees form a verdant backdrop to both the temple and the Rajah’s palace; ochres and terracottas flavour the costumes like parched earth; bare midriffs and diaphanous veils flatter the women.

A fantasy menagerie (tiger, elephant and parrots — hilarious all) evokes a Disney zoo in the garden scene, while the dancing offers similarly colourful excursions into everything from walloping folk dances to shining high classicism. The Kingdom of the Shades, high up in the thin air of the Himalayas, is a perfect backdrop for the dazzlingly classical hallucination to come.

Performances are everything in this ballet, dramatic as well as technical. Sofia Gumerova is a dreamy, doe-eyed Nikiya, the temple dancer (bayadère of the title) whose love affair with Solor marks her out for an early death. Her dancing is shaped by long, elegant lines and a warmth of personality that bonded with Igor Kolb’s Solor, although later it somehow seemed to desert her in the Shades scene. She was clearly much happier as a woman in love than as a forgiving ghost.

Kolb is an immensely appealing Solor, a honey of a warrior who declares his undying love for Nikiya yet falls under the spell of Gamzatti, the Rajah’s beautiful, scheming daughter. So appealing, in fact, that you almost forgive him. His dancing, meanwhile, is splendidly realised, strong and flexible.

Vladimir Ponomarev was a lusty High Brahmin, commanding the stage with flaming eyes and autocratic hands. Viktoria Terechkina as Gamzatti, on the other hand, offered plush dancing but little dramatic conviction. The 24 Shades suffered an attack of the wobbles, a real shame as they are the ballet’s true stars.

Minkus’s Viennese melodies were brought to life by Mikhail Sinkevich conducting the Kirov’s own orchestra.