For the latest revival of Giselle at Covent Garden, the Royal Ballet is fielding six different couples in the roles of Giselle and Albrecht, and the first-night cast on Monday was the most popular partnership of the moment, Alina Cojocaru and Johan Kobborg. They dance together with an exceptional rapport, ideally attuned technically and emotionally, and this performance was well-nigh faultless.

It was after her first Giselle with the company in 2001 that Cojocaru was promoted to the rank of principal and there was never any doubt of her stardom. She has the perfect looks and physique for the fragile, dance-mad, innocent girl heading for tragedy at the hands of her two-timing boyfriend. She skims the stage with her light, bright dancing in the village scene — all charm, modesty, gaiety, devotion. When Albrecht’s duplicity is revealed, her mental breakdown is shocking, chilling.

Kobborg matches her in the intelligence of his acting — all his dramatic points made clearly, without ostentation. Albrecht may be a philandering cad (there is a question mark to the role), but he achieves nobility in his remorse. Cojocaru’s compassion and forgiveness shine through her ghostliness as the Wili revenant. The couple’s dancing together in the forest scene was both movingly tender and electrifying. The audience was rapt as Kobborg lifted her in arcs across the stage, as weightless as thistledown. His dancing almost to death was a tour de force.

Then the second cast, the next night, brought Tamara Rojo with Carlos Acosta. Superb dancing, again, from both: every step beautifully placed and phrased — Acosta stunningly virtuosic in his jumps and entrechats. Yet it felt that these two fine artists, each immaculate, hadn’t forged the perfect union that Cojocaru and Kobborg achieved. Rojo’s expressions can look bland, the characterisation tending to remoteness, the mad scene short on drama. Acosta’s acting is flamboyant, more naturalistic. For all that their dances together were impeccable, they seemed on different tacks.

Zenaida Yanowsky was a coldly implacable Myrtha, Queen of the Wilis, splendid in the bold sweep of her dancing. Mara Galeazzi, in the alternative cast, was not quite cold enough — but her natural warmth was a delight when she danced a different part, in the peasant divertissement, with a dazzlingly accomplished partner in Ricardo Cervera. In both casts, Martin Harvey played Giselle’s hapless admirer Hilarion with conviction — the sequence of his being danced to death by the swirling Wilis a thrilling high spot — they looked marvellous.

Both Genesia Rosato and Sandra Conley were effective as Giselle’s mother Berthe, in the mime “set piece” where she tells the awe-struck villagers (shock, horror) the tale of the vengeful Wilis. I liked the genteel revulsion with which Rosato, when playing Albrecht’s fiancee Bathilde, recoiled from an array of dead creatures held up by huntsmen - they clearly turned her stomach - but I preferred Elizabeth McGorian’s less snooty account of the role.

Peter Wright’s 1985 staging holds up well in its satisfying choreographic text and dramatic cogency, and John F Macfarlane’s designs still look fresh in their colour-toning, despite an excessive enthusiasm for timber. Incidentally, the current revival marks the 70th anniversary (this month) of the company’s original production of Giselle, at Sadler’s Wells, when Alicia Markova and Anton Dolin were the stars.

At the Festival Hall the Moscow Stanislavsky Ballet reprised its version of Swan Lake, which we first saw two years ago. It is not easy to accommodate a ballet of this scale on the fit-up stage, and on the opening night, as usual, you could hear the Russian stage crew arguing behind the curtains about the technicalities. Scene changes may be awkward, but Vladimir Arefyev’s designs are handsome — a prettily painted vista, a romantic rocky lakeside, a palace ballroom of filigree gold.

Vladimir Bourmeister’s staging (created originally in 1953) has a prologue, in which Odette is transformed into a swan, and a happy ending, when she is restored to human form. Botched effects made the climax somewhat risible (as also two years ago). Bourmeister retained the traditional Ivanov choreography for Act II, in which the corps of swans look lovely. His own choreography elsewhere is efficient and attractive; and I like the device by which Odile, at the ball, is repeatedly revealed and concealed by the swirling cloaks of Rothbart’s accomplices, a tantalising vision for Prince Siegfried.

Oxana Kuzmenko and Victor Dik were more impressive in the lyricism of the lakeside scenes than in the bravura dances of the ballroom. As with many Russian productions, excessive prominence is given to the role of the Jester — Viacheslav Buchkovsky brilliantly virtuosic but tiresomely irrepressible. As if this weren’t enough, at the ball we get four more jesters to help him hog the scene. How tedious it must have been at court, in those days before television, when these capering jokesters were the chief source of entertainment. On second thoughts, though, perhaps things haven’t changed.