Who can resist a rollicking comedy about swashbuckling pirates and damsels in distress? Add in the men and women of the Bolshoi Ballet – dancers famous for having fun on stage – and you have an irresistible kick-off to the Bolshoi’s summer season in London. Forget about pirates of the Caribbean Hollywood-style. Le Corsaire is pirates of the Aegean Bolshoi-style, a delicious spectacle of pantomime and high art, a ballet so big that it barely fits on to the Coliseum stage.

The Bolshoi’s hugely enjoyable new three-act production – which had its premiere in Moscow in June – is in reality a fine example of dance archaeology. Alexei Ratmansky and Yuri Burlaka have wiped out most of the past 100 years in the history of Corsaire and turned the clock back to 1899, when Petipa mounted the last of his Corsaire stagings in St Petersburg.

Working from notated choreographic scores, they have retrieved, interpreted and embellished Petipa’s grand vision, honouring the conventions of late 19th-century Russian ballet while streamlining it for a modern audience. About half of the resulting choreography is Petipa’s, the rest, all new by Ratmansky and Burlaka, fits elegantly.

The story, loosely based on Byron’s poem (a gloomy tragedy, what could be more different?), revolves around the pirate Conrad – the corsair of the title – and his love for Medora, a young Greek woman and ward of the odious bazaar-owner Lankendem. But before Conrad can win his bride he has to extricate her from the clutches of Said Pasha, the lecherous Ottoman who has paid a handsome price to add her to his harem.

The narrative, though well told, is secondary to the steady stream of lovely classical dancing and the hustle and bustle of a stage brimming with shady characters and seductive slave girls. The costumes, based on Evgeny Ponomarev’s 1899 sketches, offer a dazzling array of strong colours, heavy embroidery and stunning tutus. Boris Kaminsky’s sets, gigantic and gorgeous, evoke the spirit of the era.

The score, first heard in Paris in 1856, is by Adolphe Adam, although credits include six more composers, most notably Delibes, who contributed the sweetest of tunes for Le Jardin Animé, a sumptuous dance for the Pasha’s slave girls that showcases Petipa at his most ambitiously decorative. Pavel Klinichev, conducting the Bolshoi orchestra, took to it with gusto.

Petipa ballets love their women, and this one – despite the many lusty pirates – is even more rampant with oestrogen than most. Leading the contingent of lovely ladies on first night was Svetlana Zakharova, an exceptionally beautiful mover. As Medora, the principal damsel in distress, she looked anything but distressed.

Zakharova was resolutely bright and breezy throughout, taking the comedy and the classicism at full throttle. As the hero Conrad, Denis Matvienko played it for laughs with a dash of romance and took the Act I pas de deux – his only big dancing moment – with reckless glee. Elsewhere, the company was on perky form, the mime was clear and the humour broad. But a word of warning. The production is long, and with curtain down at 11pm on Monday it sometimes felt like too much of a good thing. That said, the audience (which included Baroness Thatcher) seemed happy enough to sit it out to the glorious end.

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