Romeo and Juliet at the Royal Ballet review: this glorious old ballet refuses to act its age

This ballet is old enough to nab a Freedom Pass, but refuses to act its age. Kenneth MacMillan’s Romeo and Juliet premiered in 1965, but 60 years on the wrenching tragedy, stippled with detail, remains a living glory of the repertoire.

Spinning Shakespeare’s textured storytelling into ballet is a high-wire act – no one has done it better than MacMillan as he creates a vivid world for the star-crossed lovers. From its first piercing melody and honeyed scurry, Prokofiev’s score propels the drama, while Nicholas Georgiadis’ designs, in ruby, plum and terracotta, move from bustling city square to chilly mausoleum, overseen by sombre stone angels.

The Royal Ballet inhabits their heritage ballet like a well-loved home – every detail tells a story. The company, swollen by over 30 extras, animates each moment. Watch the expressions of the party guests when Romeo rashly spins Juliet round the dance floor – there’s a different shade of “wtf” on every face.

Leading the opening night cast, Matthew Ball’s slow-burning Romeo arrives with a swirl of his marmalade cloak, but he’s more sweet than citrus – a soft boi, awkward with his crush. He’s only relaxed with his pals – Joseph Sissens’ provoking Mercutio and Leo Dixon’s bratty Benvolio – all three spinning with the sheer fizz of being young and naughty.

Yasmine Naghdi’s unguarded Juliet first appears as a teenager in perpetual motion, dashing around Kristen McNally’s indulgent Nurse. At her father’s party, the celebrated Dance of the Knights is an implacable march, the guests at the Capulet party eyeballing the audience with unmatched arrogance. Juliet then putters on like a kitten among the big cats.

The youngsters glimpse each other at the ball, and hold a searching, circling stare. Alone at last, Naghdi and Ball are richly alive and responsive: exhilaration, doubt and desire ripple through them – their snog radiates even to Juliet’s fingertips. Both dancers give layered performances, though often more acutely when apart than together. Ball is wonderful as the story tips into tragedy – fumbling his attempt to make peace between Sissens and Ryoichi Hirano’s nasty drunk of a Tybalt, spitting with fury after his friend is killed.

These lovers are far too young to navigate their extreme situation. The final act is Juliet’s – Naghdi is convincingly both a woman processing loss and a stroppy adolescent defying her parents (the audience giggles with recognition as she glowers under her bedcovers). Mum and dad plan to marry her off to Nicol Edmonds’ blunt Paris, who is oblivious to the way she cringes whenever he comes close. Her last scenes are a flurry of contradictory impulses: yearning for a future but seeing no way out.

Royal Opera House, to May 26; rbo.org.uk