Onegin

Tatiana, the near-tragic heroine of John Cranko's Onegin, is one of those rare classical roles that are specifically suited to older dancers. This isn't merely because, by act three, she is almost middle-aged; even when Tatiana is still a gauchely sentimental schoolgirl, the role calls for reckless, idiosyncratic acting that often develops only with age. The greatest Tatianas I have ever seen - Lynn Seymour, Natalia Makarova, Marcia Haydee - were all close to retirement, and were all capable of ripping the heart out of the role in magnificent bleeding chunks.

It thus feels downright perverse that Reid Anderson, who has staged the Royal's first run of Onegin, should have zoned in on some of the company's youngest and least experienced dancers. Sylvie Guillem, Sarah Wildor and Zenaida Yanowsky might all have been remarkable Tatianas, but none have figured on Anderson's list. The waste of these dancers' talents would rank as criminal if the youngest of all the Tatianas cast, Alina Cojocaru, hadn't made the role so convincingly her own on Tuesday night.

Cojocaru's dancing is a growing miracle. By schooling she is a pure classicist, yet within the precision-perfect shaping of her steps she is capable of a huge range - the lovesick trance as she follows Onegin around, the intemperate fervour as she dreams of embracing him, the hectic energy as she tries to charm him, and the racked tension as she battles to fend off his final passion.

Technically, Cojocaru's command of Cranko's choreography is amazing, but she invests so much private detail of her own, from the shocked intake of breath when Onegin first holds her to the gaping stillness inside when she rejects him. The timing of her every move is profoundly personal, but it chimes to a nanosecond with that of her partner Johan Kobborg. As Onegin, Kobborg isn't as much of a charismatic shit as Adam Cooper, but his dancing is much better. In his duets with Cojocaru, the relationship is charted with far more specific detail, while his own solos give a more exact account of Onegin's mercurial shifts of mood. Together they make this slightly stilted story-ballet rage and sing.

My only quibble is that Cojocaru's youth and temperament have a virginal quality that limits the scope of her character's passion. Tatiana's final battle with Onegin is stormily moving, but it feels more like a moral than an erotic dilemma. Her last great gesture of emptiness is one of loss rather than clawing hunger. If we are lucky enough to see it, though, Cojocaru has one, if not two decades in which to make the role grow and change.

· In rep until January 29. Box office: 020-7304 4000.