But the headline act of this season opener is a revival of Glen Tetley’s “Firebird,” a 1981 retelling of the 1910 Stravinsky/Fokine masterwork, with Ellie Young tackling the titular role. Created for the Royal Danish Ballet, Tetley’s version twists the fable into a gothic tale of defiance and liberation. His spin gets off to an atmospheric start with the opening tableau, which positions the Firebird and her domineering family en face across different levels, casting them in dark shadow—a moody Victorian portrait, down to the high-neck wool collars. John Macfarlane’s costumes are luscious—witness the tomato red of Young’s fiery ombre bodysuit peeking out under her skirts—as is his set design, which projects dark, spindly paintings against the backdrop, each one spongey with light and colour. Oranges and yellows start to infuse these grey-green colourscapes as the Firebird strikes away from her buttoned-up family and tastes life in the wild.

There’s a provocative thrust to the choreography, its curves and hinges picking up on the skitters of Stravinsky’s score, nowhere more so than when a group of forest maidens flit, frolic and scurry to careening notes. Young is statuesque as she slides into the Firebird’s signature bent-kneed stretch at her lover’s (Joseph Taylor) feet. Her performance is quite straight-faced, even as Arthur Henderson’s Skeletor-esque Kotschei and his enemy flock imperil her—an expression of the wider bid for the uncanny, I suspect. A spikier take, with more prickle and dread, would be interesting to see. The final moments see our heroine march forward in a wedding dress, a spruce full-stop on the evening, although a post-show talk with footage from the original production exposes something of a gap in terms of grandeur in this scene.