It’s in the second act, in the forest, that this production of La Sylphide becomes fully realized. The premise: Madge, with six other witches, enchants a scarf, which she presents to James, telling him that it will bind the Sylph to him for good. What follows is the first ballet blanc.

Twenty sylphs, plus three strong soloists (Maria Chiara Bono, Elvina Ibraimova, and Phoebe Schembri) transform the forest into a mystical world as they weave through one another and rotate through slow, statuesque poses. The musicality in the second act is far stronger than in the first, and the cohesion of the group is integral to the enchanting effect of Lacotte’s choreography. Though there is one quirk which lends a more campy feeling to the act: the inclusion of “flying” sylphs who glide across the stage via wires and pulled platforms.

Baranova, deep in character, is spellbinding throughout the ballet. And while Acosta is an adept partner and actor, the carriage of his upper body errs on the side of stiff, especially when juxtaposed with a more fluid ballerina. His movement, as a result, can look more strained than impassioned.

We know how this has to end—and it does, following Acosta’s embrace of Baranova, weaving the scarf around her in the perceived act of love which kills her. In her final moments of movement, Baranova is even more delicate and heartbreaking in her lugubrious port de bras. When she stills, she is quickly carried away by her sister-sylphs.

Can a bad dream be beautiful, too? This, after all, is the final image presented: Effie’s wedding procession in the distance, swaths of sylphs bowing in mourning, and James facing the consequences of his actions, as a group of sylphs, carrying his beloved’s body wrapped in the scarf, fly up and away. It’s an image so striking I wished that it was the only moment of “flight” in the ballet. Even still, its impact lingered.