Don Quixote, Covent Garden, London

A Don Quixote to be proud of - and a fine debut for company's new director

Do we see a change already in the Royal Ballet's first performance under its new director? You bet we do.

Whatever the long-term result may be, Ross Stretton has made an excellent start in the job. First, by choosing to open with the liveliest and most cheerful of the old classical ballets, Don Quixote. And then by ditching the miserable, half-baked version inflicted on us a few years back by his predecessor, in favour of Rudolf Nureyev's highly enjoyable production; much more rewarding all round.

Nureyev knew how to tell the story clearly; he made the characters, even minor ones, more vivid and better related and he made all the dances bright and clear.

You see that effect above all in the big scene for the corps de ballet that forms Quixote's vision of the low-life heroine Kitri in the guise of his ideal love, Dulcinea. This version gives the company's women space to move in, and classical ensembles that make a fine contrast to the vivacious character dancing they have for the rest of the ballet.

Yet it might be the men of the ensemble who gain most from the new staging. As townsfolk, matadors and gypsies, Nureyev's choreography sets them a vigorous pace, and by the time they have given 15 shows over the next three weeks, they should be in great aerobic condition.

Even the first-night stars, Tamara Rojo as Kitri and Johan Kobborg as her impoverished lover, the barber Basilio, looked as though they needed to settle into some of the display numbers, although already their showpieces are pretty showy. And it was especially enjoyable that they both revealed an understanding of these as acting roles, not just for dancing.

Among the supporting cast, the Don could do with more charisma and his sidekick, Sancho, has scope for vastly increased comedy and likeability. David Drew as Kitri's innkeeping father gives the most complete portrait so far, with Luke Heydon's fussy Gamache and Marianela Nunez well on the way to matching him.

Stretton could have done better still: by using the wonderfully Goyesque designs which Nicholas Georgiadis made for Nureyev in Paris rather than the hotchpotch of Barry Kay's old costumes (some of them rather drab) and Anne Fraser's sadly suburban settings imported from Australia. Also it would have been a distinct improvement, besides being fitting and fun, to have John Lanchbery conduct his own bubbling arrangement of Minkus's exhilarating music. Charles Barker's direction made the Covent Garden orchestra sound dull and leaden – a great drawback for the dancers as well as for us.

Still, the important thing is that the Royal Ballet at last has a Don Quixote to be proud of, and it looks like doing it proud. Now how well can Stretton's management keep it up for the months and years to come?