The historical pirate has long been replaced by the eye-patch variety of cultural lore. Retired from the Barbary Coast, he has taken up residence in theme-park log rides, yet another “nice enough bad guy.” Once a fearsome raider of mercantile ships, he is now popularized as either a snarling brigand (“Avast, me hearties!”) or a charismatic swashbuckler, whose adventures amassing booty are matched only by his romantic conquests.

American Ballet Theatre’s “Le Corsaire,” which opened on Thursday, is an ideal figure to showcase bravura dancing, a crow’s nest above the usual bluejay brise voles. And the ABT men certainly deliver. Daring, explosive, and exotic in their leaps and turns, each of the leading males makes a grand entrance into the center of a Turkish slave bazaar. The slave owner Lankendem (Jose Manuel Correno) peddles his wares with high out-turned kicks, the first mate Birbanto (Herman Cornejo) darts through the air with his forearm over his eyes, and his captain Conrad (Julio Bocca) encompasses the stage in barreling tours.

Until recently, “Le Corsaire” was known outside Russia only for its Act II pas de trois, which Nureyev reduced to a duet and exported internationally to great acclaim, partnering Margot Fonteyn. Although the full-length ballet, based on a poem by Byron, was first produced in 1826, it has undergone countless revisions, most notably by Petipa, who mounted the work no less than four times during his tenure as ballet master in St. Petersburg.

The result is a bric-a-brac of individual set pieces, exquisitely realized on their own, and set to a conductor’s score of music by five composers. In addition to Nureyev’s legendary selection, there is the “Pas de Odalisques,” spirited pirate dances, and Petipa’s dream sequence in Act III – the splendid “Jardin Anime.”

The libretto that connects these passages reflects the production’s long and spotty history. A topsy-turvy account of Conrad’s passion for Medora, an Egyptian slave girl, the tale pitches and rolls between abductions and rescues, allegiances and mutinies, the Turkish mainland and the Greek island of Cos, before finally shipwrecking (ahoy!) in a happy ending with the two lovers washed up on a rock.

In her staging, Anna-Marie Holmes attempts to simplify matters. But much of the pleasure in watching the ship go down, as it were, is actually in the whimsical scenarios. It begins with the rushed and improbable love at first sight, and the duet between Medora’s friend Gulnare and her slave trader Lankendem. Ali, Conrad’s loyal servant, repeatedly upstages his master, even embracing Medora throughout the pas de trois. Continuity errors aside (why does Conrad suffer amnesia about Birbanto’s treachery?), the plot is engrossingly outlandish.

Much confusion is owed to the traditional practice of altering the staging and music to emphasize the talents of the cast. ABT’s production makes full use of this custom. Different dancers took the lead roles during the weekend’s performances, but each embellished his variation with patented feats of his own.

Julio Bocca, performing with ardor the role of Conrad on opening night, stirred with elaborate batterie, holding a rose tossed his way by Medora, played by Julie Kent. In one adrenaline-fueled heat around the stage, he deftly shifted weight in a syncopated merry-go-round of coup jetes, eliciting furious applause. With moves like that, it is peculiar he chose to retire his role as Basilio in “Don Quixote.” Maxim Beloserkovsky paled in comparison on Saturday afternoon.

The role of Conrad’s servant Ali has become second nature to Angel Corella, who takes advantage of his character’s inferior social position to display his bravura technique. We see him crouch as he spins, levitate passively in a grand tour, or complete a run of double, even triple, saut de basque leaps (depending on the performance) with a slide across the stage, coming to a halt at his master’s feet.

Jose Manuel Carreno portrayed Lankendem with dramatic flair, as an ordinary businessman caught in the crossfire. Gennadi Saveliev was slightly more sinister, adding an impressive series of gravity-defying revoltades. Both Herman Cornejo and Carlos Lopez astonished in their solos as the false Birbanto, inciting the choreographed swordplay of the “Forband” in Act II, which presages his own betrayal of Conrad.

As Medora, Ms. Kent gave an off-kilter performance, hounded in her opening solo by constant missteps. For an Egyptian odalisque, she was neither fetching nor playful. But she recovered her hauteur in the pas de trois, taming Conrad. The highlight, however, was her duet with him later in their hideaway cave.

An exquisite adagio dancer, Ms. Kent relaxes while still keeping a defined line. Supple in her backbends, she wraps around Mr. Bocca like a bandanna. He raises her, statuesque, above his head, letting her tumble into a diving pose. Gillian Murphy on Saturday afternoon was delicately forthright in her allegro movements, but failed to channel intimacy into her partnering with Mr. Beloserkovsky.

Xiomara Reyes performed with unquenchable charm and mischief as Medora’s friend Gulnare. The role flatters her native theatrical sense. In the “Pas des Esclaves” with Lankendem, she indulges Mr. Carreno with playfully exaggerated looks, meanwhile whispering reluctance with her body.

Lifted into the air, she looks feigningly into his eyes, holding one arm fast below her, the other waving free. As she prepares for a dip, she releases her feet from the ground as if to flee. These small flourishes are Ms. Reyes’s very own. Maria Riccetto, who filled in for Stella Abrera on Saturday afternoon, gave the role a more somber reading, forlorn in Mr. Saveliev’s grip, but silently resilient and strong willed in her assertive phrases.

Finally, to the musical fanfare of Delibes, the “Jardin Anime” succeeds vividly. In the dream of the fat-bellied Pasha, a garden of earthly delights comes to life. In orange, red, and yellow tutus, ensembles gather in flowering patterns, embowered with garland hoops. Ms. Reyes as the girl in violet is a chirpy hummingbird, while Ms. Kent plays the queen bee, collecting daisies in her hand, walking downstage with sprightly toes.

“Le Corsaire” is one of several evening-length Russian spectacles staged in America for the first time by Ms. Holmes, including “Raymonda,” which ABT performed earlier this season. Artistic director of the Boston Ballet, she has drawn on her time with the Kirov, where she was one of the first North Americans invited to dance in the early 1960s. During her time there, she became acquainted with Konstantin Sergeyev’s version. She has also used Irina Tibilova’s original set designs: the sandy tones of a Moorish town, a cave entrance decorated with fishnets that looks out onto a whitewashed Greek village, and, in Pasha’s dream sequence, side panels of pastel fluorescence. Unlike “Raymonda,” which can lag predictably in countless divertissements, “Le Corsaire” is anything but predictable. Although the story is quite silly, the full production nevertheless uncovers some buried choreographic treasures worth preserving.

Until June 30 (Lincoln Center, 212-362-6000).