American Ballet Theatre put on a good show Monday night, involving castanets, villagers, flounced dresses, swirling capes, a sun-baked piazza, and runaway lovers.

It was, of course, the evening-length “Don Quixote,” originally choreographed in 1869 in Moscow by Marius Petipa, and subject to many revisions over the years. But Petipa allegedly remains the choreographer for a lot of it and, in large and some small particulars, it is recognizably the same ballet evoked by the history books. The score by Ludwig Minkus is still there as well, and that invariably dictates much of the action. “Don Quixote” extrapolates a passing episode of frustrated lovers in Cervantes’s comic road epic. In the ballet, the Don and Sancho Panza are almost peripheral figures, but they’re palpably present, and at times the Don’s delusions come into play and wreak a little bit of the havoc that only he can wreak.

ABT is an American company populated with dancers from around the world. Its style in “Don Quixote” takes the language of Russo-Spanish balletic expression and gives it an Americano twist. The dancers arched their backs and stomped their feet with enough vehemence to let us know that they were serious about being Spanish, with enough good taste to let us know they were dancing classical ballet, and with enough athletic brashness to remind us that they were on home ground.

Monday night’s cast was led by Gillian Murphy as Kitri, the village maiden, and Ethan Stiefel as the local barber, Basilio. Ms. Murphy wasn’t an overly shrewish or capricious señorita; she was just flirtatious and temperamental and mischievous enough. She alternately kicked and stretched her legs impressively, and made vivid the distinction between the modes of presentation. She turned brilliantly, which came as no surprise. She was also able to transform herself into an enticing but aloof figment of the Don’s imagination in the Act 2 dream sequence. There, her run offstage was a different run than her runs all over the piazza during the roughhousing of Act 1, and her arms here suggested varied hues.

She couldn’t refrain, however, from some hot-wiring in the Grand Pas de Deux of Act 3. Her bravura punctuations were not bad, but she was so intent on nailing some arabesque balances in the adagio that she soldiered obstinately through some boggy patches of wobbles. When it comes to the fouetté sweepstakes of the coda, it seem that every ballerina must come up with her shtick. Ms. Murphy’s gambit was to start fanning herself vigorously while she fouettéd, with the consequence that her fouettés started wandering off the reservation.

Mr. Stiefel’s performing was always valiant and sometimes glittering. There were times when he seemed tired — dancing on his principal, not his interest — but there were times when his execution of a step was a model of how it should be done. As a comic protagonist, he swings for the fences, going all out in his characterization of the small-town barber, whose aspirations to petit seignor status will not be foiled. He has no money, but is determined to wear down his prospective father-in-law’s objections. Alternately crafty and dim, Mr. Stiefel’s hero winds up with all that he’d wished for.

Also making vital contributions to the jollification were Veronika Part as spitfire Mercedes and David Hallberg as the matador Espada. When they first danced these roles together five years ago, Mr. Hallberg didn’t seem to know what to do with the role, or with her, but as was apparent in their “Swan Lake,” dancing opposite the smoldering Ms. Part has worked to his benefit. Ms. Part’s grand rond de jambes demonstrate exactly what the perfectly tuned and aligned ballet body is capable of. And when she wasn’t smoldering, she was a generous conspirator in all the elopement schemes hatched by Kitri and Basilio.

Misty Copeland and Yuriko Kajiya were springy Flower Maidens. The fact that Kristi Boone as the Dryad Queen in the Act 2 dream bobbled the concluding steps of her variation was less important than the distinguished touches she put into it. In the same scene, Sarah Lane as Amour was as tiny as this provocative little cupid is supposed to be, but when she jumped, her legs had reach in the air. In the gypsy scene, Sasha Radetsky was able to muster the added flexibility required by the particular leaps of this milieu, and consort Sarawanee Tanatanit was equally abandoned when she invited Mr. Stiefel to take a turn around the campfire with her.