Alessandra Ferri was the star of the show at American Ballet Theatre’s first “Manon” of the season Monday night. Later this month, Ms. Ferri will retire after 22 years with ABT; she dances “Manon” again this week and then “Romeo and Juliet” on June 23.

On Monday, Ms. Ferri took every opportunity to explore the varied dimensions of Manon, who is a country naïf, guttersnipe, and grand courtesan, as well as an archetypal incarnation of life force and death wish.

Rather than acting with her facial expressions, Ms. Ferri filled up lines, silhouettes, and shapes with meaningful energy. Every “word” she danced was believable, from her charmingly flustered reaction when first colliding with Des Grieux to her fastidiously assumed airs and graces when entering the gambling salon/brothel with her patron, Monsieur G.M. She was dangerous at times, and genuinely glacial when unexpectedly brought face to face with Des Grieux after abandoning him. But overall she wanted to make her Manon sympathetic. In the second scene of Act II, in which Manon’s rapaciousness is destroying her relationship with Des Grieux, Ms. Ferri was distraught more than derisive. Over the years, Ms. Ferri has refined her aptitude for verisimilitude and learned to use it selectively, as she did Monday night in her wracked final act of incarceration, exile and death.

New York Sun readers know I find “Manon,” originally choreographed by Kenneth MacMillan for London’s Royal Ballet in 1974, to be tawdry and confused. Mr. MacMillan’s frequently careless and formulaic use of dance imagery often undermines any belief in the naturalism he tries to pursue. During the end of the first just-getting-acquainted duet, Manon and Des Grieux are on the floor clasped together, even though they are in the public courtyard of an inn. In the next scene, in which they are at home together alone, they are in a nearly identical clinch at the end of another acrobatically torrid duet.

At other times MacMillan attempts to make his dance construction read metaphorically, but because he has not won our belief in his methodology, he doesn’t always succeed. A notable exception, however, is the Act II adagio, in which Manon is lifted in succession by various men, clients at the brothel/gambling salon she visits with her protector. Here we depart from the immediate reality, since Manon at this point has become a well-kept woman not available to all, but the scene does provide a portrait of what her life could very well become.

For her two performances of “Manon” this week and her farewell “Romeo,” Ms. Ferri has chosen as her partner Roberto Bolle, her La Scala colleague and frequent partner in guest appearances around the world. New York balletgoers will remember Mr. Bolle from his appearance here with the Royal Ballet in 2004. He is handsome, very tall, brawny, and somewhat stolid. For a man of his height and build, his flexibility is more than one would expect, but he lacks the legato flow to bring total accuracy to MacMillan’s characteristic swoops and arcs, many of which were created to showcase the attributes of Anthony Dowell. But Mr. Bolle executes every step honestly and cleanly, and he’s a very strong partner. As an actor, however, he is not on Ms. Ferri’s level, but was instead rather hollow when required to stand, react, or gesture. At moments in the last act, however, the degradation and desperation of Manon’s endgame seemed to trigger a different chord in him, and he was able to use his size to project emotion in a more authentic and less scripted way.

Ethan Stiefel was not scheduled to make his debut as Manon’s brother Lescaut until today’s matinee, but he replaced the originally scheduled Herman Cornejo on Monday night. On this occasion, Mr. Stiefel’s grasp on the character and the milieu seemed tenuous.

Gillian Murphy was miscast in the role of Lescaut’s mistress; surely there is more to this role than a sweet, somewhat docile codependent. But her jump and attention to the phrasing of the dance passages produced some ravishing moments.

Among the supporting roles, Georgina Parkinson was delicious as the bossy, bawdy, and chattery Madame. A bit more propriety in her performance made it register more powerfully than it did last year. In the gambling scene last year, Ms. Parkinson’s Madame got plastered; Monday night she just got tipsy.

Until June 16 (Lincoln Center, 212-721-6500).