Friday night at American Ballet Theatre was frontloaded with premieres: Christopher Wheeldon’s “VIII” and Trey McIntyre’s “Pretty Good Year.” The latter’s a spectacle, but the former’s a wonder.

“VIII” uses dramatic imagery and communicative ballet to tell the story of Henry VIII and two of his six wives, Katherine of Aragon, and Anne Boleyn. The mood is dark and gloomy: a giant black swirl that resembles a rose dominates the grey backdrop, black panels cover the lower portions of the wings, and a few steps (painted to look like black wood) lead up to a platform that extends across the width of the stage. This is the setting for a bit of a ballet soap opera.

The story unfolds in compelling, often gripping movement. Angel Corella danced as Henry VIII, who is seen initially with his wife Katherine, danced by Alessandra Ferri. He’s bored and miffed that he does not have a son (this is illustrated by a Little Lord Fauntleroy figure, who emerges at the back of the stage for about a minute). Julie Kent, as Anne, catches the King’s eye and – eventually -loses her head.

Ms. Ferri’s dread and fear are contrasted sharply with the happy allure of Ms. Kent. At a party, Anne flirtatiously dances with the King. The duet owes much to the Black Swan pas de deux: Here’s my hand – ha, too slow! In one clever moment, Ms. Kent’s leg is bent behind her in attitude, she then hooks it over Mr. Corella’s flat lower back, and somehow pulls herself up to sit there, perched like a bird.

A later love duet between the two is gorgeous for its smooth, lush character. Mr. Wheeldon has designed the movement to make the nightgown-wearing Ms. Kent (her long hair flowing down) appear as a Grecian goddess. But the scene shifts again, and soon we’re watching his refusal of her. When she stands behind him and pokes her head through the crook of his arm it becomes clear that she will be beheaded. Later, as she walks across the back of the stage, all we can see is her body from her shoulders down; a backdrop lowered to her shoulder drives home the point.

Ms. Ferri has an intense dance with four men who carry her off against her will. Her fists are tightly balled, and her body is tossed about by the men willy-nilly. In some ways, this scene is the most immediately affecting of the work because she is so achingly lonely.

“VIII” reads on paper like an odd entry into the Wheeldon oeuvre. But with the fluid duets that find new ground and create stark emotional pictures, it is not so unusual. He shows here, as he has before, his way of using minimalism to plumb the depths of feeling. His choreography is simple, yet there seems so much there.

“Pretty Good Year,” on the other hand, was pretty much a vehicle for Herman Cornejo and Stella Abrera. This is an abstract work, but there is the feeling that we’re watching puppets or toys manipulated by outside forces. The backdrop of the stage is entirely black, and the lighting reinforces the notion that the dancers are on a stage.

As for the movement, there is a jazzy feel to the ballet, with flexed-feet pirouettes and parallel-feet stances. There are wiggly moves that come out of nowhere and lead nowhere. The phrases are strung together so fast and without natural endings that the eye cannot keep up with it all.

This is the “Moulin Rouge”-ification of ballet. At one point it seemed as if “Pretty Good Year” was purely intended to show off the stamina of the dancers. The audience’s is another question.

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Thursday evening saw the revival premiere of Michel Fokine’s “Les Sylphides.” Maria Riccetto is without question the star of this show. With her delicate hands, she crafts the image of a pure creature who floats on the moonlight. Erica Cornejo, too, made a lovely showing; she is endlessly flexible in her upper body and in her arms. As I mentioned after opening night, the corps de ballet has clearly worked very hard on their arms in this ballet. They are poised somewhere between the heavy sadness of “Giselle” Wilies and the focus of little birds about to take flight.

ABT puts on pieces like this fairly infrequently; audiences are used to seeing contemporary choreography that depends on athletic technique. Robustness is in demand: Dancers who can balance forever, turn fast enough to whip eggs into mayonnaise, and endure works like “Pretty Good Year” get cast more frequently. What we don’t see a great deal of are sylph-like creatures who can cast a spell with a pulse of the hands. (Ms. Riccetto excepted.)

Bravo to ABT for putting on a ballet that requires audiences to sit calmly and let the mood wash over them. This is an important work, which both dancers and audiences benefit from. And if it’s not performed, it will be lost.