Dozens of Russian ballet companies tour America, and every February one stops at the Balboa Theatre in San Diego. Their devoted audiences are suffering from déjà vu, whether they know it or not.

The Russian National Ballet Theatre returned last weekend with Romeo and Juliet and Chopiniana, and Cinderella. But for reasons that aren't exactly clear, the troupe also tours as Moscow Festival Ballet, which presented Swan Lake and Sleeping Beauty last year. The year before that, they went by RNBT. Same dancers. Same directors, Sergei and Elena Radchenko, both former Bolshoi soloists. Same touring show formula.

Most viewers at these productions probably don't care that the company has two names. They might not remember the familiar faces or choreography. They just turn out to see the Russians.

One has to have compassion for this hard working troupe. I spotted a few dancers outside the stage door on Fourth Avenue, getting their last puff of nicotine before the program on Friday. A big truck was loaded with gear before the matinee was over on Saturday. To be fair, it's entertaining ballet, and dancers are attractive, trim and well trained. Year after year, the biggest flaw is usually the music, and not just because it's recorded.

Romeo and Juliet was well danced. The young lovers were expressive and athletic. Fight sequences were exciting. Yes, it ended with a double suicide, but it wasn't a gripping tragedy, in large part because it was set to the familiar Tchaikovski score instead of Prokofiev's dark, dissonant score that was written for ballet. The dancing was quite beautiful, but seemed to lack real depth.

The matinee was set to Prokofiev's Cinderella score filled with sinister elements. The Kirov commissioned the score in 1945, and it is not Disneyesque "children's music." Yet this performance remained light hearted thanks to Evgeny Rudakov as the Stepmother in drag, a gaudy flirt in big buckled shoes and blue eye shadow, and Didar Sarsembaev as the Jester, an acrobat who nailed aerial jumps and landings. The ugly sisters bickered and sneered with aplomb, and I loved the black exaggerated eyebrows on the tall one.

This Cinderella had a nutty quality. Like The Nutcracker, it included magical spells, fairies, and international divertissements: Russian, Spanish, Mauritanian (think exotic Arabian) and a cheesy Chinese duet with fingers pointed upward that is too often seen in The Nut.

But it was the primitive editing of Prokofiev's score that was irritating. In between sequences, the music just stopped and dancers waited for it to start again with no continuity. They seemed to be operating on autopilot.

If you could get past the choppy, canned music, you could enjoy Marianna Tchemalina as Cinderella, an elegant dancer with smoldering eyes and pursed lips, although she was perhaps too mature for the role. Ruslan Mukhambetkaliev as the Prince was a pleasure to watch. A tall, lean young man, he brought the house down with leaps of extraordinary height, solid landings and lifts. Local male dancers might inquire about his training regimen, as he was remarkably strong without bulk.

Tchemalina also stood out as a mysterious sylphide, and watching the dreamy corps for a half hour was satisfying. Fortunately the company didn't meddle too much with Chopin's suite of piano pieces. If it all felt familiar, don't fret. Chopiniana was the original name of Fokine's short non-narrative ballet set to Chopin's music. (Ironically, some companies use the old name to avoid confusion with La Sylphide). Modern audiences know it best as Les Sylphides, the Romantic study of a poet dancing with woodland spirits dressed in white. We can blame Diaghilev for some of the confusion. He retitled the ballet when it arrived in Paris in 1909 and set the ballet amidst a ruined monastery.

Sets for this production were simple yet richly painted backdrops in all three ballets. Costumes were colorful and detailed, such as Venetian masks for Romeo and Juliet. There were multiple costume changes in Cinderella. With the exception of the Stepmother, wigs are never a good idea. The inky black rug for the Dance Master in Cinderella harkened to roadkill. I was secretly wishing it would fly off to expose his real hair.

Friday night program (Romeo & Juliet; Chopiniana)

Saturday matinee program (Cinderella)