Peter Martins's "Romeo + Juliet" at New York City Ballet New York City Ballet Robert Fairchild and Sterling Hyltin in the title roles of "Romeo + Juliet" at the David H. Koch Theater at Lincoln Center. The slap in the face that the disobedient Juliet receives from her father was clearly audible when Peter Martins's "Romeo + Juliet" returned to the New York City Ballet repertory on Tuesday night. It was the sound that used to follow it - gasps of shock all through the David H. Koch Theater - that was harder to hear. The ballet has been around since 2007, and most of the City Ballet audience seemed to know what to expect. Like Per Kirkeby's set, an unlovely unit, the production sacrifices grandeur for speed, streamlining the three acts of Prokofiev's score into a compromised two. The choreography fits together tightly, if not always coherently, and it's streaked with beauty. It's just not very affecting or memorable. When Mr. Martins's ballet was young, it was most useful as a vehicle for fresh faces in the lead roles. Zachary Catazaro and Taylor Stanley, members of the corps, were to make their debuts as Romeo late this week. But on Tuesday the only dancer stepping out from the corps ranks was Justin Peck, who brought a patrician command to the thankless part of the Prince of Verona. The principal dancer Gonzalo Garcia, donning Tybalt's arrogant yellow costume for the first time, was suitably macho. As on opening night in 2007, the star-crossed lovers were Robert Fairchild and Sterling Hyltin, five years older but still credible as teenagers in love. Mr. Fairchild begins with not just his head in the clouds but also his whole body, dreamily banking into pirouettes. Later his ardor for Juliet focuses his exuberance, converting him into a virile force. At first an excitable foal, Ms. Hyltin has a physicality that expresses Juliet's sexual awakening. When she's dancing with Paris at the ball, and his hands wander, she's startled but curious; when it happens with Romeo, curiosity wins out. By degrees she lets go, testing the power of yielding and basking in it. Yet Mr. Fairchild and Ms. Hyltin can develop their characters only so far before coming up against the limitations of Mr. Martins's choreography. By the end of the balcony scene, Juliet has yielded so continually, bending her back to drape herself over Romeo's shoulders and knees in acrobatic lifts, that you wonder if there might be something wrong with her spine. Their bedroom scene doesn't give them much more to work with, though the action does make Romeo more callow: he is cavalier while Juliet is emotionally torn; then he's puppyishly eager to get her back in bed. It's true to Shakespeare for Juliet to race past Romeo in maturity, but Mr. Martins's conception of both characters reins them in. The cynicism of the production is always undercutting the tragedy. The best dancing and acting happen away from the story's core. Daniel Ulbricht's Mercutio, a little guy with something to prove, rides the edge of safety. Ask la Cour, as Friar Laurence, shows a comfort with mime that's unusual for this company. What the company as a whole seems uncomfortable with is the violence of Mr. Martins's conception, despite the better than average swordplay. The slap that Jock Soto's Lord Capulet gives his daughter, when she refuses to marry Paris, is awkward principally because Mr. Soto is uncommitted. But the flaws in this "Romeo + Juliet" go deeper than the believability of any one performance. No one should be surprised by now if Mr. Martins's production fails to make you care.