First Night: Carlos Acosta, Sadler's Wells, London

Dancers are floored by Cuban ballet star's cheesy choreography

This is just horrible. Carlos Acosta, one of ballet's biggest international stars, is eager to honour his Cuban roots. For this programme at Sadler's Wells, he has brought dancers from the Ballet Nacional de Cuba, presenting them in a programme of mostly Cuban works. It does nobody any favours. While the dancers are fine, the choreography is hopeless.

Besides three ballets by Alberto Mendez, there's a linking danced narrative by Acosta himself. Yolanda Correa is a bespectacled girl squabbling with her lover (Javier Torres), who wants her to put down her book and pay him some attention. The situation is cheesy, Acosta's choreography even more so – an awkward mix of basic steps plus waffling explanatory gesture. Then there's the stagecraft. Once the boyfriend has stormed off, Correa sits reading on her bed, which is hoisted above the stage, dangling there during the next ballet.

Mendez's Muñecos concerns dancing dolls, brought to life by a shaft of moonlight. Anette Delgado is animated first, picking herself up from the floor and shoving Acosta's tin soldier into the spotlight. They express dollishness by keeping their feet flexed, even in jumps and fouetté turns, then relax their stiffness in time for a soppy duet. It's dated and silly, and Acosta and Delgado are troupers to get through it.

Things get really grim with El Rio y el Bosque (The River and the Forest), danced to some thumping jungly music by Felix Guerrero. Poor Jose Losada, dressed in warpaint and feather-trimmed jockstrap, struts about as the Forest, shaking his fists and bending his knees threateningly.

Just when you think it can't get worse, Veronica Corveas flutters on as the River, flapping her blue silk cloak while a soprano wails on the soundtrack. Losada succumbs to her charms with shimmies and pelvic thrusts.

Their grappling pas de deux ends with Losada on the floor, one leg arched over like a scorpion's tail, Corveas hanging on to his foot.

Paso a tres, the third Mendez ballet, is a dancing-class comedy. Victor Gili partners Corveas and Delgado through various predicaments, finally lifting both girls at once. As that suggests, these dancers are strong.

Jumps, turns and partnering are secure throughout. But the performers can't make these dances look other than ugly. The Corsaire pas de deux, that gala warhorse, is the one redeeming feature of this programme.

You can feel the sigh of relief as Acosta bounds on, arms sweeping through a proper classical port de bras. He really lets rip in the coda, legs scissoring as he tears through brilliant jumps. His ballerina, Viengsay Valdés, is strong but unnuanced: she can spin forever, but she doesn't match Acosta's style in phrasing.

If only they'd left it there. Instead, everyone – Forest, River, dolls, the bookish girl – come back for one last clichéd dance, complete with reconciliation of the quarrelling lovers. Acosta makes a generous co-star, but his choreography does nothing to flatter his dancers.