A better fit for Mr. Ramasar came on Wednesday with the return of Christopher Wheeldon’s “DGV: Danse à Grande Vitesse,” set to Michael Nyman’s propulsive score, “MGV (Musique à Grande Vitesse),” written in honor of the inauguration of the high-speed French train commonly referred to as the T.G.V. With Jennifer Tipton’s stark lighting and Jean-Marc Puissant’s sleek costumes and scenery — including a sculptural wall of undulating steel — “DGV” offers a handsome visual statement. It moves; it just isn’t particularly moving.

Four couples are highlighted in pas de deux that demonstrate a body’s capacity to swoop and dip, even if they offer little depth. On Wednesday, there were revealing flashes: the lucid harmony between Sara Mearns and Taylor Stanley; the breathless abandon of Ms. Phelan; and the lashing legs and dangerous beauty of Ms. Kowroski dancing, once again, with the heroic Mr. Angle.

But the dance’s choreographic pathways and unison phrases — like background movement — become increasingly formulaic, and the lifts , in which the women of all ranks are hoisted into the air to s tretch like taffy, are out of control . Created for the Royal Ballet in 2006, “DGV” was of its time, but now it has little urgency.

Wednesday’s program began with Balanchine’s “Raymonda Variations,” held together by the luminous phrasing and crystalline technique of its principal couple, Megan Fairchild and Anthony Huxley. Weaknesses came to light in the series of classical variations, which often hamper City Ballet dancers — their musicality is the first thing to go. But Sara Adams made an impression with her crisp, traveling hops on point along a diagonal. She seemed — what’s that word again? — rehearsed. Clearly, the others need some coaching.

But the most remarkable sight of the night was Ms. Mearns, an intrepid dancer who has become known for exploring outside the ballet box with deliberate and vivid results. Here, she brought her inventive luster to a decidedly odd role: In Balanchine’s “Variations Pour Une Porte et Un Soupir” (“Variations for a Door and a Sigh”), Ms. Mearns plays the Door. Daniel Ulbricht is the Sigh. Once you listen to the score — a sonic spell of creaks and human sighs by Pierre Henry — it makes sense, hauntingly and hilariously so.