‘Blue/Glas’ consists of two pieces – Ordinary Courage and then Untamed. Each piece is danced by six dancers – three women and three men. Ordinary Courage, choreographed by Theo Clinkard and originally created in 2012, lasts about fifty minutes. Untamed, choreographed by Alesandra Seutin, lasts about twenty minutes.

The programme informs us that Ordinary Courage was created following the death of Theo Clinkard’s mother, so it is rooted in grief. I’m not sure that this is entirely relevant. I’m a long way away from being any kind of expert on dance but I think contemporary dance as an art form is quite abstract. Up to a point it allows you to make out of a performance what you want, to take away what you see and experience. Ordinary Courage is sensitively detailed and impassioned and it covers a wide range of moods, but I wouldn’t have associated it with grief or bereavement if I hadn’t read the programme notes. It’s so very lively that it made me think of a primary school children’s playground at playtime, without the shrill sound of voices.

The performers in Ordinary Courage are casually dressed in the kind of almost washed-out clothing that is ‘comfortable’ for workshop activity, with tops in pastel colours. It’s an almost gender seamless group, in the sense that little of the performers’ movements demonstrate their sexuality. The piece could be danced by either an all-female or an all-male company. The dancers form up in lines and groups, linking arms and holding hands in memorable visual images before separating off to perform striking solos and duets. The music for the piece is sometimes by Scarlatti, sometimes by Bach and although a lot of the movement is energetic, it suggests gentleness, friendship and curiosity. There are moments of pathos and struggle and collapse, but these are elegiac rather than tragic. Overall, it’s absorbing and moving.

The only thing I thought might be expanded was the brief appearance of a bear halfway through. The bear materialises as a powerful dramatic image and it stirs up a lot of associations. I assumed the choreographer didn’t want it to become too dominant, and I guessed it was meant to represent the intrusion of something larger and more powerful than the society of human dancers, but it wasn’t unnecessarily aggressive. Its behaviour was so interesting, its entrance was so surprising and the costume was so well made that more use could have been made of it. Otherwise, I was very impressed by everything that took place.

Untamed is a huge contrast in mood. This completes the audience’s experience on the night. Whereas Ordinary Courage gains its impact through a quiet assertion, Untamed comes at you like a train. The soundtrack is loud and mechanistic. The postures and the movements of the dancers are strained, awkward and unnatural. They grimace and make strange noises. This time I didn’t look at the programme beforehand and I didn’t quite connect its theme with the choreographer’s intention. So I felt it was about competition – particularly the torturous routines athletes and other sportspeople put themselves through to win competitions and medals – a reflection possibly triggered by reading recently about Keely Hodgkinson’s training routines, which can result in her vomiting. The dancers also wear sports-themed costumes with numbers, and trainers.

But the issue of whether the audience needs to connect to exactly what a choreographer had in mind was included is complex. Artists often achieve an impact that is not what they consciously intended. The creative process is never precise. The important thing is that something meaningful is put across and Untamed definitely managed that. You feel you want to look away but, simultaneously, you also don’t want to miss a moment, as if you are watching insects at war or bizarre sea creatures hunting. Everything builds towards a climax which is extraordinary in its intensity, making you wonder how long the dancers will be able to sustain what they are doing before they are released by a black out.

You couldn’t say one piece was better than the other. They work together very well in a demonstration of what can be achieved through contemporary dance, a form which is unfortunately a little too niche. An evening of dance is likely to be shorter than watching a full-length play, or even two short plays, but it achieves a similar level of impact, so it’s a pity the audiences are never huge.

An additional issue relating to a choreographer’s intention occurred to me when I looked at the audience at Theatr Clwyd for the show. Those sitting watching, like me, were nearly all middle-aged. It was inevitable that, over and above our emotional response, confronted by the impossibly agile flexibility of the members of the National Dance Company Wales, we would think back to the time when we ourselves could jump for joy, dance all night, run marathons and touch our toes without difficulty.

‘Blue/Glas’ is on tour at venues in England and Wales until the end of November. Get tickets if you can.

I had waited almost a decade to see Les Ballets Trockadero de Monte Carlo perform again – and it was worth the patience.

Les Ballets Trockadero de Monte Carlo are a touring ballet company, with beautiful ballerinas dancing iconic roles.
The hook? They’re all male ballerinas. The line? It’s comedic ballet in drag. The sinker? They are technically brilliant dancers.

This is a show that sweeps you off your feet with a painted smile and keeps you floating on air before tripping over the swan behind you.

The company grew out of the Stone-Wall riots, and they now perform worldwide, and everything about ‘The Trocks’ is precisely crafted to make you smile. From marketing to tech to performance – everything works together: even the dancer’s names are made up, with each adopting a parody persona. There’s “Maya Thickenthighya” and “Tatiana Youbetyabootskaya” for example.

‘Les Ballets Trockadero de Monte Carlo’ describes itself as “the world’s foremost gender-skewering comic ballet company, parodying the conventions of romantic and classical ballet.” and notes that “Comedy is serious business and ballet even more so.”

At the post-show talk after, the beautifully spoken Associate Artistic Director expanded on this – explaining that the dancer’s technique is impeccable, but they must learn to break it – to add carefully choreographed missteps, modern moves and mime for comedic effect. The result is an almost pantomimesque comedy and farce mixed with stunningly strong ballet – and I mean strong.

Swan Lake trio, photo Giovanni Daniotti

In traditional ballet the gender and bodytype casting is often very strict, and dancers perform gender through each role and gesture. The female lead has a gentle, airy quality and the male lead is powerful and macho. Drag is the art of performing gender, and the Trocks have managed to mesh these worlds perfectly, subverting traditional roles and steps with reverence and respect for each artform.

The show itself was split into three acts, starting with scenes from Swan Lake, moving into a number of short modern ballet and traditional vignettes before finishing with a visually stunning rendition of Walpurgisnacht, a lavish, romanesque, mythical dance inspired by Bolshoi Ballet’s Valpurgeyeva Noch.

I particularly liked the nostalgic backdrops and costumes which leant a further nod to tradition. The most crowd-pleasing moment was ‘the dying swan’ which closed act two. One of ballet’s most recognisable roles, the swan in sparkling white tutu, slowly perishes in an impressively long section danced on pointe as feathers fell dramatically from her skirts.

Dying Swan, photo Roberto Ricci

The programming of acts was clever – starting with the most iconic works, and the most gags. Swans fell over one another, forgot the steps and booty-popped their way across the stage between incredible pointe work. Spotlights were pointed in the wrong direction and too much fog was wafted onto stage. As the night went on, the gags became less constant, and the ballet less mainstream. They finished on a rarely seen work with few jokes – just strong, confident, really beautiful dancing. The audience was enraptured and finished with multiple bows and standing ovations.

Walpurgisnacht photo Jim Coleman

I love seeing audiences enjoying dance, and had a fantastic time myself. It feels self indulgent when your interests intersect; and a night of drag, comedy and high-quality ballet was such a treat.

International touring shows like this to the UK wouldn’t be possible without the Dance Consortium who “exist to tour the best contemporary dance from across the world to local audiences across the UK & Ireland.” It felt like the audience really got a sense of how special it was to have Cardiff as a stop on the map for the company that tours the world.

Verve is the international touring dance company from Northern Contemporary Dance school – a school responsible for producing some of the most talented new dancers working in contemporary dance today. In Verve students work towards an MA in contemporary dance performance whilst training, making and touring work – giving them professional touring experience. 

Verve has a reputation for bold, creative programmes that flex the students’ skills and offer opportunities to work with some of the most exciting choreographers from across the UK and Europe. The Verve 2026 tour was proof of that ethos, featuring three different works by choreographers with a reputation for being cool.

B O D Y B E by Andrea Costanzo Martini photo by Elywel Photography

The evening opened with B O D Y B E by Andrea Costanzo Martini – an Italian choreographer with a hefty online presence. Martini is fascinated with the simple beauty of bodies and with the act of making and watching dance. His style is light, theatrical and almost wacky but woven with lingering moments of beautiful choreography which is always a joy to watch.

The show opens with a cluster of dancers dressed in simple white t-shirt and shorts in the centre of the stage. Together, they turn and notice the audience, gasping, their faces contort in cartoonish fear before they turn away and utter a drawn out ‘F-word’. With this the tone is set for the work – a playful commentary on watching and making dance that brings the audience with it.

Everything about this work varies between humorous and beautiful, stark and soft – the lighting, the music, choreography and the dancers’ expressions all do so seamlessly. There aren’t many choreographers who like to use facial expressions and these young dancers have obviously worked hard on character, clowning and vocal work alongside their dance training.

The dancers speak often, telling us about the amazing things bodies can do, telling us what watching dance can be like and how incredible it is to have a body.

At one startling moment they point directly at the audience and ask how we feel about our own bodies – I’m sure I wasn’t the only one that thought in the negative – but the team continue, listing all the little things that we are that make us amazing. Hair, freckles, two arms, two legs. A body. It’s hard to argue with that.

After the stark white costume, lights and commentary of the first section the lights dim. We’ve heard about how to consume dance, now we get to watch it.  A vibrant red strobe, pulsing, driving dance and some incredibly complex sequences create an impressive spectacle. You can tell the dancers of Verve enjoy this work, and the audience loved it too, laughing freely throughout and ending with rapturous applause. Human, honest and tongue in cheek this is as enjoyable to dance aficionados as new-comers.

We Question. We Try by Alethia Antonia photo Elywel Photography

After a short pause the second work of the evening began. We Question. We Try is a shorter work by West Yorkshire based choreographer Alethia Antonia. From my reading this work focussed on isolation of growing up in a digital world – of the importance of community.

At the start of the work the dancers are dressed in oversized grey tracksuits that change colour with the strong lighting pleasingly. The dancers’ hands and faces are covered in black gloves and hoods creating anonymous faces and bodies that move together to a deeply cool soundtrack rife with digital glitches. This choreography is fast and complex interspersed with smooth and athletic solos. The opening section gave me the impression of nameless, faceless online trolls – perhaps prompted by the digital moments in the music.

As the piece continued the dancers begin to remove their tracksuits and put on their own individual clothes. I wonder if dancers chose their own outfit for this moment as it felt incredibly authentic. As they undress, they stuff their tracksuits in a backpack, seeming to shove down the emotion and anger of the previous section, now standing confidently. Rising tall, working together, encouraging others to do the same.

This work moved from inhuman to human with ease, and though it could feel a little tropey it also feels important to the young people dancing it. They grew up in a world where finding oneself and feeling confident alongside the pressures of social media is a difficult thing to do – and there was a real authenticity to this, and some complex choreography that fitted solidly between two more theatrical works.

Hope Hunt by Oona Doherty photo by Elywel Photography

After an interval the evening finished with Hope Hunt – a restaging of Oona Doherty’s 10 years since it was created. Oona is known for distinctive, theatrical and physical dance shaped by the landscape and tensions of working class communities of Northern Ireland.

Once again this performance asked the Verve performers to draw on their vocal skills but where B O D Y B E was tongue in cheek – Hope Hunt is raw, confrontational and visceral.

As we entered the auditorium after the interval the music was blaring as if entering a club and the audience bopped and nodded along the isles to their seats. Throughout the piece sound was used to build the landscape of the work. Music, documentary clips and the dancers’ voices, breath and bodies layered together to create a complex sound-story.

As the work began the house lights stayed up but slowly, seamlessly they faded out and with it, the soundtrack switched speakers – playing only from those facing the stage – creating a bubble for the performers where the audience were sat outside and looking in – as if walking past a club at night. Here we begin to understand the context of this work.

The freesheet noted this piece aims to “create kinetic empathy for the lads, smicks, hoods, nerds, chavs and roadmen” that everyone deserves the chance to be heard and understood.
The dancers are dressed in dark blue t-shirts and trousers and gold chains. Their general body language is one we all recognise – bravado, feigned confidence, laddishness, vulnerability. On stage a blue skip is illuminated, and the lads begin to jostle, fight, dance – movements switching from solos, duets and and in-sync work together seamlessly, sometimes dance, sometimes physical theatre, always impactful.

The physicality of this piece is accompanied by full bodied vocalisations. Sounds and words are shouted, whispered, barked and repeated often turning from one thing into another. This is a work where the 17 strong cast comes alive, the sheer number of them makes the ‘lads’ feel all the more intimidating – yet as the work progresses you can see their sense of community, their sheer sense of need to connect, to feel connected.

In the closing phrase the dancers huddle together shouting a punched out ‘h’ sound together, violent and visceral. As they continue it turns desperate, a word emerges. ‘Hope’ – together the lads shout and beg for ‘hope’. Slowly the dancers drop off one by one, the spotlight on them an ever-reducing circle of isolation until just one screams ‘hope’ into the dark.

Oona’s work isn’t passive, it’s an experience, aiming to encompass the audience, to drag them along, to invite them to think – and you could feel this one with your whole chest.

Verve’s 2026 programme is a big win for Artistic Director Matteo Marfoglia – the three works showing the strength of the dancers physicality, their acting, vocal work and versatility. For an audience the experience feels enjoyable, dynamic and thought-provoking, and above all cool.

Photos Elywel Photography

Photo credit: Karl-Heinz Krauskopf

(5 / 5)

After seeing Sweet Mambo back in February, I suddenly realised I had to engage with more work of late Pina Bausch. The impact she has had on me is profound, some of the finest work I have seen in London.

Within Kontakthof – Echoes of ’78 lies a conception and direction  by Meryl Tankard, in the journey of honouring the original work. Kontakthof first seen at the Opernhaus Wuppertal, 1978 and we see this absorbing, black and white archival footage throughout. You can even hear the sarcastic applause then, as it was created was redefining what dance can be. Bausch and Tankard prove that dance can essential be any form of movement. The village hall set it compelling, the music is heavy on melancholic German cabaret numbers and the costume appears to be nightwear for the ladies and evening attire for the gents. They all thirst their hips, kick march on parade, fail and falter, clap, cry aside energetic passions together and alone.

What is most astounding is the return of these dancers who are from the original run in ’78. What I was not prepared for was the emotional weight of the realisation that a selection of these dancers have passed on. Through this, the doubles we see on screen are met with exact solos for those who remain. I found all this very moving, nearly unbearable. Granted, there are lashings of humour, I often found laughter and smiles abound from myself and this eager audience. How nimble these dancers remain in their 70’s (one or two were in their early 80s).

Welcome introductions faced the end of the first part, as these dancers sat, taking turns to talk briefly. We hear names, nationalities, pathos and the further resilience from all. In the interval I was so stirred, I wondered just how much more I could take of the feeling of it all. I loved just how simple, and flowing the movement was, screen mirrored the stage presence as this dance was always evolving. Naturally, men were in the hunt for the ladies, a mainstay theme in Bausch’s work. One sequence evoked Abramović’s Rhythm 0 as a horde of men manipulated one lone lady, as if a rag doll. Very disturbing.

The second half was much shorter, I imagine the dancers needed a form of rest after a welcome twenty-five minute interval. This might be the best work of dance I have ever seen, I don’t think anything may come close. I’m reeling…..

(5 / 5)

The previous tour of The Red Shoes having been cut short due to the Coronovirus pandemic in 2020, the double Olivier award-winning hit production is welcomed to Wales Millennium Centre as part of the 2025/2026 tour.  The show was created ten years ago in 2016 and has since become a firm favourite of the dance theatre repertoire.  The Hans Christian Andersen story, and the 1948 Powell and Pressburger film which followed, provides the narrative foundation upon which the show is centred.

Rising dance star Victoria Page (Hannah Kremer) join the great ballet company Lermontov and is delighted to be cast in The Red Shoes, which tells the story of her dramatic rise, but ultimate downfall, thanks to the power of her mystical shoes.  Caught between loyalty to her career and to ballet impressario Boris Lermontov (Reece Causton) and to her relationship with struggling composer Julian Craster (Leonardo McCorkindale), Vicky faces an impossible choice as life begins to mirror art.

The dancing is, of course, impeccable. Kremer demonstrates extremes of joy and misery in the seamlessness of her movement and expressions. Causton successfully captures the tension of directing a high-performing ballet company and his own inner anxieties and disappointments, and McCorkindale brings warmth and relatability to the role of Craster.   Each member of the cast shines in their ability to in effect mime the story so that the audience grasps the complexities of the “show within a show”.  

The other standout star of the production  is the stage itself.  Dazzling scene changes come thick and fast as we are transported from the ballet theatre (as, at various stages, both audience and backstage onlookers), the bright and cheery seaside resort of Villefranche-sur-Mer, a London music hall, greyscale and monochrome street scenes and dropping in on the leisure activities of the dancers.  Beautifully muted colours grace the stage and the costumes throughout, and this was particularly effective in the Parisien cafe, bringing out the colours of the suspended lanterns splendidly.  After all, nothing could detract from the tragic impact of those red shoes, standing out so fiercly in their primary colour glory against all other shades in the performance. Hats off to set and costume designer Lez Brotherston. 

This is without doubt a truly magnificent show, blending traditional and modern dance, theatrics, humour, visual mastery and  beautiful music.  

Photo credits: Karl-Heinz Krauskopf

(4 / 5)

The late choreographer Pina Bausch was one of the greats of her generation, past shows at Sadler’s Wells have dazzled with what dance can become in London.

Her Sweet Mambo was her penultimate work, after a life made in dance. This is a cocktail of moments, at times more of a happening as opposed to pure dance. I’ve never heard dancers speak so much: their introductions, recollections, narratives, demands and instances are heard throughout the night. These can be highly meta, or idiosyncratic as there is screaming, mic feedbacks and vocal frys, uttley absurd in the best of spirits. It’s clear that the few male dancers on stage are limited to Lynchian aggressors or lecherous fiends who prey on these leading ladies.

As a dance work, the movement is fluid and elegant, contemporary without to much pressure. Long silk sails are often used on stage for effect, the only other addition of note. The ladies costumes also evoke this breeze with soft, billowy frocks, aside ballroom fashion by Marion Cito. As things went on, it become compelling to watch the dancers evoke old Hollywood, The Red Shoes, Latin dances, story time and performance art. The show embraces its messy relationship with men as both abusers and lovers, even with this one note portraying. There is much joy either way.

Effecting use of the film Der Blaufuchs is the back drop for extended passages, another ode to yesteryear. Eclectic musical choices sees Portishead, Richard Wagner, Ryuichi Sakamoto and the song Cry Me A River feature, all working very well. An international feel to the whole thing with dancers from all over, talk, move and move us dearly. Many moments conventionally depict sexism and rights taking, as others indulge with lust and playfulness. I’d honestly say the second part after the break was not necessarily needed, as it returned to dances seen in the first part and didn’t quite capture the same kinetic energy, nor giddy heights.

Also, the prospect of seeing another Bausch classic: Kontakthof – Echoes of ’78 at Sadler’s Wells in the spring, is very much exciting.

It runs till the 21st February 2026